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Week 10: Une chanson française

Stromae a écrit une chanson appelée Papaoutai, qui Pentatonix et Lindsey Stirling a fait une reprise de 2014.

La chanson est l'histoire d'un garçon qui est père travaille toujours et jamais là. C'est une chanson très triste, mais Pentatonix fait une couverture fantastique.

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Week 9: La flûte magique

Nous sommes allés à l'opéra de regarder la flûte magique ce week-end. C'est un opéra très bizarre. L'intrigue ne fait pas de sens et la plupart des personnages semblent stupides. Il y a un prince, une princesse, un sauvetage, un fou, l'amour vrai. Cela ressemble à l'intrigue à la mariée princesse maintenant que je pense à ce sujet ...Mon personnage préféré était Papageno, qui est le oiseleur stupide. Il était très bon. La reine de la nuit était fantastique comme toujours. Il était juste une bonne soirée avec ma mère. Même s'il y avait une fraise sur la scène et le prince a perdu sa voix.

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Week 8: Le nuit de Guy Fawkes

Mes vacances préférée est en fait un Anglais de vacances, le nuit de Guy Fawkes. Aussi connu sous le nom le nuit feu de joie., nous célébrons tous les 5 Novembre avec, eh bien, des feux de joie et feux d'artifice. La fête commémore l'échec du complot de Gunpowder de tuer le James I 1605. Guy Fawkes a été arrêté alors qu'il gardait les explosifs destinés à faire exploser le Parlement, et Londres a allumé des feux de joie pour célébrer l'échec. Je n'ai été en Angleterre que pour la nuit de Guy Fawkes une fois, il y a des années. Nous nous sommes rassemblés sur le green pour regarder les feux d'artifice. Il faisait froid et ma grand-mère m'a fait porter un manteau supplémentaire, mais c'était amusant. Ce sont des feux d'artifice d'Ipswich, près de ma famille, il y a plusieurs années.

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Week 7: Un voyage à Wilmington

En janvier, ma mère et moi sommes allés à Wilmington pour quelques jours. Elle voulait prendre des photos. Je voulais juste sortir de la ville.

Coucher de soleil derrière l'USS North Carolina et une église locale.

Le petit déjeuner de l'hôtel était mauvais, donc nous sommes allés à la maison de gaufres à la place. Maman se moquait de moi pour jouer avec les contenants de crème.

La plage était très venteuse, et j'avais l'air ridicule.

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Week 6: Angleterre Appelle et Je Dois Aller

C'est arrivé! Je n'ai pas une photo de moi le porter, mais c'est ma chemise de fête. Je déménage en Angleterre à la fin Août. Je le fais pour plusieurs raisons. Un, ma famille vit en Angleterre et je les manque beaucoup, plus ma mère se déplace bientôt de retour aussi bien. Deux, j'aime le pays et déteste la météo de Caroline du Nord avec une passion. Troisièmement, j'espère aller à l'école d'études supérieures en Angleterre dans quelques années après une courte pause. Je suis tellement excitée de commencer ce prochain chapitre de ma vie!

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Week 5: UPS

Mes vacances de printemps étaient ennuyantes, alors je vais parler d'autre chose. Sérieusement, tout ce que j'ai fait, c'était travailler. Et épave ma voiture ... On ne va pas parler de ça.

Donc, depuis que je travaillais, vous obtenez un tas de UPS photos, mèmes, et des histoires. Bienvenue dans mon travail.

Ceci est une journée sur l'allée de tri. Jones a trouvé une pantoufle de lapin étrange qui est tombé d'une boîte et jouait avec elle.

C'est le désordre quand les gens ne trient pas correctement. Vous devez jeter en arrière sur la ceinture.

Comment je me sens quand je livre des paquets...

En fait, c'est assez précis dans la neige, comme ici sur mon anniversaire l'année dernière.

Mais c'est ce à quoi je ressemble vraiment.

Il faisait très froid.

