Archive of Our Own

Work Text

The starship Avalon

Destination: the colony world of Homestead II

Crew: 258

Passengers: 5,000

Status: Autopilot
 
....
 
Asteroids detected.
 
Impact protocol initiated. Diverting power to MAIN SHIELD.
 
Collision alert.
 
Damage sustained.
 
Fusion Reactor: Repairing...success.
 
Atmosphere Systems: Repairing...success.
 
Hull integrity: Repairing...success.
 
Pod 1988: Repairing...Repairing...Repairing...Error.
  - PART I -

At first there was nothing. And then he was breathing, his lungs taking deep, appreciative breaths as his mind slowly woke up. His other senses returned to him slowly, but they still felt dulled and weakened, as if they’d been out of use for quite some time. He had no idea where he was.  “Good morning, Patrick. How are you feeling?” a pleasant, feminine voice filtered into his ears. “Unnhh...” he groaned in response. 
“It’s perfectly normal to feel confused. You just spent one hundred and twenty years in suspended animation.”
 “What?” Pat felt his pulse quicken, as panic flooded his body. 
“It’s okay, Patrick.”
 “It’s Pat,” he said. Well, he knew his name. That was a comfort, if nothing else. 
“Patrick. Just breathe. Everything is okay.”
 He opened his eyes, his vision slightly blurry, but clear enough to register a woman’s face right in front of him. He reached out with a shaky arm, but his hand passed right through her head. A hologram, then. He registered that he was in some sort of pod, but as he glanced to either side of him, he didn’t recognize anything about his location. “Where am I?”  “You’re a passenger on the starship Avalon, the HomeStead Company’s premiere interstellar starliner.”  The pod began to move, but Pat allowed himself to relax a little. He didn’t feel in danger, and his memory was beginning to return to him in scattered bits and pieces.  “We’ve nearly completed the voyage from Earth to your new home, the colony world of Homestead II - a new world, a fresh start, room to grow. The Avalon is on final approach. For the next four months, you’ll enjoy space travel at its most luxurious. Food, fun, friends.”  “My friends...”  “That’s right, Patrick. The ID band on your wrist is your key to the wonders of the Avalon .”  Pat’s eyes left the woman’s face to look down at where a white and silver band encircled his wrist. A ding drew his attention back up. 
“You’re in perfect health, Patrick. Let’s get you to your cabin where you can get some rest.”
 The pod moved through a doorway and into a hallway, where it finally allowed Pat to stand up on unsteady legs, his muscles trembling as they adjusted to his weight. Immediately, he felt a rush of dizziness and his vision swam with black spots before clearing slowly. The dizziness subsided into a pounding headache that prompted him to gently rub his temples. 
“You may be experiencing post-hibernation sickness.”
  No shit, Pat thought through the hammering in his skull. The woman’s hologram was no longer in front of him, but her voice continued to direct him down the hallway, past several doors each with a different number. Everything was bright white - the walls, the floor, the ceiling - and it was doing nothing to help Pat’s headache. 
“Your door will illuminate for you.”
 A doorway lit up in blue upon her words. Pat approached it, dragging his feet as exhaustion began to fill his body. How could he be tired if he’d been virtually asleep for one hundred and twenty years?  He stared at the ‘268’ on the door until he realized he needed to scan his wristband, after which the door slid open silently, revealing a narrow room with a bed on one side and what looked to be a doorway into a bathroom on the other side. There were a lot of unfamiliar contraptions and compartments that Pat did not have the energy to consider at the moment. There were no windows and Pat realized he hadn’t seen one since he’d woken up. The hologram of the woman was back, standing off to the side as he approached the bed.  “Welcome to your cabin, your home until we make landfall. Over the next four months, you’ll prepare for your new life on Homestead II , meet your fellow passengers, take skill-building classes, and learn about colonial living. You’ve been assigned to learning group thirty-eight for passengers with engineering and technical trade skills. Please scan your ID to confirm luggage delivery.”  Two panels in the far wall opened to reveal a suitcase and two duffels. Pat was having a hard time keeping up with all of this. What he really wanted, ironically, was to lay down and close his eyes as soon as possible. 
“Patrick, please scan your ID to confirm luggage delivery.”
 Pat scanned his wristband as a yawn broke over his face. One of the compartments in the wall started whirring suddenly, and a cup began filling up with a pink liquid. Pat didn’t stop to think what it was, grabbing the cup and leaning against the wall as he gulped it down, his thirst having become immediately apparent to him upon seeing the liquid.  “To help you recover from hibernation, be sure to drink plenty of fluids. Enjoy the rest of your voyage on the Avalon , a HomeStead Company starship.”  The hologram disappeared, and Pat sighed in relief as he collapsed in the bed, letting darkness wash over him once again. ...  “Good morning, one and all. It’s a beautiful morning here on the starship Avalon . Whatever you do, don’t get homesick! Get Homestead.”  A voice, this time male, filtered into his consciousness, disrupting Pat’s sleep. 
“Let’s start things off with one of my favorites back on Earth.”
 A song started playing throughout the room, and Pat peeled his eyes open. He glared at the ceiling, waiting for the noise to stop, but after several minutes, Pat resigned himself to getting up. He was not a morning person, apparently. Pat pulled himself out of bed and trudged to the doorway across from him, finding what he’d correctly suspected to be the bathroom the night before. There was a sink, a toilet, and holy hell, a shower. Pat had barely blinked before he’d shed his clothes and stepped inside, cranking the handle to what he hoped was the hottest setting and shuddering as the water cascaded over his sensitive skin. The realization that he hadn’t washed himself for one hundred and twenty years crossed his mind, and he spent even longer in the shower than normal, letting any lingering smell of chemicals and antiseptic wash down the drain along with the soap and water. After he finished showering, Pat awkwardly clutched his towel, thinking he had nothing to put on, until he remembered the suitcases that he’d scanned for last night. He found them still in the wall compartment, and he pulled them all out to lay on the bed, figuring he might as well unpack for the next four months. He pulled on the first pair of clean briefs he could find and got to work, pulling all of his clothes out and exploring his cabin for drawers and closet space to put everything in. Pat found his toothbrush, which was a relief, and returned to the bathroom sink, watching his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. It was strange. Logically, he knew that the hibernation pods prevented the body from aging, but it was still disconcerting to see himself looking exactly the same as he remembered. There was no indication that he’d aged a day from the twenty-eight years he’d been alive on Earth, yet a hundred and twenty years had passed since he’d last seen himself. One hundred and twenty years. He realized with a pang that that meant everyone he’d known on Earth, his family and his friends, they were all gone. They’d all died, and Patrick had been asleep, unaware of their passing, unable to grieve until now. He probably had nieces or nephews he’d never meet. Pat shook himself out of it. He’d signed up to be on this ship for a reason, and he’d known the consequences of that decision. Now, he could only hope that Homestead II was worth it. ... Walking through the ship was like walking through a ghost town. There wasn’t a soul around and Pat felt unease creep down his spine. He shrugged it off, and continued wandering until he’d found the room that his learning group was supposed to meet. There was no one there, all the benches unoccupied. Faint music began playing and a hologram appeared. 
“Hello, passengers. Will you all please take a seat?”
 The door to the room slid shut, so Pat sat down on one of the benches, glancing nervously around the empty room. 
“Welcome, learning group thirty-eight: your introduction to colonial life. Earth is a prosperous planet, the cradle of civilization. But for many it’s also overpopulated, overpriced, overrated.”
 Pat raised his hand, feeling stupid when he remembered it was a hologram and couldn’t actually see him. “I’m sorry, I think I may be in the wrong-” 
“Hold your questions until the end, please. The Colonies offer an alternative - a better way of life-”
 “Where are all the other pa-” Pat tried again.  “-and there’s no colony more beautiful than Homestead II , the jewel of the occupied worlds.”  Pat couldn’t help letting out a quiet huff to himself. “I’m sorry, where is everybody?”  “We are all on the starship Avalon.” “But I’m the only one here.” 
“There are five thousand passengers and two hundred and fifty eight crew members.”
 The feeling of unease that Pat had been experiencing as soon as he’d left his cabin intensified, along with a faint nausea. “Then, why am I alone?” he said, almost whispering. 
“We’re all in this together.”
 ... “Hello! Hello, is anyone here?” Patrick yelled. He had been running through the hallways all over the ship, hoping someone would respond, his pace quickening with every shout gone unanswered. He’d found an elevator and taken it to the ‘Grand Concourse’ which he supposed should be teeming with people. No one. He’d asked an information kiosk where to find a person - anyone - to talk to and it’d directed him to Passenger Affairs. No one there either. Pat had sought out the bridge to hopefully find the captain or a crew member, but his wristband didn’t grant him access. He’d looked through the thin window on the door and seen no one inside. At that point, his breaths were coming out in harsh pants and he felt like he might have a panic attack. This had to be a dream. He wasn’t alone on this ship. Pat returned to one of the information kiosks and looked through the list of facilities on the ship. The ‘Observatory’ caught his attention. It sounded like it would have a window that he could look out and hopefully see Homestead II in the near distance. He needed to know how far away the ship was from land. He wasn’t sure, but he’d never heard of a ship landing itself and Pat sure as hell didn’t know how to land one. Even if he did, he didn’t have access onto the bridge. When he walked into the Observatory, the lights immediately dimmed until the room was dark, and a virtual hologram of the galaxy filled the room, surrounding Pat. His eyes, however, were drawn to the large window spanning the wall, out of which he could see the vast expanse of space - space with no planets in sight.  “Welcome to the Observatory. What can I show you?” a man’s voice filled the room. “We’re supposed to land soon...I’m-I’m the only one awake,” Pat said. 
“I don’t understand. What can I show you?”
 “Show me Homestead II.” The hologram began rearranging in front of Pat, zooming in on a planet that looked a lot like Earth. 
“Homestead II is the fourth planet in the Bhakti system.”
 “Right, and where are we?” The hologram shifted again to show the Avalon slowly approaching Homestead II as it left Earth behind .  
“We are in transit from Earth to Homestead II. We will arrive in approximately ninety years.”
 Pat hadn’t heard that right. “What?” 
“We will land on Homestead II in ninety years, three weeks, and one day.”
 “No, wait. How long ago did we leave Earth?” 
“Approximately thirty years ago.”
 “Thirty years...no,” Pat felt sick. “I woke up too soon.” ... Somehow, this feeling was worse than when he’d thought his friends and family had died. Now he knew they were likely still alive, and he would still never see or talk to them again. They would have no idea that he would never reach Homestead II. He was going to die alone on this ship before anyone else ever woke up. No. He couldn’t let that happen. He’d given up everything to board this damn ship, and he wasn’t about to die on it. He ran back to the kiosk, his heart pounding in his chest. 
“How may I help?”
 “I need to send a message to Earth.” 
“Please note that interstellar messaging is an expensive service-”
 “Bite me,” Pat said, pressing ‘continue.’  
“Who would you like to contact?”
 “Uh- the HomeStead Company. I have an emergency.” 
“We’ve found a customer help line.”
 “Sounds about right...” Pat was starting to think that sarcasm was going to be the only way to make light of this situation. 
“Begin recording message.”
 “My name is Patrick Kane, and I’m a passenger on the Avalon .” Pat paused to take a steadying breath. “Something went wrong with my hibernation pod. I woke up too soon...um, ninety years, actually. No one else is awake, and I don’t know how to get back to sleep...” Pat realized that his panic was growing just speaking the words out loud. “I could use a little help. I don’t know - maybe I’m missing something... Anyway, if someone could help me out, that would be great. Thank you.” Pat pushed ‘send’ and rubbed his hands on his thighs nervously. 
“Your message has been sent, and should arrive in nineteen years.”
 “No...wait, what?” 
“Earliest possible reply in fifty-five years. We apologize for the delay.”
 This had to be a joke. Pat needed help now, not fifty years from now. 
“That will be six thousand and twelve dollars.”
 ... Patrick couldn’t think straight. He was alone. No one was coming to help him. No one even knew he needed help, not for nineteen years. He’d be forty-seven years old when they received his message.  He’d be eighty-three before he heard back... He was wandering the ship like a sleepwalker when he heard faint music coming from his right, and looked to see a fancy bar and lounge, probably reserved for the high class passengers, which Pat certainly was not.  Well, he thought, it’s not like it really matters when I’m the only passenger awake.  He was about to turn and keep walking when he thought he saw movement. He looked back and startled when he saw someone - a man - standing behind the bar. A man! He ran into the lounge, approaching the bar and the man behind it. “Hey! Oh my God, it’s good to see another face. I thought I was the only one awake,” Pat said. Relief was flooding his system and his heartbeat evened out significantly. Even if he was awake too early, at least he wasn’t alone. “Who wants to be asleep on a beautiful day like this?” the man said. He was smiling at Pat like he didn’t have a care in the world, wiping down the countertop meticulously, in his tuxedo jacket and bowtie. Pat frowned. “No, man. I mean, we’re the only ones awake on the whole ship. We’re not supposed to be here,” Pat said. “Well, I won’t tell if you don’t,” the man said. “What can I get for you?” “What?” Pat said. “You look like you could use a drink. What’ll it be?” Pat was baffled, and walked closer to the bar. “Uh- no, I’m not-” he stuttered. “A whiskey man, perhaps?” the man said. He glided to the shelf of whiskey behind him as though he were on roller skates, and Pat rushed to look over the bar where he saw that the man’s body stopped at the waist. He was mounted on rails and built into the bar. Pat’s relief from earlier dissipated. “You’re a robot,” he said. “Android, technically. Patrick’s the name.” “Patrick-” He trailed off with a laugh. “That’s my name- well, Pat,” he replied, taking a seat. He might as well have a drink. He certainly felt like he could use one now. The android slid back over to Pat, placing the whiskey in front of him and smiling. “Pleased to meet you, Pat,” he said. Pat tipped his glass back, feeling the whiskey as it burned down his throat. “I feel like I should call you something else,” Pat said, “You know, like, a nickname. Or else things are gonna get confusing.” Patrick, the android, tilted his head at him, waiting patiently. “Er...I don’t know. You’re dressed real sharp. Maybe I can call you...Sharpy.” It sounded stupid, even to his own ears, so he was thankful the only one to hear it was an android. “Sharpy,” the android repeated. “I like it.” “Cool,” Pat said, shaking his head in disbelief. “So how much do you know about this ship?” “I know some things,” the android said. “What do I do if my hibernation pod malfunctions?” Pat asked. “Oh, hibernation pods are fail-safe. They’ll never malfunction.” “Well, I woke up early,” Pat said. “Can’t happen,” Sharpy said, picking up a glass to clean. Pat was starting to get frustrated. With all this superior technology on this ship, it seemed like there should be something to help him. If the pods were fail-safe, then he wouldn’t be awake. “How long until we get to Homestead II?” Pat asked. “Ninety years or so,” Sharpy said. “And when are all of the passengers supposed to wake up?” “Not until the last four months.” “So how can I be sitting here with ninety years to go?” Pat quirked an eyebrow. Sharpy was silent for a moment, his smile gone and a faraway look in his eyes. He was like a computer monitor that had frozen. His head gave a twitch and his smile returned. “It’s not possible for you to be here,” Sharpy said, finally. Pat looked down at the bar, rolling his glass between his hands. “Well, I am...” he said. He tipped back the rest of the whiskey, hoping the burning in his throat would distract him from the tightness in his chest. ... The next day, he was woken up by a similar ‘Good morning’ message from the day before, this time telling him to, ‘Enjoy your day, sunshine!’  Patrick wanted to punch something. Only after he’d showered and gotten dressed in jeans and a t-shirt did he wonder who it was he felt the need to get dressed for. He made his way to the cafeteria, where all the lights turned on upon his entrance. The enormity of the room and the empty tables made Pat feel sick, but he needed to eat something. There was a big machine in the middle of the room with a screen displaying menu items. Pat approached it and it instructed him to scan his wristband. A selection of coffees appeared on the screen and Pat almost moaned at the thought of caffeine. He picked the top coffee off the list without reading what it was and the machine beeped. 
“Sorry. The Mocha Cappuccino Extreme is reserved for gold-class passengers. Please select another item.”
 Pat rolled his eyes and selected the next coffee on the list. 
“Sorry, the French Roast- Sorry, the Pumpkin Spice- Sorry, the Vanilla Chai- Sorry-”
 Pat pressed through all the options, each one denied until the last one, when the machine didn’t beep in protest. 
“Large coffee. Please enjoy.”
 Pat sighed and picked up the cup that had appeared from a compartment of the machine. No cream or sugar, he thought. Good thing I don’t have a sweet tooth. He took a sip and grimaced at the bitter taste. Then again, maybe I do...  ... Patrick was a mechanic, an engineer. He wasn’t giving up. He was going to fix this. He spent the morning on the command deck, going through all the cabinets and drawers, searching for anything that could help him. He found a cabinet full of emergency manuals, one of them detailing the hibernation systems. He also searched the cargo hold until he found the container labeled ‘PASSENGER #1988, PATRICK KANE’ where he found his toolbox and tool belt. He wanted to be confident that this would work, so he changed back into the plain white shirt and shorts that he’d woken up in, and which all of the other passengers were wearing. He returned to the hibernation bay carrying his tools and looked for his pod. It was strange passing all of the other hibernation pods, seeing everyone still asleep. All these people were right here, surrounding him, yet he was completely alone. He set down his toolbox next to the pod and got to work, reading through the manual and following all the instructions for how to activate hibernation. He probably should’ve been concerned with the fact that the open canopy of the pod looked inviting to his unsettled mind. He’d been messing around with the control panel for at least an hour when it made a sudden whirring noise. Pat jumped up and climbed into the pod, his heart racing as he lay down, took a deep breath, and the canopy closed over him. He closed his eyes and waited for the needle that would pierce his skin and put him to sleep. Nothing happened. He opened his eyes and looked around the pod, but there were no more noises, no more actions occurring. Pat pushed on the glass canopy but the doors wouldn’t budge. Panic began to creep in, as he realized he was trapped and all of his tools were on the floor outside of the pod. He banged on the glass and kicked it with his knees, but nothing was working. Pat didn’t know if the pod was running out of air or if it was just his panicked mind, but he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He forced himself to calm down and look around the pod again, and that’s when he noticed the emergency release handle above his head. Why the hell they would put it somewhere he could barely see was beyond him, but he pulled the handle and gasped with relief when the canopy opened and fresh air flooded the pod. Welp. He wasn’t trying that again any time soon. ... Over the next few weeks, Patrick desperately searched for a solution. He tried the crew hibernation door next. The crew was separated from the passengers in their own room. There was a large metal door that denied Pat access every time he scanned his wristband. When he tried removing the keypad cover plate next to the door and hardwiring it to open, it only sparked a few times, the door remaining shut. Trying to outsmart the door wasn’t working, so he turned to brute force. A sledgehammer, jackhammer, drill, crowbar, ax, laser cutter. The door looked a mess. There were pry marks around the latch, gouges around the window, failed drill holes, dents from the ax, scorch marks. But none of that mattered because the door was still closed. He only tried his hibernation pod a handful more times before declaring it a lost cause. It was ‘fail-safe,’ which meant that it was never supposed to fail in the first place. There was no way to reactivate hibernation because it only needed to work once. It seemed like an oversight in Pat’s opinion, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He was sitting at the bar, nursing another whiskey while Sharpy wiped down a glass. “Why are you always polishing glasses?” Pat asked. “I’m your only customer.” Sharpy glanced down at his hands and smiled. “It’s a trick of the trade. Makes people nervous when a bartender just stands there,” he said. Pat smirked and nodded his head. His smile faded quickly, though. “I don’t know what to do, Sharpy. I thought I could figure this out, but I’ve tried everything I can think of,” Pat said. Sharpy started wiping down the bar as he considered Pat. “You’re not where you want to be. You wish you were somewhere else, right?” Sharpy said. Pat rolled his eyes. “You could say that, yes,” Pat said. “Well, say you could be anywhere else right now - back on Earth, or on Homestead II. You’d probably still feel that way. Humans always want to be somewhere they’re not- have something they don’t have. It’s not a crisis, it’s the human condition,” Sharpy said. Pat squinted his eyes, focusing on the android’s words through the slight fuzziness of his brain caused by the alcohol. “So, you’re saying...what?” Pat asked. “I’m saying, stop running around banging on things and yelling all the time. You’re focusing so much on where you’d rather be that you’re forgetting to make the most of where you are,” Sharpy said. “Take a break. Live a little.” Pat thought about that. He couldn’t just stop trying. That would be giving up, and it wasn’t in his nature. But then again, he was going a little crazy with every failed attempt. He didn’t have to stop completely, he could just take a break for a little bit. Refresh his mind and rest his body. Then he could go back to trying. “Live a little,” Pat repeated. He gave his chair a little spin, and Sharpy winked.  “That’s the spirit.” ... Patrick decided to focus on making his life more comfortable on this ship, starting with his cabin. He wasn’t going to sleep there anymore if he could help it. He barely fit in the bed, and his back had been aching for weeks from the unforgiving mattress. He upgraded himself to a first-class, palatial suite (the Berlin suite, it was called), jamming the door open with a crowbar and dragging his suitcases into the room behind him.   Oh, this’ll definitely work, Pat thought, taking in the high ceilings, lavish furniture and panoramic windows. He spotted the bed, a king-sized beauty, and leapt onto it face-first, moaning at the soft give of the mattress. He felt like he was sinking into a cloud. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the second his body settled, he passed out. Over the next few months, he spent all his time rotating between the gym, the pool, and the abundance of restaurants offered on the ship. He didn’t know how much money he spent, but he didn’t care. Instead of waiters, the restaurants had robots that, unlike Sharpy, were not modeled to look like humans. Despite this, Pat would try to spark conversations with them, only to hit a dead end when the robots’ programming reached its limits. In those moments, the sadness would creep back into his bones. He wondered whether his parents were thinking of him, and if they were still mad at him for leaving. Even after four months of being awake, Pat still hadn’t let himself visit the ice rink. He knew there was a rink on the ship - had seen it listed under the facilities - but something kept him away, all this time. Hockey had been Pat’s passion, but his parents had always struggled to pay for his gear and uniforms and medical bills after inevitable injuries. And on top of saving up to pay for his three sisters’ education as well. Pat hated that he was causing his family so much trouble when he could end it if he just...stopped. So, he had. His parents had tried to convince him out of it, but Pat was stubborn and steadfast. They’d been upset, but he’d known that they’d also been relieved, even if they wouldn’t admit it to him. Instead of trying to get drafted into the NHL, Pat was applying for scholarships to universities. He got a degree in engineering at University of Buffalo, and became an energy conservation engineer. He wasn’t paid much, but he was good at what he did, and he’d helped his parents with finances for as long as he could manage. When he’d left, he’d had nothing left to give to his family. He missed them so much, but he’d been trying not to think about it. Maybe letting himself skate was how he would finally let himself miss them. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Instead, Pat distracted himself with working out, swimming, eating, going to the movie theater, and even on one occasion, visiting the spa for a massage. Pat had felt weird having a robot massage him, so he hadn’t gone back. The theater was almost as weird because Pat was the only one there. Any time something funny happened on screen, his lone laughter had killed the joy almost as soon as it had started. The place he’d kept coming back to was the bar. Sharpy wasn’t human, but he was the closest thing to it that he’d found on this ship. And he could hold a conversation better than anything else. Pat would sometimes find himself liking Sharpy, and then he would remember that Sharpy was a machine and couldn’t feel anything at all. Pat had a routine now. Gym, shower, eat, bar, nap, pool, eat, sleep. Over and over, never-ending. He found a language course on a computer at the library and started to learn Russian, just to have something to do. He read a lot, at first. But there was already so much quiet on this ship, and reading made the silence that much louder. He took to blasting music in his suite, anything to fill the silence and experience noise that wasn’t directly caused by Pat, himself. But then he would get splitting headaches that led him to turn off the music in agony. He was drinking a lot more, too. He’d never been much of a drinker before. But he guessed being alone for months was pushing him into new habits. Sometimes, he would throw off his routine and sleep in, or even spend all day in bed. Sometimes, he would have a burst of inspiration and read through the emergency manuals again, or bang on the crew door until he was too weak to lift his arms. He didn’t understand why he’d woken up, and it was the one question that he couldn’t let go of. But then, he would fall apart at his failures, so he stopped trying to open doors that wouldn’t open and stopped looking for answers where there were none. He tried to keep counting days, but it became like a chore, and he eventually stopped that too. He couldn’t remember the last time he shaved, or the last time he’d changed his clothes for that matter. It must’ve been a couple of days ago...he didn’t know.  I’m drunk, Pat thought to himself, as he shuffled down the hallway, clutching the bottle of liquor to his chest. That’s one thing I know, if nothing else.  He didn’t have a destination in mind, so he startled when he found himself at the hibernation bay. He shrugged and kept walking, past the rows and rows of sleeping passengers until he stopped at a door he hadn’t tried opening yet. It said “STARSHIP E.V.A. ROOM.” Pat scanned his wristband, not expecting that the door would open, but there was a burst of air, and then the door slid away, allowing Pat to enter. He looked around and saw an airlock, space suits on racks around the walls, tools, and tethers. Pat approached a space suit with interest. He reached out and dragged his hand over the cold material, stopping at the hand of the suit. He closed his own hand around the rigid glove and it almost felt...  Fuck, this is stupid, Pat thought, as he wiped his eyes. What am I even doing?  He shook his head and pulled one of the suits off of the wall, setting down the liquor bottle to pull it on. The suit wasn’t too confusing, but he was still pretty proud of himself for managing it while slightly drunk. Once it was on and he’d secured the helmet, Pat made his way to the airlock, pressing a button to open the inner door, which revealed a tunnel-looking room that would seal him off from the rest of the ship’s air supply. He didn’t even think twice before pressing the button to open the outer door.  There was a countdown from five and a blast of air, before a view like none other was revealed to Pat’s eyes. The boots of the spacesuit felt heavier, and when Pat started to walk, he realized they were magnetized to the ship’s floor. As he emerged outside, he glanced around in amazement. He hadn’t felt anything like this in months. It was like the stars were calling him and he reached out in a futile attempt to touch them. He wanted to be closer.  It was hard to tear his eyes away from the view, but he made himself look down at the arm of his suit where there was a control panel. Pat found the button that said ‘tether’ and pressed it with the bulky fingers of his glove. He was pushed off balance slightly by something knocking into his back, and he turned his head to see a tether attaching him to the airlock. He then deselected ‘magnetize’ to release his boots from the ship’s floor, and immediately began drifting away from the airlock. Pat returned his attention to the stars and felt his breath catch. There were billions of spots of light stretching as far as he could see, and splashes of dark reds and purples that made it look like a sunset. It looked frozen in time, but Pat knew that everything he was seeing was alive, burning, evolving. Pat was reminded of how small he was in the universe compared to all of this. He thought maybe he could just stay out here forever. He didn’t know how long he’d been floating mindlessly, when the alcohol caught up to him and a headache formed at his temples. He ignored it for as long as he could, until the view could no longer distract him. He grabbed the tether and pulled himself back to the airlock, magnetizing the boots to the floor until he was safely inside and the doors had closed. He walked back into the E.V.A. room and shed the suit, hanging it back up on the wall. The stark white of the ship was harsh on his eyes after the calming darkness of space. Pat was hit with a wave of sadness and loneliness so strong that he couldn’t breathe. He turned around and walked back into the airlock, staring out the small window at the stars. He was completely lost for a few moments, only coming back to himself when he faintly registered a voice saying ‘ five .’ He blinked several times and looked down at his hand, realizing he’d pressed the button to open the airlock. He stood frozen, listening as the voice continued. 
“Four.”
 Pat’s hand trembled and his heart rate doubled. He felt tears fill his eyes and some escaped, trailing down his cheeks and dripping from his chin. 
“Three.”
 He could do it. Just end it all now. He was so tired and he couldn’t imagine continuing to crawl through life like this. Above all, he was just so lonely. Maybe if there were even one other person. Someone to share this burden with. Someone to talk to. Someone to hold him up...to hold him...to hold. 
“Two.”
 Pat pressed ‘cancel’ and the counting stopped. The tears were flowing more insistently now, but Pat just let it happen.  This is the first time I’ve cried, Pat thought. How can that be? How have I not cried?  The realization made the tears fall faster and thicker, and Pat let them go, sobs beginning to wrack his body. It was painful and Pat was drunk and exhausted but it also felt amazing - like he was finally letting his pain out, instead of holding everything in. He cried until he didn’t know if there were any tears left. He was gulping in air, his breaths sharp and uneven. He felt like he was going insane. Like if he had to look at these white walls and talk to these empty robots another day, he wasn’t going to make it. He might end up right back here tomorrow, standing in front of this airlock and contemplating the very thing he’d contemplated only moments before. He was used to a life surrounded by people - he’d grown up with his parents and three sisters and his relatives who were always visiting, not to mention his hockey teammates who were like brothers to him. Then, he’d gone to college and surrounded himself with friends and then coworkers. He’d never been alone in his life.  And now, there was no one. Just Patrick and the endless vacuum of space. He picked himself up off the floor, wandering into the hibernation bay, like he was in a trance. He stood there, looking at the thousands of pods full of sleeping people - so many people right here, but all of them completely out of reach. He could easily just...no. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples. He didn’t want to even consider the thought that had just entered his brain. So he made himself forget about it, leaving the bay and collapsing into his bed. ... The days weren’t getting easier. Patrick tried to make himself feel motivated to do something - anything - but it became harder and harder to even drag himself to the bar. He just lied in bed and stared at the wall, his mind running in circles.  He tried to make himself forget, but his brain wouldn’t let it go. When he closed his eyes, all he could see were the thousands of sleeping faces, taunting him, calling to him, tucked in their pods and begging to be awakened. And he hated himself for it. He told himself all the things that should’ve worked: how could he wake someone up and doom them to the life that Patrick was currently living? His awakening had been an accident, a weird fluke, but how could he make the active choice to sign someone’s death warrant? He’d be a murderer, really. But then he started arguing the other side. It wouldn’t be the same thing for this new person. Pat was here to keep them company so they wouldn’t have to spend months alone, going crazy like Pat had. They’d have one another to talk to and watch movies with and argue with and... Pat stopped himself there. He knew it would probably be a good idea to talk to Sharpy, just for some semblance of interaction, even if it was mimicking real human connection. But the longer he stayed in his room and the android didn’t appear to check on him, the more it emphasized that he wasn’t real. He was bound to that bar, just waiting for a passenger to arrive so he could serve them. He didn’t care about Patrick. He couldn’t. It got to the point that Pat decided he would just look through the ship’s log to read some of the passenger bios. He convinced himself that it was just out of curiosity - that nothing would come from it. It wasn’t like he was going to wake one of these people up. He just wanted to get to know the people he might’ve shared a life with on Homestead II if things hadn’t gone the way they had. When he found his way to the log, he discovered that not only were there bios, but there were also video interviews for each of the passengers. He’d forgotten that that was something they’d had him do when he’d applied to be aboard the ship. They’d had to assess whether he was a viable person to help build a colony on this new planet. He was sure it was simply his engineering skills that had gotten him the spot, plus his willingness to leave his whole life behind on Earth. Not many people were so readily willing to cut ties with everyone and everything they’d ever known. And of course, he never would’ve done this if he’d known he was going to wake up ninety years early and die alone in space. He thought it would make him feel better watching the videos of the other passengers, but instead it filled him with such intense sadness and longing that he almost couldn’t stand to watch anymore. These people still had a future - they were going to get to see the planet they’d been promised. He resented them - hated, even. Why did these people deserve any better than Patrick? Why did they get to live and grow together, but Pat got...this - meaningless existence until his mind couldn’t take it anymore and he had to end it all? He’d been raised Catholic, and a part of him wanted to rage at the (metaphorical) sky, demanding answers from God, if he was really out there. Was he being punished for leaving his family behind? But why him, instead of any one the four thousand ninety-nine other passengers who’d done the exact same? Why did God hate him? How could there be a God? The more he thought about it, the more Pat didn’t feel bad at all about the idea of waking one of these people up. Of course, that was probably his mind rationalizing his desire for human interaction by justifying doing something so terrible. But Pat wasn’t in a mental state to analyze himself like that. All he knew was that the longer this went on, the more his chest caved in every day from the weight of this loneliness. He needed a drink. ... “Hey, Sharpy.” “Patrick,” Sharpy said. He didn’t act like someone who hadn’t seen Patrick in weeks. Pat sighed. “What’ll it be tonight?” “I don’t know. Something new?” “Sure thing,” he said. Pat slightly regretted that when he started concocting some weird, green creation. “What’s got you so down?” he asked, after he’d slid the drink over to Patrick. He took a sip and it actually wasn’t half bad. “Can I ask you something?” Pat said, and Sharpy nodded. “If you were stranded on an island alone for a year and you suddenly were granted the ability to wish another person there with you, would you do it?” “I’ve never been on an island,” Sharpy said. Pat sighed a bit in frustration, rubbing a hand over his face. “I...might be able to wake someone else up. So I wouldn’t be so alone up here.” “You’re not alone. You have me,” Sharpy said, smiling. Pat huffed, a sad smile appearing and disappearing within moments. “A human, Sharpy. Someone who isn’t programmed and installed behind a bar.” “Ah,” the android said, nodding. It somehow made Pat feel worse that Sharpy wasn’t upset about Pat essentially saying he wasn’t enough. Just another thing that made him inhuman. “You’ve got someone in mind?” “Not really...” Pat trailed off. “Well, you’ve gotta choose someone,” Sharpy said. “If you pick wrong, you could be stuck with a real loser.” Pat gave a surprised laugh, even though he shouldn’t be joking about something like this. “I guess that’s possible,” Pat said. “I don’t know, choosing someone feels so...personal. I couldn’t choose someone if I actually liked them. I’d never want to condemn someone I liked to this life.” “But you would be condemning someone to this life,” Sharpy said, frowning. “What’s the difference if you like them or not?” Pat was silent. There wasn’t really a difference, but one of those options would make it harder on himself. “You’re right, but...” Pat bit his lip anxiously. “I’m not looking for anything in particular out of this. I just hoped I could have someone to interact with - friend or foe.” “Well then, wake someone up,” Sharpy said, cheerfully. Pat nodded slowly. If it was really that simple, then why did he feel sick to his stomach? “Sure. And if they kill me, then I had it coming, right?” Pat said. He wondered if all of this was his roundabout way of killing himself. At least it’d be interesting. “That’s an odd way of looking at it,” Sharpy said, his brows furrowed. “You’re an odd man, Patrick.” Pat looked up at him sullenly. “And you’re a machine, Sharpy,” he muttered, downing his drink before sliding off his stool and walking away. ... It had been nine months. Nine months of being alone in space on a ship built for five thousand people. Nine months of knowing he would die up here before he ever even glimpsed Homestead II. And he’d told himself over and over that his fixation on waking someone up was just that - a fixation that would fade with time. But it was becoming harder and harder to deny himself when it was within his power to end his loneliness. He didn’t watch any more passenger interviews, determined not to stumble upon a person he connected with. That would be too powerful of a thing - it would make it even harder to resist. He found himself standing in front of the rows and rows of pods for hours at a time, every muscle in his body tense. It was almost like his entire willpower was directed at stopping himself from making that leap - from waking someone up. He’d never be able to take it back. And he knew he’d regret it as soon as he did it. But the longing was so intense sometimes. He wondered if it’d been someone else who’d woken up, would they have struggled this much? Would they have ever considered something like this? Patrick didn’t think so. He was pretty sure at least some of these people were the type who’d die before they ever considered something like this. But then again, they weren’t in Pat’s position right now. Patrick thought maybe he should die. He thought about it a lot. It was either this or death. But there was one problem. Patrick wanted to live. ... It was a day like all the others. Patrick had been standing in front of the pods for so long that he felt a bit light-headed. Sometimes, he couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep anymore, since his dreams often consisted of just this: standing and staring at the rows of sleeping faces. But the light-headedness was a sure sign that he was awake. He needed to leave, but today it was particularly difficult. As far as he could figure, today was his birthday. If he was still on Earth, he would’ve been with his friends and family right now, eating cake that was too sugary and opening gifts that he didn’t need or want. Maybe he’d have a boyfriend by now, someone who chose to love him out of everyone else, who thought he was special and worth his time.  Maybe he’d be happy. “Happy birthday, Pat.” His voice came out dry and raspy from disuse. What was the point of talking if there was no one around to hear? He lifted his hand and rested it on the control panel in front of him, almost against his own will. It turned into a clutch, his knuckles turning white with how badly he wanted himself to stop, to turn around, to forget this thought had ever entered his mind. His heart was pounding - so loud that he couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears. He pressed a button which took him to the list of pods, ordered by number, brushing his finger in an upward direction so the list would slide past in a blur. He stopped and randomly clicked on one - Pod 1619. He didn’t mean to, but his gaze landed on a name next to the description - Jonathan.   That’s a nice enough name, Pat thought. It was right there next to his thumb, the command that would wake this person up permanently. All he had to do was move his finger just slightly and he’d be pressing it. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his back, but he continued to stare, unblinking, at the control panel. His heart was so loud, he thought he might go deaf from it. He held his breath. He moved his finger and pressed. Nothing happened for a beat. And then, suddenly, a beep and a whoosh of air sounded from somewhere in the hibernation bay, as a pod began to open maybe fifty feet away. Patrick’s heart hadn’t slowed down at all, and all at once, he felt sick to his stomach. 
Oh God, what’ve I done?
 Pat didn’t waste another second as he turned and ran from the hibernation bay, tears streaming down his face. He ran to his room and hid under the covers, hyperventilating as panic creeped in, his mind spinning in circles. 
How could I do this? How could I be so selfish? I’ve killed him.
 
