Welcome Home, Sasha (G/t)

Three.

"Sasha. Sasha! Ugh, come on, now. You need to come out at some point."

After fifteen years, watching his boy faint upon returning to his planet was the last thing Tshepo wanted, but it was always probable, and nothing could've been done to prevent it. Sure, knowing what he was getting into might have helped, but it easily could've been just as bad, if not worse, than the present as he couldn't count the various dilemmas it raised.

How does one react to a population that could fit in their palm: lost if not already returned to their maker?

"I know this is a lot to take in," Tshepo continued. "But doing nothing to help yourself isn't going to make this," referring to the entire situation with waving hands, "any better. It's been hours; you need to eat something before your body starts eating you."

The boy had to be carried back into Demeter, stripped of his suit in the medical bay for an expedited exam with help from NAIMA, and then moved again into his room upon a safe result for rest and recovery. That was hours ago, and periodic vital checks and general inquiries from NAIMA proved he had been conscious a little while. Yet, the door to Sasha's cabin remained closed the entire time.

If all his measures leaned toward maintaining physical independence and providing for himself if he wanted, then Sasha was acting like a child for not doing so, and if he didn't want to eat, then so be it. At least, that's what the admiral had initially told himself with a coffee cup. Doing research was always taxing, and many all-nighters had Tshepo being found ragged in the early morn. The current aura felt similar, with the experiments and checks running around every inch of the ship, universal and intimate, aside from no one about to walk in. But they had to continue, no matter how draining they were, and he did, too, for their importance trumped all. It was that constant determination and caffeine that got him where he was.

However, that resolve also powered his parental side, which slowly built over time, more-or-less co-parenting Sasha with what the Keelings and their circles couldn't do over the minor, disjointed communication they were allowed. It overcame his detached attitude, and thus he couldn't let Sasha wallow and, in some regard, mourn alone, especially if the way he was doing so would lead him down a similar fate. But, by the gods, it made no sense how sympathetic the boy was. Tshepo knew the lieutenant was likely somehow blaming himself for this and would probably fall deeper into guilt when the source of this calamity was unearthed to him.

Earth was their home from which they were taken, and it was cruel for them to finally return with accolades, whereas it suffered in shambles.

Moving from room to room as he did various tasks, Tshepo continued trying to get through to Sasha with more queries from each changing distance. Finally, however, after never receiving a response, he had enough. A groan escaped him, both from body tension and annoyance, as his metallic footfalls echoed down the hall, but he eventually made it to Sasha's door, determined to see him in person and awakened.

They had to talk about this. Tshepo would break the door down if he had to.

"Sash?" Tshepo knocked lightly, thinking that maybe Sasha just needed a gentler approach. A sigh – the first sign of replying all day – squeezed through the door's near-airtight seal, showing some potential and curling a side of the admiral's mouth. "Sasha? Would you like me to bring you something instead?" Tshepo attempted again. The creaking of a bed was returned, but no sounds of footsteps approaching him followed it, just a sigh and slump from the admiral. He was now too far from a screen to check Sasha's or any visuals, and nothing from the reachable bits of NAIMA over intercoms defined Sasha's vitals as anything except okay.

His body was healthy enough, but his mind and soul could've been anywhere. Having lived through his and Sasha's terrible teen years, Tshepo's instincts rose to eleven. As invasive as what he had to do was, he felt he no longer had a choice.