(POV: Kai)
I didn't leave right away.
I stayed where I was for a few seconds after Amelia walked off, letting the sound of her footsteps fade into the noise of the hangar—until she was completely gone.
Like nothing had happened.
Like the flight had been routine.
Like those few seconds in the air—when the Atlas nearly lost control—were nothing more than lines in a report.
I exhaled slowly.
It felt heavier than it should've.
Ten years.
And we slipped right back into it.
Corrections. Pushback. Distance.
No hesitation. No adjustment.
Like time hadn't touched us at all.
And still—
something was different.
I couldn't name it.
Couldn't explain it.
But I felt it.
From the moment her voice came through the radio.
I only started moving once she was out of sight.
My steps were easy.
My thoughts weren't.
Usually, after a mission like that, it's simple.
You review it. You note the errors. You move on.
Done.
But this time—
something stayed.
"Thank you."
I repeated it under my breath.
Two words.
Simple.
And completely out of place—coming from her.
I wasn't even sure I'd ever heard her say them before.
And if I had—
it must've been buried somewhere far back. Before everything turned into competition.
The corner of my mouth lifted slightly.
Strange.
Out of everything that happened up there—
that's what stayed with me.
**Cranwell**
The simulator room was always too cold.
Dim lights. Screens glowing.
Amelia sat in front.
Tense.
Holding the controls too tightly—like she still had something to prove.
I stood behind her, watching the data.
"You're too high."
"I'm still within limits," she said without turning.
"For now."
Silence.
I knew she was calculating.
Figuring out how to push back.
Before she could—
my hand moved.
Just a small adjustment.
Barely noticeable.
But enough.
The simulation corrected instantly.
More stable. Safer.
She went quiet.
A few seconds passed.
Her eyes scanning the updated data.
Then—
"You didn't have to interfere."
I shrugged.
"But it worked."
No answer.
There never was.
Scarlett Reed leaned against the table, watching us like always.
"You two are strange," she said. "You help each other, but act like enemies."
I glanced at her.
"We're not enemies."
She held my gaze for a second.
Then gave a small, knowing smile.
"Not yet."
I came back to the present without realizing when I'd slowed down.
Scarlett always saw things people preferred to ignore.
Maybe… even things about me.
I stopped near the edge of the runway and looked up.
Clear sky. Calm.
Like nothing had happened.
Like everything hadn't almost gone wrong.
My jaw tightened.
That moment—
when the Atlas lost lift—
when something that big suddenly didn't look stable anymore—
I didn't think.
No procedure. No calculation.
Just instinct.
"Amelia, listen to me!"
Her name.
Not a callsign.
Not protocol.
Her name.
I hadn't meant to say it.
But nothing else felt right.
I let out a breath—half a laugh, half something else.
"Nice one, Dawson," I muttered. "Real professional."
It sounded like a joke.
Didn't feel like one.
Because this—
wasn't just a mission anymore.
And maybe…
it never really was.
**Cranwell**
Training field.
Cold wind. Wet ground.
Formation drill.
Amelia was ahead.
Steady. Precise.
Like always.
I was too close.
Not a mistake.
A choice.
"Dawson, adjust your position."
I didn't move right away.
Just enough to look compliant—
but still close.
"Dawson."
Sharper now.
Then another voice cut in.
Lower. Colder.
"If you can't maintain distance, you won't be trusted in the air."
Cavanaugh.
Even back then, that was enough to shut everyone up.
I pulled back.
Followed procedure.
Even if I didn't want to.
After landing, Amelia walked straight up to me.
Fast steps. Controlled.
"What was that?"
"I was in position."
"You were too close."
"You were too tense."
Scarlett stood nearby. Watching.
"The problem isn't the distance," she said quietly. "It's that you don't know when to stop."
I almost replied.
But across the field—
Cavanaugh just shook his head slightly.
And that was enough.
Back then, it was simple.
I got close because I wanted to win.
Faster. Sharper. Better.
That was enough.
Now—
it wasn't.
Something had changed.
Something I couldn't measure.
Couldn't explain.
And what bothered me most—
I didn't want to ignore it.
I looked toward the report building.
She was in there.
Behind walls I couldn't see through.
Behind a door I had no reason to open.
Before—
that would've been enough.
I could've turned around and walked away without thinking twice.
Now…
not so much.
I remembered something.
Cavanaugh. One afternoon. Coffee gone cold in his hand.
"You know why you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Getting closer. Then finding reasons for it."
I didn't answer.
He smiled slightly.
"One day, you'll realize… you don't need a reason."
I took a slow breath.
And for the first time—
I stopped calculating distance.
Stopped weighing options.
Stopped looking for excuses.
"This is going to be a problem," I muttered.
But my steps didn't stop.
I kept walking.
Toward something I should've avoided—
but didn't.
Not because I finally had a reason.
But because—
I was tired of finding reasons to stay away.
For the first time—
I didn't correct my course.
And maybe…
that was a mistake.
Or maybe—
this was the first time I stopped running
from something that had always been there—
and finally chose to face it.