I’ve killed him I’ve killed him I’ve killed him-

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

- PART II -

Pat didn’t know how long he hid in his room, afraid to leave but feeling sick for hiding. Right now, there was a man - Jonathan - wandering the ship, realizing that something was wrong, realizing everyone was still asleep. Realizing he was alone. But he wasn’t. Patrick was awake too. And he’d been the one to wake him up. How had he thought this was something that would make him feel better? If anything, he felt a million times worse than before. The idea of facing this man, knowing that Pat was responsible for whatever he was feeling right now, was unthinkable. But he couldn’t hide in this room forever. Eventually, he made himself grab the digislate on the bedside table and look up Pod 1619, even as it made a lump form in his throat.  ‘Jonathan Toews’ was his name. Pat clicked on the bio, reading that he was a farmer from Canada. It was baffling how everything the HomeStead Company deemed important about a person could be summarized in a sentence. Pat clicked on Jonathan’s interview video, and held his breath as it loaded. As soon as it started, Pat was rapt with attention. The man’s voice was deep and commanding, with a really nice laugh that had a dorky smile to go along with it. He had a Canadian accent, a bit monotone, which was also charming in a dorky way. Jonathan sure didn’t look like any farmer Patrick had ever seen. He had dark brown hair and deep brown eyes that held an intensity Pat had rarely encountered. Before he knew it, the video was over and he hadn’t heard a word of what Jonathan had actually said. He started it over, listening more closely this time.

“I feel like I have to get on this ship, like Homestead II is where I’m supposed to be. I’ve seen the way humans have abused and destroyed this planet, and I just couldn’t stand to see that happen to another one. I want to be there, making sure that every step of the way we’re treating this new home right. It’ll be hard to say goodbye to my family, but they understand how much I need this.”

