"They use these to kill convicts on Death Row, did you know that? I saw a documentary about it last night on television."

"We didn't watch television."

"They put prisoners in these and make them tighter and tighter until all the life is squeezed out of them." This last statement was accompanied by a stagger and pathetic, pleading expression. "I'm dying, Leilei. My will to live can't fit in this collar."

Jor and Lei were getting ready for the I.F. Officer's Ball.

Once aboard their transport and in flight to Earth, Lei had admitted to Jor that she really didn't know what they were going to do. It had been more of a spontaneous decision, her request for a transfer, and other than securing positions in Louisiana she was without a plan.

So they tried to think of one. Neither of them were proficient at planning, but their objective was relatively simple: Get Wick back. At least, it sounded simple. They knew she was in Baton Rouge, and they knew she was living at her father's home. Past that, they had nothing. It was not an ideal situation for two irresponsible, overgrown children with no course of action, but if Jor and Lei had anything, it was determination, and they were quite set on their goal.

To this end, they found themselves in New Orleans. The resources Earthside were far more expansive than those on the transport, and they used the opportunity to begin to search. They found Wick easily. Finding a means to get to her, however, was a little more tricky. Jor couldn't gain access to the laboratory where she worked, and nor was he keen on the idea of just waltzing up to her front door.

It was one of Lei's friends who happened to mention the officer's ball, and one of Lei's searches that just happened to turn up a guest list for the function. Near the end of the list, they found what they were looking for.

Moira Windhaven.

With a little creative paperwork and a great deal of persuasion, Lei managed to secure tickets. Jor couldn't believe it, and quite suddenly, he didn't want to go. He remembered the last ball he'd been to, the crimson dress and the ruby necklace and the night on his balcony, and he fell victim to a very serious case of cold feet.

She wouldn't want to see him, he tried to explain. Coming to Louisiana had been a mistake. They could leave, just like that, and never have to see her. She'd never find out. It would be better. Wouldn't it be better?

Lei, unlike Jor, was not a coward, and to this end Jor was now suffering in the embrace of a very uncomfortable dress uniform.

"Look, mister. You get to wear pants. I have to wear a dress. Unless you're willing to trade, I don't want to hear another word out of you the rest of the night, kapeesh?"

"I'll trade. I'll wear a skirt. Then I can stay home."

"You're going." Lei buttoned his collar for him, brushed off the dust from his pants, and straightened the lieutenant's insignia on his chest. "My Jorjor's so handsome. I'm going to have to chase away all the other girls tonight."

"Lei, I... I can't go."

When she began to tease him, he stopped her with uncharacteristic fear in his eyes, and she sighed. He bowed his head over hers and sniffed, and after a quick check to make sure he wasn't joking, Lei hugged him. "Oh, Jorjor, it's going to be okay. It's just been so long that you're getting nervous, see? You want to go. You'd regret it if you didn't."

"She hates me."

This was a frequent protest, and Lei knew how to handle it. Instead of coddling Jor, she pushed him away and gave him a very stern frown and a decisive shake of her finger. "Now you listen to me, Jordan Windhaven. Your wife is going to be there tonight. You are going to stop being a coward and go in there and see her, and I don't care what you have to say about it. Now stand up straight, behave like a gentleman, and put my ID in your pocket, because I am not wearing a dress and carrying a purse."

"...yes, Lei."

The New Orleans Grand Ballroom was... incredible.

Accustomed as he'd been to lavish functions, the type his parents had always made him attend when he'd lived in Hawaii, Jor couldn't help but be impressed. There were flowers and lights and hundreds of high-ranking guests, and everyone was in formal attire. He looked at a captain nearby, then looked at himself, and was silently grateful that Lei had given him a haircut and dressed him nicely.

Lei, on the other hand, was completely unused to grandeur and the privileges of the rich, having grown up in what she liked to tell Jor was "Hicksville, USA." To this end she was having trouble keeping her mouth closed. Jor laughed at her expression until she tripped on her heels and stumbled against him, and then it became apparent that their roles were reversed. Suddenly she was the one who was nervous, and that was good, because between escorting her to the bar and plying her with drinks to make her relax, Jor was able to concentrate on something other than his own anxiety.

