(POV: Amelia)
The silence in the medical waiting room felt strange—not the kind that calms, but the kind that presses in, like a space too full despite being nearly empty.
I sat on a plastic chair, a cup of tea in my hands that had long gone cold. My fingers still trembled slightly, even though the examination was over and the doctor had confirmed I was fine. Mild shock. A few bruises. Physically, I was okay.
But my chest still felt tight.
Across the room, Scarlett sat alone, a few seats away—the distance small, yet wide enough to feel like a gap too difficult to cross. Her gaze was fixed ahead, her expression neutral, almost too composed. But the faint tapping of her fingers against her thigh gave her away.
I took a slow breath.
Guilt. Longing. And something more fragile than both tangled together inside me.
I couldn't stay still.
I stood, my steps slightly unsteady but determined. The sound of my boots echoed softly against the floor. Scarlett didn't turn right away, but the tension in her shoulders was visible.
"Scarlett…" My voice came out low, rough.
A few seconds passed before she finally looked at me. Her gaze was as sharp as ever—but there was distance in it. Something unspoken.
"Yes?"
I swallowed before continuing.
"Thank you." Simple words. Heavy ones. "For the warning out there. For the intel. You saved us."
Scarlett held my gaze for a moment, then looked away.
"I was doing my job, Thorne." Her tone was flat. "No need to thank me."
I nodded and turned to leave—
But I stopped when her voice came again.
"…No charming instructors, no reckless fighter pilots—"
A brief pause.
"—no man is worth breaking the oath we made in the Cranwell simulator."
I froze.
"You… remember."
"I have a very good memory for irritating things," Scarlett replied. There was the faintest shift in her tone—so subtle it almost disappeared. "That ridiculous promise included."
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
"It was a ridiculous promise."
Our eyes met.
Just for a second.
Not enough to fix everything. Maybe it never would.
But enough—
to remind us that something still remained beneath all the cracks.
"Go get some rest," Scarlett said, slipping back into her professional tone. "Debrief in two hours. Don't be late."
I nodded.
Then walked out.
Corridor
The air outside felt cooler. Quieter.
I hadn't gone far when I heard footsteps approaching—steady, familiar.
I didn't need to turn.
"You still look like you almost fell out of the sky."
I stopped.
I turned.
Kai stood a few steps away, hands in his jacket pockets, posture relaxed—but his eyes held something deeper.
"If that's your new way of greeting people, Dawson… I might start avoiding you."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Unfortunately, I don't plan on letting that happen."
A quiet pause settled between us.
Not awkward.
Just… full.
Kai glanced briefly toward the medical room behind me.
"Cranwell oath, huh?"
I frowned slightly.
"You heard that."
"Not intentionally," he said lightly—though his tone suggested otherwise. "You're not exactly subtle when you're guarding a top-secret promise."
I exhaled.
"Don't start."
But Kai took a step closer.
Not too close.
Just enough.
"So…" his voice softened, teasing but warm, "am I included in that list too?"
I looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"The men who aren't worth it."
A pause.
I shook my head slightly.
"You're too confident to fit into any category."
Kai let out a quiet laugh.
"So not 'not worth it'?"
My heartbeat shifted, just slightly.
"Don't jump to conclusions."
Another silence.
But this one—
felt easier.
Kai's expression turned more serious.
"I mean it, Thorne. You're not alone here."
I didn't respond right away.
Letting him continue.
"We're here. Me. Your team. Even—" he paused briefly, "Reed."
Her name didn't hit as sharply this time.
I looked at him a little longer than I should have.
"I know."
Soft.
Honest.
Kai nodded once.
As if that was enough.
He stepped back slightly, giving me space again.
"Go get some rest," he said, his tone lighter again. "Tomorrow we'll try not to get shot down."
I almost smiled.
"Try?"
"I don't like making unrealistic promises."
And somehow—
that made everything feel lighter.
Hangar – A Few Hours Later
The base was alive again—engines, orders, movement blending into controlled chaos.
My A400M was being worked on at the side of the hangar—panels open, technicians moving quickly.
"Primary avionics and comms took the hit," one of them explained. "But the structure's intact. Engines are still good."
A pause.
"Not perfect. But enough to fly."
Enough.
That was all I needed.
Across the hangar, Scarlett had already returned to work. Tablet in hand, eyes scanning data.
Nothing had changed on the surface.
But something felt different.
And Kai—
was still there.
Not too close.
Not distant.
Just… present.
In his own way.
Something between us had shifted.
Undefined.
But real.
I took a slow breath.
The air felt different now.
The sky outside was still dark.
The mission wasn't over.
We would go back.
But this time—
I didn't feel like I was facing it alone.
I looked at the Atlas in front of me.
Still marked.
Still damaged.
But it would fly again.
And I would be in the cockpit.
Behind me, Kai's footsteps moved in another direction—toward his jet, maybe, or another briefing.
But I knew—
without looking—
he wouldn't be far.
And for the first time—
I let that thought stay.