Chapter 15

Brynn stirred beneath the blanket, eyes swollen and sore, as the hum of Attulanta's systems filled the quiet void around her. For a moment, she could almost pretend she wasn't alone.

The soft glow of Ophelia's image lit the room as she appeared on the table beside the bed. "Miss Phytrelia, you have not left this bed for over fourteen hours. Are you alright?"

Brynn groaned, pulling the blanket over her head. "I'm fine," she murmured, though the words tasted like ash in her mouth.

"I do not believe that is an accurate statement," Ophelia replied, her voice soft but unrelenting. "You have had nothing to eat or drink since you returned to the ship. You must get out of bed and get something."

Brynn turned onto her side, facing away from the projection. "Leave me alone."

There was a pause, then the quiet chime of Ophelia's acknowledgment. "As you wish, Miss Phytrelia."

Silence fell again, but Brynn's mind refused to quiet. The emptiness of the room pressed in on her like a weight, the absence of Idris more suffocating than the darkness itself.

After a long while, when she could no longer bear the stillness, Brynn threw the blanket off with a frustrated groan. "Alright, Ophelia... you win."

The image flickered back to life. "Win what, Miss Phytrelia?"

Brynn swung her legs off the side of the bed, scrubbing a hand over her face. "I'll go to the galley."

"Very good. Shall I prepare you a meal?"

Brynn shook her head, standing on unsteady legs. "No. Just... something strong."

There was a pause, as though Ophelia was processing. "I do not think that is advisable, Miss Phytrelia."

Brynn offered a weak smirk. "I know. But I'm not hungry."

"I do not believe there is anything like that onboard, at the moment."

"Of course," Brynn murmured, rising to her feet unsteadily.

Her steps were slow and heavy as she made her way through the ship, every hallway seeming longer than she remembered, every corner a reminder of Idris.

By the time she reached the galley, her vision had cleared a little. She paused at the door, glancing around as if she half-expected to see him there, leaning on the table like he always did. But it was empty.

Ophelia's projection appeared quietly on the center table. "Miss Phytrelia, may I offer a suggestion?"

Brynn looked at her, her voice softer now, resigned. "Go ahead."

"If you are determined, there is a storage space beneath the cabinet next to the discard bin."

Brynn walked over slowly, kneeling as she opened the panel. Her fingers closed around two bottles. She stood, weighing them in her hands as though deciding between them.

"I would recommend the one on the left."

With a nod, Brynn set the other bottle aside and carried the recommended one to the table. She glanced at Ophelia, who watched her with that calm, careful gaze.

"Glass?" Brynn asked, her voice quiet.

Ophelia gestured. "Second cabinet to your right."

Brynn found it easily--a heavy, thick-bottomed glass. She set it down and opened the bottle, pouring more than a reasonable measure, watching as the dark, deep-blue liquid filled the cup. It swirled smoothly, catching the soft light in strange ways.

She took a sip, surprised at how smooth it was--unlike anything she'd ever tasted.

"You could speak to someone," Ophelia offered quietly. "Commander Darren has asked after you."

Brynn shook her head, her fingers resting lightly against the side of the glass. "I don't want to talk."

"I understand."

Brynn took another small drink, closing her eyes. "I just..." She trailed off, her throat tightening.

Ophelia was silent for a moment. "They are worried for you."

"I can't deal with them worrying about me," Brynn whispered, staring at the glass in her hand. "It doesn't matter. None of it does. Not now."

Ophelia's voice was softer still. "I know it feels that way. But you are still here."

Brynn's grip tightened slightly on the glass. "Yeah," she whispered. "Still here."

She let out a long breath, setting the glass down gently this time. The weight of grief pressed against her ribs like it might crush her from the inside.

Ophelia's image watched her quietly but didn't speak again.

Brynn stared down into the swirling blue liquid, watching as the light caught its surface and turned it into tiny waves of reflected color. For a fleeting moment, she almost expected to see an answer in its depths -- something to pull her back from the hollow ache inside. But it was just a drink.

Her fingers traced the rim of the glass, as if searching for something that wasn't there. With a soft, bitter laugh, she muttered, "Guess there's nothing at the bottom of you, either."

She leaned back in her chair, exhaling through her nose, and finally looked over at Ophelia. "You were right. This isn't going to help."

Ophelia didn't say anything, simply nodding her head once in acknowledgment.

Brynn rubbed a hand over her face, as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion that clung to her. She sighed and sat up in the chair, looking around.

Ophelia's voice seemed to hold some sense of hesitation, or trepidation. "Maybe... a hot shower would help you feel better?"