An hour passed. Like Jor, Lei was mostly interested in the refreshment tables, and the pair of them bunkered themselves behind the crab cakes and mini quiches like two soldiers in the middle of a battlefield. Foxholed beside Lei with a drink in one hand and a plate in the other, Jor risked a peek across the ballroom, and he was just turning his attention back to his food when something caught his eye.

No other woman in the world had skin as pale as a pearl, and before he could confirm his fear and hope, the figure turned, and it was Wick.

My... my love?

She stood like a black and white portrait in the midst of too much color, a monochrome vision that made him catch his breath and drop his glass. Lei cursed when champagne splashed her dress, and began to berate him, but Jor couldn't hear a word, and she finally turned and followed his gaze.

"... that's her?"

Jor couldn't speak.

"Good God, Jor."

My thoughts exactly.

A group of officers moved through his field of vision and he moved abruptly, shoving past the tables to stand in a clearing and continue to stare in her direction. Lei pressed herself behind him and stared too, and the two of them were busy doing nothing but watching when someone approached Wick.

It was a man. Sandy brown hair, sandy brown eyes, and a slight build. That was what Lei noticed. Jor noticed nothing but the way the man put his hand lightly in the small of Wick's back, and if Jor's eyes hadn't already been emerald, they would have turned green from jealousy.

The man said something, and Wick nodded, and then they turned and walked away.

The moment she was out of sight, Jor began to shake.

She was impressed. It was huge, with vaulted ceilings and hanging lamps and a giant skylight in the roof. The tables had already been set up, and after showing the guard their invitations and speaking quickly, Kiersted was able to get them inside. They took a small table off to one side of the room and watched the guests arrive.

An hour and a half later Wick was well on her way to impatient. She didn't remember what Admiral Channing looked like well enough to spot him, and so she'd been trying to get some work done, but Kiersted eyed each new arrival with interest and often mentioned something about this one or that. She didn't know any of them; why would Kiersted think she cared? She wasn't tired - after her success yesterday, she'd gotten a full night's rest, at long last - but she was bored and nervous, and it made her irritable.

"Maybe he's not coming."

"He'll be here. He likes to arrive late."

"You said we had to be early."

"If we hadn't been early, we'd be standing out there in the middle and talking to people, and we might miss him entirely."

Wick acknowledged the wisdom of his foresight with an exasperated sigh. "How late is late?"

"How close was very?"

"About thirteen hours."

"Relax. The ball only goes until 02:00. He doesn't have thirteen hours."

"If he shows."

"He just did."

Wick looked up from her desk and followed Kiersted's gaze to the heavyset Admiral with a fringe of grey hair and blonde woman by his side. People were beginning to gravitate towards him, and Kiersted stood up. She stood too, and the butterflies in her stomach woke up and began demanding an exit as they politely pushed their way towards the officer. Unfortunately, there were several people who'd arrived ahead of them, and Wick must have shown too much of her annoyance, because Kiersted grinned at her and leaned closer to speak discreetly. "Calm down. The fewer people in line behind us the more of his time we get."

She nodded. There was a strange tingle at the back of her neck, and she suffered a sudden feeling of deja vu.

"Hmm, spark? How much longer do I what?"

His arm was around her, her shoulder against his chest, and his voice was half vibration. He saw her uncle, and that arm tightened dangerously; she couldn't remember if he'd bruised her, and that arm no longer remembered pain.

She remembered what he'd done next, though. He'd left.

"Still with me, doctor?" Kiersted's voice jerked her from her reverie and she verified that she was before she nodded. Now was not the time.

"Good. We're up." Wick blinked and straightened her shoulders, and Kiersted guided her up to the Admiral and made introductions. She smiled and shook the man's hand, and after Kiersted explained the nature and content of their visit, Channing agreed to speak with them briefly in one of the small conference rooms that adjoined the ballroom. Channing made excuses to his date, and they moved away as a group of three.

When they emerged ten minutes later, Channing looked pleased, Kiersted relieved, and Wick triumphant. They took their leave of the admiral after Kiersted had arranged the details for another meeting on Monday, and shared a single victorious glance. Wick hadn't particularly cared for Kiersted when she'd met him, but she'd understood the necessity of having a good project manager. Now, after working together to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, she almost liked him. A good manipulation skill was still something Wick could respect.

