Private Picking Up The Pieces

[Amelia Zin]

Tag: Alana Calloway

The comm had sat unanswered for weeks.

One message. Just one. Simple, direct, and far too heavy for her to know how to handle.

:::Can we talk?:::​

Amelia had stared at it so long the words had carved themselves into her skull. She'd read it a hundred times, maybe more, thumb hovering over the reply button like it weighed a thousand tons. Each time, fear or anger or shame had dragged her hand away. Each time, she'd buried herself in something else. Missions for the Hidden Path, runs with the Wildfire, too much drink, too many cigarettes. Anything to avoid it.

But she knew she couldn't outrun her ghosts forever.

Tonight, in the cockpit while the crew slept soundly, the void stretched out cold and endless beyond the transparisteel. Amelia sat slouched in the pilot's chair, a glass of cheap rum sweating on the console beside her. She didn't think. She just typed.

:::Fine.:::​

And then, like the coward she knew she was, she shoved coordinates across the stars—an unremarkable station in the Mid Rim, quiet enough for a meeting, loud enough to disappear if it all went wrong.

That was hours ago.

Now, the Wildfire sat docked in the hangar, the hum of the station bleeding faintly through the metal walls. Her crew were gone, sent away with a muttered, half-hearted apology she could barely choke out. They hadn't asked questions, just gave her those looks — too knowing and too kind — and stepped aside. She hated them for it, and she loved them for it.

The common room felt too empty without them. Amelia leaned back in the chair, one boot hooked on the rung, a bottle of rum in one hand and a cigarette smoldering between her lips. The air was already thick with smoke; she'd lost count after the fifth, or maybe the sixth.

She didn't look at the door. Her gaze stayed fixed somewhere vague in the middle distance, green eyes hazy and sharp all at once. Her chest felt like a taut wire ready to snap, and no amount of liquor was cutting through it.

"Dammit, Amie," she muttered under her breath, voice rough with the smoke. She dragged on the cigarette, exhaled slow, let the curl of grey twist through the silence.

She didn't know how this was going to play out.

All she knew was that, sooner or later, Alana Calloway was going to walk through that door... and Amelia would have to face the mess she'd been drowning in ever since.

 

[Alana Calloway]

Tags: Amelia Zin
Gear: In Bio

The walk from the docking bay to the common room felt longer than any battlefield Alana had crossed. Every corridor hummed with the low pulse of station life; distant voices, clanging machinery, the hiss of air exchangers; but it all blurred into the same dull noise pressing against her ears.

She kept her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her coat, knuckles tight, nails biting into her palms. She'd told herself a hundred times on the flight here that she wouldn't let this get under her skin, that she'd face Amelia like she would any other ghost from her past: sharp, distant, unyielding.

But the truth gnawed at her with every step.

She had been desperate to talk to her, trying to figure out what she could say. How to say it. How to explain everything since that disaster that was the ball that the pair had last seen one another. She was actually surprised Amie had replied. Not that she was disappointed, just surprised.

Alana's boots rang against the metal grating, steady but heavier than usual. With each step, memories pressed in; so many ways she could have handled this affair. All the mistake she committed, how many people she hurt, it just keep adding up. Regret sat thick in her throat, the kind she couldn't swallow, only carry on.

By the time she reached the door, her heart was hammering harder than she wanted to admit. She drew a long breath through her nose, forced her shoulders back, straightened her spine. Whatever was waiting inside, she wouldn't stumble. Not again.

The panel beeped under her hand. The door hissed open.

Alana stepped through, slow but certain. Her gaze cut through the haze of cigarette smoke and found Amelia slouched in that chair, rum in hand, eyes storm-dark and tired in all the ways Alana remembered.

For a moment, the years fell away. It was just them again.

She let the silence stretch before breaking it with a voice low, steady, carrying both edge and ache:

"Hey, erm, I'm going to sit with you."

She crossed the space between them, stopping short of the table, and slowly sat across from her. Her eyes stayed locked on Amelia's, steady as steel. She was struggling to hard to just speak now.

"Thank you for...being here."

 

[Amelia Zin]

Tag: Alana Calloway

Amelia didn't look up when the door slid open. She didn't need to. The sound of Alana's voice was enough to cut through her chest like glass, soft, careful and far too familiar.

Her jaw clenched. She dragged hard on the cigarette, smoke filling her lungs until it burned. Only then did she let her eyes fall shut, just for a moment, shutting out the sight and sound, shutting out all the time pressed tight between them.

It hurt so much to hear her again.

She let the silence stretch thin, her exhales slow and deliberate. Another long drag, another plume of smoke curling into the stale air.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low, rough from drink and ash.