After a long pause, Brynn rose to her feet. "Maybe..." she swallowed, her voice rough. "I guess it's not as though it could make me feel worse."

"Would you like me to prepare the refresher chamber?"

Brynn nodded without saying anything, letting the last few drops of the dark liquid drip out of the glass and into her mouth as she tipped her head far enough back to look straight into the ceiling. Then she gently set the glass on the table.

"As you wish, Miss Phytrelia. It will be ready shortly."

Brynn turned slowly toward the hallway, her body moving as though underwater. As she left the galley, she felt Ophelia's gaze following her, steady and calm, the one constant she had left.

Then she felt her head swim. "Oh boy..." She stumbled and reached out with one hand, falling sideways and catching herself on the bulkhead of the corridor. She tried to grab it, but the cold, metal surface slipped easily under her fingers and she eventually hit the deck.

She rolled onto her back, closing her eyes for a long moment as she struggled to steady her vision. "That's... that's some strong stuff."

She sat up on the deck, legs sprawled out in front of her, before pushing up off the floor with both hands. She was ready this time, slowing her steps just enough to lean on the bulkhead and use it to support her as she made her way to Idris' room.

Standing in the water, she found herself almost oblivious to the deluge spraying around her, oblivious to the warmth, losing awareness of the passage of time. Hours felt like seconds, but after she had been in the water for nearly half an hour, she heard Ophelia's voice coming through some speaker hidden in the chamber.

"Miss Phytrelia, I should warn you that while the ship's systems are capable of recycling the water faster than you can use it, exposing your body to treatment of this temperature, for prolonged periods, is likely to result in what is described as 'diminishing returns.' Would you like me to help you get out now?"

Brynn looked around for the source of the audio, but then shook her head. "Yes. Any chance you have something I can change into? Something warmer, maybe?"

"I can begin work on something like that, but I will not have anything ready before you exit. Will your original clothes suffice, after you have dried?"

Brynn had to consider it for a moment, but then nodded. "Yes. I'll find a way to make it work, thank you."

As the chamber opened, Brynn found herself poking her head out into the rest of the refresher facilities, feeling a little exposed and self conscious, and feeling no interest whatsoever in speaking to Ophelia before she had a chance to grab a towel, dry off, and get dressed again. "Ophelia?"

The image coalesced again on the vanity towards the edge of the sink. "Yes, Miss Phytrelia."

"Can you... I would prefer to be alone for this. I just need something to dry off first."

She nodded and pointed to the outside of the chamber. Brynn looked and sighed in relief, grabbing a long towel from the hook, and retreated back into the chamber. Her voice echoed against the walls. "Thank you. I will catch up with you back in the bedroom."

"Of course, Miss Phytrelia."

Brynn knew it was silly and a little ridiculous, but she was determined to only remain peripherally aware of the fact that just because she could not see her image, Ophelia most likely could see her at any location on the ship.

She toweled off as best she could, wrapping herself in the towel and making her way back to the bedroom. She hesitated before reaching for clothes--clearly Idris', judging by the way the fabric hung from her frame. The shirt draped too long, and the pants hung loose around her hips, but they were warm, and that faint scent of him--leather and something uniquely his--wrapped her in bittersweet comfort. That scent--a mix of leather and something uniquely his--wrapped around her like a second skin, bringing both a fleeting sense of comfort and a sharp pang of loss that made her throat tighten. Still, she tugged the clothes into place, willing herself to carry on, walking out into the corridor and back to the galley again.

She felt better--but only because she was carefully holding the worst thoughts at bay. Thoughts of Idris' last smile, the sound of his voice, the ache of his absence--each waiting to crash over her the moment she let down her guard. She kept them there, hovering just out of reach, like ghosts she dared not face. She went to the machine and made some food, the same way she'd seen him do it before, and then brought it to the table. Her hair was still damp, but she realized, if only vaguely, that the effects of the dark liquid she'd consumed, had almost completely disappeared.

She made a face, a wry smirk tugging at her lips, realizing now how quickly the drink's effects had faded. Perhaps Ophelia had known she wouldn't stop at just one glass if it had been stronger -- a quiet safeguard, offering her a moment's release without letting her slip too far. Clever, really. And maybe kinder than Brynn would have expected. If she'd been determined to drown herself in it, she realized now, she would've had to drink far more. And maybe that had been the point -- to give her a choice to stop.

She shook her head, a faint breath of a laugh escaping her lips -- tired, but real. Then, with quiet determination, she finished her food.