Frustrated tears burned at the edges of Pat’s eyes. Why hadn’t he forced himself to watch this before choosing Jonathan? Who was he kidding? The decision to choose at random was one that had taken the guilt off of his shoulders for long enough to ruin this man’s life. If he’d watched this video, there was no way he would’ve been able to wake Jonathan up. And now, watching his interview, Pat knew that he’d taken this man’s dream away from him - his one true desire was to start a life on Homestead II, to create a better world. He’d taken that away, and it was irreversible. How could he have been so selfish?  He stared at Jonathan’s picture for too long, delaying the inevitable. He had to face this man and apologize, no matter the consequences. No matter how sick to his stomach Pat felt. He pushed himself to shower and shave, grooming himself to look semi-decent. Although, nothing could hide the bags that had developed under his eyes or the terrible haircut he’d given himself weeks ago. He didn’t know how long he’d been hiding in his room, only that by the time he emerged, he was more exhausted than before. His stomach grumbled, but he didn’t feel like eating. He felt ill. But the damage was done now. He couldn’t let Jonathan feel the way Patrick had when he’d thought he was alone. Pat remembered how hopeless, how devastating, that first realization had been. Jonathan didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve any of this. Pat made his way to the cafeteria, figuring that was about his best chance of finding Jonathan in this massive ship. He took a deep breath before turning the final corner. A man sat at a cafeteria table, faced away from him. He looked so small in the large empty room. Pat felt a lump forming in his throat, unable to speak. He started breathing faster, the familiar panic coming back, when Jonathan must’ve heard a sound, turning around and spotting him. Their eyes met. Jonathan’s face went from despondent to relieved in a second, just as Pat’s stomach sunk with dread. God, he was so beautiful. How could Pat have done this? How? How? H-  “Thank, God,” Jonathan said, standing up and bumping the table slightly in his haste. “I was starting to think no one was awake.” Pat had to shut his eyes and breathe, but he forced them back open and mustered up a meager smile. “Hey,” his voice cracked, so he cleared his throat. “Hi. I’m Patrick.” “Patrick? My name’s Jonny,” he said, moving from behind the table to come toward Pat. He couldn’t help his instinctive step back, making Jonny pause uncertainly. His hand that had been reaching out for Pat to shake, fell back to his side and flexed awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.”  Pat hesitated briefly, before reaching out his hand for Jonny to shake, who returned the gesture slowly. When their palms touched, Pat breathed in sharply at the sensation. It was barely anything, but feeling someone else’s touch, someone else’s skin against his, it had nearly become foreign to him. He tried not to sigh as their hands parted. “Are you alright?” Jonny asked, and Pat met his eyes briefly before looking away. Jonny was tall - definitely over six feet. Pat had to look up slightly. “Uh, kind of,” he said, probably just making Jonny more concerned. “Well...where is everyone?” Jonny asked, his brows furrowed as he motioned at the empty cafeteria behind him. “Um- should we get some coffee?” Pat suggested, walking over to the machine.  He scanned his wristband and selected the large coffee. As soon as it had dispensed, he gulped it down, even though it was still scalding hot. Whatever, he deserved a burned tongue. He deserved all the pain in the world. Pat watched as Jonny scanned his own bracelet without hesitation - so he’d figured some things out on his own before Pat had dragged himself from his cabin, then. Pat tried not to stare at him, but it was hard. He’d been obsessing over waking someone up for weeks, and now that there was finally a real living, breathing person here in front of him, he couldn’t even enjoy it because he’d killed this man. “ French Roast. Please enjoy, ” the pleasant female voice said, and Pat’s attention shot to the machine which was dispensing the coffee. “What?” Pat said without thinking, and Jonny startled a bit. “What?” he said, confused. “Are you a gold-class passenger?” Pat asked in disbelief. He’d been drinking this shitty coffee for almost a year, and the smell of the french roast was heavenly in comparison. “I...guess?” Jonny said, shrugging. “Why?” “I don’t have access to any of that shit. Not the mochas, not the lattes, nothing.” Jonny raised an eyebrow at him, a small smirk appearing on his lips. “Lattes? Sweet tooth, much?” Jonny said. Pat couldn’t help the flush that started in his cheeks and spread down his neck. “No,” he mumbled, but the damage was done. “You try drinking this crap for a year.” Jonny’s smirk turned into a frown and Pat’s stomach sunk even further. “Did you say a year?” Jonny asked. “Have you been awake for a year?” Pat sighed, but they might as well get this over with. “I need to show you something.” ... They sat in silence for longer than Pat was comfortable with. But he had to let Jonny process this. They were seated in the Observatory, where Pat had made it show Jonny what it’d shown him all those months ago - they were eighty-nine years and two months away from Homestead II. Jonny had watched in confused silence and then in dawning horror. And now, he was just staring at the screen, leaning his forearms on his thighs. Pat wasn’t sure if he’d blinked in the last fifteen minutes, when he finally spoke. “So you just...woke up? No cause or explanation? And now, me?” Pat hesitated, before nodding. He told himself he wasn’t lying, necessarily. But he’d tell Jonny the rest later. One revelation at a time. “Look, I know this is really hard to hear right now, but-” Pat started to say. “Have you tried to reactivate hibernation? We could go back to sleep an-” “You think I haven’t thought of that?” Pat interrupted. “It’s not gonna happen. I tried. The hibernation pods are fail-safe. But if you ask me, their fail-safe needed a fail-safe.” “Well, have you tried contacting the HomeStead Company? Maybe they could-” “Tried it. The message won’t reach them for nineteen years, and we won’t get a response for another thirty-six. Actually at this point, it’s probably thirty-eight.” Jonny had this expression like he was going to find a solution. He looked like how Patrick had looked back then - determined and too stubborn to admit defeat. “Well, what about the crew? One of them could help.” Pat shook his head. “Tried that too. I can’t get the door open - not mechanically and not by brute force,” Pat rubbed his forehead in frustration. “I’ve tried it all. There’s nothing left. I’ve been here a year - you don’t think I’ve thought of everything I possibly could?” Pat breathed out frustratedly from his nose. “I’m not saying you didn’t try everything you could think of. But I’m here now and-” “And you think you’ll figure it out when I couldn’t?” Pat raised his voice in disbelief. Was this guy for real? “Maybe,” Jonny said, making Pat scoff. “All I’m saying is that I have to try! You expect me to just accept this without a fight?” “No!” Pat yelled, surprising both him and Jonny. “No,” he said more softly. He tried to ignore the tears pricking his eyes, but he’d lost a lot of self control in the last few months. “I’m just...so tired.”  Pat covered his face with his hands. Why was he the one crying? He’d had a year to get used to this. He felt a hand touch his back, softly at first and then harder. It sent a shiver through him that he couldn’t control. “God, I- Patrick, I’m so sorry. A year ...” Jonny said, and Pat dropped his hands to look over at him. “And you’ve been alone all this time. I don’t know how you did it.”  Pat was afraid to see pity in Jonny’s eyes, but what was there instead was just a deep sadness that Pat couldn’t understand. How could Jonny have such empathy for him? There was no way he could have any idea how Patrick felt, and yet his eyes showed understanding.  “I couldn’t have been so strong,” he said. Pat’s stomach lurched at that - if only Jonny knew how weak he’d been. “How do you know?” Pat asked, his voice quiet. “What?” “How do you know how strong you’d have been?” Jonny looked down at his lap briefly before shaking his head. “I guess I don’t know,” he answered. “That’s right. You couldn’t know,” Pat said. “No one could.” It was quiet between them for a moment, Jonny’s hand on his back burning through his shirt. Jonny’s eyes searched his own, but Pat made himself look away before he revealed anything. “Anyway, you’re here now. So let me walk you through what I’ve tried.” He stood up, and Jonny followed uncertainly. “Are you sure? Patrick, you don’t have t-” “I’m sure,” Pat said, giving him a small smile. He’d been a fool to think Jonny wouldn’t try to fix this. And Pat desperately, desperately wanted him to be right. Maybe he had forgotten something. Maybe there was a way they could both live to see Homestead II. Maybe Patrick hadn’t cemented Jonny’s death after all. ... They stood in front of the hibernation pods, Patrick’s personal annotated manual in front of them.  “I’ve read this thing forwards and backwards. The pods are meant to house us through hibernation, as well as wake us up, but they can’t restart hibernation on their own.” “That seems like poor design,” Jonny said, and Pat huffed. “Tell me about it. But if you remember the facility we were in when they put us to sleep, it had a lot more tools and special equipment.” “There’s gotta be a way,” Jonny muttered to himself, one hand rubbing the back of his neck in thought. “Show me where the crew is.” ... They stood staring at the crew hibernation door in silence. It was scarred by Patrick’s many assaults - scratched and dented and scorched. Jonny ran his hand over the marks and Pat tried not to stare at the way the tendons of his hand moved and flexed. He had nice hands. “You said you tried to send a message to the HomeStead Company on Earth. What about to Homestead II?” Jonny asked. “Tried that. It’s an even longer response time.” “Okay, what about other ships?” Pat went quiet, and Jonny looked over at him questioningly. Their eyes met and Jonny raised his brows.  “I didn’t think of that,” Pat said, feeling completely and utterly stupid. “How did I not think of that?” He took off at a run to the Comm Center, Jonny following close behind. ... Pat fiddled with the controls until he managed to pull up a map of all the interstellar flight paths. Ships began to appear on different paths and Pat looked over at Jonny in restrained excitement. Jonny pointed at one above the Avalon’s icon. “Check that one.” “What’s the name?” “The Zephyr.” “Round-trip message lag...ninety-nine years,” Pat said, frowning. “Okay, try that one,” Jonny pointed at another off to the left. “The Andromeda.” “Um...One hundred and thirty-two years.” “Okay, the Maximillian?” “Eighty-one years...” Pat trailed off. “That’s the closest one.” They both stared at the map in dreaded silence. Pat couldn’t believe how quickly hope could turn to nothing. “I’m so sorry Patrick,” Jonny said quietly. “I didn’t mean to get your hopes up.” Pat scoffed. “Me? What about you? You’re stranded here, too.” Jonny looked away, nodding as his eyes clouded over. “Yeah...” he mumbled. Pat immediately regretted saying that to him, but it was the harsh truth. The sooner Jonny accepted this inevitability, the easier it would be for both of them. “But there will be other things we haven’t thought of. We can’t give up.” Pat nodded reluctantly. Jonny clearly wasn’t going to give up without a fight. ... They walked around the Grand Concourse in companionable silence as the concourse lights dimmed to their evening blue. Jonny kept yawning and he was swaying slightly on his feet. “You should probably rest,” Pat said. “You’ve just woken from hibernation. It’ll take time to adjust.” “Yeah, I think I’ll head to bed.” “I can walk you to your cabin,” Pat offered, mentally kicking himself for the suggestion. “No, it’s fine,” Jonny said. Pat tried not to feel stung by the rejection. “It’s gonna be okay, Patrick. We’re gonna think of something.” “Yeah, maybe,” Pat said. He didn’t think he succeeded very well at sounding positive because Jonny just frowned more. “I’m in cabin nine-two-five if you need me,” Jonny said, giving him a small smile. “Berlin Suite,” Pat said, gesturing to himself. Jonny raised an eyebrow in surprise, his smile stretching wider. Pat shrugged, but he couldn’t help his answering smile. “What? Like I was gonna stay in one of those tiny cabins for the rest of my life. Please.” Jonny laughed and Pat softened at the sound. “Can’t say I blame you. Goodnight, Patrick.” He started to walk away. “Pat,” he said, causing Jonny to pause and look back at him. “It’s...call me Pat.” Jonny nodded and smiled again. “Night, Pat.” “Goodnight.” Patrick watched him walk away until he’d turned the corner, even if that was a weird thing to do. He couldn’t help the giddy feeling in his chest. For a moment, he let himself forget that Jonny’s inevitable death was Patrick’s doing. He let himself forget that they were alone in space and searching for answers. He let himself imagine that they were just two men who’d found each other somehow despite everything.  The feeling didn’t last long, but it was nice for the brief moment of respite it offered him. ... “Good evening, Patrick,” Sharpy said, as Pat sat down at the bar. “What’ll it be tonight?” “Whiskey neat.” “Tough night?” “You could say that,” Pat said, grabbing the glass Sharpy set down and downing it in one. He glanced at it with a raised brow, so the android poured another finger. “I did it, Sharpy.” “Did what?” “I woke someone up.” Pat swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Jonny. He’s awake.” “Congratulations,” Sharpy said, enthusiastically. His smile dimmed at Patrick’s expression. “You don’t look happy.” “Can you keep a secret?” “I’m a bartender,” Sharpy said, as though that were answer enough. “Don’t tell Jonny I woke him up,” Pat said, elaborating at Sharpy’s frown. “He thinks it was an accident. I’ll tell him, but only when the time is right.” Sharpy winked and went back to cleaning a glass. Patrick guessed that was the closest he’d get to an agreement. ... The next morning, he was eating his usual oatmeal and coffee when Jonny appeared. He was wearing simple jeans and a t-shirt, but he looked so good that Pat choked a bit on his oatmeal. “Morning,” Jonny said, as Pat gulped down coffee to clear his throat. “Morning.” God, he’d really become socially awkward in his ten months alone. “Man of simple tastes?” Jonny asked, gesturing at Pat’s pathetic breakfast. “It’s all my flight class allows,” he mumbled, looking up at Jonny sheepishly.  Jonny frowned and walked over to the machine to get his own breakfast. Pat went back to his oatmeal, which looked particularly gray and sad today. He was in the middle of another bite when he startled as a tray dropped on the table in front of him and Jonny fell gracefully into the seat next to him. The tray had a steaming pile of fresh pancakes on it, the butter melting before his eyes. There was syrup on the side, as well as bacon, a fruit salad, and a glimmering glass of orange juice. Pat’s mouth watered. He startled again when the bowl of oatmeal slid out from under him. He looked over at Jonny in surprise, who was already digging into Pat’s leftover oats. “I hope you don’t mind gluten-free,” he said, smiling at Pat. “I’m allergic.” Pat took a second to catch up. “These are for me?”  “Yeah. I think you’ve had enough oatmeal to drive a man crazy,” Jonny said, smiling softly. Pat’s neck got a little hot. “Wow. Thanks,” Pat said, pulling the tray closer. “You don’t want any?” “Nah. I’m more of an oatmeal guy, myself.” Jonny ate another spoonful, meeting Pat’s eyes as he chewed. Pat stared at him long enough to warrant a raised eyebrow, so he forced his attention back on the food in front of him. “I don’t even know where to start,” he muttered, and Jonny laughed. “How ‘bout with the bacon?” he suggested. Pat picked up a piece gingerly, biting into it and properly moaning at the taste. Now it was Jonny’s turn to choke on his food, before he laughed again. “That good, huh?”  Pat moved to shove him lightly in the arm, but he second-guessed himself halfway through the motion and ended up just grazing Jonny awkwardly. Jonny didn’t look uncomfortable, though. He just looked at Pat with amusement. “Thank you,” Pat said again. “Don’t mention it,” Jonny said with a smile. ... “So you think the crew would know what to do if we could get into their hibernation bay?” “Probably. I mean they were supposed to wake up three months before the rest of us, so theoretically they’ve got more knowledge of how this ship operates,” Pat said. But they’d both seen what Pat had done to the door - it wasn’t going to open without significant force. “Well, what about in the cargo hold? Is there anything down there that looks helpful?” Jonny asked. “Not really. It’s mostly farming equipment and industrial machines. ‘Course, I bet you’re excited at the notion of farming stuff.” Jonny looked over at him questioningly. “How’d you know I was a farmer?” Pat only panicked for a second before finding his voice. “I, uh- looked up your bio last night. Thought I should know who I’m sharing a ship with.” Jonny gave him a curious smile, but he didn’t look weirded out or anything. “Well, now I feel at a disadvantage,” Jonny said. “I should go look you up.” Pat laughed awkwardly. “Feel free.” “Have you checked out the library?” Patrick made a wavy hand gesture. “Maybe there’s some information on hibernation technology. Not that I’d be able to make much sense of it.” “Well, lucky for you, I’m an engineer.” “No shit,” Jonny said, his lips quirking up on one side. “How’d we get so lucky?” He started striding in the direction of the library, leaving Pat to try and compose himself before following behind. He’d never thought of this situation as lucky in any way. But maybe he’d benefit from looking at things the way Jonny did every once in a while. ... “Fuck, all of this is just theoretical,” Jonny said, swiping his screen to get rid of whatever article he’d been reading. “Nothing actually tells you how they designed this stuff.” “The HomeStead Company wouldn’t want to release their designs. People would try to copy them,” Pat said. “I know, but it’s infuriating,” Jonny said. He sighed and stared down at his hands on the table. “You wouldn’t have any idea how to go about building a hibernation machine, would you?” Pat shook his head sadly. “Didn’t think so.” They were quiet for another minute before Jonny spoke again. “What about some sort of bomb? To blast the crew door open?” “You really want to set off a bomb in space? Near a room full of sleeping people?” Pat raised his eyebrows. Jonny frowned and shook his head. “And anyway, I’m an engineer. Not a nuclear physicist.” “Yeah... Sorry.” “It’s fine,” Pat said, giving him a small smile that Jonny returned. “Are you hungry?” After a moment’s hesitation, Jonny gave a slight nod. “There’s a Mexican place in here that I haven’t had in a while. You wanna?” “Sounds...great, actually.” ... They sat across from one another as a robot waiter wearing a sombrero set down two margaritas.  “Enjoy, señores.” The robot scooted away. Jonny raised his eyebrows and looked around at the decor. “You know...I feel offended on Mexico’s behalf,” he said. Pat gave a surprised laugh, which set them both off. Pat took a sip of his margarita. “So what’s good here?” “Uh, they do a pretty good carnitas,” Pat said, as Jonny’s eyes roamed the menu. Pat didn’t have a menu in front of him, but he’d practically memorized it, anyway. “You can’t go wrong with fajitas, but I’d stay away from the mole. I swear, I thought I wasn’t gonna make it through the night...” Jonny looked up at him with a strange expression. “Sorry, that was TMI, wasn’t it?” Jonny just shook his head sadly. “No, I just...” Jonny set down his menu. “You were living in this place a whole year, Pat. You ate oatmeal every morning and shitty coffee, and you practically beat that crew door to a pulp, and you have the menu memorized and...” “Yeah, I know all that,” Pat said, annoyed. “What’s your point?” “My point is just...it must’ve been really hard,” Jonny settled on, looking at Pat with such sympathy that he wanted to chug his margarita, but nix the lime juice and triple sec and just go straight for the tequila. He definitely wasn’t drunk enough for this conversation. “It was,” Pat said simply, averting his eyes.  “Are you ready to order señores?” the robot interrupted their awkward silence. Jonny cleared his throat, picking his menu back up. “Uh, I’ll have the fajitas. Corn tortillas, thanks. Pat?” “Not hungry.” The robot left them alone again, and when Pat let himself glance at Jonny, he looked concerned. Jonny thankfully dropped it, though.  “So, why engineering?” he said eventually. Pat shrugged. “Honestly, it was kind of an arbitrary choice. I played a lot of hockey growing up - thought I might go pro one day. But it was too expensive for my family. My parents were trying to take care of four kids, and one of them having an expensive dream wasn’t really ideal,” Pat said, shaking his head. “They never would’ve asked me to give it up, but I couldn’t put them through that anymore. So I quit and decided to go to college. Chose engineering when I got decent scores in calculus.” Jonny nodded, but he didn’t look satisfied with the answer. “But you’ve gotta enjoy it a little, right? You wouldn’t have stuck with it this long otherwise.” Pat met his eyes and saw an earnest expression that made his chest ache. He gave Jonny a small smile and nodded. “There’s a certain power in it - an independence,” Pat explained. “Being able to take things apart and put them back together again. The ability to create something out of discarded scraps.” Jonny nodded, somehow smug by his admission. Pat rolled his eyes. “Well, what about you?” “Me?” “Yeah, you,” Pat said. “Why farming?” “You mean that wasn’t in my bio?” Jonny asked, teasing. Pat flushed despite his best efforts, mumbling a half-hearted, ‘Shut up.’ Jonny just smirked, but let him off the hook. “I’m not all that interesting, really. Grew up in Canada - Manitoba. My maman owned a farm that was passed down from her father. Farming was what I was born into, but I guess it did become a sort of passion of mine.” “Do you speak French?” Pat asked, surprised. How had that not been in his bio? Jonny nodded. “My maman spoke French. She passed it down to me and my brother.” “Brother?” “Yeah, David,” Jonny’s expression became wistful, and Pat suddenly felt like he’d brought up a touchy subject. “He, uh...he was my younger brother.” Pat didn’t miss the ‘was,’ but he didn’t want to push Jonny to elaborate. And Jonny didn’t seem to want to elaborate, anyway. “I used to play hockey, too.”  Pat sat up a little straighter. “No way.” “Are you kidding? A young boy growing up in Canada who was a bit tall for his age and too competitive for his own good? ‘Course I played hockey,” Jonny said smirking. “Was pretty good, too.” Pat shook his head in wonder. Lucky, indeed. “There’s an ice rink, you know,” Pat said. “I haven’t been because...” He trailed off, but Jonny raised an eyebrow for him to continue. “...Because I was afraid it would be too difficult.” He didn’t have to say anything else for Jonny to get it. He nodded and looked down at the table. “We should go, sometime,” Jonny said. Like they’d be here a while. Pat knew that, of course, but he thought Jonny was pretty determined to find a way to restart hibernation. He didn’t point that out though, just smiled at him and nodded. “Yeah,” Pat said. “I’d like that.” ... “All the robots here are idiots,” Jonny huffed. Pat tried not to laugh. “I keep asking different ones about the hibernation pods and they tell me that none have ever malfunctioned and that they’re ‘fail-safe.’”  “Yeah, they’re not too up-to-date,” Pat said. “But not all of them are idiots.” Jonny raised an eyebrow curiously. “Come on, I’ll show you.” He took Jonny to the Concourse Bar, where Sharpy was cleaning some glasses like always. “Evening, Patrick. And who’s this?” Sharpy said. “Jonny,” he said, holding out his hand for Sharpy to shake. Pat saw Jonny glance over the bar at Sharpy’s mechanical rail mount. “And you are?” “The name’s Patrick, but Pat here calls me Sharpy. What can I get you?”  Jonny raised an amused brow at Pat, mouthing ‘Sharpy?’ at him. He took a seat at one of the bar stools at Pat’s shrug. “Uh, I guess I could have a beer-” he started, and before he could be more specific, Sharpy turned around to grab one. “I think you’ll like this one,” Sharpy said, setting down a bottle and popping off the cap for him. Jonny read the label, presumably to check that it was gluten-free. He seemed to be satisfied, because he took a sip and a surprised smile appeared on his face. “That’s great,” he said, with a small laugh. “You know what I like,” Pat told Sharpy, who nodded and poured him a whiskey, neat. Pat downed the whole thing in one and set it down for a refill. He glanced over at Jonny who was raising his brows again. Pat looked away sheepishly, sipping his next one at a more respectable pace. “Been here a lot?” Jonny asked him, and Pat gave a tight nod. “I’ve never been much of a drinker.” Pat gave a humorless laugh. “I didn’t used to be either,” he mumbled, and Jonny frowned in thought. “What brings you to the Avalon, Jonny?” Sharpy asked, leaning on the bar like he and Jonny were sharing a secret. Jonny tore his eyes away from Pat and smiled. “Same as about everyone, I’m sure. Curiosity, adventure...new possibilities,” Jonny said. “I’ve seen the way humans treated our Earth, and I just didn’t want to see that happen to Homestead II, you know?”  Sharpy shrugged, since he’d never ‘lived’ on Earth to begin with. Pat was watching Jonny’s expression as he spoke, watching as it filled with passion and conviction. It was just like he’d looked in the video, but now Pat was seeing it in person.  “And I’m a farmer, so I want to be able to teach this new colony how to live off the land and eat foods that nourish our body instead of poison it.” “Ah, maybe you’ll be good for Patrick, here,” Sharpy said, gesturing at him. “It’s not my place to say, but he could probably use a bit less whiskey in his diet.” Pat grimaced, but Jonny gave him a side glance and a smile. “Now, this is a robot I can talk to,” Jonny said. “Android,” Pat and Sharpy said in sync, making Jonny laugh. “Android, then.” When they decided to retire for the night an hour or so later, Jonny said goodnight and started to walk across the Concourse as Pat finished off his drink. “He’s wonderful,” Sharpy said to Pat, under his breath. “Great choice.” Pat choked a bit on his last sip, coughing to clear his throat. Sharpy just winked at him, but Pat felt sick all over again. ... The next morning, he watched from his table in the cafeteria as Jonny ran past him in one direction only to reappear not too much later running in the opposite direction. He reappeared again when Pat was finishing up his coffee to run circles around the cafeteria. Pat was kind of exhausted just watching him. But the view was pretty nice - Jonny was clad in a clinging pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and he had headphones in which he must’ve included in his personal items.  When he finally collapsed in the chair across from Pat, chugging a glass of water in a way that Pat definitely tried not to stare at, he was dripping with sweat and breathing heavily. “Five hundred meters,” Jonny said around his breaths. “That’s how long the ship is.” “Ah,” Pat said in understanding. “And we needed to know that because...?” “We didn’t,” Jonny shrugged. “I don’t know. It just serves to torture me, I guess.” Pat raised a brow in question. “That’s the size of our world now.” The idea was thoroughly depressing, despite the fact that Patrick had been living in this five hundred meter long world for a year now. But he felt simultaneously warmed and guilty by Jonny’s use of ‘our’ . It was a combination of feelings he was becoming accustomed to, unfortunately. “Our steel world,” Pat said, and Jonny nodded. “You know, I thought of something the other day,” Jonny said, looking down at the table and speaking in a low, quiet tone.  Jonny did that a lot, and Pat wanted to ask why he felt the need to be quiet. They could scream and yell all they wanted, and there was no one here to complain or hear them. But he didn’t interrupt him to say that, just leaned in closer as Jonny continued.  “We could turn this ship around, you know. We’re closer to Earth than we are to Homestead II. It would take decades, but we’d still be alive at the end.” He met Pat’s eyes then - his expression was sharp and perceptive. “But I think you’ve already thought of that.” “I did. The command deck is completely blocked by firewalls to prevent anyone from seizing command of the ship. There’s no way through,” Pat said, and Jonny nodded like he’d expected that. His expression was a little downtrodden despite the fact. “That was my last idea, I think,” he said softly. Pat didn’t know what to say to that, his mouth opening and closing several times without a single sound escaping. “I’m so sorry, Jonny,” he said finally, knowing it wouldn’t be enough. Jonny just gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, before getting up and walking off, presumably to shower from his run. Pat stared at the chair he’d vacated long after he’d left. ... He didn’t see Jonny for two days. At first, he thought maybe he’d just slept in. In the short time Pat had known him, it didn’t seem like a very ‘Jonny’ thing to do, but he also didn’t know him that well. And as afternoon turned to evening on the first day, Pat got concerned. He stopped by Jonny’s cabin - cabin nine-two-five, he remembered - and when he knocked, he heard Jonny’s quiet voice from inside. “I’m fine, Patrick,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Pat replied with a tentative, ‘Okay. Goodnight.’ But Jonny didn’t sound fine. He sounded like he’d been crying, his voice scratchy and exhausted. It was enough to make Pat ache to open the door anyway, but he made himself walk away. He didn’t sleep a wink all that night, his mind punishing him over and over for what he’d done to Jonny. He would never, never forgive himself for this. But he couldn’t undo it. He knew he had to tell Jonny, but the more time they spent together, the harder it became. He didn’t want to hurt Jonny more than he was already hurting. Although, it was probably all an excuse for Pat to avoid the consequences of his actions. But every time he thought, ‘Today will be the day I’ll tell him the truth,’ Jonny would smile at him and Pat would chicken out. The next day, when he still didn’t see Jonny, Pat tried to distract himself by tinkering with one of the cafeteria machines that he’d taken apart. He’d originally planned to simply put it back together, but now he wondered if he might make something else out of it all. He certainly had the materials and the tools. He just didn’t know what he should make. He ended up feeling even more defeated than when he’d started. That night, he brought some food to Jonny’s door. It wasn’t anything fancy, since Patrick didn’t have access to the nicer meal options and he hadn’t felt like waiting at one of the restaurants. But he thought that might be better anyway, especially if Jonny wasn’t feeling well. He left the tray outside the door, knocking softly but not hearing an answer. “I left some food for you out here, Jonny,” Pat said. He bit his lip in anticipation, but no sound escaped from under the door. “Hope you feel better.” He walked away feeling pretty pathetic. Clearly, Jonny didn’t need or want Pat’s company. Pat went to bed that night feeling worse than he had since he’d chosen to wake Jonny. It was all a reminder of how much he’d fucked up. He eventually fell asleep, only to have nightmares that woke him up constantly - nightmares of being stuck in that hibernation pod, except he was awake, banging and yelling with no escape. Nightmares of that airlock chamber - of letting it open and suck him out into space, suffocating surrounded by stars as far as the eye could see. Needless to say, he no doubt looked rough when he crawled out of bed the next morning. He didn’t want to face another day alone, not now that he knew what it was like to have someone else around. But he had to check if Jonny had emerged. When he walked by his room, he saw that the tray of food was gone. He breathed out in relief, picking up his pace as he headed toward the cafeteria. Maybe that meant Jonny was ready to see him again. He rounded the corner and saw Jonny’s back to him, seated at one of the tables with a tray of food in front of him. He turned around when he heard Pat’s footsteps, giving him a small smile. He looked just like always - healthy and handsome. Pat felt like he could breathe again. “Hey,” Jonny said. “Hey,” Pat echoed, breaking himself out of his daze to sit across from him. “Sorry you were stuck with oatmeal the last couple days,” he said, pushing the tray of (delicious-looking) food toward Patrick. “Hope this makes up for it.”  “Are you alright?” Pat asked, ignoring the food and staring at Jonny, trying to take in all of him to see if Pat was missing something. Jonny looked away sheepishly, before glancing up at Pat again. “As alright as I can be,” he said. “Sorry if I worried you.” Pat just shook his head. “It’s okay.” “Afraid I was sick of you, already?” Jonny teased, nudging Pat’s elbow that was near him. It was embarrassing how that little gesture made Pat’s heart stutter. He managed to shrug and look down at the food to break eye contact. It was a plate of french toast with cinnamon and powdered sugar sprinkled on top. Pat’s mouth watered. “Dig in,” Jonny said, so Pat did. After he’d finished eating, he noticed a notebook in front of Jonny that he hadn’t seen before. “What’s that?” Jonny raised an eyebrow, and then looked down at where Pat’s gaze was directed. “Ah, it’s a journal - a sort of...record I’m making of our time here,” Jonny said, smiling softly at him. “Record?” “Yeah,” Jonny opened it, where there was only one entry so far. “I want to write about our life in this place. It’s mostly for me - to try and make sense of everything, I guess. But it’s nice to think that maybe one day, in ninety years or so, someone might find it and read it. Someone might know that we lived and died and that it wasn’t all bad.”  Pat stared at the journal in Jonny’s hands, his stomach turning over itself. Why did Jonny always have to say these things that made Pat like him more and more? And made Pat feel worse and worse about everything? “That sounds like a really nice idea, Jonny,” he said, biting his lip so he wouldn’t cry like the pathetic loser Jonny no doubt thought him to be. “Does it say anything about me yet?” he asked, trying to be coy but probably coming across desperate. Jonny just smiled. “Of course,” he said. “My story here starts with you, doesn’t it?” Pat felt his heartbeat falter nervously. “I wanted to ask you: why’d you do it?” Pat’s face drained of color. He was about to stutter through a response when Jonny clarified. “Why’d you choose to emigrate? To leave Earth and your life there behind?” Pat tried not to visibly sigh in relief, but he’d thought for a second that Jonny knew. “One hundred and twenty years of hibernation - you’d never see your friends or family again. Why’d you make the choice?” “I...I don’t know,” Pat said, trying to think of something interesting. But the truth was that it hadn’t really felt like a choice. He’d applied immediately, no thought to why. “Same as everybody - for a fresh start, I guess?”“Come on,” Jonny said, rolling his eyes. “Tell me, really. And not the HomeStead Company’s propaganda bullshit.”  Pat sighed and looked down at his hands. His hands that were his greatest tools. Even when everything else failed, his hands wouldn’t let him down - they could build and create whatever was in his head, as long as he could find the tools and the means. He looked back up at Jonny, who was watching him intensely. “I’m a mechanic,” Pat said, and Jonny nodded. “We’re a dying breed on Earth. But out there?” He licked his lips, his voice becoming excited without him realizing. “On Homestead II? I’d be an asset. I’d be someone people could turn to to help solve problems. I’d be somebody.” Jonny was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching Pat’s, until Pat started to feel like he should look away. “You weren’t somebody on Earth?” Jonny asked, his expression serious, so Pat knew he wasn’t trying to insult or tease him. “I used to think I could be,” he said. “But the reality was different.” Jonny looked a bit saddened by the whole conversation, which Pat didn’t really help with his next words. “And anyway, my parents will be fine without me. They didn’t need me so much anymore after I was all grown up. And they’ll have my sisters to keep them company from now on. Although, I guess they might be gone by now, huh? It’s been thirty-one years. They’d be at least in their nineties...” He trailed off at the realization that he was being morbid. Jonny was watching him curiously, but there was an echo in his own eyes that Pat could see. Maybe he was thinking of his own parents too. But they’d both chosen to leave their lives and their families behind. Pat knew there was more to Jonny’s story, but if he wasn’t ready to tell Patrick, then he wouldn’t push. Jonny cleared his throat, tapping his knuckles against Pat’s gently. “Let’s take a walk,” he said, standing up.  Pat stared, a little dumbfounded, as Jonny started to stride away. He scrambled up from his seat to catch up, their conversation already partially forgotten. ... “Who do you think this guy was?” Jonny said, staring down at a sleeping man in his pod and glancing at the control panel in curiosity. Pat rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable with this game. “Come on, just guess.” “Uh, I don’t know. Nick? He’s a banker,” Pat said, shrugging. Jonny shook his head, a playful smile on his face. He looked so good right now, Pat could hardly stand it. “Andrew,” he said. “He’s a journalist.” Pat nodded, as Jonny wandered over to another pod. “What do you think? Karen, Julia, or Sarah?” Jonny asked, covering the control panel with one hand so Pat couldn’t peek. Pat did, however, lean over to look at the woman asleep in the pod. “Sarah? She looks like a Sarah.” Jonny shook his head. “Nope. Julia.” Pat rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help his small grin at Jonny’s high spirits. “Come on, make me guess,” Jonny said, gesturing around them at the other pods. Pat hesitated for a second, but gave in at Jonny’s hopeful eyes. He led them over to another pod, covering the control panel so Jonny couldn’t peek. “Okay. Lawyer, teacher, or scuba instructor?” Jonny raised his eyebrows in amusement. “It’s gotta be scuba. You couldn’t make that up.” Pat scowled, but nodded. “I don’t think I’m very good at this game,” he said, and Jonny shook his head in amusement. Pat led him over to another. “Doctor, writer, or cook?” Jonny pursed his lips in thought, leaning over to get a good look at the man. “Hmm...writer? He’s got that starving artist vibe.” Pat shook his head. “Doctor. And is his name - James, Howard, or Donovan?” “Donovan? That’s too specific to not be the answer,” Jonny laughed. Pat quirked an eyebrow mysteriously.“You sure?” “Yeah, final answer.” “James,” Pat said, laughing at Jonny’s groan. “I’m getting better. Next, we’ll be playing two truths and a lie, and I’ll totally crush you.” Jonny just frowned in mock annoyance, his eyes scanning the pods before he pointed at two. “Married or strangers?” he asked Pat. Patrick glanced at them and squinted in thought. “Married,” Pat settled on. Jonny walked over to peek at the control panel and raised his brows. “Yeah,” he said, surprised and impressed. They both stood for a moment, staring at the couple, before Jonny cleared his throat. “What else is there to do around here?” ... Patrick spent the next few days showing Jonny everything there was to do on the ship. They went to the movie theater first, where Jonny roasted him for his movie choices. “Thirty thousand movies to pick from, Pat, and you’ve only watched Die Hard, Batman, and Billy Madison?”  “They’re my favorites!” “You’re embarrassing.” Then he showed Jonny all the sports fields and courts, where they got thoroughly sidetracked playing a one-on-one game of soccer, which really just became keepaway. “It’s called ‘football,’ Patrick.” “Whatever, Canada man.” “That’s your comeback? Really?” He took Jonny to the spa for a massage, which didn’t make Jonny nearly as uncomfortable as it had made Pat that one time. Evidently, it was somewhere Jonny would be revisiting pretty regularly. “My back’s killing me from that terrible excuse for a bed in my cabin.” “Well, why don’t you move to one of the suites, like I did?” “That’s someone else’s room, Pat.” “So? No one’s sleeping there now. And no one’s gonna be for eighty-nine more years.” “Well, they’re still gonna wake up and see that someone lived in their room and stuff.” “You are so weird.” They went swimming in the pool, which was actually a pretty cool space. It was a clear, glass pool that looked straight down on the Concourse, and the water ran right up to the edge of the glass so it created an illusion of an empty room. It was only once you’d dived in that the water’s ripples truly revealed the disguise. Pat hadn’t visited it that much, mostly because it wasn’t that fun to swim by yourself and he definitely wasn’t the type to swim laps for exercise. But it was a lot of fun with Jonny. They’d race each other (Jonny almost always won) and play games, like Marco Polo and Categories, where Jonny would stand with his back to the pool and list things in a category and if he said Pat’s thing, he would try to swim quietly to the other end without Jonny hearing. Jonny heard every time and would jump in to catch Patrick. Pat didn’t mind because it was more fun when Jonny was chasing him anyway. Everything was more fun with Jonny. After about a week, they’d visited almost every form of entertainment the ship had to offer. Except the ice rink. “Is it time?” Jonny asked that morning at breakfast. It wasn’t that Pat didn’t want to skate. He actually ached for it - for the feeling of the ice under his skate blades, his breath coming out in clouds of steam from the cool air even as his body sweat, his muscles too tired afterward to walk more than a few feet. He missed it like a missing limb. But he was afraid it would take him back to all those years ago, when he’d made the choice to quit. How different would his life be if he’d stuck with it? He didn’t think he’d even be on this ship. But then again, maybe he would be. Maybe he would’ve chosen to go pro, and he would’ve had a career-ending injury. Maybe he would’ve retired and wanted to find more for his life. It was useless to think in what-ifs. Which is ultimately what pushed him to agree. He and Jonny made their way to the rink and it was...odd. It was the only place on the ship available to him that Patrick hadn’t been to, so it was a new experience for them both. It felt for the first time like he and Jonny were on more equal footing. And as soon as they found skates in their size and stepped on the ice, Pat realized they were pretty equal on the ice as well. Jonny was a bit quicker than him, but he was also clumsier. It was like he didn’t care whether he fell at the end of a skill, as long as he pulled the skill off to begin with. Patrick was much more worried about looking cool and collected and steady on his feet. When they’d gotten their skate legs, Jonny skated off the ice only to return with two sticks and a bucket of pucks. He was grinning as he skated toward Pat, holding out a stick. “Come on,” Jonny said. “We can just play for a minute. And then if you hate it, we’ll stop.” “I won’t,” Pat said, and Jonny looked like he knew that would be the case. Pat made him wait with the stick held up between them out of spite for a moment longer, before grabbing it from Jonny’s hand. “Alright, smooth guy. Show me what you got.” And he did. Jonny was...pretty good. Better than Patrick at a lot of things. But not stickhandling - in that department, Patrick had him beat. Mostly, it just felt really good to do this again. They started just by playing keepaway in an echo of their earlier soccer game, getting warmed up with the puck and remembering how it felt to handle the stick like an extension of themselves. Then it devolved into them playing one-on-one, trying to score on the other by shooting toward a spot on the boards they’d designated as the net. There was a feeling of competitiveness between them for sure, but they were also able to not take it too seriously. Jonny just seemed to throw his whole body into things - skating harder, hitting harder, falling harder - in a way that made it seem like he was way too serious about the whole thing. But Pat came to realize that it was just the way Jonny was. He didn’t know how to do things halfway.  