Before I Forget

Yes, tacos!

Sky was going through the piles of DVDs trying to find the right one. In her opinion, they had way too many of them, like they had way too many books too - but Dad just was one of those people who wouldn't give up ink on paper, or having your favorite movie on a plastic disc instead of just Netflix.

She had just localized the right pile (dad owned every Star Trek movie that was ever made) and started checking the titles, as she heard dad calling for her from the kitchen.

"Yeah?" she replied, her mind still on the DVDs. "What is it?"

"There's someone at the door." Dad said. "Would you get it?"

"Fine. But if it's that old creep who lives next door, you handle him!"

Sky, now showered and changed into a comfy outfit - an oversized pink hoodie with a huge picture of a unicorn lama, and a pair of leggings - gave up her quest for Shinzon and got on her feet.

On her way to the front door, she glanced towards the kitchen. Dad was there, standing by the counter, chopping tomatoes for a salad, and warmth flushed through Sky's heart as she looked at him, cooking dinner for her as if she indeed was a daughter who deserved to be taken care of like that. He was wearing the silly apron they had bought on vacation in Rome a couple of years ago. It said 'Don't be upsetti, eat some spaghetti' and Dad still thought it was hilarious.

It brought a small smile to her lips. The apron might not be hilarious, but Dad was. And she was one lucky girl to have a father like him.

She opened the front door, prepared to face the said old creep who lived next door, and who always had something he wanted to nag about, but instead—

Sky's heart took a swan dive and hit the floor at her feet.

Hawk–!

He was standing on the front steps, his blue mohawk sharp and edgy as usual, but otherwise he didn't look confident at all. He was pale, his whole being was thin and stretched and miserable and he looked like he was about to throw up.

Sky's heart climbed back up to her throat, knitting her guts to knots as it did so.

Without saying a word, she grabbed the door and prepared to slam it on his face.

"No, no, no, Sky, please—" Hawk held up a trembling hand. "Please, I just wanna talk—"

"Who is it? The old creep?" asked dad's voice and the next thing Sky knew was that he was standing there right next to her, wiping his hands in a kitchen towel, and Sky had never been more grateful for his presence than at that moment.

"No," she said, finding her voice. "It's the young creep."

"Oh," dad replied with surprising calm, arching his brows. He stuffed the kitchen towel into the pocket of the apron and turned his glance from Sky to Hawk and back. "Do you feel like talking to him?"

Sky shrugged, mixed feelings tearing her apart.

She felt Hawk's presence in her veins, his familiar scent of steel and cotton that made her heart flutter, but still Sky felt like the wind was blowing right through her as if she was nothing but a shadow, a flickering will-o'-the wisp in the air.

"Please, Sky," Hawk said, his voice silent and raspy. "I just wanna apologize."

"Okay," she breathed. "Then apologize."

Hawk's uncertain glance moved to Dad and then back to Sky. "Maybe... just the two of us?"

"No," Sky said. "You wanna apologize, you can do it in front of my dad."