"It's my ship, isn't it?" She muttered. "Where else am I gonna be."

That was all. No warmth. No welcome. Just the blunt edge of truth, dropped into the space between them like a weight.

The silence after felt heavier than the hum of the station around them, like the whole galaxy was holding its breath. Amelia didn't move, didn't meet her gaze. She just sat there, her eyes locked on some far-off point, like if she focused hard enough, she could be anywhere else but here.

Then, with a sigh, she reached across, the pack of cigarettes sliding out from her hand. Her fingers lingered on the cardboard a beat longer than needed, but she still didn't look at her.

The pack sat between them like an uneasy truce.

 

[Alana Calloway]

Tags: Amelia Zin
Gear: In Bio

The pack of cigarettes between them was the only thing on the table, and she fixed her eyes on it like it could tell her what the hell to say. Her fingers twitched against her thigh, restless, aching to reach, but knowing better.

The silence pressed in. It made her throat tight. She forced a breath through her teeth, broke it with a crooked half-smile that didn't make it anywhere near her eyes.

"I’ve never been good at phrasing," She muttered. The words came rough, stalling for time, as if she could hide behind them.

Her gaze flicked up to Amelia's face, then dropped again, fast, like she'd been burned. For a long beat she just sat there, jaw working, shoulders tense. When she finally spoke again, it came halting, softer, like she was afraid of the sound of her own voice.

"I didn't…I’m just glad you agreed to me with me." She exhaled hard, ran a hand through her pale hair, then let it fall useless to the table. "Just-“ The word hung there, dangling, until she forced her eyes up and locked them on Amelia's.

"A lot happened, after I last saw you. Things I didn’t get to tell you, and…I’m doing it now. So you know why."

 

[Amelia Zin]

Tag: Alana Calloway

Amelia's head dipped, ginger hair falling forward, shielding her face like a curtain. She let Alana's voice roll over her, every syllable pulling tight on the old wound that had never healed right.

Her chest ached. She dragged another shaky breath from the cigarette, held it until it burned, then let it spill out slow through her lips.

Her knuckles whitened around the glass in her hand, the faint tremor in them betraying what her voice tried to hide.

When she finally spoke, it was low, cracked around the edges, the words like jagged stones forced out of her throat.

"I... cried…" her voice caught, and she squeezed her eyes tighter shut. "…for weeks... when I finally realised you weren't coming back. I had... no idea if you were even... fucking... alive..."

Her jaw worked as she swallowed tears that threatened to come. She clenched her fist against the table, nails digging hard into her palm. Still, she wouldn't look at her. She couldn't look at her.

Another slow, shaky breath rattled out of her chest.

"I never fucking cry."

The words hung there, raw and ugly, filling the space between them until it almost hurt to breathe. Amelia's teeth ground together, smoke curling from the half-burnt cigarette in her hand. Finally, she tipped her head just enough to side-eye Alana, her green eyes hard but shimmering faintly.

"Fine," she muttered, voice low but edged with steel. "Talk."

 

[Alana Calloway]

Tags: Amelia Zin
Gear: In Bio

Alana sat there and took it. Every word, every crack in Amelia's voice hit like a fist to the gut, but she didn't flinch. Didn't try to make excuses. Amelia was right.

Her jaw tightened, shoulders stiff, and for a long beat she just stared at the cigarette smoke curling between them, letting it sting her eyes.

"Yeah," She muttered finally, voice low, almost swallowed by the hum of the station. "I deserve that."

She dragged in a breath through her nose, slow, steady, like bracing against a bad smell she couldn't escape. Then she gave the faintest shake of her head, a humorless huff slipping past her lips.

"You're right to hate me.”

Her eyes lifted to meet Amelia's, steady now despite the weight pressing on her chest. excuses. Just the blunt truth.

"Would you like me to just, show you…what they did to me? Or tell you what happened. You won’t like either of them.”

 

[Amelia Zin]

Tag: Alana Calloway

Amelia's fingers tightened around her glass, the ice clinking softly. She opened her mouth, the words bubbling up sharp, only to catch in her throat.

"I don't—" she started, but the rest died, tangled in the mess of anger and longing in her chest. She exhaled hard through her nose, dragging on the cigarette until it burned low, then crushed it into the tray with more force than needed. "Ugh."

Her jaw worked, lips pressed thin. Whatever she'd wanted to say hung there unsaid, the silence heavy enough to choke on.

When Alana went on, when that one word — they — cut through, Amelia's head lifted sharply. Concern flickered fast in her eyes, betraying her before she could bury it.

"Show me? How?"