Pat had a stitch in his side by the end just from laughing at Jonny’s wipeouts, though. At one point, he’d quite literally dived in front of Pat’s puck to keep him from scoring. “Can you please not injure yourself when we’re supposed to be having fun?” Pat said with a laugh. “You are so intense, weirdo.”  Jonny just smiled from where he was lying on his stomach on the ice. When he sat up, his whole front was covered in ice shavings, setting Pat off on another round of laughing. It was...kind of a perfect day. Pat wanted to feel like this every day, like he could do anything. Jonny made him feel like that. ... The next few weeks consisted of a similar schedule. They’d eat breakfast together in the morning (Jonny always choosing something extravagant for Patrick, while he mostly stuck to oatmeal or fruit for himself). Then, they’d choose one of the activities they liked to do - swimming or movies or, as Jonny had started to do, dragging Pat to the gym. Or they’d choose a down day where they just chilled in the library. Jonny would do research about space travel or farming techniques or whatever the fuck he was into that day, and Pat would sit on a nearby chair switching between watching Jonny read and taking short naps. Then, they would get lunch and go skating. Both of them were getting a lot better every day, reminding their muscles of what to do and gaining back the skill they were accustomed to. They’d figured out how to trigger the rink to switch to hockey mode, which made playing against each other a lot easier. But it was still just the two of them. Pat wished they could have a whole team to scrimmage against each other, but that was obviously not in the cards. It didn’t keep him from being annoyed, though, every time Jonny beat him at a faceoff. “I’m never gonna beat you on the faceoff, dude,” Pat said, in frustration, after the fiftieth time.  He did feel better when he proceeded to steal the puck from Jonny and skate across the rink to score. The rink lights lit up red, blasting “Rock You Like a Hurricane,” the song Pat had programmed for himself. Jonny rolled his eyes as he caught his breath. “You will. You just have to practice,” Jonny said. Patrick huffed, knowing that the faceoff just wasn’t interesting enough for him to warrant practice. “Hey, you hungry?” Pat asked as they skated off the ice to get a drink of water. “Starving,” Jonny said. “There’s this nice steak restaurant that costs like hundreds of dollars but...money’s kind of a made up concept for us now, isn’t it?” Jonny laughed and nodded. “You could say that.” “So, you wanna?” Pat didn’t know why he felt nervous. He and Jonny had eaten together practically every night in the last month. But it felt different to ask - like he was asking him out or something. “That sounds nice,” Jonny said finally, putting Pat out of his misery. “I need to shower and change, though. Meet up in the Concourse?” “Yeah, sure.” ... Pat rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs. He was waiting for Jonny and having second thoughts about his outfit. God, how is this my life?  He’d decided to dress up a little more than usual, digging through his belongings to find a nicer pair of jeans and a button-up. He didn’t want to look like he’d tried harder than usual, but it would probably be obvious to Jonny anyway. He heard footsteps and looked up to see Jonny approaching him, looking just as attractive as always. He dressed better than Pat most of the time, so he didn’t look much different, but his hair was still wet from his shower and he had a slight flush from the warm water. Pat swallowed and tried to calm his racing heart. “Hey,” Pat said. “You ready?” Jonny smiled and nodded, so they headed toward the restaurant. He glanced sideways at Pat as they walked, raising an eyebrow. “You look nice,” he said, and Pat couldn’t prevent his flush. “Uh, thanks. You too,” Pat replied, mentally kicking himself for sounding so dumb. “Uh, I mean-” “Thanks, Pat,” Jonny interrupted, giving him a private smile that made Pat’s pulse race.  Was he...? Pat couldn’t ever tell if Jonny was flirting with him. Jonny didn’t know Patrick was gay, as far as he knew. It had never come up, surprisingly. And they definitely connected - obviously, Pat thought Jonny was fucking ace . But it was harder to know what Jonny was thinking sometimes.  It all just seemed a little too easy that the only other guy awake on this ship, who Patrick just so happened to have the hots for, might also feel the same way. Plus, they were stuck with each other in here - he wasn’t going to make a move unless he knew for sure. And then, there was the whole matter of Patrick lying to him... Didn’t make for a very solid basis for a relationship. He made himself stop thinking about it when they got to the restaurant, a robot host guiding them to their table, as though they didn’t have their pick of any table in the place. But it was a nice spot, next to a fireplace, which felt good at the moment, although Patrick would probably be sweating in twenty minutes. He started to swipe through the menu screen, but Jonny was just sitting quietly, looking at the fire. “You’re not gonna look at the menu?” Pat asked, drawing Jonny’s attention. “I mean...I’m gonna order steak,” he said, smirking. Pat rolled his eyes. “There’s tons of different cuts, though. And you’ve got all the sides to choose from...” Pat trailed off at Jonny’s grin. “What are my options?” he asked. And so Pat read him the menu. It was weirdly domestic - or rather, co-dependent. But maybe that was what happened when you spent every day with someone for a month. They were both so hungry that they didn’t order any drinks, only focused on the food. And it was actually really delicious, maybe even worth the hundreds of dollars the meal would cost. “How’s your ‘steak’?” Pat asked, teasingly. Jonny had indeed ended up getting a steak, but only after debating three different cuts for fifteen minutes. “Cooked perfectly,” Jonny said, grinning. “How’s your journal thing going?” Pat asked. He didn’t know what made him think of it, just that he hadn’t seen Jonny writing in it for a while. “Uh, it’s good,” Jonny said.  “Can I read it?” Pat asked. “Not yet,” Jonny said, looking down at his plate. “When it’s finished.” “Well, it’s not gonna be finished for the rest of our lives,” Pat said, exasperated. Jonny just smiled and shook his head. “Fine, then. When I’m ready to show you.” “What are you writing in there? Porn?” Pat asked, causing Jonny to choke on his next bite. Then, they were both laughing. “Jesus, Pat,” Jonny said, shaking his head. “That wasn’t an answer. Anyway, I thought you were writing about us - what’s happening on the ship. Shouldn’t I know all that already?” “Yeah...but it also kinda became a way to get out my thoughts and feelings, stuff I wouldn’t normally share with anyone.” “But you’re writing it down in a book that, presumably, a ship full of thousands of people will read one day,” Pat pointed out. Jonny just shrugged. “It’s easier to think of strangers reading than...well, than you.” Pat felt his neck flush, and they both looked back down at their plates awkwardly.  It was weird - Pat didn’t exactly know when they’d gone from strangers to friends, but it had definitely happened. It was nice to hear Jonny say it, even if it hadn’t been in those exact words. “I get it,” Pat said softly, giving Jonny a small smile. “I look forward to reading it.” He cringed at how formal that sounded, but Jonny just looked grateful. They’d both finished their food, but after charging the meals to Pat’s suite, Pat hadn’t wanted the night to end. He thought maybe Jonny felt the same, so they headed to the Concourse Bar. Sharpy was there waiting for them, dependable as always. “Evening, you two. What can I get for you?” “Two beers,” Pat said, and Jonny gave him a look of surprise. He usually drank hard liquor, but he was trying to knock the habit. He didn’t feel a reason to get drunk anymore. “Whatever you think we’ll like.” Sharpy nodded and scooted off to get their drinks as they sat down. “You both seem in good spirits,” the android said, setting down their beers and popping off the caps.  Pat took a swig of his beer just as Jonny answered, “We’re on a date.” It was Pat’s turn to choke, coughing to clear his throat. When he chanced a glance at Jonny, he had a sly smile and an arch to his brow. “Unless I misinterpreted something.” “Uh- no,” Pat said, laughing nervously. “I mean, yes.” Jonny bit his lip to hold back a laugh. “I mean...you didn’t misinterpret.”  He took another drink of his beer, mostly just to have something to do. His heart was beating out of his chest, which wasn’t helped at all by Jonny’s expression. He looked at Pat like he’d never looked at him - his chin propped in his hand and his lashes lowered. He looked like he wanted Patrick, which...fuck. Pat hoped it was true. “Congratulations, you two,” Sharpy interrupted, making them break eye contact to look at him. Patrick had honestly forgotten he was there for a second. “Well, it took him long enough to ask,” Jonny teased, which made Patrick huff. “I was giving you time to adjust! And space to...sort through things,” Pat mumbled. It wasn’t like Jonny couldn’t have also asked him out. Why was it Patrick’s fault they were just doing this now? “Space is the last thing I need,” Jonny said sarcastically. “And time, well...we’ve got time, I guess.” He gave Pat a small smile which he couldn’t help but return. It was hard to resist smiling when he felt a little giddy at the fact that this was a date - that Jonny liked him. God, he felt like a schoolboy with a crush. They only drank until they’d each finished their beers, the conversation a bit stilted, awkward. There was pressure now that Pat knew how important this night was. Jonny didn’t seem to mind though, just sharing smiles and nervous laughs with Pat. They didn’t stay at the bar long, and Pat had this feeling that he’d blown it. This was the most important date of his life, and he’d fucked up. He didn’t really pay attention to where they were until he realized Jonny had stopped walking. He looked up and noticed that they were at the door to the Berlin suite. Pat fidgeted with his shirt sleeve nervously. “Aren’t I supposed to walk you to your door?” Pat said. “I’m the one who asked you out.” Jonny’s lips tilted up at the edges, but he just shook his head gently. “You seemed in your head a bit. I took the lead,” Jonny said. “So...”  “So...” Pat repeated, biting his lip around a smile. “You like me, eh?” Jonny grinned, and Pat groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Is that a yes or a no?” “What do you think, Jonny?” Pat said. He could feel his cheeks flushing, and he silently willed himself to calm down. “Hey,” Jonny said softly, tugging at Pat’s wrist until he revealed his face. “I like you, too.” Pat breathed out slowly, feeling his stomach fill with heat.  “Yeah?” he asked. Jonny nodded, biting his lower lip which drew Pat’s gaze there. They were already standing pretty close, and Pat could feel the heat radiating from Jonny’s body. It was drawing him in, making him want to bury himself there. They were both breathing kind of heavy, but Pat barely noticed. “Uh,” he swallowed. “So, goodnight, then?” Jonny ignored him, grabbing a handful of Pat’s shirt and tugging him into a kiss. Pat sighed and immediately kissed him back, burying his hands in Jonny’s hair. A warm hand found its way under Pat’s shirt, sliding up his back and pulling him closer. Pat groaned as Jonny’s tongue slid against his, licking along the roof of his mouth and making Pat’s toes curl with desire. He broke out of the kiss to breathe, his chest heaving from the lack of air and his heightened nerves. Jonny kissed down his throat and back up again, pausing to bite and lick at Pat’s jaw.  “Jonny,” Pat groaned, his hands flexing and his hips pushing into Jonny’s. It was Jonny’s turn to moan, pulling away only slightly to breathe. “Can I come in?” he asked, breathless. “Fuck, yes,” Pat said, tugging Jonny into his room by his belt loops. They didn’t make it very far until Jonny pushed him against the wall to kiss him some more, definitely knocking over some stuff on the dresser in the process. Neither of them cared, too preoccupied with each other. Pat was overwhelmed - no one had even touched him in over a year, let alone kissed him like this. His skin felt like it was on fire everywhere Jonny’s hands traced. He was embarrassed to say that, whatever they were about to do, he wasn’t going to last long. “Pat,” Jonny sighed, dropping his forehead to Pat’s shoulder as they pressed their bodies together. “Pat, can I-?” He tugged at the collar of Pat’s shirt and Pat nodded.  Jonny unbuttoned it carefully at first and then got impatient, proceeding to pull until the rest of the buttons popped through their holes. Pat snickered as Jonny drew the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms, but the laughing stopped when Jonny ran a confident hand up his abdomen, making Pat’s breath stutter. “You too,” Pat managed to say through the haze, glancing down at Jonny’s shirt. Jonny nodded, pulling it off in one smooth motion and tossing it off to the side.  Pat had seen Jonny shirtless when they’d gone swimming, but this was a different context completely. He actually felt his mouth water at the sight of him. He wanted to run his hands all over...so he did. They eventually found the bed, shedding their pants on the way. Pat climbed on top of Jonny, kissing him and rocking against him, only their briefs between them. Jonny’s hands were everywhere. It was already so much. “God, Pat,” Jonny groaned, kissing his neck. “You looked so good tonight.” “I did?” Pat asked, catching his breath. Jonny nodded, biting his lip which was red and swollen. “You turned me on all day,” he said, and Pat dropped his forehead to Jonny’s chest. He turned Jonny on? Although, perhaps that should’ve been fairly obvious, what with their current position. “Your skating. And your hands.” “My hands?” Pat asked, lifting his head to look at him. “You’re so good with your hands.” “I like your hands too,” Pat said, nodding at Jonny’s raised eyebrow. “And your ass.” Jonny gave a surprised laugh, his hands wandering down Pat’s back until they were resting on Pat’s ass, pulling their hips together until they both groaned. “Right back atcha,” Jonny said, and Pat leaned down to kiss him again.  “Can I suck your dick?” he asked, and Jonny’s hands flexed around him. “Yeah. Fuck- yes,” Jonny said, nodding.  Pat didn’t let himself overthink it, kissing down Jonny’s torso and peeling down his briefs to take Jonny into his mouth. It probably wasn’t his best work, considering how nervous he was to get this right. But the warm weight of Jonny’s dick on his tongue was indescribably good - the smell of him. And Jonny seemed to be enjoying things, muttering Pat’s name and ‘fuck’ and ‘just like that’ over and over, his hand flexing in Pat’s hair. He didn’t tug, although Pat wouldn’t have minded it, just held him there and massaged Pat’s scalp, when he had enough wits to do so. All of that to say, it was thoroughly enjoyable for them both. Pat liked doing this, even if his jaw got sore after a bit. And it was even better because it was Jonny. Jonny, who Pat was pretty sure he was fucking in love with. The whole time, Pat was rubbing off on the mattress, until he couldn’t take it anymore and reached into his own briefs to relieve some of the pressure. When he got close, his mouth went a little slack, but it worked out well because when he did come, he was able to avoid any biting incidents. And his moan as he came set Jonny off too, his knees coming up to bracket Pat’s head and his back arching a bit as he came down Pat’s throat. He didn’t manage to swallow all of it, some of it escaping down his chin. But he just wiped it off as best he could and laid his head on Jonny’s thigh for a bit, until he’d regained enough coordination to haul himself back up the bed. Jonny was completely blissed out, an attractive flush on his cheeks. “Look at you,” Pat muttered, laying himself half on top of Jonny, who didn’t seem to care what in the world happened at that moment. Jonny’s eyes blinked open, and the smile he directed at Pat made his chest warm. “Pleased?” “As pie,” Jonny said, his hand guiding Pat’s chin until they were kissing again. They carried on like that for longer than Pat could keep track of. He just couldn’t get enough of Jonny’s lips and tongue and... everything. His hands on Pat’s body felt like nothing else. He didn’t know how much later, but they both got worked up again for another round, this time just getting each other off while they kissed. Pat was pretty sure the beard burn from Jonny’s stubble was gonna be real tomorrow, but there was no one else on this ship to even recognize what that was. It was freeing in a way - he made a note to remind himself that next time, they could be as loud as they wanted since no one was around to hear. He could completely let go with Jonny - not hold a single bit of himself back. They eventually fell asleep, although Pat didn’t remember when. Only that it was his best sleep in over a year, by far. ... Pat inhaled the omelet in front of him, barely pausing between bites. “I’m starving,” he said, glancing over at Jonny’s meager oatmeal. “How can you eat that every day?” “You did. For a year,” Jonny reminded him, making Pat roll his eyes. “Not by choice. Eat some of this. Please,” Pat added at the end, pouting until Jonny gave in and took a bite. “How are you not starving? I feel like I could eat a whole buffet.” Jonny huffed in mock annoyance, but he was smiling around his fork. Their eyes met and then they were just grinning at one another and blushing over an omelet. “You’re so fucking hot,” Pat blurted out, flushing harder.  Jonny’s grin got wider, but he didn’t tease him. Just leaned over the table and kissed Pat senseless. When Jonny pulled away, he chugged his mug of coffee, stood up, and grabbed Pat’s hand to tug him all the way back to his room. ... The next few days were a bit of a sex marathon. Pat had had nothing but his hand for company for over a year, plus Jonny was anyone’s wet dream. Pat didn’t honestly know what Jonny saw in him, but he was thankful for it nonetheless. God, was he fucking grateful. Because he’d never felt this good in his life. They couldn’t do almost anything without it devolving into sex. Shower? Sex. Hockey? Sex. Movies? Sex. They’d even tried to separate from one another for a bit, just to have a break, and it had lasted all of twenty minutes. Jonny had jogged past Patrick in the Concourse, they’d shared a smile (Pat had been proud of them for their restraint), before Jonny had reappeared and practically tackled him to the ground. And Pat sure as fuck wasn’t complaining.  But by the time they’d gotten to the end of one week, they were both a little exhausted. Jonny had just finished giving him the kind of blowjob that he’d get hard just thinking about tomorrow, and they were both blinking slow and sleepy at each other.  “You know,” Pat said, his voice quiet like he was sharing a secret. “Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming all of this. Dreaming you - that you’re not really here with me. That I’ve invented all of this in my head in some drunken stupor. That I’ll wake up tomorrow and I’ll still be alone.” Jonny’s brows furrowed and he pulled Pat closer until their foreheads touched. “I was so sad before, Jonny. There was a time I thought I...” He forced himself to breathe. “...I thought I might end it. But now, I feel like I can breathe again.” Jonny was quiet for a moment, but his grip was tight around Pat’s waist. “Come on, you couldn’t dream me up,” Jonny said, smiling softly. “Why in the world would you dream up someone better at hockey than you?” Pat huffed a laugh against Jonny’s lips, gently pinching his side in retaliation. “Yeah right, buddy.” Jonny laughed and kissed Pat in an apology. “Sorry,” Jonny softly bit Pat’s lower lip, causing him to shiver. “I’ll make it up to you.” “And how are you gonna do that?” Pat asked, although he had a good idea. Jonny smoothed a hand down the back of his thigh, before drawing Pat’s leg over his hip. “I’ll think of something.”  - ONE MONTH LATER - Jonny had gone to the yoga studio that afternoon, which Pat usually liked to watch. But he decided to go poking around the cargo hold a bit more. He’d been down there several times, but he remembered seeing something that he thought Jonny might be cheered up by. Jonny was a farm boy - he loved nature and the environment and Pat could tell that he missed growing things. It would be hard on this ship, but Pat had started building these grow lights from different pieces of machinery around the ship. They weren’t that difficult to build with the correct light, which he was able to find after extensive searching. He was almost finished with the light panels, but now he needed something to grow. He searched the cargo hold until he found what he was looking for, a smile growing over his face. This was it - seeds of every kind packaged, labeled, and filed. Obviously, they couldn’t use a lot of them because these were important for the new colony on Homestead II. But at the same time, the Avalon had stocked for redundancy, meaning they had way more seeds than they strictly needed. Pat could take as many seed packets as he could hold and the new colony wouldn’t even miss them. For now, he grabbed only a few - carrots, tomatoes, peas, and squash - as well as some herbs that he knew Jonny liked. He seemed like the type of guy that would enjoy burning sage to ‘cleanse their space’ or something. And basil and rosemary were good staples for different meals.  Then, he found something that made him feel like a teenager again. Why had the Avalon brought cannabis seeds? Pat guessed it had medicinal properties, although maybe this new colony was going to be more free thinking than Earth’s. He grabbed some. None of this mattered if there wasn’t soil. But the Avalon had taken care of that, too. Tons of samples of Earth’s soil had been stored in the hold as well. Pat assumed it was for scientific purposes - to compare Earth’s soil to Homestead II’s - but he didn’t really know. And he didn’t care, honestly. This soil was more important for them than for these other passengers. They’d be able to get more of Earth’s soil to Homestead II if it was really necessary, but this might be the last soil that Pat and Jonny ever saw. He spent the rest of the afternoon finishing and installing the grow lights in the Grand Concourse. He was afraid Jonny would come find him there and spoil the surprise, but he guessed he’d acted suspicious enough this morning that Jonny had caught on, giving him space to finish whatever he was up to. By the time he’d installed the lights, soldered together some metal plant basins, and filled them with the soil samples, the lights in the Concourse had grown dim and blue, signaling that it was ‘evening.’ Pat wiped the sweat off his brow and cleaned his hands off on his jeans. He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to show Jonny, too excited to see his reaction. It was a bit selfish, since Jonny would probably want to get to work right away and Pat would have to hold him off ‘till morning. But it couldn’t wait. “What’s this about, Pat?” Jonny asked. Pat could hear the smile in his voice, but he was standing behind him covering his eyes as they walked toward the Concourse. “Patience,” Pat said, smirking as Jonny tripped a bit over the floor. “Pat,” Jonny said in annoyance. “You’re supposed to warn me when I’m about to run into something.” “I am,” he insisted. “You tripped over nothing just then.” Jonny huffed, and Pat bit his lip to prevent a laugh. “Okay, we’re here.” Pat kept his hands over Jonny’s eyes for another second just to hear Jonny’s impatient sigh, before he removed them and stepped beside him. “Tada.” Jonny took in what was in front of him, his eyes roaming over the grow lights, which Pat had turned on, and the bins filled with soil. He turned to look at Pat with a questioning smile.  “What...?” Pat dug into his pockets and pulled out the seed packs, placing them in Jonny’s hands. “Pat, how-?” “I found them in the cargo hold. There are thousands - they won’t miss these,” he said, chewing his bottom lip nervously. “The lights were pretty easy, it was just finding the right bulbs that was a bit of a challenge. But they should work well. And I’m planning to make this irrigation system that’ll water them when you want. I don’t know anything about growing vegetables, but I figured you’d know enough for us both.” Jonny just stared at him with his mouth slightly open, the seed packets clutched in his hands. Pat was beginning to get a bit worried, when Jonny leaned in and kissed him without warning. He put his arms around Pat and pulled him into a hug, although his hands were still full. Pat clenched his fists in Jonny’s shirt, burying his nose in his shoulder. “Thanks, Pat,” he said, and then he sniffed a bit. “Are you crying?” Pat asked, and Jonny pulled away, looking down sheepishly. “Well...yeah,” Jonny mumbled, wiping under his eyes with his wrist. “This is definitely the best present I’ve ever been given, so...”  Pat pulled him close again by his waist, giving him another peck on the lips and wiping the tears from his cheeks with his thumbs. Jonny was just kind of staring at him and smiling all sappy, until eventually Pat blushed and looked away. “I’m glad you like it,” Pat said, abashed. “But no planting tonight. It’s late and I missed you all day.” “You’re the one who disappeared suspiciously!” “Fair enough. But I want to eat and then fuck,” Pat said, and Jonny barked out a laugh. “You’ve definitely earned it,” Jonny said, biting his lip and giving Pat a look that meant they were probably skipping the eating part. Jonny dropped the seed packets on the floor and tugged Pat toward their suite. ... “Can we get heat without lights?” Jonny asked, pressing the soil around the tomato seeds. “Sure, I can throw something together. Why?” “Sometimes, the seeds need heat but not light yet so the soil can conserve more moisture.” Pat nodded, already doing mental calculations about what he was going to build. Jonny had gotten a better look at the seeds that morning and grinned when he’d noticed the cannabis. Then he’d gotten to work planting them and labeling the bins so they knew where everything was.  Pat wouldn’t lie, Jonny was kind of sexy in his element. Planting seeds shouldn’t be sexy, but Jonny just knew what to do without any research or anything. And the way he talked to Pat about it - explaining what he was doing and why, asking Pat to build different things for his needs - it was definitely hot. Pat had known that the two of them worked well together, but it was another thing for their different skill sets to be so in sync like this. It made him feel like they were...perfect for each other, or something. He wouldn’t say that out loud though, for fear of sounding like a sap. Over the next few weeks, they started to see sprouts sticking up out of the soil, which made Pat pretty excited, but Jonny warned him it would be a long time before anything was ready to harvest. “What about the weed?” Pat said, raising his eyebrows up and down suggestively. “Hard to say. It could take anywhere from two to eight months.” Pat gave him a suspicious look. “Jonathan Toews, have you grown weed before?” Jonny rolled his eyes. “Do I seem like someone who’s grown weed before?” “Yes.” “Okay, well. Yes, I have,” Jonny said, and Pat snickered. “You’re such a hippy. I can’t wait to see you high.” Jonny shook his head, but he was grinning.  This was definitely the most excited he’d seen Jonny since they’d met. It was really nice to see him so happy. Pat had never been in a relationship where he cared so much about someone else’s happiness. And it was a really good feeling when he was making Jonny happy, but he couldn’t help the bit of fear in the back of his mind that warned him of when he would be responsible for Jonny’s un happiness. He didn’t ever want to be the reason for Jonny’s unhappiness, but it was inevitable in a way. Two people couldn’t spend their whole lives together and not drive each other crazy sometimes. And then, there was the thing that Pat had let himself forget over the last few months - that he had a huge secret he was keeping from Jonny that could tear them apart. When he let himself think about it, the fear that rose within him made it hard to breathe. So then, he’d bury it and force himself to move on. He didn’t know how long he could keep burying it though. He loved Jonny so much - he hadn’t told him yet, but he did. Telling him the truth might change their relationship forever, but part of Pat hoped Jonny would understand. If they both loved each other, like Pat suspected they did, Jonny had to forgive him eventually, right? And the idea of Jonny finding out somehow before Pat had the chance to tell him... Jonny’s trust in him would be ruined. But it was easier said than done. How could Pat throw a wrench in something that was going so well at the moment? It was self-sacrificing in a way that Pat actively tried to avoid. Things were good. So the secret would wait. - THREE MONTHS LATER - Pat tugged Jonny down the hall, as the floor and walls began to rumble.  “Fuck, we’re gonna miss it,” Pat said, huffing as they sprinted toward the Celestial Promenade. They’d gotten distracted with each other as always, combined with the fact that Pat’s mental math had been a bit off. “What is it, Pat?” Jonny asked, his voice concerned since he didn’t know what was stressing Pat out. “Where are we going?” Pat dragged him up a set of stairs until they’d entered a glass room, the walls and ceiling looking out into space where there was a giant red star flaming closer and closer. Jonny stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide in wonder. They stood together, Pat’s hand in Jonny’s, as the ship sailed closer to the star. Bloody red light filled the room until it was all they could see. The ship rumbled and shook as they passed it by, until eventually the room was dark and silent again. “That was incredible,” Jonny said, drawing Pat’s gaze back to him. “Closest we’ll get to a star the whole trip,” Pat said, smiling. “Happy birthday.” Jonny frowned, looking over at him. “Is it-? Already?” Pat nodded and Jonny looked back out at the endless expanse of space. “A year older...Wanna get high?” Pat laughed and tugged Jonny back down the stairs. ... “Of course you have a lighter in your personal belongings,” Pat said, as they settled on the floor, their backs against the bed. “You were a total stoner, weren’t you? I don’t know why I’m surprised.” “I wouldn’t say I was a stoner,” Jonny said, indignant. “But I did have sleep problems.” “Really?” This was news to Pat. “Yeah, had pretty bad insomnia and anxiety. Smoking helped sometimes.” “Makes sense,” Pat said, watching Jonny methodically roll and lick the paper. He was a bit out of practice, but definitely someone who’d done this before. Pat really wanted to make out with him. “Do you still have sleep problems?” He hadn’t noticed Jonny lying awake at night, or anything. “No, it’s...in the past,” Jonny said, giving him a small smile. He shook the joint to pack the weed in, then used the lighter to ignite the end, turning it slowly in his fingers. “Why do you do that?” Pat said, gesturing at the joint. “To get it to burn more evenly,” Jonny explained, rolling his eyes at Pat’s grin. “Why are you so delighted I’m good at this?” “I just like learning new things about you,” Pat said, shrugging. Jonny had a soft look on his face as he looked back down at the joint. “What’s that you made at this end?” Pat asked, pointing at the side Jonny was holding. “It’s a crutch. Keeps the herb from getting in your mouth when you inhale.” Pat nodded, biting his lip to show Jonny that he thought he was being sexy right now. Jonny shook his head on a laugh, holding it up for him. “You want to do the honors?” “Nah, you,” Pat said, watching as Jonny brought it to his lips and breathed in for a good few seconds, holding it in, then blowing out to the side so Pat didn’t get a face full of smoke. He took another drag, repeating the same process, then ashed the joint in the little ash tray they’d found and passed it to Pat. Pat had done this before, but it’d been a long time - not since college. He mimicked what Jonny had done, and managed not to cough, passing it back to him. They’d turned on some music earlier, and it filled the room now with a quiet soundtrack. “Did you ever smoke with your brother?” Pat asked, and Jonny’s face fell a bit. He immediately regretted asking, but Jonny just gave him a sad smile. “Not with David, no,” Jonny said, relighting the joint and taking another drag. His eyes were already a little more heavy-lidded, his blinks slower. “He was too young, at least in my mind.” Jonny’s brows were furrowed, like he was considering something. Then he looked at Pat for a long moment, his expression smoothing out into a sort of peace. “I, uh...I want to tell you about him.” “You don’t have to-” “I want to,” Jonny insisted, his eyes tracing over Pat’s features in a way that always made Pat flush. He nodded his head to encourage Jonny to continue. “He was...really annoying,” Jonny said, making them both laugh a bit. “Most of the time, we drove each other nuts. We both played hockey when we were younger, and we’d battle it out on the frozen lake near the farm until we both hated each other. Wouldn’t speak for days, sometimes.” Jonny shook his head to himself, but he had a small smile on his face at the memory. “ Maman would try to get us to apologize for whatever shit we’d said to each other. But the only thing that got us out of it was to just go back out and play again.” He met Pat’s eyes, passing him the joint and watching closely as Pat breathed in and out.  “I miss those days a lot,” Jonny said, his gaze becoming distant, nostalgic. “What happened?” Pat asked, his voice almost a whisper. He was starting to feel the weed, his head feeling light and a slight tingling in his limbs. But he listened close to what Jonny was saying. “A car accident,” Jonny said, matter-of-fact, like he’d said it a million times. He probably had. Pat swallowed the ‘I’m sorry’ on his tongue, knowing it wouldn’t help. “I was driving.” Pat breathed out slowly, his hand coming up to frame Jonny’s face. He traced a thumb over his cheekbone and Jonny leaned into it, a tear leaking out of his eye, which Pat quickly brushed away.  “Jonny,” he said, not knowing what he meant or even what to do right now, but Jonny shut his eyes and breathed, like just hearing Pat’s voice was easing his pain. “I tried to move past it for a long time, Pat. But something like that...” He opened his eyes again and shook his head. “I could barely look at my parents for years. And when I saw that I could start over somewhere - really start over - I had to do it.” He met Pat’s eyes, which probably looked heartbroken, but he couldn’t help it. “And maybe doing this, coming on this ship, was me running away, but...I kind of think everyone on this ship was running away from something.” Pat gave him a small smile, nodding in agreement. “I think about how my parents must’ve felt, sometimes,” Jonny continued. “Like they’d lost two sons.” “Don’t think about that, Jonny-” “But I do,” he said. “You had to do this for yourself,” Pat insisted. “Maybe,” Jonny said, another moment passing before his eyes cleared and he kissed Pat’s palm. “Anyway, that’s the real reason I’m here, I guess. Now you know, I’m a fraud for all my environmentalist bullshit.” “Yeah, right,” Pat said, letting Jonny shift the mood. “You’re a hippy who cares about the environment and smokes weed, and you’ll never convince me otherwise.” Jonny just smiled at him and held up his hand for the joint, which had kept burning a bit while they’d talked. Pat was sad they missed out on smoking that bit, but they had a fucking weed farm practically, so he was pretty sure they were well stocked.  “Thanks for telling me Jonny,” Pat said, feeling weirdly emotional about Jonny trusting him so much. Jonny just nodded as he took another drag. “You know, this song is aggressive, but also oddly beautiful,” Jonny said, as Pat heard the singer yell, ‘I don’t give a fuck, hoe...’ He burst out laughing. “You’re fucking high, man,” Pat said, and Jonny grinned and nodded. A little while later, they’d finished the joint and were just laying on their backs on the floor, their feet pointed up at the ceiling with their ankles propped on the bed frame. Pat kept reaching his foot over to play footsie with Jonny, who would half-heartedly return the favor. “You know you’re stoned when you just spent the past five minutes in silence, thinking about free will versus determination,” Jonny said, sending Pat into another fit of laughter. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” Pat asked in disbelief. “You are such a...an intellectual.” Jonny literally giggled, which prompted Pat to look over at him to see it for himself. Jonny returned the look and then they were just staring. Pat got lost in his thoughts, thinking of how much he loved Jonny and also how much he wanted to have sex right then. It felt like a lot of work at the moment, though. He realized Jonny was saying something, and came back to the moment.“What’d you say?” Pat asked. “Huh?” “Huh?” They both broke into another fit of laughter, until tears were streaming down Pat’s face. Their laughter died and then they were quiet again. “But what’d you say?” Pat repeated. “I asked if you wanted to dance,” Jonny said, flushing at the words. Pat leaned over and kissed him. “Yeah.” “Yeah?” “Come on,” Pat said, as he stumbled to a standing position and pulled Jonny up by his hands.  The song that was playing was slow and moody, which worked well because Pat took it as an excuse to hug Jonny close and tuck his face into his neck. Jonny wrapped his arms around Pat’s shoulders and they started swaying gently. They didn’t really speak for a while, both of them pretty high and caught up in their thoughts.  “What are you thinking about?” Pat asked. “That I’m glad I woke up early,” Jonny said, and Pat stopped their swaying, pulling back enough to look at him. “Do you really mean that?” Pat asked, a bit of desperation in his voice that Jonny caught onto with a frown. “I mean it, Pat. Aren’t you?” Pat sighed, his hands clenching around Jonny’s waist. “God, Jonny. I mean, this time last year? Of course not. But now?” He looked up at Jonny, who was looking down at him with such fondness that Pat physically ached. “When I think about if I’d made it to Homestead II - waking up and you not being there...” Jonny shook his head. “I don’t want that life anymore. And I know I wouldn’t have even known what I was missing if I hadn’t met you, but now that I have? I think we were meant to be on this ship together, at this moment.” Pat’s heart stuttered for more than one reason. He could tell Jonny right now - be honest and hope that Jonny understood. But something held him back, just like always. “Is this why you were thinking about free will and determination earlier?” Pat asked, laughing a bit. Jonny smiled, bashful. “Maybe...” “Can we make out now?” Pat asked, tilting his chin up and lowering his lashes like he knew always made Jonny melt. Jonny giggled and nodded, immediately obliging.  Pat almost always felt like each one of their kisses was better than the last, but this was his favorite kiss with Jonny so far. It was slow and languid and a bit uncoordinated, but the normal butterflies in his stomach that Jonny always gave him were multiplied by his high, which made him feel unbalanced and...different. It was like every touch of their lips and tongues he could feel in vivid detail, but also like time didn’t exist and he had no idea how long they’d been standing there. Eventually, they made it to the bed, which was nice. Pat could feel the sheets under his back - they felt extra soft, something he hadn’t really noticed about them before. Jonny was like a comforting blanket over him, kissing Pat’s lips and neck and chest. He thought, at times, that Jonny didn’t seem that high, but then he’d look at Pat with heavy lids and a sappy expression and Pat would smile and then they’d kiss some more. Both of them were hard, rubbing against one another half-heartedly, but it took them a long time to really address it. When they did, they fucked slow and unhurried, Jonny pushing into him as their mouths half kissed and half just breathed against one another. Pat would probably be embarrassed about it tomorrow, but they did a lot of soulful staring into each other’s eyes. And when he came, Jonny only had to thrust two more times before he was following him over the edge. They lay plastered together for probably too long, but Pat wanted to keep touching Jonny everywhere. And before they drifted off, Pat whispered that he loved him. He didn’t know if Jonny heard, but he thought he’d felt his hold tighten around him slightly. He wasn’t thinking about losing Jonny or lying to him. All he was thinking about was how he wanted to feel like this for the rest of his life.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

