Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Another routine watch, just like she had been doing for weeks. Until the new pilots finished their training and could do more spaced rotations, she had already assumed that that was going to be her life.

Mia looked up, towards the absolute darkness that was the galaxy that surrounded her Viper. The stars didn’t twinkle out here like they did on the surface of a planet. They just sat there, cold and steady. Sometimes she forgot the controls in her hands and imagined she was looking at the stars from a meadow on Caprica; it was one of the few moments when she allowed herself to look back and remember the good times—to lie to herself a little and imagine the warm days, the get-togethers with friends, the noisy markets, the crowded streets on weekends.

They were good times. Not the best, neither free from injustice nor frustration, but certainly brighter than the one she was living through, probably the lowest and most terrible moment humanity had ever experienced.

And yet they continued standing and fighting.

“Galactica to Rim, report your location.” Gaeta’s voice shook her daydream.

“This is Rim; everything in order, quadrant 6 is clear.”

“Roger that. Begin the return to base ship, Hotdog will replace you.”

“Copy that, Galactica. On my way.”

The Galactica’s common areas were usually quite empty when Mia finished her watch. There is no day and night when you are wandering through space, but to keep the citizens from losing their minds even more, it was decided to establish a 24-hour time system to try to give a minimum of normality to their lives. In addition, it was useful that most people slept at the same time, since that made it easier to maintain control and avoid uprisings.

The pilot went straight to the bathrooms of her unit and showered in silence during the few minutes that the water set for each cleaning lasted. Luckily, they had been able to replenish their deposits on a nearby planet not long ago, so at least she didn't have to spend weeks without cleaning herself as she had done on some other occasions.

She came out of the shower wrapped in a towel and folded the uniform inside the closet to put on the pilot’s typical tank top. She cleaned the mirror with the back of her hand and approached it. She was looking very tired, although those last few weeks had been as good as they could be: no new Cylon attacks, they were resupplied, there had been no casualties... she should not be feeling that exhausted.

Everyone was beginning to feel the weight of the months they had been living on the ship. No one was used to spending so much time away from sunlight, without breathing unprocessed air, living in rooms that were all the same, like cells with no windows. Seeing the same cold metal walls day after day was like a nightmare one could not wake up from. Battlestars were made to be useful, resistant and lethal, not cozy.

Her job there was one of the most important in the entire fleet: piloting the combat and reconnaissance ships that defended them from the Cylons. She wasn't the best pilot—that title had always been reserved for Kara—nor was she the best strategist, but Mia was still one of the ensigns of the reconnaissance and assault squadrons. When Commander Adama granted her that honor by placing the respective pins on the collar of his official jacket, he looked at her with a smile filled with almost sisterly pride. The young woman couldn't hide her doubt at the decision.
"If I thought there was someone more capable than you, I'd give it to that person." It was all she said before shaking her hand in front of the small team of pilots and engineers, who applauded and cheered her promotion.
Mia had thought about it for days until Sarah told her to stop questioning her superiors' decisions because they knew what they were doing.
"I've never met someone as professional and conscientious as you. That's what the fleet needs."

Mia took her job and duties seriously, doing what was asked of her when it was asked, unlike other, more experienced pilots. When her colleagues joked about her being overly formal or taking orders, she laughed, but inwardly she thought, "What else is there for us besides following orders?". But that didn't make her envy the lives of any other citizen any less. On the other ships in the fleet, life was very different. People had jobs as salesmen, cooks, journalists, mechanics, and craftsmen. With normal hours and, if they were lucky enough, also with normal families. The most the pilots could hope for was to visit one of those ships for a couple of days during their breaks.

She left the bathroom and walked through the empty hallways to the dining room. On the way she only saw some patrolling guards and a couple of officers changing shifts. She sat at one of the tables and silently ate the cold food that had been left for her.

Mia had had enough time to accept and internalize the horror of having lost her home and so many of her loved ones on Caprica, and to know that the future of her entire race was now hanging by a thread. Her friends were now others: the pilots with whom she shared the weight of her job, and also the commanders who watched over them. But even so, it was a lonely life. Working alone while your colleagues slept most of the time, being afraid to develop bonds because they had all lost too many loved ones already. In the end, that was why the main pastime of almost all of them was to use the few moments of rest they had to drink until they lost consciousness.

