ILUB-2's Vegetable Production System takes up most of the module's floor and wall space. LEDs bathe the area in magenta light that gives Aula a headache. She inspects the pillows that encase each parsley plant's root ball. The roots feel firm and springy under her fingers. She inspects the herbs for any sign of unusual growth: roots that grow up and stems that grow down. But it seems lunar gravity and grow lights are sufficient cues. The smell of soil teases her nose. There's no soil here, but the idea of it is fragrant. Another echo of Earth.

She flicks the tender green leaf of one parsley before moving on to the next patch of plants. This time, it's several cultivars of lettuce. They're still small, being 5 days into their 14 day growth cycle, but her mouth waters at the prospect of their crisp clean crunch. The sting from her stitches is almost worth it. Green is the Moon's rarest colour. Even as she logs her progress on the laptop, it's hard not to stare at their odd little crop.

Someone knocks on the module hatch. Aula looks up to see Kelly.

Kelly nods as if agreeing with something. "Martin said you'd be here."

"Harvey." Aula sighs more harshly than she means it to. "What is it?"

"Oh, he didn't send me. He just said—never mind." Kelly flaps her hand like a flustered bird. "Can I join you?"

"Sure."

Aula leafs through each head of lettuce. They show no signs of disease or deficiency. They're brown under the LEDs, but she can feel their promise. Their leaves are so soft they're nearly velvety. It takes her a moment to realize how close Kelly is standing to her. She draws herself up to her full height, suddenly on guard.

Kelly steps back. "Sorry. I meant to thank you properly, but it always feels so awkward." She laughs a little. "Not as awkward as this, mind you. Jainey Mac."

"For what?"

"For...." Kelly blinks, stunned. "For getting us back here."

Aula squints. "It's my job."

"I know. My parents want to talk later if you've time."

"About?"

"The weather, of course. It's a fierce summer back home. Maybe something about saving their youngest, but who knows?"

"They don't need to thank me for that." Aula takes her time typing notes about the garden's progress. "Neither do you."

Kelly tsks. "It'll only take a moment. You won't have to change your schedule."

The contempt startles Aula more than the words. She faces Kelly, jaw set against the pain. "I don't need gratitude for doing the bare minimum."

"I know, the great Grim Reed doesn't need anything from the rest of us mortal folk."

"It's not necessary." Aula closes the laptop abruptly. "I did what I was trained to do and we lived. That's competence, not heroism."

Kelly throws her hands up. "Why is this even an argument?"

"You're giving me something I didn't earn so you can feel special."

"I...." Kelly tilts her head slightly, face scrunched into a frown. "Jesus, is that how you look at it?"

Harvey's usually the one to get under Aula's skin, but she feels heat rushing up her neck and face. She glares at the far wall until the silence is excruciating. "I need to finish this."

"You closed your laptop."

"I know that."

"You're blushing."

"I know that, too." Aula crosses her arms.

"Fine." Kelly pulls a sturgeon face that would make Kalishnakoff proud. "I'm telling Martin."

"That's your solution?"

"Oh, yes. I'm telling him you're being mean to me. Then I'm telling Ward you're not resting."

It's not meant to be a threat, but Aula can't stop herself from tensing up. Her stomach clenches like a fist. The pain only makes it worse.

"I belong here more than anyone. I never should've left." The words slip out, tight and coiled. Aula swipes at her mouth and ripping red pain blurs her vision. It's the cleaving kind of pain that leaves people breathless. Paralyzes the voice. For a moment, grey creeps in at the edge of her vision. She clenches her teeth and that sparks another kind of pain, the kind that she can anticipate and control. She plants both palms on the VPS and breathes harshly. Her blood drips onto the lettuce like rain. It looks black under the light.

Kelly moves closer, hand raised. "Jesus, your lip...."

"No." Aula marshals herself enough to turn her head and her expression makes Kelly step back. "Ten fucking years and I had to make the same choice because of you."

Kelly's eyes are searching. "What do you mean?"

Aula turns back to the delicate sprouts of lettuce and parsley. Her mind starts to register nuance again. Blood in her mouth and throat. Heat rising underneath her stitches. Her chin tickles. She scratches it and her fingers come away with blood. It's under her fingernails. Perfect maroon crescents along each nail bed.