FYI, UPS en Angleterre:

Et en Minneapolis:

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Week 4: Réaction à la vidéo de Michael Moore

Je pense qu'il est extrêmement triste que les Américains ne sachent pas ce qu'est la bonne nourriture. Il ne doit pas être compliqué ou coûteux comme ils semblent penser. Il y a une ignorance complète. Je me retrouve à me demander ce que les Américains font de mal et pourquoi ils ne peuvent pas apprécier la bonne nourriture et la santé comme nous sommes censés le faire. Je pensais aussi que c'était extrêmement drôle à quel point les enfants étaient méfiants envers les sodas. Je serais aussi. Je suis.

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Week 3: Vous avez demandé une courte histoire...

Ceci est juste un morceau de flash. Je n'ai pas eu beaucoup de temps pour écrire ce semestre. Il y a une trame de fond tout à fait que je ne tacite souviens, mais ils sont tous les deux certainement les types que vous trouvez dans un film d'espionnage.

“You’re a pawn.”

Benjamin wasn’t one for symbolism. He was a ‘get-to-the-point’ man. So I honestly believe the thought simply came to him because we were playing the game of chess. It was going on two years now, started the day he took me in after I ran away from where papa left me. Originally it was to practice strategy. Now we talk more than we play.

I didn’t answer immediately, instead reevaluated the board. It was a beautiful set. Undoubtedly expensive, not that money was an issue. Seamless tiles of polished maple and boxwood. My ebony pieces, smooth, even the defining notches that formed the crowns. Warm when you held them in your palm. Black and white. Light and dark. A straightforward, but infinitely complicated game.

And that was before Benjamin’s damn philosophising.

My hand had been hovering over my knight. I moved back to the pawn I’d been eyeing for half a dozen moves. Nudged it one space forward. It was childish. We both knew it.

“That’s alright,” I said. “Pawns can become queens.” I frankly didn’t give a shit about what happened to me, but verbal jousts tended to be the highlight of my existence these days. Plus they annoyed the hell out of Benjamin.

Benjamin didn’t look up from the board. “Only if they aren’t captured first. They’re expendable, easily sacrificed.” The, he’s playing you, was unsaid, but I heard it all the same.

I shrugged. I trusted Alec, regardless of Benjamin’s opinion. “Sometimes you have to sacrifice pieces for the good of the entire army.”

Benjamin looked up and stared at me incredulously. “And you’re alright with that?”

“Sometimes Spock is right.”

Benjamin leaned back in his armchair, unimpressed.

I continued. He wasn’t papa, and I would care even less if he was. “The only piece that any decent player doesn’t consider sacrificing is the king. If you try to save any other piece for any reason, you’re probably going to lose. The only piece that matters is the king.”

“And you think this ‘king’ is worth dying for?” Benjamin clearly didn’t think so, but he was in the business of self-preservation, I’m not anymore.

“They all seem to think so. And they’re all still alive.”

Benjamin scoffed. “Frequently because of you.”

I sighed heavily. This wasn’t fun anymore. “What would you have me do? Pawns don’t become kings.”

“They do if they help win, survive. Then they start a new game.”

Benjamin got up to pour himself more whiskey.

“You think I want to spend the rest of my life playing chess?”

Benjamin wandered back over to the table. “No, play fifty-two-card pick-up.”

“Ah, one player, and a guaranteed win,” I said sarcastically. “We’ve all seen too much to be selfish anymore, odd as it seems.”

Benjamin smiled grimly. “Oh, there can be more players than there are cards. But if you own the deck, you control who plays. You always win, and you don’t have to touch a single card.”

I glared at him. “I’m not my father, Benjamin.”

“I know,” he said as he reached out and captured the pawn I had previously moved.

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Week 2: La Saint Valentin

Mon père m'a donné des fleurs et du chocolat aujourd'hui pour la Saint-Valentin. :)

Il a également acheté moi et Hannah le petit déjeuner à Scrambled. J'ai mangé du pain grillé français et beaucoup de café.

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Week 1: De moi et de la nourriture

Bonjour, je m'appelle Megan. Je viens d'Ipswich, en Angleterre. Dans ma famille, il y a quatre personnes, ma mère, mon père et mon frère cadet Adam. Vous allez probablement lire des choses amusantes qu'il a dites.

J'étudie la littérature anglaise et l'écriture de fiction à UNCG.

Moi et quelques amis à une fête d'anniversaire (pas le mien).

J'ai mangé des crêpes et une crème brûlée. Ma mère a fait les deux.

 Je voudrais manger des macarons.