It had been two months since she lost her greatest support in all of this. Sarah was just another pilot, neither the fastest, nor the most precise. Maybe that was why she fell first in a surprise attack, and perhaps that's why she received nothing more than a minute of silence and a couple of candles in the memorial hall. Probably no one else was thinking about her anymore.

She entered her shared room silently, trying as she did every night not to wake the others by closing the hatch, and got into bed. There she lived with four other fellow pilots, friends of hers who had remained by her side after the death of her friend, but what no one knew was that many times when Mia looked at them, what she saw were their inevitably dead faces.

She closed her eyes, but she could barely sleep.

***

“What the fuck are you doing, Rim?! Change course!”

Hearing her sidekick's voice, Mia snapped back to the present, heart suddenly thudding in her chest. Her fingers tightened instinctively on the controls, just as the red collision warning flashed across her console. She pulled hard, muscle memory kicking in even as her brain lagged behind. The Viper groaned in protest, veering off-course and scraping the edge of the landing guide rail.

Then—a jarring impact. The ship slammed into the port harder than it should have, landing with a loud thud that shook through the cockpit.

“Shit! What the fuck was that?! Rim, are you okay?”

Her shoulder hurt from the jolt, a dull, radiating ache that made her wince. She felt a little disoriented, like her body had landed but her mind hadn’t quite caught up yet. The pilot sat very still as the docking clamps engaged and the Viper was guided into the hangar.

Everything felt off-balance, her ears ringing faintly. She could still hear her name being called over the comms, but everything seemed muffled.

By the time the canopy opened, her breath was shallow and her hands were still gripping the controls a second longer than they should have.

“What the fuck happened?!” Lee barked, walking quickly toward her.

She stood still for a few seconds, breathing heavily before removing her helmet with trembling hands and avoiding his gaze. Her legs felt stiff as she slowly climbed out of the fighter, the ache in her shoulder pulsing with every movement.

“I… I don’t know what happened. I lost focus for a moment.”

“You lost focus? What the fuck were you thinking?! Do you know how much it costs us to repair these ships?! We don’t have enough of them to allow us to keep them under repair for days, and you’re the first to know that! We're already in bad enough shape without our pilots forgetting the easiest part of their job, which is getting the damn ship into the hangar. Request a check-up with doctor Vektor right now.”

“I’m fine, it was just…”

“That’s an order, Buckley.”

“Yes, sir.”

She was still in shock from the blow when she left her helmet on the wing, shaking slightly, and headed for the exit, slowly unbuttoning her uniform so she could breathe better. Lee's words had been harsh and embarrassing; she hated having disappointed her superiors and also causing trouble for the technical team. Still, she knew there was nothing personal behind what he said.

“Rim, Wait!” Mia turned to see the Chief mechanic stopping her before she left the hangar.

“Galen, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I will help you with the reparations as soon as–"

“It's OK, we’ll fix your ship; it seems there hasn’t been any serious damage." His face was sweet and understanding, as always in him. Mia appreciated his kindness. "I saw the scene... please don't mind Lee too much, okay? We've all been a little tense lately, especially him since his promotion... don't tell him I said this, but I think this is too much for him and he doesn't quite know how to handle it.”

She smiled.

“Thanks, Chief.”

“Now go see Doc, you don’t look so good," he gave her a friendly, encouraging tap on her good arm before running back to his team, who were dragging her Viper toward the mechanics deck.

Mia knocked on the door.

“Permission to enter? Lee asked me to come for a check-up.”

“Rim, come in.” Doctor Vektor had his back turned, sitting on a stool in the office and working on some blood samples. “Just got a call from the hangar to tell me, I think they wanted to make sure you didn't slack off." He chuckle. "Sit on the stretcher, please.”

The pilot obeyed.

“I'll be with you in a second.”

The young woman waited, looking at the wall, feeling a mixture of guilt and shame that she didn't know where to put. She internally thanked the calm and silence of the place.

“Well, let's see. Chief told me you had a bad landing.”

The man approached her and looked at her under the white spotlight. She had always liked that man; he was one of the few who always seemed to be up front and not hide anything at all. His calm voice made medical visits less cold and scary than necessary.