- PART III -THREE MONTHS LATER “The potatoes are coming along nice,” Pat said, watching Jonny’s hands move deftly over the plants, inspecting leaves and stems for any signs of disease or pests. It was mostly out of habit, since it was hard for anything like that to grow in space. But something could’ve been transferred from Earth in the soil they’d used. “Yeah, we should harvest them soon, along with the squash. Maybe we could roast them together or something,” Jonny said, smiling over at Pat. Pat had built a makeshift burner for them months ago when they (more Jonny than Pat) had gotten quite sick of cafeteria and restaurant food. They’d made a tomato soup just last week with fresh tomatoes, basil, and some garlic Jonny had started to grow. He’d warned that they were picking the garlic too early, but they could hardly wait to cook a homemade meal. “I’ve never been this impatient with my plants before,” Jonny said. “But it’s hard not to obsess over them. Everything feels more precious up here.” Pat silently agreed. They went to the rink again after, just skating laps for a while until they’d warmed up. Then, they played keepaway, Pat completely dominating until Jonny tackled him onto the ice and kissed him silly. He then jumped up and skated away with the puck, leaving Pat laying on the ice, breathless and flushed. They were kinda both winners, ultimately. After a warm shower that involved some cleaning but mostly other things, they decided to stop at the bar before dinner, since it was still fairly early. Time was a construct up here, but it helped them to try and stay somewhat on a schedule. “Evening, Sharpy,” Jonny said, leaning his elbows on the bartop. “What’s the special tonight?” “Evening, you two. Our special is the Sunset Punch cocktail, which consists of chai tea, passion fruit puree, condensed milk, and balsamic vinegar.” “That sounds...fragrant,” Jonny said, grimacing a bit. “We’ll just have two beers.” Pat laughed to himself, shaking his head. Jonny liked to do this routine now of asking Sharpy the special and then ordering beer anyway. “I’ve gotta take a piss,” Pat said, pecking Jonny on the lips before walking away. “We’ve gotta work on your dirty talk,” Jonny said, making Pat laugh as he disappeared into the bathroom. He hadn’t really needed to pee that bad, but he was nervous. He wanted to ask Jonny something, but part of him felt he was being silly or sentimental. He felt around in his pocket for the ring he’d made, holding it up to the light. It was a simple band - a smooth, uninterrupted ring of silver. Pat hadn’t been able to do anything that fancy with it, but he was pretty proud of the craftsmanship anyway. But something was holding him back. They’d been together for seven months now, longer than Pat had been with anyone before. And it wasn’t just that. He and Jonny connected on a level Pat had never experienced before. He hadn’t been completely honest with Jonny yet, but Jonny knew him - better than anyone. Didn’t that count for something? And didn’t Pat deserve to be happy after everything that had happened in the last two years? He looked at himself in the mirror, psyching himself up. He couldn’t lose Jonny. He just couldn’t. They were in this together, until the end. He put the ring back in his pocket and smoothed down his hair, taking a deep breath before leaving the bathroom. But when he looked up at the bar across the room, no one but Sharpy was there. “Sharpy?” Pat asked, walking closer as he glanced around the room. But they were alone - Jonny was gone, almost like he’d never been there to begin with. “Where’s Jonny?” “He left rather abruptly,” the android said, his gaze finding Pat’s. “Would you like to finish your drink?” “He...left? What do you me-” Pat stopped, his stomach sinking. “Sharpy...what did you say to him? What exactly did you say to him?” Sharpy cocked his head in confusion, but his eyes looked blank for a moment, as though his mind was rewinding. And then, a creepy rendition of Jonny’s voice came out of his mouth, as though he were replaying the conversation like a tape recorder. 
“I can’t believe I’ve been awake almost eight months already,” Jonny’s voice said.
 