This has always been the pattern of her life. There's always a tether to something. Someone. She wanted to leave, but no one would let her go. Not the police officer, not Harvey, and not Kelly. But Sam left. Ziva left. No matter how hard she held on, they ripped free of her grasp. And the part of her that belonged to them, to the mission, to their aspirations, went with them. Hidden somewhere at the south pole. Mummified under starlight. Unreachable.

"Here now." Kelly gently dabs blood away with the edge of her sleeve. "You can't go around like this."

It's an excruciating breach of decorum. Aula locks every muscle in her body to fight it. Pain bursts across her face like a frozen water pipe. Up her nose, through her sinuses, behind her eyes. It nearly knocks her knees out from under her. She leans heavily against the VPS.

"Don't," Aula mumbles. Blood and saliva spill through the sutures on her bottom lip.

Kelly's hands fall away. "Let's sit down, yeah?"

"I would've stayed." Aula shakes her head and it makes her feel top heavy. "But I let Harv bring me back. I let you bring me back."

Aula sits and paces her breathing, but it's futile. Now that she's said it, her secret won't go back under. Even ripped stitches can't eclipse it. Despair has been her lifelong companion and now it's fully exposed. She couldn't be less psychologically fit if she tried. The way Kelly looks at her is how everyone always looks at her. The same mixture of pity and discomfort.

"Is this about the MAF?" Kelly asks quietly. "You wanted to stay with it?"

It sounds so dutiful when phrased that way. A wave of exhaustion rolls over Aula. One of many during the past hour, but this one hits harder than the others. She slumps back and endures the pain with what energy she has left. It's amazing how much can change between one minute and the next. When she came here, she intended to complete her tasks as scheduled. Now she's not sure if she can walk back to her room.

Kelly crouches in front of Aula. "I can't picture you anywhere else but here. You never seemed comfortable back home." She briefly averts her eyes and swallows with an audible click. "I was petrified in the MAF. Even with all the training, I thought I'd never see my family again and that wrecked me. It still wrecks me. I promised my mum and dad that I'd be okay." After a second's hesitation, she grasps Aula's hand. Aula flinches, but Kelly doesn't let go. "You helped me keep that promise."

There's a moment. A split second. Aula looks at Kelly. Really looks at her as if it's for the first time. She doesn't seem like such a helpless fuck-up now. Or maybe she never was. It's a strange feeling, rediscovering someone. Making a familiar face unfamiliar again.

The moment ends. Kelly squeezes Aula's hand, then stands up. "I'll get Ward."

This is it. The keystroke that will send Aula back to Earth. She shuts her eyes and waits for the inevitable. It takes a few minutes. The LEDs hum beside her, adding another layer to the hum that already permeates the base. During her first few months on ILUB-1, the constant noise set her teeth on edge. Now it's a reassuring constant. More familiar than the recordings of birds, ocean waves, or rain. It seems impossible that the reverse was ever true.

Footsteps approach in long strides. "Major?"

Aula opens her eyes.

Ward stands in the module entrance. "I told you to rest."

"I know."

She sighs and steps inside. "Children, all of you."

Ward bends down so they're at eye level. Aula attempts to move to accommodate her, but she snaps her fingers. "Stay still. Now, show me your handiwork."

Aula raises her head. Ward looks at her wound from a few different angles. She finally opens her kit and snaps on a pair of gloves. The smell of latex is familiar. A reminder. Aula forces herself to relax as Ward gently pulls down the good side of her lip. Pain crackles across Aula's jaw and down her neck. It leaves her feeling restless as if she took too much Gravol. Ward uses a penlight to get a better look, then finally leans back.

"You've ripped three sutures." She rolls each glove off with practiced ease. "Alright, Major. Let's do this again."

Kelly appears in the doorway on cue, clearly eavesdropping. "It was my fault. I was chatting her up."

"Oh? You forced our colleague back to work, hmm?"

"I didn't help, let's put it that way."

Ward divides a scowl between the pair of them, then picks up her kit. "Since I can't trust you to behave like adults, I will treat you like children. Follow me!" She claps twice. "Straight to the infirmary."

This time, it really is like being sent to the school nurse. Aula steels herself and stands up. The pain doesn't change, but she feels sick, sweaty, and cold. She keeps one hand on the wall to steady herself and steps carefully. If she tries the usual lope, she'll fall right on her face. She knows it. Still, it's not easy to accept Kelly's arm linking with hers. Or how Ward marches them through the central hub and towards the infirmary.

They pass Kalishnakov, who's leaning over a laptop with supreme concentration. He glances up at them, then does a double take. "Spa day, ladies?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," Kelly replies airily.