“Yeah, I hit my side, but I'm afraid Lee sent me here to look at why I crashed, not the crash itself.”

“Are you feeling dizzy?”

“A little bit lightheaded and distant, yeah.”

“Okay, look at this light.” Vektor pulled out a pen with a small flash on it and waved it in front of her eyes, observing her closely. “Mh... there doesn’t seem to be any brain damage, so let’s look at that bump on your arm first and then I’ll run some more tests. Can you take off your uniform, please?”

Mia complied and left it folded over the chair, remaining in just panties and the tank top.

The doctor inspected her arm and back, moving them slowly and then placing a stethoscope behind her ribs and holding her by the shoulder.

“Take a breath." Inhale. "Okay, now don’t move." Stand still. "Perfect, let it out slowly.” Exhlate. Mia did as he asked while keeping her gaze lost in the wall. After a few minutes he seemed satisfied.

“What happened to your arm is just a a bad blow; in a few days you should be fine. If it hurts too much, come back here and I’ll give you some anti-inflammatories.”

The doctor put the device on the table and sat comfortably in front of her, taking a cigarette out of his shirt pocket.

“Now let’s talk about the other thing. How are you?”

“Fine.”

“Okay, and now for real.”

“I’m fine, I don’t know why everyone seems so worried all of a sudden.”

Vektor sighed sadly.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Mia, you look like shit.”

Since she was on the Galactica, very few people called her by her real name and not by her pilot’s name.

She chuckled.

“Wow, thanks, that’s sincerity.”

The man smiled and got up to go close the door to the hallway to give themselves more privacy.

“Let’s try to make this right.” He said, placing the cigarette on his lips, and then offering her another one, which took a few seconds for her to accept and do the same. The doctor took out a lighter and lit it in her mouth.

“Let’s start again. How are you?”

Mia smiled and took a drag.

“Tired.”

“Anything bothering you?”

“Besides the obvious, you mean?”

“What do you think?”

“I guess I just miss Sarah.” Just saying her name out loud was painful already. She didn't think she had pronounced it since the accident.

“The pilot who died a while back in the supply raid.”

“You remember her.”

“She always had a smile on her face." She appreciated his words. "Were you close?”

“I guess she was the closest thing to family here for me.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

She didn’t answer, but knew his words were from heart.

“Dealing with that while you have the job you have is insane. Pilot rotations are tough on their own, Mia, you shouldn’t feel guilty about being physically exhausted. No one is prepared for any of that.”

“But it’s necessary.”

“That doesn’t make it any less inhumane.” He sighed. “I’ve tried talking to Bill about it several times and he seems to be aware of the problem, but there are no alternatives at the moment. I get visits from pilots for anxiety more often than anyone thinks. That, or drug addicts or alcoholics to be able to handle the pressure.”

“I’m not there yet.”

“Yet.”

She took another drag. Vektor had always been good at sizing people up and making them feel comfortable around him. Going to his office was like a little break from everything.

“I don’t know what to do, doc. I feel astray and clumsy, and nothing seems to fix it.”

“I’m giving you a week off.”

“Oh, no, you are not. Are you crazy? We can’t afford that, we’re short on pilots; if I’m not there, shifts are going to be hellish.”

“I don't know, you choose: not to be there this week, or not to be there for the rest of their lives because you'll be the first to die if there's an attack.”

She was very quiet for a few seconds.

“I don’t care, we don’t know that. I’m not going to do that to my teammates, they deserve to be able to rest. What will they think of me if I quit because I’m ‘sad’? We’ve all lost people.”

“I don’t care what they think of you, that's not my job. But whatever; I’m going to write you a letter of discharge anyway, and if you want to throw it away, that’s up to you.” He said, scribbling a few words on a medical document.

“I’m not going to hand it over and you know that.”

“That’s up to you, but at least my job will be done. You need a few days off to be able to perform well again, and if you don’t, it will only get worse. Are you sleeping well lately?”

“Kind of.” She said, stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray.

“That’s what I mean. We need the pilots focused and rested, not like this.” She knew he wasn't saying it in a mean way.

“Wow, you really decided to bring my morale down today, huh?”

The doctor stood up, walking her to the door.

“Take a week for yourself, Mia. Rest, eat well, go to Cloud 9 and fuck with someone.” He said, still with the cigar in his lips.