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Week 12: What if?

I feel confident that I eat healthily, but a lot of the food I get isn’t local. I get avocados from Mexico, my blueberries are frozen, and my bananas and coffee beans come from Central America. My carrots are currently out of season, but I can still get them in the grocery store.

If I were to change my habits, which I feel I should, I would focus on what’s available, not what I want. Get my vegetables from the local farmer’s market. I would also get things like clothes from local shops and small businesses. Despite working in the transportation industry, I want to lesson my carbon footprint as much as I can.

Now, unfortunately, this would involve cutting out coffee, since it isn’t grow here. That I might not be able to do, but focusing on the local, both to help small businesses, build a sense of community, which I think America needs more of, and lessen costs, I want to do what I can.

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Week 11: Les comédies musicales!

Je crois que la vie est pas complète à moins que vous voyez ces comédies musicales:

Le Son de la Musique

J'ai grandi en regardant cette comédie musicale. Même s'il n'est pas historiquement exact, c'est un beau film sur la famille.

Mary Poppins

Également avec Julie Andrews. Je détestais l'orthographe, mais j'ai appris à épeler Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious pour chanter la chanson. Mais c'est ma chanson préférée.

Ma Belle Dame

NoNous trouvons cela drôle en raison des similitudes avec les accents américains. Même si Audrey Hepburn n'a pas vraiment chanté en elle.

Le Fantôme de l'Opéra

C'est ma comédie musicale préférée de tous les temps. Je ne pourrais jamais chanter la moitié des parties, mais tout c'est incroyable. Un jour, j'espère le voir jouer.

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Week 10: Ma maison de rêve

Ma chambre pour tous les livres. Ma chambre à la maison de mes grands-parents est semblable à celle-ci.

Ou peut-être quelque chose de plus moderne, comme celui-ci

Une salle de musique Un jour, je serai propriétaire d'un piano à queue.

J'aimerais un siège de fenêtre. Il n'y a que quelque chose qui soit confortable.

Comme vous pouvez le voir, j'adore lire. Si vous ne pouvez pas le dire.

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Week 9: L'histoire d'une pièce perdue... ou, l'obsession de Hannah avec des peniques

Hannah trouve toujours quelques centimes sur le sol en dehors du travail.

Alors, un jour, j'ai envoyé ce à elle.

Et ceci.

Et ceux-ci.

J'ai envoyé beaucoup.

Ceci est mon préféré.

Celui-ci aussi pour la référence Hobbit.

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Week 8: Peter Pan

Écriture est dans la famille, semble-t-il. Mon grand, grand, grand, grand-oncle était J.M. Barrie, l'homme qui a écrit Peter Pan!

Vous avez vu cette ...

Et vous souvenez peut-être cela ...

Mais c'est l'original de 1904; Une histoire, comme Cendrillon:

Il est peut-être depuis longtemps quand Barrie a écrit l'histoire, mais il est cool d'avoir quelqu'un dans votre famille célèbre. C'est juste une petite partie de ma famille, mais quelque chose d'important pour nous. En fait, ma mère m'appelle Tinker Bell :)

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Week 7: Le chocolat de Suisse

Les Suisses ont la plus forte consommation de chocolat par habitant dans le monde! Alors que les ingrédients viennent généralement de l'extérieur du pays, la production réelle du chocolat a lieu en Suisse. En fait, il est si populaire, on peut même en obtenir un peu aux États-Unis.

Lindt:

C'est une marque célèbre. Il est considéré comme la société qui a inventé la truffe.

Milka:

Cela ne peut plus être trouvé aux États-Unis. C'est une barre de chocolat blanc, le seul chocolat blanc que j'aime.

Toblerone:

Cela vient en différentes saveurs, mais je pense que d'origine est le meilleur. La société célèbre son 110th anniversaire l'année prochaine.

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Week 6: Une de mes histoires ...

Ceci est une histoire courte que j'ai écrit pour ma classe d'écriture créative ce semestre. Je ne l'ai pas encore révisé, alors peut-être que vous pouvez me dire ce que vous pensez ...

C'est la science-fiction, et c'est la première fois que j'écris dans ce genre, alors j'espère que ce n'est pas trop déroutant.

Hope “Do you have any mercy?” His voice was curious, not pleading.

