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RJ has barely begun to unpack and settle in their quarters when they hear a knock at the door. They’re half expecting Arkady to come back to try and kick them out again, but the person at the door when they open it may actually be the last one they expected to see.
“Park! Hi.”
“Hey, McCabe. Can I come in?”
“Yeah, this is um… Great timing actually, hold on.” they turn abruptly as they wave him in, rifling through the bag they’d just set down. “I just saw…”
“Oh. Well, I actually just wanted—“
“Found it!” they exclaim as they begin to pull one scarf from a bag of several. “I um. I made this for you.”
“You…”
“I’ve been weaving. A lot. I’ve made scarves for practically everyone in New Dearborn. The people at the school need new clothing and… well, I like it. I’ve made… sixteen scarves. This week.”
RJ watches, slightly anxious, as Park takes the scarf and turns it around in his hands, inspecting the weave work and the hues in the scarf. It’s one of the more ambitious ones they’ve made, color-wise. Deep blue, dark purple, and shimmers of black and white.
This scarf had to be good, and they weren’t really sure why.
“It’s… I love it. Thank you, McCabe.”
“Well… yeah, any time. Seriously, any time,” they joke, gesturing to the loom he helped them carry in earlier. “I’m… sure I’ll get restless tonight and start another.”
There's silence for a moment. Neither of them really speak as Park clutches the scarf tight in his hands for a moment, like a stress ball. Like he’s trying to communicate with it instead of with them.
“So… how have things been with you?” RJ asks.
“Well, things are… obviously not good. Things are… fine. Bad in San Ramos. Everything is… everything is bad in San Ramos.” He says it like there’s something bitter on his tongue, even though he doesn't necessarily even sound like he believes it.
“Yeah, I guess I… haven’t heard much.”
“I haven’t heard much about Mirzakhani either.”
“Yeah, I…”
I didn’t call. You didn’t call. Not from The Iris 2 or from Mirzakhani, not from Artemis and not from Telemachus.
It’s becoming abundantly clear to them that they aren’t the best at communicating.
It’s been months since they’ve talked at all, hell they’ve seen each other for about ten minutes in the last six months and it’s a hell of a change from seeing him at work every goddamn day.
Until they didn’t. Until he was gone and they were in his place and trying desperately not to think about it. And then he was back and he was everything they said he was; a liar, a traitor.
And he was still Park. And so they followed him, of course they did. They followed him out into the endless fucking void of deep space, into a life of crime, and then he left them. He left for Artemis and then they left for Mirzakhani and neither of them fucking called.
And McCabe can’t even be upset, because the comms were right there the whole time. They could’ve reached out. They almost did a hundred times.
“I’m glad to see you again,” is all they can think to say.
“Likewise,” he answers before taking a breath. “RJ, there’s… something I should—“
“McCabe!” Arkady calls, the door opening so abruptly that they almost flinch. “Come on, it’s board game night! Oh, hey Park, you coming?”
“Board game night?” RJ asks, furrowing their brow.
“I brought a few along, figured… well, someone needs to do all the… Captain-y, morale boosting things. And you’ve been great at hosting game nights on Mirzakhani, it gave me ideas.”
“Oh,” they respond, strangely touched and unsure what to say.
“Nice scarf, Park,” Arkady says— seemingly genuinely, at that. “Mine’s just purple.”
Violet, RJ doesn’t bother correcting.
“Anyways, we’re starting with that trivia game Brian loves, so hurry up you two,” she says as she turns to leave.
RJ smiles, starting to follow Arkady out the door, shooting a glance back at Park expectantly. “You’re on my team for trivia, right?”
Things have been weird the past few months, but they’ll be fine. They can kick ass at board game night, and Park will wear his new scarf, and RJ will get over whatever the hell this strange feeling in their gut is— like something shifts every time they see him—, and most importantly, they’ll find their friend.
“Uh—” Park offers a strained smile. “Yes, I am.”
“Oh, you came in to say something, didn’t you?” they ask as they enter the hallway.
“It’s okay,” Park replies, following after. “It wasn’t really… it’s okay.”
He steps forward a little, avoiding their gaze and hurrying his pace towards the cockpit to meet with the others. McCabe isn’t really sure what they did or said, but something has shifted again. They can tell.
But it’s okay. Everything’s definitely going to be fine.