Game of Riches (ONC)

Three things happened that day.

One.

He was there.

The cool metal pressed against my back and sides. A reassuring pressure. I wasn't in my maintenance area, but if anyone found me, I could just claim I was lost. My first time up here, I'd been panicked, worried I'd end up trapped in here for eternity. But then the quiet – the complete lack of movement for once in my life – was calming. For the first time, I could breathe.

I turned the bends from memory alone. It was easy when you knew the ship so well, had lived here for what felt like the majority of my life. I pulled the screwdriver out of my chest pocket and undid the grate. It popped out easily and I slipped myself down into his quarters.

He always spent half an hour at breakfast. I'd checked he'd gone, then left quickly, so I should have fifteen minutes here. Unclipping the bag at my waist, I set to work picking up my clothes, my toothbrush, everything I'd left behind. They were still scattered about the floor where I'd left them. It was like he hadn't even noticed they were there. His quarters were a mess and I couldn't resist the urge to clean as I went, pulling up the sheets and duvet, tucking his clothes back into the draws under the bed. I'd always liked the deep-sea blue of his quarters. It reminded me of home, when everything was better.

For the last five minutes, I sat down on the blue duvet and closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of him. It sent an aching shiver down my body. I jumped to my feet and threw the bag up the hatch, then hooked my hands over the rim and began the arduous process of pulling myself up.

The door whooshed open and a bag thumped down on the floor. A second passed. My legs were still dangling through his ceiling.

"Cora?" Evan called.

I sucked in a breath of cool vent air. It burned going down but snapped the thoughts into place. Higher oxygen content tended to do that. I lowered myself back down onto his bed and turned ever so slowly around to face him.

"Hi." I grimaced.

"Are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine." I snapped. "Just getting my things."

"Okay..." his eyes travelled from me to the open vent. "You know you could have asked me for them back."

"Yeah, well I thought this would be easier. Can I go now?"

He nodded slowly and brushed back the curly, brown waves of his hair. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

He pinched his brown, doe eyes. Why did he have to make it so hard to hate him? "I never meant—"

"Well, you did, so just...don't mention it." I snapped around and lifted myself up into the vent and out of his view. Screwed it back in with shaking hands, then shuffled away.

Only when I was past his pod did I let the ragged breaths come.

Two.

"You're late."

I whipped my head up to see Jenna leaning against the wall by the entrance, arms folded over her chest.

"I told you last time it was your final chance." She pursed her perfect, pink lips. "If you want to keep your job you better do me that favour. Or I might have to tell the big boss." She pulled away from the wall to stop me in my tracks, a hand to my chest that was surely a violation. Not that she cared.

I swatted her hand away. "Fine. But if I hear one word of this."

"Good." She flipped her hair and turned away. Somehow always perfect. I ground my teeth. No one else noticed the dark bits of her. Her feet clipped along the metal floor, her steps certain and rhythmic. I followed after her. The sooner I got in the ducts the better.