“Yes, it feels like just yesterday Patrick sat here alone drinking whiskey night and day. He was so sad and lonely back then”- Sharpy’s voice.

“Yeah...I wish he’d tell me a little more about the year he was alone up here. I can’t even imagine...”

“Then again, it was around this time last year that he started thinking about waking someone up.”

Pat’s stomach filled with dread, his heart stuttering in horror. He couldn’t bear to listen, but he had to know...
 
“...What?” Jonny’s voice said, hesitant and disbelieving.

“He’d talk about it for hours - going over the pros and cons. Spent months deciding - reading over people’s bios and-”

Pat covered his face with his hands, his breath already quickening in panic. 
“Pat...Patrick woke me up.” Jonny’s voice sounded like how Pat felt right now - like his world was shattering.

“Oh, yes. Said it was the hardest decision of his life. But I see it worked out all for the better.”

Sharpy came back to himself, straightening his bowtie and giving Pat a smile. “Is that what you needed?” Pat almost hurled something at him, but there wasn’t even time for that. He sprinted out of the bar, heading for their suite. But when he got there, Jonny wasn’t there. Pat’s heart was pounding out of his chest, as he ran from the room and headed for Jonny’s private cabin, which had lay abandoned for months. He tried to swipe his wristband for the door to open, but it remained closed, so he knocked and held his breath. No one answered.  There was a possibility Jonny wasn’t in there, but Pat didn’t know where else on the ship Jonny could go that he could deny Pat access to. He pounded on the door again. “Jonny? Jonny, please open the door,” Pat said, trying to sound calm. “I’m so sorry, just let me explain.” He waited for a response, but nothing came. “Jon-” he broke off, tears filling his eyes as the weight of what was happening hit him. “Jonny, please...” Pat slid to the floor, his hand still making an effort to knock, but he knew Jonny wouldn’t come. “I can’t lose you. I can’t-” He sat outside the door all night, hoping it would open. It never did, and he hadn’t really expected it to. He knocked more, trying to do it politely - not like he wanted to break the door down, but like he wanted to have a calm conversation. It wouldn’t help if Jonny thought he was insane, too. But it didn’t make a difference. Jonny didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t want to see him. Pat had really fucked up. He’d always known this would break them apart - it was the real reason why he’d never told Jonny.  “I’m leaving, Jon. Okay?” Pat said in the morning, as the ship’s lights started to change to daylight. “I’ll give you space, I swear. I just...” He took a deep breath that stuttered in his chest. “I love you, okay? I love you, Jon.” He wiped his eyes clean and walked down the hall, waiting at the end to see if Jonny’s door would open. But it stayed sealed shut. He sat in the cafeteria all day, waiting to see if Jonny would show up for coffee or breakfast or lunch or dinner. He never showed. The whole time, Pat’s stomach filled more and more with dread, his eyes a steady stream of tears and his lungs unable to get a full breath. If he’d really and truly lost Jonny because of this, he didn’t think he could take it. He’d already felt more fragile after his year alone in space, but having to live near Jonny and never speak or touch again after the year together they’d had... It would break him. Just knowing Jonny hated him for what he’d done... But it would’ve been somehow better if Pat had borne the brunt of Jonny’s anger. Instead, his mind was left to its own devices, imagining how Jonny must feel because they hadn’t even spoken about it yet. If he could just see Jonny and try to explain. Eventually, Pat felt so tired and sick that he had to return to his cabin. Of course, when he got there, he nearly collapsed at the sight before him. All of Jonny’s things were gone. Everything that Jonny had brought with him had found its way into their cabin over the course of seven months, not to mention the little things here and there that he’d acquired during their time on the Avalon. But now, not a trace of Jonny remained in the room. Pat sat on the bed, his eyes dry despite the sadness that was permeating every bone in his body. Part of him wanted to scream - to trash the room, to break something, anything. But the other part of him felt empty. It had really come full circle - he’d woken Jonny up out of selfish, suicidal loneliness, and now he was alone again because of that decision. And not just alone, but alone on a ship with a man who hated him, no doubt. He eventually lay down, his body exhausted and aching everywhere, inside and out. But his mind continued to race. He went through a period of anger - mad at Sharpy for being such an idiotic android and mad at Jonny for not letting him explain. Why had Jonny believed Sharpy so immediately? If Jonny had loved him at all, wouldn’t he have let Patrick say something before he’d left without a word? Had Jonny ever really cared about him? But that wasn’t fair. Jonny had believed Sharpy because Sharpy had no reason to lie, or even the capability to lie. Jonny might’ve loved Pat, but how could he trust those feelings after learning what he had? His reaction was proof that he’d cared about Patrick, which was why it was all so painful. ... When Patrick woke in the morning, he felt a deep exhaustion that harked back to his time before Jonny. But he also felt a bit of a change in attitude. Jonny was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And whether Pat was the one to wake him up or not, they were meant for each other. Their relationship was proof of that. If he gave up now, then what’d that say about how Patrick felt about him? He would fight for Jonny, even if it meant making up for this for the rest of his life.  Jonny had to leave his cabin at some point. It was just a matter of catching him out and about. Of course, Pat hadn’t expected to walk into the cafeteria and see Jonny seated at a table, hunched over a bowl of oatmeal, like always. Pat’s heart immediately started beating faster - it was so good to see him, even if Jonny was angry. An angry Jonny was better than no Jonny at all. Pat cleared his throat as he approached the table slowly. Jonny’s head didn’t even look up. Pat stopped with a safe distance between them, not wanting to crowd him.  “Um, hey,” he said lamely, shutting his eyes in frustration before trying again. “Can we talk?” Jonny didn’t say anything at first, but Pat could see him gripping his spoon tightly, his knuckles turning white. Another tense moment passed and then, thank God, he spoke, although his words were a quiet fury.  “I don’t want to talk. Not ever again.” Pat swallowed. But he knew he would get this reaction, so he pushed on. “Jon-” “No, Patrick. I don’t want to hear you. I don’t want to see you,” Jonny said, his voice a calm rage that warned of an explosion if Pat wasn’t careful. “If you see me coming, turn the other way. It’s a big ship - no reason we should ever have to interact again.” “You’re not even gonna let me explain?” Pat asked, his voice pleading. “Let you?” Jonny said in disbelief, looking at Pat for the first time since that night. Pat almost cried in relief, but he contained himself, knowing it wasn’t the time. “You already ruined my life, but you want me to ‘let you’ explain.” He gave a humorless laugh, throwing his spoon down in the bowl. “You’re a real piece of work.” His expression was livid, but Pat drank it up. At least this was better than the blank expression of before. “Yes, Jonny,” he said, powering on. “I woke you up. Okay? I admit it. I-I was lonely and sad and it’s not an excuse,” he raced to say, at Jonny’s shaking head. “I know it’s not an excuse. But you don’t know what it’s like up here by yourself. You don’t know what it was to wake up every morning knowing I’d never talk to another human being ever again. Knowing I was truly and utterly alone, for the rest of my life. Knowing I’d never hug someone, or laugh at an unexpected joke, or hold hands, or...or fall in love.” Jonny was looking across the cafeteria with faraway eyes, but there were tears now falling down his cheeks. He stood up slowly, fixing Pat with a look that could kill. “So you decided you’d chain someone else to that life, then?” Pat closed his eyes in frustration. The worst part was that Jonny wasn’t wrong. And it seemed like there was nothing Pat could say to change his mind. “How did you even decide? Hm?” Jonny asked, turning toward Pat so that he took a step back nervously. “Did you go shopping? Like it was The Bachelor ? Toured through the aisles looking for your perfect man?” “No. It wasn’t like that-” “Was I everything you dreamed of?” “Jonny, stop. I didn’t want that from you - or anyone. Not at first. I just wanted a friend, okay? Or an enemy. I even thought about someone kill-” Pat cut himself off, swallowing. But he took a deep breath and decided to push on. “...about someone killing me so I wouldn’t have to do it myself.” Jonny’s expression didn’t change, but he flinched a bit at the words. Pat sighed, pleading through his eyes for Jonny to understand.  “I started watching the passenger interviews one day because...I don’t know why. Because I was lonely and wanted to hear a human voice - because I was desperate. I resented all of them, angry that I was the one doomed to die alone instead of any one of them. I started to wonder why I deserved this death when no one else did. I was so weak, so lonely. I was going crazy up here by myself.” He paused to breathe, but not for long. This was his chance to explain - Jonny might never hear him out again. “I never saw your interview back then, okay? I swear. I knew waking someone up was wrong, but I - I couldn’t tell reality from my dreams anymore at that point. Awake and asleep felt the same most of the time. I reached a point when I didn’t know who I was anymore. Do you know what that feels like?” Jonny’s eyes were so sad, but Pat couldn’t tell if it was for him or for himself. Probably himself. Patrick wouldn’t pity him either. “I...I chose you at random. Knew nothing about you except your name. But then I heard your pod open, and it all became...real. I- I felt so awful afterward, Jonny. You have to believe me.” Pat didn’t realize he’d started crying, until he tasted the saltiness on his lips. “I didn’t think I could face you after what I’d done. But I forced myself to find you because I couldn’t bear the idea of you thinking you were by yourself, like I had. “And then...I got to know you and learned how amazing you are and how much we...how much we connect-” Jonny scoffed, but he wasn’t leaving, not yet. Pat pushed on. “And it made me feel even worse, like I’d killed this person who was so smart and beautiful and driven. And I fell in love with you. But I was always going to tell you. I could hardly live with myself most days-” “But you didn’t,” Jonny interrupted, and Pat’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t tell me, did you?” “...No, but-” “You let me think it was some freak accident, that the universe or fate or whatever bullshit-” Jonny said, and Pat flinched. “-had brought us together. When the whole time, you knew- ” “But you said yourself, you were glad you woke up-”  “ Don’t, ” Jonny spit out, nearly making Pat bite his tongue. “Don’t you dare. You really think anything I said to you matters anymore? That any of it was real?” Pat’s heart was breaking with every word Jonny spoke, but he couldn’t do a thing to stop this. He took a deep breath, finding his voice in Jonny’s silence. “Jonny. I love you,” he tried one last time, his voice cracking at the end. “I don’t love you, Patrick. I don’t even know who you are.” And with that, he left Pat standing there alone, frozen with shock as silent tears ran down his cheeks. ... How could he have thought he could win Jonny back? And it wasn’t just because the wound was fresh and Jonny was angry. No. Jonny would never forgive him. Never.  Pat didn’t want to hurt like this - it was too much. A numbness filled his chest, like his body was attempting to save him from the pain. He welcomed it, let it occupy every inch it could find. Better not to feel anything at all than try to go on with a life without Jonny. He would respect Jonny’s wishes not to talk to him, not to see him. If he couldn’t have him, then he could at least try to make Jonny’s life easier, if not happier. He’d made a selfish decision by bringing Jonny into his life, so now it was time to do the selfless thing. He devised a way to always warn himself when Jonny was approaching by hardwiring one of the ship’s useless robots to follow Pat around and beep whenever Jonny was within fifty feet of him. He’d hear the beep and vacate wherever he was until the beeping stopped, signaling they were far enough apart. It became a kind of comfort, the beeping. It was one of the only signals he had that Jonny still existed - a reminder that Pat hadn’t imagined him. That and the growing garden. As the weeks went on, he would pass by the garden and see the progress being made on all the plants. He made more metal bins and grow lights, expanding the irrigation system whenever Jonny wasn’t around. They obviously didn’t talk about it - they never talked anymore. But Pat would come back the next day and the bins would be full of soil and watered, new seeds waiting underground to sprout. It was like they were still working together. Just not... together . And then, one day when he stopped by the garden, Jonny had harvested one of the vegetables and separated them into two piles. Pat stood in quiet confusion at first, trying to determine why they were set apart. But there wasn’t really any explanation beyond Jonny reserving half of the vegetables for Patrick and half for himself. Pat did feel a bit warmed by it, even though he knew he shouldn’t. Jonny wasn’t doing it out of any affection toward Patrick. He was doing it because he was a kind person, as well as probably out of some sense of fairness for each of their hard work. Nevertheless, it made Pat still feel connected to him. It was one of the only things that connected them anymore. That and their shared fate. ... Pat went back to eating oatmeal and shitty coffee every morning, which was really the least awful thing about his and Jonny’s split. But it echoed the blandness that his life felt again. He tried to maintain some semblance of the progress he’d made in his year with Jonny, but he inevitably started to fall back on old habits. He started to sleep in late, wanting to avoid running into Jonny at breakfast, which meant his entire sleep schedule shifted hours later than it was. And after the first few times he went to skate and the robot beeped in warning of Jonny’s impending arrival, Pat gave up a little. He still went at odd times of the night because he didn’t want to give up skating again, but he could feel how his muscles started to ache from lack of consistent conditioning. He stopped shaving, his beard growing in patchy and itchy. But Pat couldn’t care less when there was no one around to see him. His hair grew out too, starting to curl at the base of his neck after only a couple of weeks. He resisted for as long as he could, but soon enough he was visiting Sharpy at the bar regularly, whiskey his drink of choice.  Sharpy never said anything because, despite how he sometimes seemed to have a conscience, it was his programmed function to serve passengers whatever drink they ordered, not to make passengers feel bad about drinking themselves into a coma. Pat found himself in that very situation one night, nearly passed out on the bar after he’d already been sick on it earlier. Sharpy had cleaned that up, and Patrick had laughed about how he finally had a reason to be cleaning the bartop. He was mumbling about something - even he didn’t know what, since his train of thought was hard to follow - when he felt two hands clamp around his shoulders, lifting him off the stool. Pat yelped a bit, looking up to see Jonny’s slightly blurry face and a familiar grimace. Pat almost started crying right then and there. “Jon-Jonny? ‘S tht you?” he slurred, rubbing his eyes to see if Jonny would still be there after.  He felt an arm slide around his back, and he clutched Jonny’s shirt with his best grip as he was practically hauled out of the bar and down the hall. He rested his head on Jonny’s shoulder, barely focusing on moving his feet since Jonny seemed to be taking care of it.  “Yer suhstrong,” Pat said, sighing into Jonny’s neck. “I miss you-” “Shut up, Patrick,” Jonny said, his voice irritated. But he was helping Pat, so he must still care about him a little, right? “You’re drunk and you’re a mess.” “Tha’s ‘cus I miss you,” Pat said, swallowing as they turned a corner and he felt a bit woozy. He took in the feeling of Jonny’s arm around him, the way he smelled so good - like soil and basil and Jonny.  “This is just pathetic, Patrick,” he said, and he sounded disappointed. Pat blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. He wanted to tell Jonny how much he still loved him, but he didn’t think it would come out right at the moment. Nothing was coming out right. “What is that incessant beeping?”  Pat glanced down, noticing the robot that always followed him around and beeped at Jonny’s presence. Pat hadn’t even noticed. “Oh, uhh-” “Never mind, I don’t care,” Jonny said, sighing in frustration. They made it to Pat’s door, Jonny scanning his wristband to open it so he could drag Pat inside and dump him on the bed. Pat didn’t try to hold onto him, even though he really wanted to. It would only make Jonny upset. After walking around the room and turning off any unnecessary lights, Jonny stood over him, his dark eyes looking down at Patrick. He looked so beautiful in the low light - Pat didn’t stop the tears from leaking out of his eyes. They didn’t speak for a moment, just staring at one another in an echo of how they used to. Except, a lot sadder now. “You’re gonna kill yourself,” Jonny said eventually, his voice quiet. “D’you uhfavor,” Pat mumbled, seeing Jonny shut his eyes in frustration. “I don’t want you to die, Patrick.” “I’ss whut-I want.” “No,” Jonny said, his voice forceful in a way that made Pat flinch. “Don’t say that. Don’t-” He cut himself off, covering his face with his hands. Pat ached seeing Jonny upset. He hadn’t meant to make Jonny upset. “‘M sorry, Jon,” he said, his brain feeling fuzzier the longer he lied down. “‘M suh-sorry. I wo- won’t do it. Wdn’t leave yuh all-alone like tht.” Jonny dropped his hands back to his sides, but he just looked tired. “Goodnight, Patrick.” He turned around and left, so quick it was almost like he’d never been there at all. The robot kept beeping for several minutes, until finally there was quiet. It wasn’t long before Pat fell unconscious, wondering if he’d dreamed the whole thing. ... Over the next few months, that was the only time Patrick saw Jonny. He didn’t even know what Jonny did all day, but he certainly wasn’t in the bar or in the cafeteria much. Pat kept drinking, albeit in less quantity so as to avoid passing out at the bar again. But it became almost essential in order for him to get through the day.  One day, in a shining example of one of his drunk shenanigans, he decided to commandeer one of the service carts that he always saw laying around, taking it for a joy ride through the halls. He was half hoping he’d run into Jonny, but the robot never beeped and the hallways were as empty as ever. Pat might as well have been the only one awake up here again. He yelled out in mock cheer - hoping anyone would hear him. He shouted and whooped and careened around corners, until inevitably he took a turn too fast and crashed into the wall. He lay still for a long time, breathing through the pain in his torso. Definitely fractured ribs, if he had to guess. He hobbled through the ship until he found his way to the infirmary. The only time he’d been in here was in the first year, when he’d hoped there might be a way to restart hibernation in the autodoc pod, and then again last year when his hockey stick had accidentally grazed Jonny’s face and cut open his lip. (He’d needed stitches, and Pat had kissed it better.) But this pod’s only purpose was to diagnose and treat injuries, not put someone in suspended animation. Pat gingerly laid himself in the autodoc after he’d managed to strip to his underwear. The lasers and sensors passed over him, assessing his injuries. 
“Two separated ribs. Fractured left clavicle. One broken finger. Minor cuts and bruises.”
 “Am I gonna make it, doc?” The machine didn’t answer him, but robotic arms shot out and began wrapping his torso and hand, causing him to hiss in pain. The last thing was an arm sling for his clavicle, which he’d have to wear for about six weeks. The autodoc opened and Pat sat up carefully, groaning a bit. A bottle of pain pills dispensed into a tray in front of him. 
“Take one pill a day until the bottle is empty.”
 “Thanks, doc,” Pat mumbled, grabbing the bottle and popping a pill into his mouth.  “Not to be mixed with alcohol,” it added, making Pat grimace. Even the machines were judging him now. ... Taking his pills did indeed prevent him from drinking for at least a couple weeks. It forced his mind to be clear, which led to both bad and good things. Bad because he dwelled a lot on Jonny, and good because Pat started to keep himself busy with projects. He had a lot of plans for improvements to the ship, and he’d started to read up on coding, determined to figure out how to override the ship’s insistence on serving him only shitty food and shitty coffee. He was also working on something he thought Jonny might like. He couldn’t help but try to make Jonny happy, even when he knew he wasn’t wanted. If all went well, he’d have it ready by tonight to install while Jonny was hopefully sleeping. He’d definitely dismantled some important looking machinery laying around the cargo hold to make it happen, but he’d passed the point of caring coming into year three of living alone on a spaceship. Fuck the other four thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight passengers. They could deal. That night, he waited until the ship’s lights turned dim and blue, then made his way to the Grand Concourse, where their garden was now taking up about a third of the entire space. Pat went to the center of the room, lugging his tools and materials. He’d have to make several trips with the service cart, and he’d definitely be up all night, but there was an excitement thrumming through him that he hadn’t felt in ages. He got to work right away, using the laser cutter to cut away a panel from the deck plates, creating a hole in the floor. Then it was a matter of compiling all the pieces he’d scavenged, driving over the service cart to stand on when the structure got too tall. His stupid sling kept getting in the way, so he took it off around hour two. It was probably a dumb move, but he was using both arms anyway, so he might as well commit to the pain he’d feel soon. It was definitely uncomfortable, along with his ribs which protested so much movement so soon. But he barely noticed the discomfort, so focused on completing the project.  The night was a blur of sawing and hammering and soldering and polishing. Until in the morning, his head fuzzy with fatigue, he was staring up at a fifteen foot-tall sculpture of metal and fiberglass and scavenged materials, all in the shape of one giant tree. He couldn’t give Jonny a real tree - they had the seeds but there just wasn’t enough soil to make that happen, not to mention the sunlight and water it would require. But he could give him this - this pseudo-tree, which looked more like an interpretive art piece than the real thing. But he hoped Jonny would understand what he meant - what Pat was trying to say with this. He gathered all his supplies, loading them onto the service cart and hauling them away for the cargo hold. Then it was off for a shower and sleep, even as the ship turned to daylight. He was exhausted, but satisfied in a way that he didn’t think he’d ever feel again. He felt like he had a purpose again: get better. Not just for Jonny, but also for himself. How could he ask Jonny to love him, to forgive him, if Pat didn’t even love or forgive himself? It was time to move forward. ... Pat heard a knock at his door that afternoon which jolted him out of sleep. That and the small robot beside him which was beeping for his attention. He’d thought at first that he’d imagined it, since no one had ever knocked on his door. He’d lied in bed staring at the ceiling in confusion, when another knock had sounded over the beeping, more insistent than the first. Pat pressed a switch on the robot to shut it up, and made his way over to the door, groggily rubbing sleep from his eyes. If the robot was anything to go by, Jonny was on the other side. But Pat’s eyes still widened in surprise when the door opened to reveal him. Jonny’s gaze darted over him and then away, his mouth pinched in displeasure. Pat frowned. “I need a repairman,” Jonny said simply. Pat stood frozen, until Jonny looked at him again with a raised brow and Pat managed a nod. “Ah, well...lead the way,” Pat said awkwardly. “You’re not gonna grab shoes or...a shirt?” Jonny asked, even more awkwardly.  Pat startled, glancing down at his chest and feet, before turning around and rifling through his room for a shirt and shoes. His collarbone was killing him, but he didn’t dare put on the sling, knowing it would warrant questions that he didn’t want to answer. He chuckled nervously as he came back to the door, gesturing with his hand for Jonny to show him the way. The whole walk was silent and Pat bit his lip anxiously as his heart pounded. These were the first words he’d spoken to Jonny in months. He didn’t know if he even counted that one drunken night since Pat barely remembered it and he still wasn’t sure if it had actually happened. Jonny led him to his cabin, swiping his wristband to open the door, but stepping aside instead of entering so Pat could see past him into the room. Pat immediately squinted at the chaos of what was occurring inside. The lights were pulsing, like some sort of strobe. Every video screen in the room showed static and the speakers were blaring an alarm. The window blinds were raising and lowering rapidly and the adjustable bed was folding and unfolding in some sort of convulsive display. Pat looked over at Jonny with unease. “Uh, yeah. You need a repairman.” He rolled up his sleeves and got to work. ... Pat reattached the control panel, screwing it back into the wall. After relentlessly messing with it to get the chaos to stop to no avail, he’d had to take out the whole thing and replace it with the one from the cabin next door. He stood up and switched on the light, which came on normally, thank God. “That should do it,” Pat said. “Don’t know why it burned out like that. But it should be fine now.” Jonny nodded tightly, sitting on the bed and not looking right at Pat. There was a tense moment in which Pat waited for something, anything, from Jonny. But when it didn’t come, he mumbled a quiet goodbye and shuffled from the room. He shouldn’t have hoped for more, but he’d hoped nonetheless. He didn’t know if Jonny had seen the tree, but it hadn’t appeared to make an ounce of difference between them. So much for moving forward. ... Pat started to observe strange things around the ship after the incident in Jonny's room. He’d been doing research in the library and his screen glitched and momentarily shut down, before regaining power and bringing him back to the main menu. He’d walked past the cafeteria one day and seen a cleaning bot running itself over and over into a corner. And when he’d gone to free it, it had simply turned around and run itself right back into that corner. The next day, there was another bot crammed into the corner with it, both of them whirring and growling with the effort at which they were attempting to move through the wall in front of them. Pat had picked one up and taken it apart, trying to understand what was malfunctioning, when a speaker somewhere above him let out a burst of static that caused him to drop his tool. He leapt up from his seat when a voice emerged. “Hello? Anybody there?” It wasn’t Jonny. It wasn’t any voice Pat recognized. “This is Deck Chief Joel Quenneville. Is anyone there?” Pat sprinted out of the cafeteria, running straight for the crew hibernation facility. When he got there the familiar crew door, which he’d dented and scorched in his early desperation, was open. Pat was already breathing hard from running, but his breath picked up more. This was really happening. Someone else was awake. “Who the hell planted a weed farm on my ship?” the voice boomed through the empty halls. Patrick sprinted back the way he came, heading for the Grand Concourse. As soon as he got there, he saw Jonny running in from the opposite side, both of them noticing each other first and then the man at the other end of the room, standing at the deck steward’s station with the intercom mic clutched in one hand.  It was an older man, white hair with a bristling mustache, wearing crew coveralls. He looked a bit haggard and weary, a fine sheen of sweat at his hairline, and he didn’t look happy to see them necessarily. He dropped the mic and crossed his arms as Pat and Jonny approached him. “Who are you?” “Patrick Kane,” Pat said, nodding his head in greeting. “Mechanic.” “Mechanic, huh? And you?” He looked to Jonny. “Jonathan Toews,” he said, stepping forward to offer his hand to shake, which the man took cautiously. “Farmer.” “I see. So I have you both to thank for...all of this,” he gestured at the Concourse around them. Pat and Jonny nodded sheepishly. “How long have you been awake?” “A year,” Jonny said. “Two years,” Pat said. The man looked a bit ill, like he might collapse, so Jonny grabbed his elbow to steady him. “Find me somewhere to sit. And get me some damn coffee.” ... Once they’d made it to the cafeteria and were all seated around a table, Pat got the man a mug of coffee which he immediately drained. “I always get the worst hibernation hangovers,” the man said, sighing and rubbing his forehead. Jonny and Pat shared a look, before turning back toward the man. “Did you say you were Deck Chief?” Pat asked, as politely as he could. “Senior Deck Chief Joel Quenneville,” the man explained. “But you can call me ‘Q.’” “Okay, Q,” Jonny said. “Not that it isn’t good to see another face, especially a member of the crew, but it’s not exactly nice to meet you.” “Yeah,” Q grunted, shaking his head. “Is it just you two?” Pat nodded. “Two years...You must know what it means by now, right? There’s no way back into hibernation.” “I guess we were hoping you’d know something we didn’t,” Jonny said, disappointed. “‘Fraid not,” Q said. “Eighty-eight years to go, and we’re awake for the duration.” Pat felt like the final nail in his coffin had just been hammered in, not that he’d even realized he was still harboring any hope for hibernation. Q tsked, shaking his head. “Hibernation failure. They said it couldn’t happen, and now three on one trip.” Pat snuck a glance at Jonny, who wasn’t looking at him, although a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Let’s see what we can do, shall we?” ... Q swiped his crew card and the command deck door opened like a charm. Pat sighed as they walked inside. “You have no idea how many times I tried to get in here.” “Don’t touch anything,” Q said, no nonsense. They walked to the bridge, the lights dimming up as they entered. Q stopped to study each station, looking at the screens and evidently seeing something of use, but none of it really made sense to Pat. “Ship’s still on course. Whatever’s wrong didn’t affect the navigation.” “But something is wrong?” Pat asked. “Three pod failures? Something’s definitely wrong. Question is what.” Q turned and started striding for the door, as though he were leaving. “Wait, what about turning around and heading back for Earth?” Jonny asked, and Q gave a humorless laugh. “Oh yeah, we could turn around, kid. But we’re traveling at forty percent lightspeed away from Earth. By the time we came to a stop, turned around and accelerated back toward Earth, then came to a stop again, it’d take just as long as getting to Homestead II. In other words, we’ll all be dead.” Q cut himself off with a cough that turned into several more coughs, each one making Pat flinch with the force of it. Q finished and wiped his mouth. “Unless one of you lives past a hundred, cus it ain’t gonna be me.” He kept walking and Jonny and Pat followed, not sure what else to do. They headed into another room, as Q pulled a large panel out of the wall. “Huh.” “What’s that mean?” Jonny asked, nervously. “Well, this is the diagnostic computer. It’s supposed to light up green if everything’s working and red where there are problems,” Q said. “It’s all dark,” Pat said, carefully. “Yeah, kid. That means it’s dead.” ... Q had wanted a cheeseburger before they got to work trying to fix anything, so Jonny and Pat had taken him to the diner. He was currently wolfing down a burger and fries, as the two of them sat across from him in quiet impatience. Pat was anxious to get going, thriving off of this new information. But he also understood how awful this guy must be feeling, so he tried to be sensitive. “Where are you from, Q?” Pat asked, as Q took a sip of his milkshake. “Chicago, originally. But I’ve lived on this ship a long time - for all five of the Avalon’s interplanetary trips.”“How old are you, then?” Jonny asked, his brow furrowed. “Fifty-six.” “But...” “Well, hang on. I was born about six hundred years ago. But I’ve been in hibernation so many times...and then of course, there’s relativity. So, those years I lost don’t really count.” He gave another cough that seemed to wrack his whole body. “I tell you, though, I feel about six hundred right now. This is my worst hibernation hangover so far.” “Maybe you should get some rest,” Pat said, and felt the glare Jonny sent him, returning it with a small shrug. He was antsy to get going just like Jonny, but the man was obviously not doing well at the moment. “Yeah, I think I will. But tomorrow morning, meet me by that tree of yours. Until we figure out what’s wrong with this ship, you boys work for me.” Pat couldn’t help his smile. “Yes, sir,” Pat said. Q stood up and nodded at them both. “Goodnight, sir,” Jonny said, shaking his hand again. Pat normally would’ve teased him for all the hand shaking, but they didn’t really tease each other anymore, did they. After Q had left, there was an awkward moment of silence, before Jonny stood up abruptly. “See you tomorrow,” he mumbled, walking off at a quick pace. Pat was left alone in the booth as the waiter bot came to clean off the table. ... “The CPU’s burned out. Can you believe that?” Q said. He and Pat were in front of the diagnostic panel again, Pat with a flashlight and Q holding a voltmeter. “It’s rated for five hundred years.” “So what does that mean? Can we fix it?” Jonny asked, standing uncertainly behind them. “You mean can I fix it,” Q corrected. “The answer is no. You don’t fix it, you replace it. There should be some in storage. Make a note: CPU and new cooling fan. This one looks shot.” Jonny nodded and typed what Q had said on a tablet. “It’ll be kind of a hassle to lug up here, but-” “I can grab the service cart,” Pat interrupted, running off before they could get a word in. When he drove it up outside the command deck, Q whistled. “What’s this?” He was probably referring to the fact that Pat had made some major improvements after he’d crashed it a few weeks prior. He’d replaced the old tires with tractor wheels, which made it taller and sturdier. He’d also added a whole extra bank of batteries to make it go faster and require fewer chargings. Even if he did drive it into a wall, the new tires would prevent Pat and the cart from being crushed like last time (not that he planned to drive it into a wall again.) “This, I like,” Q continued, he and Jonny hopping in. Q got in the back so Jonny was forced to ride shotgun, but Pat tried to ignore him as much as possible. He was pretty sure it made Jonny more comfortable, that way. They sped through the ship and to the cargo hold, Q panning the flashlight over the different aisles as Pat cruised by. “It’s in the next bay, I think. How fast can this thing go?” Pat floored it just to show them - their yells brought a smile to his face. Once they’d arrived at the next bay, they all got out and Q hopped on a hydraulic lift to grab the items he needed. He handed them down to Jonny, who handed them to Pat to load on the cart. Once they were all loaded up, they headed back to the command deck to get to work on the diagnostic computer. It was slow going, but after a good hour of work, Q nodded his head at Pat.  “Start her up.” Pat powered up the computer, listening as a deep electrical hum started, followed by the screen flashing with the message “RUNNING VESSEL DIAGNOSTIC.” A progress bar appeared, showing 0.0%, as some of the lights on the panel started to blink. “How long will it take?” Pat asked. “Full diagnostic from a cold start? Days. But it’ll tell us everything,” Q said, wiping the sweat from his brow. He broke into a coughing fit, which had Jonny at his elbow again. “Let’s get you some water,” Jonny said, leading him back to the cafeteria. ... The next day, Pat joined Jonny at the tree, handing him a mug of coffee. Jonny took it with a weak smile, but they didn’t speak. Soon enough, Q joined them, handing them both tablets. He looked a lot better than yesterday - not quite so ill. Maybe his hibernation hangover was gone. “All right, I’m gonna need you to check all the atmosphere stations today. I checked deck one last night, and two out of ten were burned out. Unheard of. Jonny, you walk decks two, three, and four and write down green light, red light, or no light. Patrick, I’ll need you to go down to the cargo hold again and take inventory of all the spare CPU’s we have. The manifest says one thing, but lists ain’t facts.” “Got it,” Pat said. “I’ll be in the hibernation bay to check out our pods. Maybe I can spot what went wrong,” Q said, and Pat glanced at Jonny, who huffed. “That should be interesting,” Jonny mumbled under his breath. ... After Pat had finished inventory, he hurried to the hibernation bay, knowing he’d have some explaining to do if Q was half the Deck Chief he was appearing to be. Sure enough, as Pat entered the bay, he saw Q kneeling by Jonny’s open pod, a look of dismay on his face. He heard Pat’s approach and looked up at him carefully. “I looked at your pod,” he said slowly. “Clock chip burned out. Not supposed to happen, but simple.” Pat opened his mouth to speak, but Q cut him off. “My pod was a bit more complicated. Multiple failures at once - the whole thing went haywire. It’s probably why I feel so bad. But this one...” He gestured at Jonny’s pod, standing up in front of Pat. “Q...” “You did this, didn’t you?” “Yes.” Q shook his head to himself, like he was disappointed in Pat. It made his shoulders raise indignantly, but he didn’t rush to defend himself. He didn’t deserve defense.  “Does he know?” Q asked. Pat nodded. “I could see there was some tension between you two.” They were both quiet for a minute. “Why’d you choose him?” The answer was complicated, and Pat didn’t know if he could get into it. And what was more, it didn’t change anything. “Does it matter?” he asked. Q shook his head. “No, I guess it doesn’t, kid.” ... Pat was on his way back to the diagnostic center with lunch for the three of them, when he heard Jonny and Q’s voices drifting from beyond the door. He wouldn’t have stopped, except he heard his name and froze just outside the door, listening. “Yeah, he told me,” Q’s voice said, matter-of-fact like always. Jonny’s voice was more hushed. “He told you? Just like that?” A pause. “It’s not forgivable, Q. Don’t tell me-” “No, it’s a bad thing. It is,” Q interrupted, and Jonny was quiet. “But...look. When a drowning man drags someone down with him, you don’t call it right. But he’s drowning. A starving man steals a loaf of bread, what do you say? He should have starved?” “I would’ve starved,” Jonny said, his voice steely. “Really?” Q said. There was quiet between them, and Pat desperately wanted to be able to see Jonny - to know a fraction of what he was thinking. But Jonny changed the subject shortly after that. Pat made himself wait a few extra minutes, before he entered with their lunch. ... “By Jonny’s count, thirty percent of the atmosphere stations are down - all of’em, CPU burned out,” Q said, gruffly. “Well, we can replace them,” Pat said. There were plenty of spares in inventory to handle that amount. “Sure, but they’ll just burn out again if we don’t figure out why it’s happening.” “Okay, so where do we start?” Jonny asked. “The diagnostic report,” Q said, frowning at them both. “You’ve been on this ship for one and two years, respectively. A few days more won’t kill you.” He broke into a coughing fit, which had unfortunately become an almost hourly occurrence. Jonny and Pat shared a concerned look. Sure, a few days wouldn’t kill them. But it might be too late for Q. “How did you end up in space?” Jonny asked him, once Q’s coughs had calmed down. “Only place I ever wanted to be,” Q said, shrugging. “Lied about my age when I was sixteen just so I could get onto a lunar shuttle crew. Did everything I could after that to get on an interstellar ship. Once I saw my first alien sun, there was no going back.” Pat grinned, remembering the red giant he and Jonny had seen on his birthday. “But don’t you feel...I don’t know. Homesick?” Jonny asked. “I’m a spacer, kid. My home is where I am. I don’t have much in the realm of material things, but I’ve got myself, the things I do, the company I keep.” He gestured at Jonny and Pat. “Home’s different for everyone though, I suppose.” With that he got up and wandered over to the diagnostic computer to check its progress. Pat and Jonny looked away from one another awkwardly. ... The next morning, they were waiting at the tree as usual, but Q was nowhere to be found. “You haven’t seen him since yesterday?” Pat asked Jonny, who shook his head. Together they went to Q’s cabin, knocking on the door but receiving no response. Jonny’s brows were furrowed in concern - they both knew how bad he’d looked yesterday. “Should we override the door?” Jonny asked, and Pat hesitated for long enough that a loud thump sounded from inside the room.  They both startled as the door slid open, revealing Q semi-conscious and feverish on the floor by the door, like he’d crawled from the bed. Jonny and Pat rushed to his side.  “Are you alright, sir?” “He’s not,” Pat answered for him. “Let’s get him to the infirmary.” ... They laid Q inside the autodoc, shutting the glass cover as the sensors started assessing him. He was conscious now, but he still looked rough, his skin clammy and pale and specks of blood on his shirt that Pat couldn’t tell the origin of. “Wha-what does it say?” Q managed to ask, aware enough to know where he was. The scanner’s display lit up as hundreds of disorders, diseases, and dysfunctions began to fill the screen. Jonny breathed out slowly, not sure how to put it. “It’s a few things, sir,” he settled on.  “Diagnosis complete,” the autodoc said, as the door lifted and they helped Q to a sitting position. “Tell me,” Q said, his breathing labored. 
“Pan-systemic necrosis. Progressive organ failure. Cause unknown.”
 Q scoffed. “I’ll tell you the cause - my idiotic hibernation pod.” “Treatment?” Pat asked, a hopeful note to his tone. 
“No treatment known.”
 “Well, how long have I got then?” Q asked, looking down at the ground. 
“Analyzing prognosis...between two and three days.”
 They sat in stunned silence, Jonny staring at the display screen in shock. Pill bottles rattled onto the tray, one after the other.  “These sedatives will alleviate the pain.” The voice sounded far too emotionless for the chilling words. Q stood abruptly and strode from the room, leaving the pills behind. Patrick scooped them all up and followed as Jonny went after Q. But when they entered the hallway, the service cart was already gone. ... They pretty easily found him at the bar. Pat still clutched the pill bottles in his hands, and he placed them awkwardly on the bartop as he and Jonny sat on either side of the man. He was already nursing a whiskey, and Pat ignored the look that he could feel Jonny giving him.  “Q?” Pat said, tentatively. The man just grunted in response. “I’m so sorry. Tell us- what can we do?” “That’s right,” Q said, and Pat frowned in confusion, until his next words. “What can you do, indeed? Nothing, son. There’s nothing to be done.”  “But...” Pat started, and Jonny sighed on the other side of Q. “Is there something that would make you more comfortable? Something we could-” “No, Jonny,” Q interrupted. “Thank you - I really mean that. But, no.” Jonny finally nodded, his eyes downcast toward the bar.  They sat in silence for a while, neither Jonny nor Pat drinking, even though they probably both wanted to - Pat knew he did. But they needed to be here for Q right now. Pat couldn’t imagine - his hibernation pod had failed, sure. But it hadn’t woken him up just to kill him in a matter of days. Although now that he thought about it, maybe that would’ve been preferable to the long promise of death, driving him slowly into a lonely madness. Eventually, Q finished his third or fourth drink and stood up, seeming relatively unfazed. He met both of their gazes one at a time. “You boys doing anything tonight?” They shook their heads. “Meet me at that fancy steak restaurant. If a guy’s got a couple of days to live, then he might as well enjoy his last meals, right?” They both nodded, albeit after an awkward moment of hesitation. “Good. Now don’t bother me until then.” With that, he turned and left the two of them at the bar, staring after him in silence. ... When Pat arrived at the restaurant, Q was decked out in his full dress uniform, his lapel adorned with medals. It made Pat want to cry a little bit, but he smiled wide instead and shook the man’s hand. Wasn’t every day a guy got to share a meal with a decorated space officer born six hundred years ago. Jonny joined them not much later, and after ordering their steaks, they quickly popped open a bottle of wine. They were drinking in a tense silence, when Q rolled his eyes. “Stop looking so traumatized, you two,” Q said, shaking his head. “There are worse things than dying. Honestly...” He trailed off, draining his glass and pouring another. Pat locked eyes with Jonny, both of them attempting a more relaxed posture and expression. “Sorry,” Pat muttered, and Q just grumbled and waved his hand dismissively.  “You boys are still young. It’s understandable. But I’ve lived a pretty fulfilling life, I think. No regrets, really.” “That’s amazing,” Jonny said, earnestly. Q nodded, a small smile appearing on his face. “You know, I wish I’d kept journals. There’s so many stories I could tell you two. Some crazy stuff, I’ve seen,” he said, and Pat spoke before thinking. “Jonny keeps a journal - writes down everything.” Jonny looked at him with an odd expression - Pat had forgotten to keep the pride out of his voice, it seemed. Why he’d be proud of Jonny for his journal wasn’t clear, he supposed. But it was how he felt, nonetheless. “Oh, yeah?” Q asked. Jonny finally looked away from Pat, and nodded to him. “That’s good. Leave something of yourself behind to remember.” Jonny nodded again with a bitter twist to his lips. Pat looked away, his gut clenching painfully.  Their steaks arrived at the table, interrupting the conversation for a moment. But as they started to dig in, Q let out a small laugh, his eyes far away in some memory.  “I could tell you boys about the time there was an oxygen leak on this escape pod - man, that was wild. Instead of running out of oxygen, we had too damn much of it. Made everyone loopy and ridiculous, but it was deceivingly dangerous. We’d have all died if I hadn’t hammered the valve closed - although one spark would’ve killed us all too. We weren’t even scared, though - too damn high. Just laughing our asses off-” A bout of coughing cut Q off, his hands gripping the table with white knuckles. The tentative smiles that had graced Pat and Jonny’s expressions were quickly replaced with concern. “Q, you okay?” Jonny asked, but the man took a few moments to respond, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. “It’s...happening fast,” Q managed, his breathing labored. Jonny and Pat’s worried gazes met again. “I need to show you boys something. Eat up.” They hesitated briefly, before following his command. The meal didn’t feel so lighthearted anymore. ... They followed Q all the way to the E.V.A. room. Pat hadn't revisited it since...that day he’d almost opened the airlock for the last time. He looked at it now warily.  “Why are we at the airlock?” Q ignored him, taking them to a small table where a pile of books sat. Patrick recognized them as the ship’s manuals they’d previously poured over. “I read through all the manuals and wrote notes for you two. As soon as the diagnostic computer tells you what’s wrong, these should have all the answers you need,” he said. Then, he took his crew card from around his neck and handed it to Pat. “This’ll get you anywhere you need to go. Questions?” “Q, why are we at the airlock?” Jonny repeated Pat’s question, his expression grave. They both knew the answer already, but they wouldn’t assume... “I’m gonna die soon - that’s a fact,” Q said, his voice even and calm. “But this way, I can control how it ends. I can still choose my ending.” Pat’s eyes started to burn, his throat becoming tight. “Are- are you sure?” he asked, his voice cracking. But he was all too familiar with Q’s logic. “I’m sure, kid.”  Pat nodded, his hands clenched at his sides. Q lifted his hand for Patrick to shake. It took him a moment, but eventually, he clasped his hand firmly around Q’s. Q repeated the gesture for Jonny, who returned it with an expression of numb shock. “But...there’s gotta be some other way,” Jonny said, his voice a hoarse murmur. “Don’t do this.” “If you knew how this feels, you wouldn’t ask me to wait,” Q said, and Jonny blinked in surprise. But he seemed to come to some kind of acceptance because he didn’t argue again. They both watched as Q stepped back to look at them one last time. “Fix the ship. And please,” he paused, his expression turning serious. “Look out for each other.” They both nodded in silence, as Q turned and opened the airlock. The door closed behind him and he gave one final wave through the window, waiting for their hands that were slow to raise in farewell. He then turned to face the outer door, looking out into space for a loaded moment. Pat didn’t breathe for several seconds that felt like minutes. And then a red light flashed and the outer doors opened swiftly. They watched through the porthole as Q’s body was launched into space, floating into the endless expanse of stars. The doors closed again and it was quiet. Eventually, Pat looked to his left to see a silent tear tracking down Jonny’s cheek. Pat ached with the urge to hold him, but that wasn’t his place anymore. Not ever again, if it were up to Jonny. Jonny watched the airlock doors for a long moment, Pat looking away from him when it got too hard. But the quiet was hard, too. And just when Pat was about to say something - anything - to offer support, Jonny turned on his heel and left the room without a word. Pat breathed out into the silence.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