"You won't need to come to the meeting on Monday," he assured her as they stopped moving near the center of the room. "I can handle that now. Good job in there. How long will it take you to pack a sample in glass for the development team?" "I'll send it by courier tomorrow morning," she said with another unintended grin, and he grinned back. "Easy on the smiling. People will think you're human. Tell Malcolm you guys have tomorrow off."

She smirked and turned her head and stared. Standing next to the refreshment tables and looking recalcitrant was her errant husband. He was in a dress uniform - Lieutenant, she registered - and she blinked to clear the hallucination and found that it was real.

He was bigger than she remembered him. Next to the guests nearest him he looked larger than life. Her eyes travelled feverishly over him, starved so long without a glimpse - his body, his hands, his lips, his eyes...his companion.

She'd been so wrapped up in drinking in the sight of him that she'd missed the tall, attractive woman standing next to him. Shoulder-length blonde hair, hazel eyes that held her husband's gaze effortlessly, and a hand on Jordan's chest. She got no farther.

The room spun a moment, and Kiersted steadied her. "Whoa, hang on," he said softly. "I know you didn't drink anything. You alright?" She didn't reply. All her efforts were on not looking back towards the refreshment table, and she didn't resist when he led her outside into the open air of the terrace. She pulled away from him and held on to the railing instead, and her project manager shifted uncomfortably behind her.

"I'm fine," she said in a calm voice, grateful that he couldn't see her face. She could control one or the other, but not both. "I would like to go home now."

She turned around, and Kiersted looked at her before nodding and offering his arm. Normally, she would have disregarded the gesture - she had, in fact, when they had first arrived - but now she took it wordlessly and kept her eyes ahead of her as he walked her out to the street, and it was all she could do to keep from looking. She'd felt that way once before, and to escape the present horror she unlocked one from the past.

"Let the girl see her mother. She wants to see her mother."

"Sir, don't you think...don't you think she's a little young?"

"Nonsense. She's seen her plenty of times. Isn't that right, Moira?"

"But, sir -"

"My daughter wants to see her mother. Now open the goddamn door."

She should have known that if her father wanted it, it would be bad, but she had never been parted from her mother for more than few hours before, and when her father cheerfully offered a chance to visit her, she was too eager to consider the consequences. Mother would explain things. Mother would protect her from whatever it was her father had in mind.

As soon as she stepped into the room she knew there was something wrong. It smelled wrong, like ash and medicine, and she hesitated at the doorway until her father gave her a friendly push and shut the door behind her. She took a step forward, and then another, and the bed came into view. The first things she saw were bandages, white gauze discolored in strange ugly patches with a sickly orange color. Next she saw what hadn't been bandaged, what couldn't be bandaged, and she understood what her father had wanted to show her.

She didn't want to look at her mother's face, but a force she didn't understand pulled her closer to the bed. Her mother's skin wasn't white any longer. The places she could see looked like dead leaves. Only her eyes were the same, and when she met them she knew she'd done a very, very bad thing by coming in here, and that her mother loved her anyway. Her eyes kept wanting to look down at her mother's body, to tell herself it wasn't that bad, but it was that bad, and she knew her mother didn't want her to see it, so she stood there until her mother's eyes closed.

"Yes, Leilei," he repeated for the millionth time, doing his best not to fidget as she reprimanded him. "I know, Leilei. No, no. Yes, you're right. Of course you're right."

"Look at me, Jor. Look at me and say yes."

He knew better than to irritate her further and glanced up to meet angry hazel eyes with his own uncertain green gaze. "Yes, Leilei."

"Good." Lei patted him on the chest and pointed imperiously across the ballroom, in the general direction of where they'd last seen Wick. "Now you march yourself over there right now and go talk to her, you hear me? I don't want any more of this pansyass nonsense."

"I'mnotbeingapansyass," he muttered a bit sullenly, but he knew she was right. After Wick had disappeared with that man, Jor had all but thrown a fit. He was furious. He was nervous. He was angry. He was jealous. He was anything and everything all at once, and between the two very conflicting desires to either grab Wick or run away from Wick, he was a very confused and shaken man.