She didn’t turn around, just continued watching the misty rain fall. She was close enough to the edge of the roof for the front of her flight suit to be covered in a thin layer of damp. Eventually enough would gather to drip down her sleeve, to her hand and hang suspended from the tip of a finger.

Dawn lasted a long time on the Volanar Sphere. Whether it was due to the moisture from the ocean and the river mouth, or the height of the cliffs obscuring the rising sun, or because it was just the way things worked here, she didn’t know, but it was peaceful, usually her favourite time of morning. It would still be if not for the message sent three days ago by the man behind her.

“Mercy is for God, and I’m fairly sure that he charges a price,” she said. She twisted back to look at him. Casimir Lauren was sitting comfortably in one of the floating nest-like chairs. At first glance he looked like an older man enjoying the sound of the rain hitting the roof of the observation platform “Why? Are you asking for it?” she asked.

“Now, Morven, why would I need mercy? Especially from you of all people?”

Morven only turned back to the rain. It created a haze over the castle-like buildings carved into the cliff face opposite. The silver spires catching the dull gleam of the morning sun.

“You believe in God?” Lauren asked.

“You seem surprised.”

“It’s such a… human concept.”

Morven frowned, though her back was still facing him. “I was raised by a human family. Humanity’s beliefs were the ones that I was taught. Why would I not accept them?”

“You’re not human.”

“As everyone seems so fond of reminding me.” She muttered under her breath. She finally faced him fully for the first time since they started talking. “What makes you think I give a damn about that?” She said as she crossed her arms and leaned against one of the arching supports of the roof.

“Most humans don’t even believe in God. They say he isn’t relevant anymore. Why would he be after over 6,000 years?” Lauren said. He sounded like a grandfather gently correcting a child’s moral blunder.

Morven shrugged. “The way I see it, if God is real, I’ve gained something I wouldn’t have otherwise if I didn’t believe. And if he isn’t? Well,” Morven shrugged, “Then I’ve lost nothing.”

“And what have you gained? If anything.”

Morven didn’t answer for a moment. “Hope,” she said, looking him in the eye. “In what?” Lauren asked. “That you can be redeemed? You think a human god will pardon everything you’ve done?”

“Most of which you made up to get the authorities after me.” Morven pushed off the support she was leaning on, hooking her hands in her pockets. “Either way, I’m long past redemption. I’m not even looking for it.” She took a step towards him. “I hope for justice. ‘Vengeance is mine, says the Lord.’ If God is real, then my hope for justice will be realised.”

“And if he isn’t?” Lauren asked.

Moven smiled bitterly, though she had a feeling it might have looked a tad manic. “Well then it’s given me something to do,” The smile disappeared. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here under ‘a flag of truce.’”

Lauren spun his chair slowly around to look out to the sea behind him. “Why are you so ardent in defending them?” he asked, ignoring her probing.

Morven frowned. “What makes you any better than them?” If he was insisting on his way, she would play along for now if she got her answers eventually. Hopefully.

He spun slightly back to her. “Like you actually care about my reasons. They’re primitives,” he told her anyway, disgust curling his lips slightly.

“Most species are compared to volanieers.”

“And yet we still open spheres to their worlds.”

Morven rolled her eyes. “Spheres are phenomena that naturally occur as the Universe expands,” she droned mockingly, as if he didn’t know the science, which she sometimes doubted. “The one to Earth would’ve formed whether we got involved or not. I don’t know why you get so concerned about it; a new sphere hasn’t formed in 800 years, and another one won’t few a few thousand, long after we’re both dead. I think humanity has evolved somewhat since then.”

“I forgot just how much you liked the parasites. You fell in love with one after all.”

Morven sighed and rolled her eyes. Lauren’s insults had been tired before she official became a nuisance to him. “Why are you here?” she asked.

Lauren frowned, examining her. Then his face relaxed and laugh. The kind of laugh a child make when they win a simple board game. “He doesn’t know you’re actually alive, does he? He still thinks you were killed on the energy harvester,” he said, smiling like the discovery was the best thing to have happened to him, and Morven knew it wasn’t.

Morven took her hand out of her pockets and straightened fully. She forced the expression to leave her face.  “Why. Are. You here?”