“Gods, I wish." She smiled, amused. "Thanks, doc.”

“You know where to find me if your arm gets worse or you need anything." He smiled again and then turned his head to the hallway. "Next!”

The pilot headed to her room, which was empty at that moment. She sat on the bed and looked at the paper Vektor had given her. A whole week of rest. She chuckled and threw the paper into her locker.

***

The alarm went off at five in the morning and she silently stood up to put on her uniform. And so it was the next day, and the day after that. Planning meeting, combat practice, guard duty, reports, food and back to square one.

Until one day it wasn’t her alarm that woke her up, but the ship’s horn.

“Attention all pilots and officers, report to your stations immediately. Cylon contact on Dradis. I repeat, Cylon contact on Dradis.”

The minutes following each of these alarms were so chaotic that no one was able to describe it. Mia put on her boots fast just like her companions, illuminated by the red alarm light, and buttoned up her uniform as she ran to the hangar.

Everything happened very quickly: they climbed into their fighters without knowing exactly what the situation was, and the mechanics activated the shuttle then in a few moments went out into outer space. Through the communication channel she heard Adama's voice say that a cylon Basestar had just jumped at eight klicks from them, and that they had deployed their Raiders. But Mia didn't need to know, because as soon as the Viper took off she saw them in hundreds in front of her.

“Fuck!” She heard Starbuck's voice over the communicator, but it seemed so far away, as if she were underwater. “Rim, take your squadron and surround them from the west.” She was paralyzed. They were totally outnumbered, with countless red dots heading their way and lasers flying overhead.

Silence.

“RIM?!”

“Yes! Copy, Delta Team, with me!”

The small squadron headed for the indicated location, trying to get around their Raiders to attack from the side, closer to their base ship.

“Some are splitting up and coming straight at us! Rim, divert course, what the fuck are you doing?!” Kat’s voice shrieked in her ear.

Rim veered away, totally overwhelmed and in shock. She opened a channel with her squadron:

“Ignore the Raiders unless absolutely necessary until we get to the position. Avoid friendly fire, the rest will take care of the advance guard.”

She didn’t even know what she was saying, she couldn’t hear half of the calls that were happening on the communicator —some because they overlapped between shouts and orders, and others because her head had just stopped comprehending at all.

Everything was happening so fast.

She was piloting without being aware of it, as if it were an extension of her body moving on instincts. The enemy shots were getting closer and closer until one hit her wing, diverting it and causing her to almost collide with one of her companions.

“Fuck!”

“Rim, are you okay?!”

“Stay in formation!”

The base ship rose before their eyes, so large it chilled her skin, surrounded by small ships flying around it like bees protecting their queen. They began the attack, dodging all the Raptors that turned to attack them.

“We just need a little more time! Not all ships are ready to jump, hold them for a few more minutes!” Gaeta shouted from the command room at the Galactica.

“What the fuck are they waiting for?!” Starbuck yelled, leading the frontal attack alongside Lee.

Rim fired non-stop with adrenaline guiding her weapons, but mentally blocked. Just keep on a little longer…

Fireball’s scream froze her blood, just before the communication was cut off. She saw his ship explode not far from where she was.

“Get back to base! Jump ready and starting four-minute countdown now. Coordinates sent to the rest of the fleet, you are cleared to jump.” Gaeta’s voice was like a ray of hope.

“Turn around!” Starbuck shouted like an echo.

When Rim rolled her sfighter back, she saw chaos. 

Ships from the human fleet were disappearing one by one, jumping into space, until only the Galactica remained. Those ships filled with citizens and children. She reminded herself that it was for them that she was fighting. The future of their entire race.

And between them lay a battlefield of madness —Vipers flying towards the hangar, being chased by the Cylon ships, gunfire back and forth, screams on the comms. She just had to get back to the Galactica and it would all be over.

She made her way through the lasers and debris, dodging clumsily and getting hit occasionally.

It's okay, you are just fine, she repeated herself, not sure if to herself or out loud.

“One minute!” Gaeta’s voice reminded her of the rush. She had the hangar in sight now, less than one klick away, just a little further…

Dozens of Vipers were coming in one after another, forcing the landings. When her entire squadron had entered, it was her turn to descend, but suddenly everything went silent.