Lei, thankfully, was very not confused as to the entire matter, and she knew what had to be done, even if Jor was too chicken to do it on his own. He knew her well enough to obey when she adopted that commanding tone, and he wanted to do it anyway, even though he wouldn't admit it. He needed the push that she gave him, and nodded one more time before squaring his shoulders and turning to go.

He saw only the back of Wick's head as she moved through the crowd, and just like that, she was gone.

"...wait?" He said it softly, still walking in her direction, but she disappeared from sight and he stopped. He stood there and stared longingly after her, slumping again, and it wasn't more than a moment before Lei appeared beside him. "Well, what're you waiting for?"

"She... left." Lei sighed. "Do you think she saw you? If you'd gone when I told you to, you would have had a chance!"

"Don't say it, Lei. Don't be mean about this." He shook his head and turned to face her. "She's gone."

"Well then, you'll just have to go see her tomorrow."

His eyes widened. "What? But... but this was our plan. I can't just walk up to her house an--"

"Oh yes you can, and that's exactly what you're going to do." Ever no-nonsense, Lei grabbed his hand and began dragging him toward the exit. "Now hurry up. We need to go home and get plenty of sleep so that you can go visit her tomorrow. Come on now."

He let her shove him out the door and admitted to himself that he'd do anything, even knock on her front door, if it meant catching another glimpse of Wick.

"I'm not gyrating--" He tried to stay in one place, just to prove her wrong, but she took another swipe at him and he jumped and yelped. "OW! What the fuck is that shit? Battery acid?"

Lei hit him across the back with a loud, painful thwack, waving a cotton swab at him menacingly. "I'm not the one who looks like he went through a blender. You want those cuts patched up, then you're gonna hafta hold still. It's rubbing alcohol, for Chrissake. You big pansyass baby."

They were bunkered down together in Lei's little apartment, Jor bare to the waist and sprawled face-down on the floor, Lei perched on a pillow with a bottle in one hand and swab in the other. She'd been tending to his wounds for over an hour, carefully cleaning the cuts and scratches and, in a few areas, applying butterfly bandages to particularly deep lines in his back.

Jor did indeed look as if he'd gone through a blender, and he certainly felt as if he had, too. To keep Lei at bay for a little longer, he tried a different approach. "It hurts, Leilei."

"Of course it hurts! You must have really pissed her off. What'd you do, Jorjor? I mean, I've heard of rough sex, but this is ridicu--"

It wasn't like that. Was it?

"Don't." Jor rolled over onto his back and winced, but managed to sit up stiffly. She made to push him back down, and he batted her hands away, scooting backwards across the floor until he was a few feet away. "Enough, Lei."

Lei set down her tools and hugged her knees to her chest, propping her chin on her arms and regarding him thoughtfully. Her expression grew serious, and Jor sighed at the look, mirrored her posture and looked at the scratches along his arms.

She spoke first, as always. "What happened, Jorjor?"

"No. I won't let you be like me. I won't let you run away."

"You won't let me run away? All... I have to do... is stand still long enough. I don't want you! Get out of my house, go back to your pet! Break her ribs and beg her to take you back! I don't want you!"

Jor shook his head and closed his eyes.

""Tell me you hate me. Tell me you hate me."

"I hate you!"

"Tell me that you don't love me, and that you never will. Tell me. You can't, can you?"

He made a choked sound, trying to clear the stone in his throat and loosen the vise around his lungs, but it felt as if he were being torn apart from the inside, and his voice caught. "I... I don't know."

Before he could speak further she was there, petting his curls and looking so understanding that he couldn't stand it, and he shoved her from him with so much force that she slid across the floor. "Don't touch me!"

"...Jor?"

"Oh God, Lei, I made her, I forced her, I was just like that goddamn fucking Creche! You... you should have seen her face, she hates me, she hates me, she hates me and made her anyway!" He lashed out violently, kicking the wall and tearing at his hair, and Lei watched with wide eyes as Jor stormed around. He was frightening, so many slashes covering his bare arms and chest and back, and with ragged lines drawn into the skin of his cheeks he leaned over her and narrowed those furious green eyes. "She fought me, and I wanted her to, do you understand? She always used to fight, and I always used to win, but it wasn't the same!"

