I suppose I should start including a Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. Do you think I'd be writing FanFic if I did?


He has a destiny, though he doesn't know it yet. I can see it, sometimes, when things come more clearly. It's not winning battles. It's not smuggling or running a ship. It's by my side.

I can already see RR and MR embroidered on our bath towels. I know it sounds absurd – who needs matching his and hers towels on a spaceship? It's a nice thought though, something to get me through the days he barely notices me. Those are getting to be fewer and fewer, now that I'm his pilot. Now that I'm more sane. Not a week goes by, now, that we don't at least have a few meaningful conversations.

I remember the beginning, after I came out of the cryo box. He barely made eye contact with me for weeks. Of course, I was much less stable then. "Crazy girl," "moonbrain," so many other demeaning epithets. I took them in stride. It was easy – some days I was too crazy to notice the insults. Then again, there were days I was so frighteningly lucid I didn't think I'd survive until the next morning. At least when I lost cohesion, I could sink into the darkness for a while. The only things I remember from those times are my brother and him.

I don't know why I remember him so clearly. He didn't help me like my brother did. He didn't even talk to me most times. Usually he would yell at my brother to shut me up, or get me out of the way, or drug me. Usually my brother listened. The drugs never made much of a difference, though my brother constantly thought he'd found a cure. Then they wouldn't have the desired effect, and he'd give up and try something else. The needles terrified me, but I kept trying, hoping I'd get better and he'd notice me.

There were days, mostly when I was around him, that I was more normal. I was able to communicate my thoughts in a halfway coherent manner. So many times, just like the rest of the crew, I saw him as the rock I could depend on. He was the crutch that helped us all to stand on our feet. I used to see him as a father figure. I'm not sure when that changed.

I think I realized at some point that he had never been like a father. I was just confused for so long that I lost track of my emotions. I'm lucky, in a sense. I know now how I should have felt all along. I don't think he's ever known. He'll find out soon enough. It may take some help from an interested second party, but he'll figure it out.

In the meantime, I'll just hold on to my good days and our meaningful conversations. I'll hold on to every minute we spend in companionable silence, every moment of eye contact we share. I know he'll come around, I know he'll take off the blinders. He'll stand by my side, he'll help me through bad days, he'll give me children. I already know their names. He'll think he's given me his heart, but I'll have to go in at night and take it back from the valley that stole it away.

Then, once we've rescued each other, we'll truly be together. It won't be long.