A Cylon shot hit her engine.

Silence.

Her ship was falling at full speed.

Rim looked at the explosion behind her, fire coming out of the tail.

She was stuck, trying to redirect her flight towards the hangar door, but it didn't respond.

“Fifteen seconds!”

That was it, the end. The pilot looked outside, where there were no more Vipers left to enter, and with the rest of the fleet safe. At least most of them made it out.

She only regretted not having been able to do more.

She thought of Sarah right before her Viper hit the edge of the hangar door. Rim shook gravely, her helmet hitting hard against the controls and losing consciousness, and the ship slid inside violently bouncing against the ground.

“Jump!”

Chapter Text

Everything felt abstract and distant, the world around her folding in on itself like a dream halfway remembered. There were flashes—white lights above her, cold air on her face. Figures hovered and moved, but they had no faces. The voices were familiar, but she was incapable of distinguishing them or any words spoken. The floor moved beneath her.

And then everything went black.

She knew she wasn't dead because she felt restless. Mia tried to move jerkily, but she didn't know if she was succeeding. She didn't feel pain, but she did feel pressure. She didn't know how much time had passed.

Doctor Vektor saw her murmuring nonsense and trying to pull something off her face.

“Hold her still—she’s panicking. Put her down again, now!”

A hiss of air, a sharp prick. Darkness came again, heavy and unnatural.

When Mia finally came to, her body felt wrong. Too still, too soft beneath her, like she wasn’t connected to it. Slowly she could feel a clean sheet stuck to her palms. Her mouth was dry and her eyelids weighed so much she could not even open her eyes like it often happens in nightmares.

There was a dim light humming overhead, and a distant beep—slow and steady.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Everything was so bright, so white and cold-looking, the ceiling above her wasn’t the hangar or her bunk. Her hand instinctively moved up to her face, fingers brushing something padded. A thick bandage so tight to her face she thought it could crash her skull.

“Hey, hey—be careful,” came a calm voice beside her. “Let’s not touch it yet, ok? How do you feel?”

She turned her head to the soothing voice. Blurrily she saw doctor Vektor walking towards her with some tools in his hand. Her throat ached, voice coming out as a raspy whisper. “What happened?”

Viktor smiled sweetly, happy to see her gain consciousness, but with an extremely tired look under his eyes like he hadn’t slept. He hesitated.

“You got shot when flying your Viper. Do you remember the attack?”

Mia looked confused. Was there an attack? Maybe it was, but everything felt so unclear.

“Don’t worry, you will remember things little by little, it’s normal.” He gently tapped her shoulder. “You passed out just after entering the hangar, just when the Galactica was jumping. We had to sedate you a couple of times, you were coming in and out of consciousness and tearing at the bandages. You’ve been out for nearly two days.”

She once again was aware of what was on her face. She touched the bandage nervously.

“I… I can’t I open my left eye.”

Viktor’s expression darkened, and he moved closer to her to stop her hands. He gently took them on his own, trying to calm her. He took a slow breath.

“Mia, listen... you were seriously injured, we didn’t know if you would make it through this, but you are safe and stable now.”

“Viktor, what happened?” Her tone was not a question.

The man hesitated, trying to find the words or just deciding if it was the right time to tell her or not yet. But she already knew.

“We tried everything, but your eye… there was nothing we could do, I’m so sorry, Mia.”

Her heart sank.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just lay there, breathing. Her hand slowly dropped to her chest.

She shut her left eye tightly, like maybe if she tried hard enough, she could wake up in her bunk and undo all of this. A sharp ache, not just in her face but somewhere deeper, kept her still. Her fingers twitched. For a moment, she said nothing. There was a numb kind of silence between them, and she then became aware of the distant murmur of Galactica’s hull.

Then, slowly, her thoughts began to gather, messy and fogged but persistent. The pain came wrapped in confusion, fragments of memory, adrenaline echoes. Her brow furrowed.

“I… remember the attack. Starbuck was leading the Vipers while my squadron flanked them. What happened then? Why couldn’t we jump as soon as the Cylons showed up?”

“Don’t worry about that now—”

“Of course I worry, can it happen again?”

“There was an error in communications—we couldn’t send the jump coordinates to the rest of the fleet right away. Took longer than expected to sync them, but everything’s okay now. We made the jump.”