“I know the others didn’t know,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “But I thought you would’ve at least told you’re little core group, or him at least. You and Garrett Harlock always were as thick as thieves. Not surprising really, given past events involving you both. Except this time, he doesn’t know. You don’t like being reminded I take it.”

Morven’s hands curled into fists, her nails digging into the skin of her palms. She could feel heat growing in her hands, with no place of origin she could pinpoint. The feeling used to scare her when she was a foreign child in a human household, where no one could explain what she was supposed to do.

“I wanted to kill you before you asked to talk,” she said lowly. “And I’ve wanted to kill you the last twenty minutes we’ve been going around in circles. Either you say what you came here to say or God’s not going to have to worry about vengeance for much longer.”

Lauren glanced down at the faint glow in her hands.“You’re not as patient as you were when you were younger. Did you pick that up from Harlock too, among other things?”

Morven could feel the burning in her eyes. Lauren could see the pale grey being eaten by gold, like fire licking at paper. “The bridge is behind you. Either use it, or you can find out exactly what’ve I learned since I died.”

Lauren clicked his tongue.“Threats, Morven? You can’t do that every time someone threatens him. Harlock’s a grown boy. “It’s also not very encouraging since I came peacefully to talk to you. It’s rather impolite, actually.”

Morven had to physically bite her tongue not to speak. Garret Harlock lived for being insulted. He loved throwing come-backs. He found it the best part of the fight sometimes.

No, she was just angry. Angry that Lauren was still alive and had stolen one brother and more mentors and friends than she cared to count. Angry that he had corrupted the government that once fed her on the streets and stood up for the people. Angry that he still threatened the people she cared for most in ways she knew he would follow through on. Angry that he treated death like a game. She had died two years ago. It wasn’t as painless as the stories said. Not even close.

“You think you can get away with killing me here?” He asked.

“After everything you’ve done to us, no one would bat an eye.”

“Ah yes, I forgot about your parents being here. What’s it like have parents who are king and queen of the castle? I always wondered what it’d be like to grow up as a prince.”

“I wouldn’t know, my parents aren’t royalty.” Morvan said

Lauren rose from his chair. When he was sitting down, it was so easy to forget just how tall he was, towering over nearly everyone under six feet.

Lauren started walking to the bridge, then paused halfway across the platform, like he suddenly had a thought. Morven knew it was for show. “I wonder though,” he said. “In getting to know your new family, how have you been keeping with the old one?”

Morven felt her heart jump with every muscle in her body. The burning in her eyes faded, but not in her hands. When enemies brought up your family, it usually wasn’t good. “I’m not the mood. What should I know that I clearly don’t?”

“Given that you have three biological brothers, and that you’re living with your birth family, do you consider the Harlock boys your brothers still? Actually, were they ever your brothers? That would’ve made things a bit awkward with Garrett I’m sure if they were.”

They had only fostered her, he knew that. She was never a Harlock.

Lauren put up a thoughtful front. His face creasing like he was solving a complicated equation. Except he wasn’t the student; he was the teacher who already had the answers.

“Tell me what you’ve done, or I’ll find out myself.” Her voice was hoarse, but it echoed in the hollow roof of the observation platform.

Lauren faced her directly.“You’re naturally powerful, Morven, but you’re not that good yet. Breaking shields is a delicate business. Too weak an attack, and it’s ineffective. Too strong, you could kill me without finding out what you need. And that’s only offensive. Is your mind protected? You were raised by a humans, not volanieers. The techniques you’ve been learning over the last five years? Everyone else has been practicing since they were children, and I am much older than you. Think carefully. Is it worth the risk for the people you love? Is it worth your life if you can’t save them?”

“What do you want?” Morven hated her voice in that moment. She rarely let it sound like anything but the anger she kept simmering. Now, all she could hear was her trembling fear. “You have your position. You have power. The only people who ever stood up to you are dead or scattered across the spheres, helpless.”

“You’re not a real threat yet. But you’re learning, quickly. What I want, is to stop you before you get in my way and become even more of a problem. It took five years to corner you, and you did enough in that time. You need to be taken care of, but who says I can’t enjoy breaking you apart? After everything you’ve done to me. Justice may be the Lord’s, dear Morven. But revenge is sweet.”