It wasn't the same, because she's not mine anymore.

"It... oh, spark," he choked, losing his anger and sinking to the floor beside Lei. This time she touched his shoulder hesitantly, but he didn't resist, and she hugged him tightly. "I just wanted to touch her again," Jor muttered into the crook of her neck. "I... I just wanted to see if she still loved me."

"Maybe she does."

Jor shook his head. "No, no, how could she? She won't ever want to see me again. I... we have to leave."

Nonplussed, Lei continued to hold him and ignored his protests. "Jor? Do you still love Wick?"

"Of course I do."

"But think of everything she's done. She's lied to you, she's slept with someone else... you told me what happened at Command School. Think of everything she's done. How can you love her after all that?"

He disengaged from her arms and stared down at his hands, his eyes dark and full of something not quite pain, not quite anger. It was something more desperate, and he eventually looked up with those eyes and met her gaze. "Because... that's what makes me love her. That's just who she is. I can't change that, and I wouldn't, and that's why I love her." He paused, waiting for a response, but Lei's silence spurned him to elaborate further. "You should see the look she gets when she's planning something. It's like she's just being lit up from inside. On our shore leave before we were married, I filled an entire room with candles and you should have seen the look on her face. I've never seen her so... so happy."

"Oh... Match, it's..."

Jor glanced down again and clenched his hands. "Forget it. It sounds ridiculous when I say it. I... I don't care what she's done, or what she might do, or what she wants to do. It just doesn't matter. She could do anything and I'd still love her."

"Exactly!" Triumphant, Lei put her hands on both sides of his face and lifted it until he had to look her in the eyes. "Don't you see? You love her regardless of everything she's ever done. Don't you think she loves you no matter what you've done?"

"I... don't understand."

"Jorjor, you love Wick. Think of everything you two have gone through, and even with all of it, you still love her. Maybe she still loves you. Maybe she's like you and just can't tell you that she's sorry. Neither of you will. But I bet she still loves you." Lei tugged gently on the ring hung around his throat and smiled at him. "See? Did she tell you that she doesn't love you?"

He hesitated. "...no."

"Then why are you trying to run away? People make mistakes, Jorjor. You've made plenty of them, but so has she. That's just how it is. Don't make another mistake and leave again. If she truly didn't want you, she'd find a way to make you go away. But you're still here. There's got to be something left."

"You really think so, Leilei?"

"I know so, Jorjor. You've just got to be patient. Don't push it. Just stay. Stay with her. That's what you want, right?"

"Of course it is. That's all I want."

"So we'll stick around. I don't have anywhere else to be." Lei settled in close beside Jor and gave him a kiss on the shoulder. "It'll be fun. Earth's so much bigger than Elisabeta. We can go all over and do all kinds of cool stuff. They give us real pistols here, did you know that? No more fletchettes. I went to the field office yesterday and our new commander showed me our toys. You'll be excited to see everything. And it's right next to a Mexican restaurant, too! Isn't Mexican your favorite?"

Her cheerful reassurance made him smile, and slowly, as he listened to her chatter, Jor began to feel confident again.

Maybe she's right, after all. Maybe I still have a chance.

That night he made his way back to Wick's house, bruised but bandaged, tired but calm. That night he slept alone, then the next night, then the night after that, but just being there began to be enough. Just knowing Wick was nearby made him feel as if somehow, someday, they would be alright.

A week later she appeared in the dining room and ate dinner with him. They didn't speak, and she never looked up at him, but Jor watched her the entire time. He watched her eat, watched the little motions and movements he'd missed so much, and later, while he lay in bed, he wondered if she was thinking of him, just as he was thinking of her.

I've changed so much since I met you, Wick. I never thought I'd be anything like I am today. Think of everything we've done. Everything we've gone through. Can you imagine doing all those things with someone else? Can you pretend it never happened?

I just can't do that. I wouldn't, even if I could. I love you, in spite of and because of all of that. I didn't know it'd take something like this to make me realize it, but maybe I needed it. Maybe we needed it.

I'm sorry I couldn't find a better way to show my love for you. I'm sorry that I don't know any other way to prove my devotion. It was all I had to give.