Her good eye opened again. “Did all the ships make it? Anyone lost?”

He gave her a small, tired smile. “All the ships jumped successfully. But we lost Fireball during the attack.”

Fireball.

She remembered him. His voice screaming through comms before her Viper exploded in front of her. She felt a cold shiver run all over her skin.

She exhaled—a shaky, fragile breath.

“Commander,” Viktor’s voice shook her when she was already half asleep again.

Bill Adama walked in, holding a box between his hands. He left it on an empty seat, then sat by her stretcher. Mia avoided his gaze at first, but Bill took no time in holding her hand softly.

“Thank the Gods you are OK,” Mia breathed out again in relief. “We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up. I just got word that you were already conscious as nothing had happened. You’re a tough one, Mia.”

She knew he was trying to calm her, but she hated how fake it sounded.

“I think that’s a bit optimistic, Commander.” She was aware how bad she sure looked. “But thank you.”

“I told you it would be best to wait until she had visitors, Bill.” Viktor spoke to his superior, but with a voice that left no doubt that he was the one who ruled and decided on this place.

“I know, but I wanted to see her for myself. We were all very worried.”

Mia doubted that at first, but then she decided that it was true.

“What happened to my Viper?” she asked seriously. She knew the captain wouldn't hide that information from her, even if it hurt.

The man slowly shook his head, and she felt her chest sink again.

“I'm sorry I wasn't up to the task, Commander.” Her voice was a brittle whisper.

Bill barely let her finish before he shut her up. “Just rest, Mia. You've had enough; you deserve to recover at your own pace.”

She didn't like how that sounded at all. “I'm requesting reinstatement as soon as possible. I don't want to leave my team without one of your pilots. We already have lost one.”

Bill took her hand again as he stood up. Viktor looked tense.

"I've ordered you to be temporarily removed for the time being, Mia. You'll be out for at least three months while you heal and we assess your situation."

“What?! No way, sir, we can't afford to be without a pilot right now.”

“I know better than anyone what we can and can not afford, and one of the things that's a definite no is insubordination and making mistakes we could have avoided. As you just said, we already lost one of us. I’m not risking another pilot casualty.”

Mia hesitated for a moment, then looked at the box Adama had left next to her bed. It contained all her things, collected one by one from her locker. She saw the discharge certificate Viktor had signed and suddenly felt embarrassed.

“You will be on leave from any pilot, instructor, or command duties until we deem it appropriate. You will be transferred to a different ship as a civilian as soon as your health allows you to live independently.”

“But—”

“No buts, it's an order, Ensign.”

He wasn’t shouting, he didn’t have to. His voice had that steady weight it always did—the kind that didn’t leave room for argument.

“It’s for your safety and the safety of your entire team. Now rest, I’ll tell the others to let you rest a little longer before coming to see you.”

Bill squeezed Viktor’s shoulder in his greeting. The doctor stood there, quiet. The guilt was obvious on his face.

She glanced at him after the Commander had left. “Don’t,” she said, her voice soft. “You did your job.”

The doctor walked with slumped shoulders to a machine that monitored her vitals. He didn’t speak for a while.

“I’m sorry, Mia. But this is what’s best for you.”

She was starting to get angry at being treated like a child. It was true that making decisions for her had always been like that working for superiors, but this was too much. She had reached her limit. Now that the Commander had left and she was alone with someone she trusted, the weight of everything that she had learned in the last hour fell on her like a stone on her chest.

She couldn't accept the idea that her body would never recover. She didn't know the condition of her aching, stiff back, or her arms that could barely be lifted. And of course, she would never regain full vision.

The idea of ​​becoming a pilot again seemed completely impossible. It had vanished so quickly. 

The destruction of everything she had ever known, the near extinction of humanity, abandoning her home. Eternal exile. Sarah's death. If she wasn't crying for her condition, she was crying for everything she hadn't cried for until then.

Perhaps she hadn't had time to until now.

She began to hyperventilate as she felt a burning heat surge through her body.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Viktor approached her, palms outstretched, but not touching. “Mia, look at me.”

She was gasping for air, felt like the gown and bandages were suffocating her, and suddenly couldn't stand the IVs connecting her and the beeping machines. She covered her ears, shrieking.

