length.
Hon spreads his palms in a universal gesture. "Nothing. I never saw her again. Later, I heard she went to work for Farwan."
"Why didn't I know?" March whispers, looking inward.
"So you don't know what happened to the child." She might've lost it or had the pregnancy terminated.
"No." The pirate seems sorry, but he's telling the truth. There's no satisfaction in Hon at leveling March like this, which raises him in my estimation. "I think you two have some things to talk about. I'm gone." So saying, he makes good on the words and slides out of the lounge.
March buries his face in his hands, and though it's late, I take the precaution of securing the door. I don't want anyone else listening in like I did. Do as I say, not as I do.
Coming up behind him, I sink my hands into his hair, shaping my fingers to his skull. The warmth feels good, and he rubs his head against me like a big cat.
"Why didn't she tell me?" he asks.
"I don't know. Where were you, five turns ago?"
His jaw tightens. "Lachion. Mair had me on the road to recovery by then, but I hadn't earned off-world privileges yet. She didn't trust me not to return to Nicu Tertius."
Mair was Keri's grandmother, and the onetime leader of the Gunnar clan. She had saved March's sanity--and possibly his life--when her Rodeisian second, Tanze, stole Hon's ship with March aboard. Instead of just ending him, she'd worked to heal him and turn him from a ruthless killer to a decent human being. Being Psi had driven all the empathy out of him from years of unshielded exposure to people's worst natures. When you're fed nothing but ugliness, that's all you have to give back.
"That's why, then," I say aloud. "She couldn't get in touch with you."
"Whose fault is that?" he rages. "While she was growing up, I spent more time away than I did with her. And when she needed me most, I wasn't there, either."
Mary, this is going to bury him. I lean down and press my cheek against the top of his head. In answer, he tips his face back, arms curling around me from an awkward angle.
"I think you're asking the wrong questions," I say softly.
"Oh?"
"You can't help Svet. There's nothing you can do for her now, and it doesn't matter why she acted as she did. You can't impact that."
"So what should I be asking instead?" Anyone else might be surprised to see him look to me for guidance; I'm the only one he'd let see him like this.
"What happened to her baby."
"Mother Mary," he swears, bolting to his feet. "Is it possible?"
By his expression, he's ready to take the ship and leave right now. I stay him with a hand on his arm. He looks at me, muscles coiled.
"There's nothing we can do tonight," I tell him, hating that it's so. "Put Constance on the problem, and maybe she'll have an answer in the morning. In the meantime, maybe you can look at this as a good thing?"
He considers, then shakes his head. "I can't see it."
"If you can find him . . . or her, this child will be like having a little of Svetlana back again. You won't be completely bereft of family anymore."
His arms enfold me then. "I'm not, Jax."
Well, I'm not sure if we could call ourselves family. After all, we're not married, and I don't want to be. That didn't work out so well the first time, and I have enough of Kai left in me that promises kept through desire mean more to me than those imposed by law.
We stand like that for another moment before I pull back. "Do we have a berth here, or should we head for the ship?"
"The ship," he says.
That's right; the kids are sleeping on the station.
As we walk, I fill him in on everything I've accomplished. Though he's still obviously distracted, he agrees the uniform is a step in the right direction. Knowing he won't get any sleep until I do, once we reach our quarters, I ping Constance one last time. How did we ever get along without her?
"Can you do me a favor?" Pointless--it's not like she can say no.
"Of course, Sirantha Jax. What do you need?"
"Can you do some
Hon spreads his palms in a universal gesture. "Nothing. I never saw her again. Later, I heard she went to work for Farwan."
"Why didn't I know?" March whispers, looking inward.
"So you don't know what happened to the child." She might've lost it or had the pregnancy terminated.
"No." The pirate seems sorry, but he's telling the truth. There's no satisfaction in Hon at leveling March like this, which raises him in my estimation. "I think you two have some things to talk about. I'm gone." So saying, he makes good on the words and slides out of the lounge.
March buries his face in his hands, and though it's late, I take the precaution of securing the door. I don't want anyone else listening in like I did. Do as I say, not as I do.
Coming up behind him, I sink my hands into his hair, shaping my fingers to his skull. The warmth feels good, and he rubs his head against me like a big cat.
"Why didn't she tell me?" he asks.
"I don't know. Where were you, five turns ago?"
His jaw tightens. "Lachion. Mair had me on the road to recovery by then, but I hadn't earned off-world privileges yet. She didn't trust me not to return to Nicu Tertius."
Mair was Keri's grandmother, and the onetime leader of the Gunnar clan. She had saved March's sanity--and possibly his life--when her Rodeisian second, Tanze, stole Hon's ship with March aboard. Instead of just ending him, she'd worked to heal him and turn him from a ruthless killer to a decent human being. Being Psi had driven all the empathy out of him from years of unshielded exposure to people's worst natures. When you're fed nothing but ugliness, that's all you have to give back.
"That's why, then," I say aloud. "She couldn't get in touch with you."
"Whose fault is that?" he rages. "While she was growing up, I spent more time away than I did with her. And when she needed me most, I wasn't there, either."
Mary, this is going to bury him. I lean down and press my cheek against the top of his head. In answer, he tips his face back, arms curling around me from an awkward angle.
"I think you're asking the wrong questions," I say softly.
"Oh?"
"You can't help Svet. There's nothing you can do for her now, and it doesn't matter why she acted as she did. You can't impact that."
"So what should I be asking instead?" Anyone else might be surprised to see him look to me for guidance; I'm the only one he'd let see him like this.
"What happened to her baby."
"Mother Mary," he swears, bolting to his feet. "Is it possible?"
By his expression, he's ready to take the ship and leave right now. I stay him with a hand on his arm. He looks at me, muscles coiled.
"There's nothing we can do tonight," I tell him, hating that it's so. "Put Constance on the problem, and maybe she'll have an answer in the morning. In the meantime, maybe you can look at this as a good thing?"
He considers, then shakes his head. "I can't see it."
"If you can find him . . . or her, this child will be like having a little of Svetlana back again. You won't be completely bereft of family anymore."
His arms enfold me then. "I'm not, Jax."
Well, I'm not sure if we could call ourselves family. After all, we're not married, and I don't want to be. That didn't work out so well the first time, and I have enough of Kai left in me that promises kept through desire mean more to me than those imposed by law.
We stand like that for another moment before I pull back. "Do we have a berth here, or should we head for the ship?"
"The ship," he says.
That's right; the kids are sleeping on the station.
As we walk, I fill him in on everything I've accomplished. Though he's still obviously distracted, he agrees the uniform is a step in the right direction. Knowing he won't get any sleep until I do, once we reach our quarters, I ping Constance one last time. How did we ever get along without her?
"Can you do me a favor?" Pointless--it's not like she can say no.
"Of course, Sirantha Jax. What do you need?"
"Can you do some
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