He smirks, but his eyes remain watchful.

Their failed mission feels like it happened months ago. Aula ignores the way his eyes catch on her face and walks under her own power as much as she can, but she leans hard on Kelly by the time they reach the infirmary. Ward directs her to sit on the examination table and Aula obeys as best she can. The building strain in her back immediately eases. Pain scorches her mouth, but sweat cools across her skin. Even partial relief is welcome.

It takes her a full three seconds to realize Kelly is standing there, watching Ward wash her hands and gather her suture kit. Privacy is limited in ILUB-2. The engineers who built it did wonders with what they had, but it's hard to keep secrets when eight people work, live, and play in a habitat that amounts to 450 square feet.

Someone clears their throat. It's not Ward.

Kalishnakov crowds in, his head nearly at the ceiling. "So, did you get into a fist fight? Who won?"

"Me," Kelly says plaintively.

He gives her a thumbs up. "Nice."

"Get out." Ward smoothly turns around on her heels. "This isn't a zoo."

Kelly raises her hands in surrender, but she can't back away while Kal stands still. Her face starts to redden.

Kalishnakov lifts his chin. "Try not to die."

Aula rolls her eyes and that satisfies him enough to leave and let Kelly escape.

"Children," Ward scoffs. "Now hold still."

It's easier to bear the needle and numbing this time around. The idea of a needle to the gums is still uncomfortable, despite everything else that's happened. Aula closes her eyes and holds herself very still. The lidocaine mix burns as it's injected, but there's less of it this time. Ward deftly removes the needle and the sharp pain disappears with it.

"Now, since I have you here, we are going to talk."

Aula grunts. She hears rather than feels the flick and snip of scissors. Tension falls away from her skin as the first interrupted stitch is undone.

"I didn't want you on this mission," Ward says. "No matter how many tests they put you through, time would take its toll. And now here we are." She flicks her scissors back like she's conducting an orchestra. A sense of pulling accompanies her gesture. "Commander Nakamura and I have been attempting to send you back to Earth for proper treatment, but even he is reluctant." A deft roll of the scissors in one hand and the pulling sensation goes slack. "Your grief is understandable, Major. But your loyalty to the dead is dangerous. It inspires the others to give you more leeway than is safe."

It hits harder than Aula expects. Because she does understand. She's understood that all along. The exhaustion she had been fighting suddenly pours over her and it's all she can do to sit upright.

Ward starts on the next stitch. Her voice is gentle despite her bluntness. "I've buried people I love, as well. The empty space they leave behind invites a kind of madness." She pulls the scissors back again and the suture goes tight. "Even now, you're trying to save your first crew." Another twist and snip and the tightness relaxes. "You can't save them, Major. You can only say good-bye."

The rebuke is justified, but Aula still bites down an acrid retort that rises in her throat. Being lectured by someone who wasn't there is insufferable.

Ward must notice because she sets her scissors aside. "You're needed here and now." She looks at the photograph of her two daughters, rosy brown against the Mediterranean. "It's not fair that we leave family behind, but it's the price of what we do."

Aula studies those girls. Her anger loses some of its edge, although it still roils inside her stomach. They're going to be at least a year older when the next shuttle swings by. A lot can happen in a year, especially at that age. A year is forever.

What would Sam and Ziva look like now? It's hard to imagine. They're always 30-something in Aula's head. Young compared to her now and at the same time, eternal peers. All four of them were young back then. Eager ASCANs ready to earn their wings. Ready to take on the Moon.

When it's clear Aula isn't going to engage, Ward moves onto the last stitch. Her breath is steady and warm as she cuts the old suture and hooks in a new one. Once done, she straightens back and exhales hard enough to stir her bangs.

"It will do," Ward says, "but it isn't as neat as before."

In other words, Aula will be disfigured. It doesn't penetrate the dense shroud that's settled around her. She dips her chin to show that she understood, but it doesn't really matter. If it means fewer public appearances, she'll gladly make the trade. As long as she can speak and eat, that's all that matters. The rest is just noise she can deal with later.

"Get some sleep, if you can." Ward pulls her gloves off with practised ease. "There's nothing else to be done."

Aula's supervisors would say much the same after a death sim. She would say there's always something to be done because if all else failed, they could still die.

Now, Aula thinks distantly, she can't even manage that.

(Tokyo Bekana Chinese cabbage, ISS Expedition 50 member)