Viktor realized this and ran to silence the machines. He also closed the curtains in her small room and turned on a small fan toward her before approaching her again.

“I'm going to remove this IV because you don't need them for now, okay? You'll feel better afterward. Can you please stay still for a second?”

Mia didn't answer; she just looked at him, crying and breathing heavily. He could see her fighting against herself to keep from pulling out the tubes and scratching her skin until it bled.

Viktor worked quickly, removing all the machines.

“That's it. Better?”

Mia brought her now-free hands to her face. They hurt and were covered in bandages and plasters, but they hid her tears.

This wasn't the first time Viktor had seen someone break under the pressure of the horror they were all experiencing. In fact, it happened constantly, even though no one else noticed. It was easier for everyone to maintain a facade of toughness. 

The man sat slowly beside her, but without touching her. He remained silent, doing nothing, just so she knew she wasn't alone. When he felt her calmer, he gently placed a hand on her back, and she pressed her forehead to his chest , hiding her face. Viktor hugged carefully so as not to hurt her.

They remained like that for minutes until she spoke again. “If I don't have my shift, my job… I don't know what to do. It's the only thing that's kept me sane this whole time.”

Viktor didn't answer. He knew what she meant.

“My only goal is to protect and help the colony because there's nothing else left for humanity. If I can't do that, why am I here? To live in fear, powerless? Just waiting to see if the next attack is the one that takes us down.”

The man tenderly stroked her back.

She remained silent for a long moment.

“… I was ready to go.” Her voice lowered even more.

“I know.”

“I was ready to see Sarah again, to see if what we've been told of the Gods is real. I felt… relief.” Viktor hugged her tighter. “And back here I go, but now completely useless.”

“I'm not going to tell you something you already know, like that you're one of the least useless people who've ever been to my clinic. And there have been many.” She smiled softly. “What I will say is that you deserve this break. You deserve and need to have the life of a normal person, if that even exists in times like ours.”

It was hard to accept it all of a sudden. She’d always thought rest was a gift. But now it just felt like exile.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now for three months?”

He glanced at her, a hint of sympathy. “Anything you want. Rest. Read. Play pyramid again. Make new friends. Go to Cloud 9 and eat something that tastes like real food for once.”

She smiled sadly. “And sit around while everyone else is out risking their lives.”

“You already did your part in all of this.”

That was precisely what she didn't want to accept. Viktor seemed to realize it.

"If you get better, you'll be back to doing your duties as an important and respectable person, “he joked. “But to get better, your doctor prescribed rest, and you've already heard the commander’s orders about obeying me."

She stepped back to take a breath, calmer now. Everything is fine, she repeated to herself. Everything would be fine. She looked again at Viktor, one of the people who had shown her the most humanity and patience in that place since the horror began.

"If I do this, can I ask you a favor?" She spoke finally.

Viktor smiled, now more relaxed seeing her in a slightly better mood.

“Of course.”

“Can I see myself?”

Viktor knew what she was talking about.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, sweetheart. The wound is very recent, and it may be a hard reflection to look at so soon after knowing about it.”

She seemed very serious and steady in her words.

“I’ve been following orders for years, doing everything I was told. I think I deserve to make this one decision for myself.”

There was nothing he could say against that.

“Alright.”

Viktor gathered all his tools and slowly removed the bandage from her face, then the gauze filled with dried blood and the sutures. Only then did he take a small mirror from a drawer and place it in her hand. Before she did anything, he stepped back and started working on some samples to give her privacy if that would make her feel better. It took Mia several minutes before she was able to lift that mirror.

She didn't recognize the person looking at her. She was pale, her cheeks hollow, her skin covered in small cuts and bruises. A cut ran from the middle of her forehead to her right cheek, passing where her eye had once been and now just a strange, empty, red hole.

The cut was stapled shut, and she didn't understand how, even with so much sedation, she couldn't feel the pain it must cause. She brought her fingers up to her face but didn't touch it. Still, that proved to her that it was, indeed, her own face. She didn't know what to say.

She tried to hold back her tears, but some still escaped from her only eye. All she could hold on to was that stupid, yet strangely certain phrase, "Everything will be okay. It will be different, but it will be okay."

She wished it were true.