Chapter 17 - Downtime

"We do not exist for ourselves alone, and it is only when we are fully convinced of this fact that we begin to love ourselves properly and thus also love others."

—Thomas Merton

The lounge smelled like popcorn and Ryan's questionable cologne, which was a massive upgrade from the recycled air on the bridge. Luca dropped onto the couch and let his head fall back against the cushion. His whole body ached from twelve hours of pre-jump prep, and the couch was the best thing that had happened to him all day.

Someone, probably Joey, had hung a poster of the original Predator near the fireplace. The electric flames threw orange light across the room and made the whole space feel smaller, warmer. Zoe's scraggly little plant was still alive on the corner shelf, somehow, sitting next to the collection of mugs they'd all claimed during the first week. Luca's was the chipped blue one with a faded NASA logo. He had no idea where it came from.

The opening credits of Alien rolled on the screen. They'd burned through most of the classics by now, but nobody complained about rewatches. Popcorn made the rounds. Beanbag chairs that didn't match anything else in the room were scattered across the floor, and the whole setup looked like a college dorm that someone had bolted to the inside of a starship.

It felt like they'd finally settled in. The ship was mostly put together, and for the first time since launch, the evening didn't have an emergency attached to it.

"Alright," Emily announced, stretching out on the couch beside him. "Who's picking the next movie? And if anyone says 'Her' again, I'm shoving them out the airlock."

Her bare feet poked out from under her loungewear. She wiggled her toes against the armrest. Luca's brain did that thing where it catalogued a completely useless detail and filed it away forever.

"It's a good movie!" Ryan said from across the room, still salty about the last vote.

"Nobody's debating that." Zoe nudged him with her foot. "But maybe try picking something where people actually stay awake this time."

Emily's arm settled against his as she got comfortable, warm bare skin against his sleeve. Luca stared at the screen like the Alien credits were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

"Predator," Joey declared, pointing at the screen. "We're doing Predator. End of debate."

"Finally, some taste," Chris called from the pool table, where he and Danny were locked in a game that had gotten way too intense for two people who were supposed to be relaxing.

Luca watched Ryan lean over the coffee table and pry at a loose panel. The guy couldn't sit still for five minutes without taking something apart. He was already tracing the wires underneath, and Luca could see him mentally redesigning the table's entire electrical system.

"Ryan, for fuck's sake, leave the table alone."

"It's a reflex!" Ryan held up both hands like he'd been caught stealing. "And it was loose anyway. I was fixing it."

"Right," Zoe said. "Because a loose table panel is such a priority."

Ryan laughed it off, which was progress. Six months ago he would've gotten defensive and quiet. He laughed more these days in general, even when Zoe's jabs turned his way.

Over at the pool table, Zoe sank a bank shot that had no business going in. Danny just stood there watching the ball drop.

"Nice shot," Danny said.

"Nice shot?" Ryan leaned forward. "She's cleaning your clock, man. You're one ball away from losing."

"I call it a tactical retreat," Danny said, and Zoe shot him a grin that could've powered the ship. Danny shrugged, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

Luca saw it: the way Danny set up the easy shots for Zoe, the way she let her competitive streak loose around him like she didn't have to hold it back. Something uncomfortable sat in his chest when he watched them, not jealousy exactly so much as recognition. They were figuring it out, the two of them. Luca couldn't even figure out how to sit next to Emily without his pulse doing something stupid.

Emily stayed beside him through the whole movie, close enough that he could smell her shampoo every time she shifted. She had a way of watching him when he talked that made the rest of the room go blurry, not staring so much as just... looking, like whatever he was saying actually mattered.

He kept his eyes on the screen. Mostly, anyway.

The credits rolled. People started drifting toward the pool table or the snack counter. Emily didn't move.

"You've been quiet tonight." Her voice dropped low enough that nobody else could hear.

"Yeah. Just... thinking."

"About?"

He glanced at the others. Zoe was leaning over the pool table, laughing as Danny fumbled through an excuse about why he'd lost, and Ryan was loudly accusing both of them of hustling. Luca looked back to Emily.

"About how this feels like the calm before the storm, you know?"

After the FTL scare and the hijacked comms and every near-miss since launch, a quiet evening like this felt like something he could lose. Like he should hold it with both hands and be careful, because the universe had a track record of taking nice things away from him.

Emily studied his face. He could feel her reading him, peeling back the layers he thought he'd hidden. She always did that. He always let her.

"Then let's appreciate the eye of the storm while it lasts, Luca," she said.

His mouth moved before his brain gave permission.

"Being out here," he started, "so far from everything... it must be hard." He watched her expression shift, saw the flicker behind her eyes. He had to push forward or he'd lose the nerve. "Especially with... you know. Pierre."

She didn't look surprised. The smile faded, and what replaced it was something more real, more tired.

She let out a slow breath. "That's over, Luca. We broke up before we even launched. The chaos of the departure just never gave me a chance to tell you."

Everything in his chest went very still. Like his heart forgot how to beat for a second and then remembered all at once.

"Oh." He shifted on the couch to face her, the movie and the pool game and every other thing in the room ceasing to exist. "Em... I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

That surprised her. The careful guard she held around herself dropped, and for a second she looked like the Emily he remembered from before all of this, before the ship and the rank and the weight of it, younger and softer.

"I will be," she said, barely above a breath.

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. He didn't think about it. It was the most natural thing he'd ever done. She leaned into him, her head settling against his shoulder, and let out a slow exhale that he felt through his whole body.

She'd just ended things with Pierre. This was not the moment to push. His pulse was hammering against his ribs and his brain was screaming at him to say something, anything, but for once he knew better.

"If you need space," he said quietly, his mouth close to her hair, "I get it."

She stiffened. Pulled back just enough to break the contact, and the warmth vanished like someone had opened an airlock. When she spoke, her voice was flat and careful.

"It's fine, Luca. Looks like we missed the ending."

She stood up, and he watched her walk down the corridor until the door closed behind her.

His arm was still warm where she'd been. The couch felt wrong without her weight against it. The rest of the crew was laughing about something at the pool table, and Luca sat there trying to figure out what had just happened, what he'd said wrong, whether "I get it" was somehow the worst combination of three words in the English language.

She needed steadiness right now, not pressure.

He could wait a little longer.