- PART IV -

The following days were so, so quiet.
 
Pat had gotten used to a sort of energy, a purpose - there was a new passenger! And a mission! But now, there was only one of those things. And at the moment, the mission was on hold as the diagnostic computer ran through its system check.
 
Pat didn’t know where Jonny was. He didn’t see him for days, and he wasn’t about to go look for him. Despite seeing him regularly for a week, he knew that Jonny didn’t want to see him any more now than he had before Q had shown up. Maybe even less.
 
Pat was sitting on the edge of his bed, his mind empty and at a loss when he noticed his Jonny detector bot ramming itself into the corner. It was just like the cleaner bot he’d seen in the cafeteria that one day. 
 
And when he eventually left his room for food, the cafeteria dispensed not his normal oatmeal and coffee, but a strange green sludge that looked hardly edible. Pat’s stomach turned.
 
He visited the robotics center next, using Q’s crew card to open the doors. And despite his suspicions, the sight that greeted him was still a shock. Everywhere, robots were malfunctioning - waiter bots ramming into each other until they steamrolled over one another, hydraulic lifts going up and down without pattern or predictability, broken bits of machinery littered around the room as evidence of how long it had been going on.
 
Pat breathed in carefully, his chest tightening with concern. He headed for the diagnostic center, but not before grabbing his tool belt.
 
...
 
Jonny was already there when he arrived, standing over the computer that was no longer dark, but a sea of green and red light - mostly red. Jonny didn’t turn to acknowledge him, but Pat saw his back tense upon hearing Pat enter. He went to stand next to Jonny regardless, both of them staring in alarm. The screen said “Diagnostic complete,” along with a slew of error messages.
 
“There’s trouble everywhere,” Jonny said finally. Pat tried not to feel relief at hearing his voice - it wasn’t the time. “Atmosphere systems, water systems, waste systems, machinery failure...” Jonny breathed out, walking over to the console where the diagnostic report displayed thousands of faults. “It started two years ago. Thirty years with no trouble, then forty-seven failures in a single day.” He read from the list to Patrick. “Structural concussion. System overvoltage. Transient pressure anomaly. Circuit reset, conduit 12. Sync failure, hibernation pod 1988-”
 
“That’s my pod,” Patrick interrupted, his voice raised in alarm. “Let’s start there. Something happened that day that made my hibernation pod fail. Whatever it was might be causing all of this.” He joined Jonny at the console, looking over the report. “Ever since that day, more and more failures. At a faster rate, too.”
 
Jonny nodded, pulling up a map of the ship on the display. Red markers blinked at them, all collected in one area. “Deck One,” Jonny said.
 
...
 
They stood outside a door labeled ‘Central Computing.’ There was a narrow window that Pat looked through, but he couldn’t see anything of concern from this angle.
 
“This should be it,” Jonny said from behind him. The corridor was narrow and there wasn’t really room for both of them to stand side-by-side. “Try Q’s key card.”
 
Pat fished it out of his pocket and hovered it over the card reader, but the light turned red and the door remained closed. Pat frowned and tried again. Same result.
 
“This should open any door,” Pat said, looking over his shoulder at Jonny, his brows furrowed.
 
“Maybe if I try an override code?” Jonny said, flipping through one of the ship’s manuals until he found the page he was looking for.
 
He slid by Pat in the tight space and keyed in the code. A thought occurred to Pat suddenly.
 
“Wait, what if there’s a reason the door-”
 
The light flashed green and shot open before Pat could finish, and it was like being in a car crash without a seatbelt, the force at which they were propelled through the doorway. 
 
Pat was able to catch his left hand around the door frame just in time, his legs flying up behind him and his still healing collarbone screaming in agony. He glanced behind him and saw Jonny collide with a column, his back slamming against it and his head following swiftly. His eyes squeezed shut in pain, but the howling wind was too loud to hear any shout of pain.
 
“Jonny!” Pat yelled, but it was immediately snatched up by the wind, unheard by Jonny’s ears. Jonny’s eyes remained shut, and Pat felt panic gripping him.
 
The door started to slide shut, and he acted on instinct, grabbing a hammer from his tool belt and wedging it sideways just in time to keep the door open. He took a deep breath before letting go, skidding across the floor toward Jonny. 
 
Thankfully, the wind was isolated to a single direction, keeping Jonny pinned to the column without any effort on his part. And when Pat landed beside him, it gave him a look at the wall hidden from view of the door, revealing the source of the current. There was a huge gash ripped into the hull and visible through it: the endless vacuum of space. Air screamed as it whistled through the opening.
 
Pat looked to Jonny, whose eyes were blinking open slowly. Pat would’ve breathed out in relief if he were capable, but the air felt like it was being sucked from his lungs. Still, Jonny didn’t look good, his face was pale and his eyes unfocused. There was no way he didn’t have a concussion.
 
Pat looked frantically around, spotting an emergency locker across the room. It would be hard to reach, but hopefully not impossible.
 
“Stay here!” Pat shouted over the wind, and Jonny just blinked back, not even seeming to really see Patrick. His heart hammered in his chest, and he didn’t hesitate to start fighting his way to the locker.
 
He grabbed a hold of anything he could on the way, pulling himself along the floor so he wouldn’t become airborne. There didn’t seem to be any air left to breathe, but the wind seemed to at least generate the illusion of oxygen to his lungs. Pat knew though that the longer they remained in here, the less like air it would feel.
 
He was close enough to the locker to launch himself the rest of the way, grabbing the handle so he wouldn’t fly away. The door was locked and it allowed Pat to use his core to pull his legs in against the ground. It was an old-fashioned lock - one that needed a key. A key that Pat obviously didn’t have.
 
He didn’t have time to hesitate, pulling his shirt sleeve over his hand and ramming it into the glass. It took a few tries, the impact ricocheting up his arm and through his joints, but the glass finally shattered. Pat’s arm shot up in front of his face to protect his eyes, but he felt a few pieces slice along his cheek and neck.
 
He reached inside and grabbed what he needed - the epoxy foamer. Holding the metal canister under one arm, he looked back toward the breached hull. There wasn’t really anything to do except let go and hope he didn’t hit anything major along the way. 
 
Pat took a deep breath, glancing at Jonny where he lay against the column. His head was turned toward Patrick, watching his progress. But his gaze was still unfocused and blank. Pat redirected his attention to the hole. He let go.
 
There was a fast moment - too fast for him to even blink - that conversely seemed to stretch on and on, where he felt a weightlessness in his gut, his body hurtling toward the hole into space. He made his body straight like a board, preventing himself from twisting or turning at all in the air. Then after a second that felt like much too long to wait, he lifted his head and braced his legs, holding the canister out in front of him and aiming toward the hole.
 
He started spraying before he reached it, and the epoxy shot from the canister and plastered itself to the wall. It expanded as Pat continued to spray, his feet slamming onto either side of the hole when he reached the wall. The wind began to lessen, the epoxy rapidly sealing the breach before his eyes, until finally, Pat slammed onto the ground as gravity returned.
 
His ears were ringing as he stared up at the ceiling, his heart pounding. It took a moment to realize that there was also an alarm blaring through the air, audible now without the roar of wind to cover it. But it still sounded faint, and Patrick realized that he was struggling to get in a breath, his blood rushing in his ears from lack of oxygen.
 
He rolled onto his stomach, his limbs feeling leaden, looking past the banks of machinery to where Jonny was attempting to stand. Pat tried to call out to him, but there wasn’t air to speak. He could feel his chest expanding and collapsing rapidly, struggling to breathe and he started to drag himself across the floor as his vision blurred.
 
It became hard to focus, and it seemed that second-to-second, he couldn’t remember what he was doing or where he was or who he was crawling toward. He’d realize he wasn’t moving and then half-heartedly drag himself another few inches before losing strength and purpose again. He didn’t really decide to rest his head down for a minute, but that’s what happened. And then nothing.
 
...
 
Pat coughed, an intense pressure on his chest alleviating somewhat as he dragged his eyes open. 
 
There was something - someone - above him, but it was hard to focus for several seconds as he tried to regain his breath. His head was spinning, black spots dancing at the edges of his vision.
 
After a couple more minutes of breathing, the world seemed to straighten out somewhat around him, although his chest felt sore, bruised. His gaze settled on the figure above him - Jonny. Pat was confused for a moment, then remembered all at once.
 
“Jonny,” he breathed out in relief, a sob in his voice. But Jonny breathed heavily above him, his eyes half-lidded in a concerning way. Pat sat up, his hands shooting out to hold Jonny’s shoulders as the man swayed a bit where he knelt. “Jonny, how did you-?”
 
Pat glanced around him, the alarm no longer blaring in his ears. The door at the far end of the room was open, Pat’s hammer now lying uselessly on the floor. Somehow, Jonny had managed to make it through that door and reset the air pressure, filling the room with oxygen. And then...he wasn’t sure, but his sore chest suggested that Jonny had given him CPR.
 
Jonny had saved his life. 
 
Pat’s gaze caught on the large machine standing tall in the middle of the room - the core computer. A huge crater lay in its side, and right at its center - a rock the size of a watermelon. A meteor, Pat realized. 
 
A meteor had blasted through the ship’s hull and crashed into the core computer, something that never should’ve been possible with the ship’s shields. He couldn’t even think about it right now, his attention returning to Jonny, who was looking worse by the minute.
 
“Come on, Jonny. We need to get you to the infirmary,” Pat said, kneeling as he draped Jonny’s arm over his shoulder and helped them both stand. Jonny’s weight leaned heavily into him, his breathing labored in Pat’s ear.
 
“No,” Jonny said, the word more of a breath than anything else. “The...the computer-”
 
“Yeah, the computer’s fucked. But right now, you’re more important.”
 
It seemed like Jonny was attempting to argue as they made their way out of the room, but none of his words were really making sense. A concussion, Pat was certain. But they had to make sure there wasn’t something worse wrong - bleeding in the brain or a fractured skull. He’d hit his head pretty hard. Pat flinched as he re-lived that moment, watching Jonny smack into the column. He shook his head to clear it and pushed on, his legs and back burning as he supported Jonny’s weight into the elevator and up to the infirmary. 
 
It felt like it took ages, but when they finally got there, Pat helped him into the autodoc, making sure Jonny lied down slowly so as not to hit his head again. The sensors passed over him assessing his body and isolating onto his head as it detected the damage. A light hovered over Jonny’s eyes one at a time, making him twitch, before it shut off.

“Moderate concussion,”

the robotic voice read out. Pat waited with baited breath.

“No bone fracture or blood clot detected.”

His breath whooshed out of him in relief. But Jonny just blinked up at the ceiling, and Pat’s excitement dulled.

“Bruising will be likely to occur, as well as possible sensitivity to light and sound, confusion, headaches, dizziness, nausea, problems with memory and/or concentration, blurred vision, changes in sleep pattern, ringing in the ears-”

Pat’s stomach sank with the list of symptoms, his gaze lingering on Jonny’s out-of-it expression. How he had managed to find the right button for the air pressure lock and give Pat CPR was a miracle.

“-fatigue, vomiting, slurred speech, seizures, and difficulty walking,”

the voice finally finished listing.
 
“Treatment?” Pat asked.

“Patient will remain under observation for twenty-four hours to monitor swelling. Rest and lowered mental strain is recommended while symptoms persist.”

Pat watched as a cold pack was dispensed and a robotic arm placed it against Jonny’s head. A small needle came out to poke Jonny’s arm and administered something, presumably a pain reliever. Pat stood above Jonny so he could look at him without him having to move his head. Jonny’s eyes found his face, but he still looked concerned about something.
 
“What is it? Are you in pain?” Pat asked softly, his hand brushing against Jonny’s arm. Jonny blinked at him for a moment, before responding.
 
“You...you’re bleeding,” he said.
 
“Oh,” Pat said. He looked down at himself, but didn’t see anything. Jonny’s hand lifted and brushed against his face, the movement uncoordinated. Pat took his hand and laid it back on the table gently. “Don’t strain yourself.”
 
He smoothed a hand over his face and hissed when he felt one of the cuts against his cheek from the glass. The blood was mostly dry at this point.
 
“I’m fine,” he said to Jonny. It was really just his collarbone that ached steadily - more so when he used his left arm. Jonny frowned at him, opening his mouth to speak. “Don’t try to talk, Jonny. Please. Just rest.” Jonny listened to him, although he didn’t look happy about it.
 
Pat brought a chair over, picking it up so it didn’t drag across the floor. He set it near the autodoc, resting his arms along the edge by Jonny. He rested his chin on his forearms and watched Jonny for a long time, counting each of his slow blinks and deep breaths. 
 
Pat was exhausted, his body drained of all strength. But they’d found the source of the problem. And he’d get to fixing it as soon as he was assured that Jonny was okay.
 
...
 
Pat washed the blood from his face, using the mirror above the sink to make sure he didn’t miss any as he wiped it clean. All of the cuts were shallow and would heal fairly quickly if he left them alone to scab.
 
When he moved the neck of his shirt aside though, he saw bruising along his collarbone that made him suck in a breath. He would ice it and start wearing his sling again - he’d neglected it when he shouldn’t have and now he was paying the price.
 
He let go of his shirt, and walked back over to where Jonny lay on the table. There was some cushioning in the autodoc, but Pat was anxious to get Jonny to a bed as soon as possible. They were twelve or so hours into the twenty-four hours of observation, and Pat was having a hard time sitting still.
 
The quiet was letting his thoughts run in circles in his head, which was rarely a good thing. He just kept thinking back to the computing deck and everything that had gone down.
 
Jonny could’ve left Pat on the floor, unbreathing - could’ve let him die - and Pat wouldn’t have blamed him. It would’ve been a lot easier than what Jonny had done instead. Instead, he’d saved him. 
 
Jonny had saved his life, even after everything they’d been through. After everything Pat had put him through. Had kept Patrick’s heart pumping blood through his body - a man he hated. A man who had condemned him to a life he never wanted or asked for, to a death in space.
 
Pat couldn’t imagine hating Jonny, but if their roles were reversed, he wasn’t sure he’d have been so selfless. But then, he probably would’ve. He couldn’t imagine letting Jonny die either, no matter how much hate he might have for him. He just loved him too much. But he knew it was because their roles

weren’t

reversed. And it was impossible for him to imagine Jonny ever doing what Pat had done to him. He was just too good.
 
Pat sat back down in his chair next to the autodoc, his gaze passing over Jonny’s face. He’d finally fallen asleep several hours after they’d arrived in the infirmary, and he’d been restlessly sleeping ever since. Pat let himself brush the back of his hand down Jonny’s arm, watching as his furrowed brow smoothed out a bit. 
 
It was an indulgence that he shouldn’t have allowed himself to take, but it looked like it was helping Jonny relax. And that was the most important thing at the moment.
 
He couldn’t deny though that it felt good to touch Jonny again, even in this fleeting way. They hadn’t really touched in months, and Pat missed being able to comfort him, soothe him. But it still felt wrong when Jonny wasn’t awake or in a state to tell Patrick no, so he stopped after that.
 
Jonny was in and out of consciousness for the next several hours, same as Patrick, who was reaching the limit of his sleep deprivation. Plus, the lights in the infirmary had dimmed to a level more manageable for Jonny, and it did nothing to keep Patrick awake. So he let himself rest while there was time - he wasn’t sure how long it would take for the rest of the systems on the ship to fail, but Pat imagined he’d have to work quickly to fix it before it was too late.
 
It wasn’t comfortable sleeping in the chair, hunched over the table with his head on his arms, but Pat didn’t want to leave Jonny - not yet. It wasn’t like he was really doing anything to help, or really needed at all. But Pat wouldn’t be able to think straight until Jonny was allowed to leave. And he wanted to be here to help him to his room - there was no way he was risking leaving only to find out Jonny had attempted to make it to his room on his own.
 
So after probably the worst sleep of his life and many torturous hours later, the autodoc finally voiced that Jonny was free to go. It dispensed painkillers for him - nothing that was a blood thinner - and shut down.
 
Pat helped Jonny to his room, which mostly just consisted of letting him use Pat’s shoulder for balance. Jonny didn’t want more help than that, and he was pretty grumpy in general. Pat tried not to think of it as endearing, especially because he knew how much pain Jonny must be in to even be letting Patrick help at all.
 
Patrick didn’t say anything, but he guided Jonny to his room - the Berlin suite. He knew Jonny would argue if he was aware of their direction, but Pat’s bed was much more comfortable - it was just a fact. Jonny’s insistence on staying in his small cabin, six-foot-two frame crammed into that little bed, was a mystery to Pat.
 
Jonny finally realized where they were when he noted the number on the door as Pat unlocked it. “Patrick,” he said, his voice a warning. “What-”
 
“Don’t argue, Jonny. You’re sleeping in here. It’ll be way more comfortable. I promise I won’t bother you,” Pat said. Jonny didn’t respond right away, as they walked to the bed. Pat didn’t help as Jonny situated himself, even though he longed to. “Is there anything you need from your room? I can grab a change of clothes.” Jonny nodded.
 
“That would be nice.”
 
Pat left the painkillers and a glass of water on the bedside table as he left for Jonny’s room. It wasn’t until he got there that he remembered his key card didn’t work on Jonny’s door anymore. It was a harsh reminder of where they were at in their relationship. He felt a bit guilty about it, even though he had Jonny’s permission to enter, but he used Q’s key card to get in.
 
He didn’t linger long, just grabbing a comfortable change of clothes for Jonny. But he did spot his journal on the desk and stared at it for several drawn out seconds. He wouldn’t read it, even though he wanted to. He’d already done enough to hurt Jonny. But the temptation was incredible - in that journal was presumably how Jonny really felt about him. Whether he really hated Patrick or not. Whether there was any chance for them or not.
 
But it wasn’t Patrick’s right to know anymore. It was never his right.
 
When he got back to the suite, Jonny was already asleep, so Patrick moved through the room as quietly as possible. He set the change of clothes at the bottom of the bed and kneeled beside Jonny. His face wasn’t exactly relaxed, and the hair at his temples was a bit damp with sweat, but Patrick hoped a few days of rest would go a long way. 
 
“Thank you,” Pat whispered, his throat tight. “Thank you for saving my life.”
 
Jonny didn’t stir, and with a last lingering look, Pat made his way to the couch and collapsed. The exhaustion was quick to take hold.
 
...
 
“First, connect the data bus, then the sync cable...” Pat read from the manual, looking around at the mess of cables around his feet. He sighed.
 
The manual was full of Q’s helpful notes, but it was a long tedious process to replace the core computer. Pat had had to track down the replacement in the subdeck and haul it back here on the service cart. Then, disconnect the old damaged one and now figure out where the hell all these cables went for the new one. 
 
When he’d moved the old one out of the way, the meteor had been shaken loose and fallen to the floor. Looking at it now, it seemed so small to have caused such damage. And although there were more computers than just this one that the ship depended on, the damage to the core had increased the load on all the others. And now, it wouldn’t be long before those computers started to overload and fail. That is, if Pat couldn’t get the new core up and running.
 
So he was trying to work fast, knowing that more and more red lights were appearing on the diagnostic computer every second that passed.
 
It wasn’t easy though, especially not by himself. But Jonny needed to rest and heal. And he’d be no help to Patrick in his current state of mind.
 
He worked for hours - every time he thought he got it right, the computer failed to come online. Pat was following all the steps, but a lot of the cables looked the same. And he was an engineer, but not for computers.
 
He thought he was getting somewhere when the room started to shake and then everything went quiet and still. Pat held his breath, but he knew what that meant. The engines had just shut down.
 
“Fuck.”
 
He kept plugging in cables, his hands sweaty and shaking. If the engines had failed, then who knew what would be next. The oxygen? Pat remembered how it had felt to slowly lose all the air in his lungs. He shuddered and moved faster.
 
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been working again when the room was suddenly bathed in a red light and a voice blared from the speakers, “Reactor failure. Passengers, remain calm. Reactor failure-” The voice repeated the message over and over. Pat was the opposite of calm.
 
He continued working until everything was plugged in somewhere. Then, he sent a prayer to anyone listening and hit the button to power up. There was a loaded second of nothing happening, and then lights began turning on and Pat heard a fan of some sort start up. He nearly cried with relief, but it wasn’t over yet.
 
His eyes rapidly scanned the manual - he was supposed to run the computer through a startup checklist, but Q had written a note that he could bypass that in an emergency by flipping a specific switch and typing in the bypass code. 
 
The ship violently shuddered, and Pat held on as it tipped from side to side. He was pretty sure this qualified as an emergency, so he followed the instructions, bypassing the startup procedures. He gripped the lever that should be the final step and muscled it up. Immediately, the ship was bathed in darkness.
 
For a moment, Pat felt weightless. His feet lifted off the ground and he realized the anti-gravity was off. It seemed the whole ship had shut off. He held his breath for a tense few seconds.
 
Then all at once, the computer came to life, the lights and gravity came back online, and Pat heard the engines sputter to life. Pat’s feet landed solidly on the floor, and he felt like he could breathe again.
 
After a moment of staring at the computer in relieved shock, his chest tightened. “Jonny.”
 
...
 
He ran through the halls toward his suite, hoping to God that Jonny had woken up when the reactor had failed and hadn’t been asleep when the gravity shut off. Otherwise, he would’ve floated up and fallen through the air. Awake or asleep, there was a chance that he’d hurt himself further, but Pat had hope that the gravity hadn’t been off long enough for a lot of damage.
 
He turned the corner and almost ran into Jonny, who was leaning against the wall, like he’d been walking and using it for support. He had a hand cupped above his eyes, attempting to block out the bright light from the hallway. But Pat imagined it was impossible with the white walls and floors reflecting it from every direction.
 
“Jonny? What are you doing?” Pat asked, rushing to help him but making sure his grip was gentle as he wrapped an arm around his waist and pointed them back towards his suite.
 
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice quiet and his feet shuffling along the floor. Pat knew from experience with migraines that even the motion of stepping caused a reverberation through his body creating a matching pulse of pain in his head. They walked slowly.
 
“Everything’s fine now. I replaced the central computer, but not before the reactor started to fail. And the engines shut off. And the anti-gravity,” he added, grimacing. “I’m so sorry. All the noise and gravity shifts...How’s your head?”
 
Jonny sighed, and Pat could feel his chest expanding and contracting against his side. Pat swallowed, clenching his jaw and focusing on their path to distract himself from their proximity. He didn’t think it would ever get easier to be physically close to Jonny, yet so far removed emotionally.
 