“They say it takes more courage to suffer than to die.”

“Well, given that you have ‘died,’ I suppose you can tell me if that’s true next time we meet. What’s is your youngest brother’s name? I keep getting their names confused.”

Morven stared at him.“Jamie,” she finally said faintly.

“Oh, yes. Jamie says ‘hello.’”

The burning in her eyes was back. Hot. She glared at him. “You son of a bitch. He hasn’t done anything. He’s fifteen!”

“No, but you have. You and Garrett Harlock. I warned you not to get involved. ‘Do your job and don’t ask questions.’ Don’t worry. He’s still alive. For now.” “What do you want?”

“Honestly? Nothing. As you said, I have everything I could want. Including you with your hands tied. Try anything, Erzsi, and I’ll kill him.” With that, Casimir Lauren turned and walked across the bridge back to the cliff through the rain. Erzsi Morven could only watch him walk away with her youngest brother’s life in his hands, waiting to squeeze the life from his lungs and throw his corpse at her feet.

She set her jaw and stalked out in the rain, not bothering to push away the wet strands of white hair that stuck to her face.. She hadn’t been lying when she said justice gave her something to do.

* * * “He’s waking up.”

Garret Harlock stood quickly at the sound of the voice. “Ma’am.”

The doctor looked amused at the title, “Ma’am? I like that, Have to get the others around here to start. They’re probably scared enough to.” She offered a genuine smile. “You’re my daughter’s family and best friend. Doctor Morven is perfectly fine if you need some kind of formality. Hopefully we’ll move past that.”

She motioned to the hall she had come from with her head, frizzy blond curls waving in the air as she did. “Would you like to see him? It will be a bit longer, but he’ll probably appreciate a familiar face when he does come to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She raised an eyebrow. “Doctor,” he amended.

Tarana Morven reminded him of Erzsi from all those years ago. Sharp tongued. Mischievous. Erzsi still had the sharp tongue, but it was crueler. She was colder, more like her father now. But she was alive.

Tarana stopped at a doorway. Garrett hadn’t seen Jamie since they’d rescued him. All four of them, Erzsi, himself, Wes, and Jamie had been injured and scurried off for treatment, his younger brother first.

“Will-“

“He’ll be fine,” Tarana interrupted. “He’ll need a lot of rest, and various forms of therapy, but he will recover. He’s young, and he has a family that cares for him and will support him.” She smiled and reached up to rest her hand on his shoulder. Somehow it wasn’t awkward, despite the significant difference in height; she reminded Garrett of his mother.

She nodded back to the room. “Now go on. Let him wake up naturally, and don’t crowd him; he’ll be groggy.”

“Do you think he’ll remember we found him?”

“Possibly. Was he conscious?”

“He was when Ez found him.”

“Then he might. I’ll go and get her, might remind him if he starts to panic.”

“Could he hurt himself?”

Tarana pursed her lips as she watched his youngest brother sleep. “Possibly,” she admitted. “But he’s really too weak to cause significant damage. Hold him down gently if you have to. Mainly just keep him calm. I’ll be back once I get Erzsi over here.”

Garrett nodded and took a deep breath as he passed the doorway. Jamie inherited the height in the their family, and he was still a growing teenager, but the white bed made him look even paler than he actually was, the brightness of the sheets against his dark hair making him look tiny and frail.

Garrett sat in one of the chairs in the room. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but compared to the rest of the Volanar Sphere, it seemed cold and unnatural, like the rest of the medical ward. The volanieers loved the open air, though, so the open window allowed the smell of the sea to seep in and chase away some of the sterileness. 

Movement in the corner of his vision made him spin towards the door. Erzsi Morven looked nothing like her mother. She was shorter, much paler, and her straight hair had gone grey when she was a child as opposed to her mother’s vibrant curls. She used to joke it was proof of her wisdom so they should listen to her.

“Mother said it was a good idea for me to be here,” she said, unsure.

“He hasn’t woken up yet. She said it wouldn’t be long.”

Erzsi nodded. The cut along the left side of her face was treated, but would probably scar. “May I sit?” she asked after a moment, motioning to the other chair next to his.

“Oh, of course.”