“Hurts,” Jonny said, simply. Pat knew that meant it was pretty bad.
 
“Well, we should be all good now with the new computer. I’ll check the diagnostics just in case, but all systems should be coming back online soon if they haven’t already. Jonny, what-” Jonny had stopped walking, prompting Pat to stop. He looked up at him and saw his gaze directed out the windows beside them. Pat looked and couldn’t hold in his gasp, wincing when Jonny flinched at the noise.
 
“Oh, God,” Pat said, more gently.
 
They watched as hundreds of hibernation pods floated by the window. Outside the ship. In space.
 
Pat leaned Jonny against the window. “Stay here,” he said, his expression grave. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He turned around to run back toward the hibernation bay, but Jonny grabbed his arm.
 
“I’m going with you,” he said, his voice firm - no room for argument. 
 
“We don’t have time for this, Jonny. You’ll slow us down-” Jonny interrupted him by pointing down the hall. Pat followed his hand to where the service cart was parked, perfectly placed and ready. “Well, alright then.”
 
...
 
They hurtled through the ship at light speed, or at least that’s what it felt like. Pat was driving (obviously) because Jonny wasn’t in a state to aim a vehicle, but he really wasn’t in a state to be riding in one either, not like this. But his expression had been such that Pat knew he wasn’t going to win the argument. So he’d let Jonny hop on and off they went.
 
He didn’t let himself consider why Jonny was so insistent on coming - whether it was because he needed to find a way to help or whether it was because he didn’t trust Patrick to fix it himself. That last one would be... No, he didn’t let himself think about it.
 
They careened around a corner and Jonny clutched the front handle bar, his face pale.
 
“You okay?” Pat asked, but all he got was a short nod. 
 
He tried to drive as smooth as possible without compromising speed. If hibernation pods were being ejected from the ship, they didn’t have much time left before they’d all be gone.
 
When they finally reached the hibernation bay, Pat tried to come to a smooth stop because that was probably the most important part to be careful with Jonny’s head - whiplash would make his concussion a lot worse. As soon as the cart was stationary, he shot out of it, not waiting for Jonny to rush over to the doors and scan them open.
 
He held his breath as the doors slid open. What greeted him was an eerie quiet, and it took him a moment to process what he was seeing.
 
Half of the pods were gone.
 
Half - that meant around twenty-five hundred passengers - had been ejected from the ship. But it appeared that whatever had caused them to be ejected was over. The bay doors were closed and the rest of the pods lay still, solid. Unmoving.
 
Pat rushed to the nearest control panel and brought up the diagnostics - everything looked good, like it was running the way it should. He opened the system history, selecting the most recent activity, just as Jonny appeared beside him. He spared him a glance, but returned to the screen, his eyes scanning over the information.
 
“It- it looks like the hibernation system failed - thought that we’d landed, that the pods were empty and started ejecting them. It wasn’t until the system reboot that it stopped.” Pat rested his hands on the control panel and leaned his weight forward, his head dropping toward his chest. 
 
There was a pressure building in him that felt like it was spreading up his throat and into his ears. He was finding it hard to breathe suddenly. “If I- if I’d worked faster-”
 
“Patrick, no,” Jonny said, and then his hand was on Pat’s arm, but he could barely feel it. He could barely feel anything now that he thought about it - the control panel under his hands, his feet against the floor. He felt like he was trembling, his breaths coming faster and faster as he panicked about his body’s reaction. “Patrick, breathe.”
 
He tried to listen to Jonny, but all he could see was a vision of pods ejecting from the ship, people’s sleeping faces drifting out into space. A hand was suddenly turning his chin until he was looking at Jonny, then Jonny took Pat’s hand and held it against his chest. Pat watched with confusion as Jonny shut his eyes and breathed in deep through his nose and out through his mouth. He felt Jonny’s heart beating steadily under his palm, and suddenly understood.
 
He shut his own eyes, focusing on Jonny’s breaths and his heartbeat, and tried to match his own to Jonny’s. It took a while, but eventually he felt the panic receding. He let his eyes flutter open just as Jonny’s did, and their gazes met briefly before Pat had to look away. He flushed in embarrassment, but Jonny just shook his head gently, his hand tightening around Pat’s that still lay on his chest.
 
“Don’t do that Patrick. You did everything you could,” Jonny said, his voice insistent.
 
“I...” Pat kept up his breathing. What he didn’t want to say was that he’d spent an entire twenty-four hours at Jonny’s side in the infirmary, then another seven sleeping on the couch before he’d gotten to work. But Jonny seemed to know where his brain was going.
 
“You needed rest, Patrick. If you’d tried to replace that computer after what happened - after we were almost sucked out into space - I’m willing to bet you would’ve made a mistake and this might’ve happened anyway.”
 
“But we’ll never know,” Pat said, his voice miserable. They could speculate about what might’ve happened, but the fact was that Pat hadn’t been fast enough.
 
“Half of these passengers are still here because of you, Patrick,” Jonny said, clutching Pat’s shoulder with his free hand.
 
“And half of them

aren’t

because of me,” Pat argued. He looked over at the remaining pods, a tear spilling from his eye despite his best efforts.
 
“If you hadn’t woken up, all of them would be gone,” Jonny said firmly, and Pat finally met his eyes. “I’d be gone.” Pat’s brows furrowed as he tried to parse the expression on Jonny’s face. But it was too complicated, and Jonny looked like he wasn’t even sure how he felt. 
 
At the very least, that was one good thing that had come from him waking Jonny up. But Pat wasn’t sure yet whether it would be enough for Jonny to forgive him - it wasn’t like Pat could’ve known this would happen. He hadn’t been saving Jonny’s life when he’d decided to wake him up. It had been purely selfish.
 
And anyway, Jonny had saved his life less than forty-eight hours ago. Best case, they were even now.
 
“Jonny,” Pat said, and Jonny must’ve been able to hear the apologetic note in his voice because he frowned before Pat even got the rest fully out. “I’m so sorry-”
 
“Patrick,” Jonny sighed, his face pinched. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. Can we please just...get some sleep?” Pat huffed a small laugh and nodded.
 
“God, yes.”
 
...
 
After Pat got some much needed rest, he was able to work on replacing the rest of the burned out computer processors. It was a slow-going process that took days, but he finally powered up the last one and checked the diagnostic computer as all the remaining red lights became green.
 
In between hauling processors around on service carts and plugging in thousands of cables, he made sure that Jonny was resting and getting enough food and water. He could tell that Jonny was impatient to be done with lying around and staring at the wall or the back of his eyelids. But head injuries were nothing to play with, and Pat wasn’t about to let him live with a lifetime of side effects because he wouldn’t sit still for at least a week or so.
 
“A week?” Jonny had repeated in disbelief when Pat had said so.
 
“Yes, Jonny. At least.” Pat had used his firm voice that he didn’t often whip out. Jonny had just sighed.
 
He was still staying in Pat’s suite, something that wasn’t entirely necessary but certainly made Pat feel better about confining him to the room. He was even bringing Jonny his meals so that he didn’t have to deal with the bright light and white surroundings of the rest of the ship. Jonny had given him his wristband each day so he wouldn’t have to choose from Pat’s meager meal selection. Pat definitely stole a few meals for himself because well...a person could only have so much chicken and rice.
 
At this point, Jonny was mostly just dealing with lingering headaches and fatigue, although nausea and general confusion had been an issue the first few days. Pat was glad at least that Jonny was sleeping, knowing his history of sleeping problems. But the headaches could sometimes be quite bad, and Pat never knew what to do except hand Jonny painkillers to swallow and watch him sleep like a weirdo.
 
He and Jonny were in...an okay place, it seemed. 
 
They hadn’t really talked about anything important for days, but they

were

talking, which was a big step. Pat wasn’t sure if it was entirely because of nursing Jonny, or if they’d keep talking once Jonny was all healed. But it felt a bit like...starting over. Pat didn’t want to get his hopes up, but it was hard to control how he felt.
 
He kept taking care of the garden, and eventually, he deemed that an activity that wasn’t too much strain for Jonny. He watched the way Jonny carefully chose his vegetables and pruned dead leaves and tested soil moisture, relishing in being allowed to do

something

again, something he loved. 
 
Pat missed seeing this. He missed being able to just be around to see Jonny happy or focused or tired - whatever it was. Sometimes, it hurt how much he missed it.
 
Other times, he’d go to the hibernation bay and sit against the wall, staring out at the place where half of the pods used to be. It felt like an even bigger room now, somehow - more cavernous and...empty. 
 
Pat tried not to blame himself for what had happened, but it was hard not to when he was the only one who could’ve done something to save them. No one else was around to blame. But he hoped the more time that passed, the more he’d come to accept the things that weren’t in his control. 
 
Though, it didn’t stop him from seeing the phantom faces of those passengers when he closed his eyes. He’d jerk awake sometimes at night, the image of them somehow coming alive in their pods only to suffocate in space. He knew that was impossible. As far as those people were aware, they’d gone to sleep and never woken up. But Pat’s conscience had an active imagination.
 
It was one of those nights when the dream had taken hold that he was woken up by someone gently shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Jonny crouching in front of him, his vision adjusting to the darkness in the room enough to make out his concerned expression. Jonny’s eyes were tired and drooping - somehow Pat had woken him up from across the room.
 
“Hey, you alright?” Jonny asked, his voice low and soft.
 
Pat sat up, Jonny’s hand sliding off of his shoulder. Pat nodded, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I...think I’m gonna take a walk,” he said, and Jonny frowned. “I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.”
 
Jonny looked like he wanted to argue, but Pat exuded calm, giving him a small smile, so eventually Jonny nodded and went back to bed.
 
Pat didn’t really know where he was going at first - just wandering the halls and staring out at the stars as they passed, a blanket clutched around his shoulders. But after a while, he ended up outside the command deck. He didn’t even know if he had Q’s key card on him, but when he found it in his pocket, it seemed like this was always where he’d been headed. 
 
He scanned in and found his way to a chair by the diagnostic computer, curling up with his knees to his chest. He stared at the sea of green lights, counting how many times they blinked between his breaths. He fell asleep eventually, and behind his eyelids, the green looked red.
 
- ONE MONTH LATER -
 
It was officially the two year mark for Pat being awake on this ship. A year and two months for Jonny. They’d rounded when Q had asked, but now it was official.
 
It wasn’t like he planned on doing anything special or celebrating or something. It wasn’t an anniversary that he was excited about. It was just a day that he needed to get through without getting drunk.
 
Jonny had moved back to his room weeks ago, healed enough from his concussion to be on his own again. Pat had known that would happen, but it had still felt like the end of...something. But they hadn’t gone back to completely avoiding each other. They saw each other for breakfast most days and dinner some days - dinner always felt like more of an official meal, more meaningful. But it was hard not to gravitate toward each other when they were both so lonely and, let’s face it, bored. It was nice to just hear someone else’s thoughts, instead of their own voice in their heads.
 
They’d also find their way to each other during the day sometimes, whether it was reading in the library or watching a movie in the theater or swimming at the pool or working out at the gym. But Pat wasn’t sure they were really friends. Sometimes, Jonny would smile at him or laugh at something he said, and Pat felt lighter than air. 
 
But it wasn’t like before, in the early days when they were hanging out all the time and

really

friends. Honestly, it felt like...two exes who had to get along for the rest of their lives or they’d be miserable. Which was exactly what it was, despite the fantastical circumstances.
 
And it wasn’t like it was hard for Pat to spend time with Jonny - the opposite. It was all he ever wanted to do. But he didn’t think Jonny felt the same way, and that was something Pat had learned to accept. And it had only taken him...four months and some change to get there. He didn’t think he’d ever stop loving Jonny, but that was also a reality he was accepting. And of all the things, he didn’t think it would be so bad to love someone for the rest of his life.
 
They hadn’t talked about what Pat had done since Jonny found out so many months ago, but Pat wasn’t sure what else there was to say. He was sorry every day for it. But the reality that if Jonny had stayed asleep in his pod, he’d be a dead body in space right now...it did change things. Pat couldn’t regret waking him up if it was a choice between Jonny being dead right now or alive. 
 
But that argument only worked when he looked at it from a hindsight point of view, and he wasn’t sure that was how Jonny saw it. He thought maybe Jonny judged it as how events had unfolded in order, and that didn’t excuse the choice that Pat had made a year and two months ago. And he knew that.
 
So...

‘accept the things you cannot change,’

and all that.
 
On this day - this strange anniversary - he found his way to the ice rink. He hadn’t been back in a long time. The ice felt like heaven under his skate blades, and he relished the burn of cold air in his lungs.
 
It was after he’d been there for maybe twenty minutes, doing some simple drills he remembered from his hockey days, when the rink door slid open and Jonny appeared. Pat slid to a stop, staring at him from across the ice. They both were frozen for a moment. And then, as though he was completely unbothered, Jonny gave him a small smile, sat on the bench, and started lacing up his skates. Pat went back to practicing his skills. 
 
At first, they both remained on their own sides of the rink, keeping to themselves. And Pat thought it would stay that way - they were on friendly terms, but that didn’t mean they were gonna play hockey together like before. But eventually, they both were drawn closer and closer to the middle of the ice, until Pat’s puck was stolen right from under him in the middle of his drill.
 
He looked up in surprise to see Jonny with his gaze down at the ice and a small smile on his lips, Pat’s puck on his stick like nothing had happened. Well, alright then.
 
Pat waited for an opening, then swiftly stripped him of the puck and skated away, finding his way to the goal at the end of the ice and feeding it into the net as he passed. He came to a slow stop back at center ice, Jonny’s brow raised and a challenge in his eyes.
 
Then, just like that, they were off.
 
It started as keepaway, but morphed into a sort of scrimmage that was really just a pattern of Jonny winning a faceoff, Pat chasing him down, fighting for the puck in a board battle that went either way, and one of them scoring. Objectively, it should’ve been repetitive and boring. But the reality was the most fun Pat had had in months.
 
They were both breathless by the time an hour had passed, partly from exertion and partly from laughter. And Pat’s cheeks hurt from smiling. But their muscles were done for the day - they’d definitely pushed it in terms of what their bodies were probably capable of at this time.
 
They headed off the ice and didn’t even really say another word to each other when they parted to shower and change. But Pat still thought it was the most they’d connected and communicated in months. Sometimes, words were just words. But language came in all different forms.
 
...
 
They were both eating dinner at the Italian restaurant one night, a comfortable quiet between them, when Jonny said his name. Pat looked up, and Jonny’s expression made him put his fork down. “Yeah?”
 
“Can I-” Jonny started, then looked down at his plate, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
 
“No, what? What were you gonna say?” Pat asked, meeting Jonny’s eyes and nodding at him to continue. Jonny looked reluctant, but he eventually nodded, putting his own fork down.
 
“Can I...bring it up? The thing we don’t talk about,” Jonny said, and Pat’s stomach clenched. But he nodded around his rising pulse. Jonny sighed. “I...don’t even know where to start,” he said, a humorless smile on his face that quickly faded. “Even though I’ve thought about what to say a million times.” Pat let him collect his thoughts.
 
“I just want you to listen. I don’t need your explanation - I’ve already heard it,” Jonny said, waiting for Pat’s nod of agreement. “I...I just want to explain to you how it felt for me. Because I think you

think

you understand, but you don’t really.” Jonny didn’t say it in a cruel way, just matter-of-fact. “I woke up on this ship and thought that we’d made it to Homestead II. That didn’t last long obviously, but it’s what I thought. Finding out that we hadn’t, that we’d never... That was hard. But I had a companion, a friend. And I wasn’t alone.”
 
Pat’s chest tightened, and he felt suddenly that this was going to be very hard to listen to. But Jonny was right. He needed to hear it.
 
“I really liked this guy - Patrick. I thought, he’s nice, funny. Doesn’t push me to talk about my past. Gives me space when I’m getting overwhelmed. Too good to be true. He made everything easier. For a while.” Jonny’s eyes were far away, like he was in that memory of a time before everything had gone to shit. Pat’s heart clenched painfully, tears already pricking at his eyes. “I fell in love with him,” Jonny said, looking at Patrick. And he could see the tears in Jonny’s eyes too. Pat clenched his jaw and swallowed, his throat aching. But he wouldn’t let himself look away from Jonny. Jonny deserved to see his eyes, and he deserved to see Jonny’s pain.
 
“I loved you so much, Patrick,” he said, breaking for a moment as his breath hitched and a tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, but more followed and it was useless to try to get rid of them. Pat breathed, his hands trembling. “I thought, ‘How? How am I so lucky? How did I meet the love of my life at a time like this?’ I thought that,” Jonny insisted, his tone more urgent as he searched Pat’s face. “I thought you were the love of my life, Patrick.” And Pat broke, the tears falling from his eyes as he breathed out shakily, biting his lip until it hurt. 
 
“I still think that,” Jonny said, his eyes sad. And Pat’s brows furrowed, his heart thudding in his chest. “I’ve never loved anyone like that before, Patrick.” 
 
He wanted to say,

‘Me too! I felt the same - feel the same!’

But he’d promised Jonny he wouldn’t speak. So he just kept biting his lip and clenching his hands tighter around his knees. Jonny sighed, like the next part was even harder than everything else he’d already said. Pat didn’t know how it could hurt worse, but he was wrong.
 
“And then, I found out what you’d done.” Jonny’s voice shook, and Pat had never seen someone look so devastated. This - this was what Jonny must’ve looked like when Sharpy had told him. This was what Jonny had spared him from by disappearing from the bar that night before Pat returned. He felt like his heart was breaking all over again. 
 
“Patrick, I found out that the man I loved-” Jonny swallowed, his eyes shutting briefly before forcing them open again. “...the man I loved was someone I didn’t really know at all. A

stranger,”

he emphasized, and Pat flinched. “Because how could the man I loved do something like that? How

could

you?”
 
Pat had to shut his eyes, just for a moment. Jonny’s expression was too much - the betrayal, the disbelief, the anger, the

denial

. Jonny hadn’t wanted to believe it. He couldn’t believe that Patrick would do something like that, but he

had.

That was the reality. 
 
Everything Patrick had thought he’d forgiven himself for was bubbling back to the surface - all the guilt and self-hatred. But this wasn’t about him. He opened his eyes and found Jonny’s gaze, ignoring his own tears that were streaming now, making his nose run. He breathed in and out as evenly as he could.
 
“But I lied to myself by thinking that way,” Jonny said, and Pat was confused all over again. “You’re not a stranger, Pat. You’re

not.

I

know

you. And the man I fell in love with isn’t a different man from the one who woke me up. They’re the same person - you did that.” Pat nodded, miserable. “And I think it was easier for me to pretend you were two different people because then that meant that I never really knew you. That the man I thought I loved didn’t exist - he was made up. And it wouldn’t hurt as bad to lose you because I never really had anyone to lose. Do you...do you understand what I’m saying?”
 
Pat swallowed, and shook his head. He understood in a way - he’d separated the Patrick he thought he knew and the one capable of waking him up as a way to make sense of it all. But what did Jonny mean by all of this? 
 
Jonny wiped his cheeks and sighed, his lips rubbing together to collect the salty tears there. His eyes were still red, but he wasn’t looking at Pat accusingly anymore. None of it had really been accusing, if Pat was honest. It just hurt to confront what he’d done - the pain he’d caused Jonny. But Jonny mostly just looked tired now. There was something else in his eyes too that Pat couldn’t place.
 
“What I’m saying...” Jonny continued finally, his gaze boring into Pat’s. “...is that I know you. I know who you are, Patrick. And that includes every mistake you’ve made, even the really big ones.” They sat in silence for a moment, Patrick trying to understand what that

meant.

“Jonny?” he asked. 
 
“What I’m saying is that I love you, Patrick,” Jonny said, and Pat felt his heart stop. “And I forgive you.”
 
There was silence for a long moment, and Pat didn’t breathe for any of it. His heartbeat was audible in his ears, and part of him thought he’d misheard. Jonny...Jonny

forgave

him? Pat never thought- 
 
He never expected Jonny to-
 
Pat didn’t forgive himself, how could Jonny forgive him? It didn’t make sense.
 
“What?” Pat asked quietly, when he’d finally found his voice. Although, it came out a bit choked.
 
Jonny looked at him and Pat realized what he was seeing in those eyes. It was a look he’d given Patrick before, but not one he’d seen for months and months.
 
“Patrick,” Jonny said, sighing. “I’m...so tired of trying to stay mad at you when I’m just...not anymore.” He shrugged, like he was at a loss himself. “I don’t know when it changed, but...it was so many things - all the things I just told you. And realizing that I would’ve died when the ship started failing if you hadn’t woken me a year ago.” 
 
Jonny reached across the table slowly, and Pat didn’t know what for until he realized he was waiting for Pat’s hand. Pat told himself to breathe, and unclenched his hand from his knee, laying it gently in Jonny’s. His hand was shaking from everything Jonny was saying, but also at the feeling of touching him now when it meant

this.

“I think I was in my own way,” Jonny admitted, his thumb pressing into Pat’s pulse at his wrist and making him shudder. “I wouldn’t let myself think about how much pain you must’ve been in all alone up here - how desperate and sad you were when we’d first met. You hid it from me well. You’re still hiding it, Pat.” Tears leaked from Patrick’s eyes, and he squeezed Jonny’s hand hard. “And I realized that I knew what that was - to hide how much I was hurting from everyone in my life. Because it’s how I was after David...after he died.”
 
Pat couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Jonny

forgave

him. He- he understood how Pat had felt. How could he- ?
 
“I ran away from that life because I wasn’t happy. And Patrick, you made me happy for the first time in

years.

Yeah, I was upset - I had a right to be. But I can’t judge you for wanting a friend for the end of the world. And...fuck, I’m so glad it was me.”
 
Pat couldn’t hold it in anymore, letting out a sob as his tears flooded out. He laid his head down on their clasped hands, his shoulders shaking. “J-Jonny,” he said, his voice a desperate cry of love and sadness and guilt all wrapped up together. 
 
Jonny slid around in their booth, pulling Pat into his arms, his hands against Pat’s neck and in his hair, just- holding him. Pat let himself cry, clutching at Jonny’s back and burying his face in his neck.

God

, he’d missed him so much. He hadn’t been lying to himself - if he’d had to, he could’ve lived the rest of his life never hearing Jonny say he loved him. But now...hearing him say it when Patrick had been so sure he’d never ever feel that way again...
 
“Jonny, I love you so much,” Pat said, his words a trembling, snotty mess, but Jonny just held him closer and tighter. “I missed you.” 
 
“Missed you too, Pat. So much.” And his voice sounded like he was crying again too. And they just sat there and held onto each other and cried - all the months of anxiety and avoidance and pain and guilt. Fuck, love was so complicated.
 
“How can you forgive me?” Pat whispered, disbelief coloring his voice. 
 
“Because you’re not a bad person, Pat. Okay?” Jonny said, resting his chin on his head. Pat breathed out shakily - he didn’t know he’d needed to hear those words until now. And he still wasn’t really sure he believed them. But Jonny seemed to. He really did. “We’re both so miserable without each other. Can’t we just have this?”
 
“Only if it’s real,” Pat murmured into his neck.

“It’s real, Pat. It is.”
 
...
 
They held each other all night.
 
Pat was curled up in Jonny’s arms, his face against his chest, nose pressed to the fabric of his shirt. He kept running his finger over the same inch of soft fiber, warm from Jonny’s skin underneath. 
 
He was so solid against Patrick. So...Jonny. Pat could feel his heart beating - feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. He’d make small sounds in his sleep - a hum or mumble or just a deep breath. And every one of them made Pat’s pulse thrum faster with love. He’d never appreciated the way Jonny felt and smelled and sounded so much before.
 
Pat still wasn’t sure if this was a dream or not. But if it was, he didn’t want to wake up. It sounded cliche, but he meant it. Waking up after a dream like this? It wasn’t something he could come back from. It all seemed too good to be true. And Pat stayed awake all night, relishing in every part of sharing a bed with Jonny that he thought he’d never experience again.
 
And when Jonny awoke in the early morning, his body pressing against Pat’s, hard and aching for him, Patrick pulled him even closer somehow until they could feel every movement of one another. He kissed Jonny’s neck and chin and lips, and tasted his skin and his tongue. And he held him so tightly, but also with reverence, like a sacred thing. Because he was - this was.
 
Patrick had missed his body, of course, but more than that, he’d missed the euphoria of making someone he loved feel good. He’d missed letting his instincts take over, his knowledge of Jonny and the things that he liked. He’d missed discovering new things too. And he’d missed the way Jonny could do something so simple - press his thumb into the hinge of Pat’s jaw - and make him forget everything else.
 
“I love you,” Pat murmured into the hollow of his throat and the slope of his shoulder and the air between their mouths.
 
And Jonny said it too. In all those same spaces, and in the shell of Pat’s ear, the line of his collarbone.
 
And afterward, when he held onto Jonny probably too tight, his fingers pressing into his back until his nails went white, nose buried in his neck until it was hard to breathe, Jonny let him. He breathed into Pat and turned onto his back so he could rub his hands along Pat’s sides and in his hair. 
 
It must’ve felt suffocating, but Jonny didn’t push him away or rush him to get over whatever nervous breakdown was happening this time. He showed Pat that he wasn’t going anywhere. And that’s what he’d needed to finally be able to relax his grip - to hold Jonny gently and know he wouldn’t slip away or disappear. And that even if he did for a little while, he’d be back soon enough.
 
“Promise you’ll never lie to me again,” Jonny said on that morning, his fingertips combing through Patrick’s curls. 
 
“I promise,” Pat said, no hesitation. “Never again.”
 
Later that night, they stood together looking out the bank of windows on the observation deck, an endless galaxy of stars laid out before them. Jonny pulled Pat close, his cheek resting on his head, as they stared out at the sight. Jonny breathed in deep and Pat matched him.
 
Eighty-something years from now, the

Avalon

would land on Homestead II and twenty-five hundred passengers of the five thousand that had boarded would disembark to discover a new life. They might never know what Pat and Jonny had gone through to make sure that happened. But maybe they would. Maybe they’d read Jonny’s journals detailing their lives together aboard this ship and laugh at all the good moments and cry at the bad ones. (Pat still hadn’t read Jonny’s journal himself, but he didn’t need to - they already shared everything with each other.) Maybe they’d be impressed by all of Pat’s ‘improvements’ to the ship and Jonny’s vegetable and herb garden. And maybe some passenger would be annoyed that they’d taken residence in the Berlin suite and complain about it to anyone who would listen.
 
Maybe they’d care, and maybe they wouldn’t. But none of that really mattered. Because this was the life that he and Jonny had been dealt, not one on Homestead II. Here, alone on a ship flying through space. Alone, but together.
 
“One hell of a life,” Jonny said.
 
Pat couldn’t agree more.

THE END.