She sat on the edge of the seat, tense, as if ready to run, which she probably was. She was older than the last time he’d seen her with the shadows beneath her eyes. She was harder to read, but he could tell she was trying not to be affected. Which he knew wasn’t true. Else she wouldn’t have come out of hiding to find Jamie. She wouldn’t have found Garrett. He wondered what she had seen in the five years since she ‘died.’ If she would tell him.

“I’m not mad at you.”

She turned away from watching Jamie, surprised.  “Garrett, I disappeared for five years. I let everyone fight the war I help start while I hid. I didn’t even tell you. I let you mourn. I lied-”

“To protect us,” Garrett interrupted. He stood and walked to the window. In the distance, he could see the shadow of a planet looming in the shy, a projection cause by overlapping spheres. The closer you came to the portals between sphere, the fainter it became until it disappeared. He’d never been to the Volanar Sphere, he didn’t know which planet to one he was looking at was. “I know why you did it. Yes, I mourned. You’re the women I love, and I missed you. I would be flying, and would open the channel to tell you a joke, and then remember that you weren’t my wing mate anymore. I would hear a conversation and want to tell you about it and realise I could’t. And losing people was the worst, because I couldn’t come to you afterwards.” He turned back around and faced the bed again. “So, life was shit.”

“Then three years ago the rumours started. We started hearing stories from refugees, from contacts in the blue light districts, myths from Lauren’s men. They called you a ghost. And at first, I didn’t want to believe that. Ask Wes, I kept switching between hope that it was you, because it could have been, and then I was frustrated because it couldn’t have been; I watched you die. At some point I decided it couldn’t possibly be you, or you would have come back. You would’ve come home.”

“Garrett-”

“Let me finish.” Then in a gentler tone, “Please.”

She nodded quickly.

“Then one day we got a tip about a job Lauren was running in the blue light district on  the Fomalhaut Sphere.” He looked at her. “Except someone beat us there.”

“Garrett-”

“I didn’t know it was you.” He wouldn’t let her talk. He needed her to understand why he wasn’t angry, or apathetic. Why he understood. Lieutenant Erzsi Jednak, the name the government had given her when she was found, supposedly abandoned, was too prominent. A ghost was just another Volanieer walking the streets. The authorities tended not to look for you if you were dead.

“I saw you, and followed you, of course. We’d been hearing about you for months, handing us intel through our own network.”

“I remember.” Erzsi looked up. Her eyes were just grey. He remembers them burning gold that night. “What gave me away? I’m not the only Volanieer out there.”

“That move you pulled on me when I caught up.”

“You’re legs are too damn long.”

Garrett snorted. His height was a running joke with everyone. “Well, that was the thing. When you flipped off the wall to grapple me, you knew how tall I was.”

“Surely I’m not the only one in the universe capable of judging how high I need to climb to topple a six-foot-four man.”

“No, you’re not. It was when I twisted your weak arm. It gave way too quickly. You shouted.” “Are you telling me-”

“That I know what you sound like when you shout? Erzsi, I’m the one who broke your arm in the first place. I will never forget the sound you made.”

“You did feel pretty guilty afterwards.”

“And you completely used that to you advantage.” Erzsi laughed. “And you clearly still have no shame about that.” Garrett sat back down and took her hand. It was covered in healing cuts she’d gotten the night before. “I still had doubts. But did some digging. The descriptions, the techniques. There were too many coincidences.”

“But I never came back.”

“You did. Else my little brother wouldn’t be here.”

“Speaking of the third party in the room. You two are loud.”

Both spun at Jamie’s voice, and Garrett stood and one to the head of the bed. “Or you are, Garrett. You haven’t said much since I started paying attention, Ez.”

“How long have you been awake?” 

“Long enough for you to kiss and make up.” Jamie made a face. “Actually please don’t. I don’t think I can take more sickness.”

Erzsi stood. “Good to see you haven’t matured, Jamie.” She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I’ll let you two talk.”

“Ez?” Jamie stopped her at the doorway. “Thanks for coming after me.”

Erzsi rolled her eyes. “If I hadn’t, you would’ve haunted me. And as much as I love you, I couldn’t put up with that for the rest of my life.”

“You’ll come back?”

Erzsi tapped her head near the closures holding the cut closed, “I scarred up my pretty face coming after you, I’d plan on making sure it was worth my while.”