─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

SEASON 4 EPISODE 9

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Location:

System: Alpha Centauri

Faction: United Colonies

Planet: Jemison

Place: New Atlantis

Funny thing about nostalgia, didn't show up 'til I lost ya - Tate McRae, Nostalgia, from So Close To What.

☆☆☆

Jimin

Jimin hadn't moved in two weeks.

It was irresponsible to abandon the Ranger case right after he had made a major breakthrough, but he couldn't bring himself to care. No amount of credits could get him out of bed, away from his ex's Vanguard jacket that no longer smelled like strawberries—or perhaps he had been there so long he had gone nose deaf to it.

It was strange, though; he hadn't thought about anything. He hadn't felt anything either. There was a surprising lack of tears, screams, and rage. There were no five stages. He didn't go through denial (or perhaps he had, back when it had happened), anger, bargaining, sorrow, acceptance, or anything of the sort. Nothing. Numbness was it. So numb that he hadn't done much eating, drinking, sleeping, or showering in the past two weeks. Some bathroom breaks, but about two per day. Maybe three if Y/n could convince him.

Speaking of, his door opened again. That was the second time that day, and that time, she hadn't bothered knocking.

Jimin groaned. "I'm not in the mood."

"You never are," she said, kneeling in front of him and placing a water bottle on the side of his bed. "I'm not leaving until you drink at least half of this."

Jimin didn't sit up; instead, he plucked the bottle from her and chugged it laying down. It slithered down his parched throat and felt like a Neon fish sliding down, but it went down. And stayed down. Couldn't say the same for any of the food he had eaten.

"Good." She snatched the empty bottle back. "Now get up. You stink, and you don't want your muscles to atrophy."

Jimin didn't hesitate. "No."

"Jimin. Shower. Now."

"I said no."

Y/n huffed, tossed the bottle into his overflowing trash, and kneeled in front of the bed. She placed her hand over his sweaty one, and he didn't have the strength to pull away despite wanting to.

"I know you're in pain, but you can't lay here forever. We need you. And you need you, too."

"I don't care," he said, blowing a raspberry at her afterward. "Leave me alone for once."

"For once? I've been doing that for a year and a half, dumbass."

Jimin snapped up and glared. That time, he gained the willpower to tear his hand away from hers. "Yeah, and maybe if you hadn't, my mom would be alive."

"Excuse me?"

"I said it," Jimin repeated with an eye roll. "Maybe if the precious princess Y/n L/n grew up and stopped being such a pussy, we would have seen the assassin coming. We could have done something instead of arguing in HopeTech."

Y/n scoffed. "You're blaming me for your mom's death?"

"Why not? You blame me for all your damn problems." Jimin grunted and leaned back down, the lights flickering from yet another leech Marbles and Taehyung would have to handle. Jimin snorted. "Uh oh. Lights. Don't get a panic attack."

Y/n backed away with her hands becoming fists. "Fuck you."

That had Jimin beaming. "I've said it once, I'll say it again: you have, and you enjoyed it very much, Miss L/n."

"Why do I bother?" Y/n marched out, and Jimin didn't know whether to cry, scream, or keep grinning. He opted for the last one, stretching and cracking his neck.

As much as he held both contempt and adoration for Y/n, he didn't know which one to settle on. It felt like he was getting thrown back and forth between different versions of himself. The old him—the one who had done Aurora and tortured for fun—and the old old him—the one who had risked his life to save Hobi, an evil man, and spent the majority of his time being a boy in love.

However, Y/n had a point: Jimin needed to get up, so he did and continued his stretching. They had landed on New Atlantis not too long ago, and the person they were picking up was Jimin's sole reason to get moving and spray on cologne. Whatever made him smell like he had his shit together.

It took thirty minutes, but Jimin managed to prepare for the day. His familiar jacket squeezed his muscles he had filled out thanks to keeping up with Vanguard training. Not the past two weeks, but in general.

His scarf bounced off his shoulder, and his hair hadn't been brushed in two days, and before that a week. Y/n had forced him down and brushed it to prevent it from getting too tangled. Didn't do much good in the long run, huh? It had the same knots as before. Jimin didn't bother attempting to solve that problem himself. That was something his mom had used to do for him. All those years ago. Before the war. Before dad died.

Jimin enabled his captain mode and exited his room. His nose picked up on the bleach from Y/n's constant cleaning and the distant smell of chili from the cafeteria. Something Sarah liked to make.

It took all his energy to stop by the infirmary and peep through the glass but not enter. No, he didn't have the courage to visit Sam. It was Jimin's fault Sam had no legs. While Sam had survived the initial grenade, his legs hadn't, and prosthetics had been ordered for him, but that took time. Sam was inside, legless, and with Cora, who hadn't left his side. Not once. Not even to let Jimin read to her. He doubted she wanted anything to do with him, though. Jimin didn't want anything to do with him either.

Jimin lingered. The sight included Sam sitting up as best he could, hiding his grimace from his daughter, and VASCO doing vitals. It had been long enough that they were confident no major issues would arise, but blood clots were a risk. That meant VASCO, like Cora, hadn't left Sam's side.

Unlike VASCO and Cora, Jimin stormed away.

Ahead of him was the bay, where Jungkook waited with a mission report. Something about the Freestar contacting them with new information. Last week, Y/n had jumped to Akila and allowed Taehyung and Jungkook to deliver the intel that needed to be decrypted. Whoever the Ranger's had on it cracked the case. That meant Jimin was needed there. He didn't care.

"You know why I'm here," Jimin said, interrupting Jungkook's spiel about the whole Rangers bullshit. "Where is he?"

"On the way." Jungkook straightened his shoulders. His metal arm swayed like it was real. "Would you like me to leave, sir?"

"Yeah. Buzz off."

Jungkook dipped his head and obeyed, rushing out of the vicinity. That meant Jimin earned alone time with his old man.

The bay doors were down, and Jimin stood there for a reason: Kim Seokjin. The man had caused a stir with the United Colonies by leaving the Martian Terrormorph program to instead join Jimin's crew. By "stir," that meant community service and high bounties. That day, Jin had no more responsibilities to attend to, so he was free to stay on Jimin's ship. For as long as he wanted. Maybe forever.

Jimin paid attention when he saw Jin approaching. "Hey, old man."

Jin climbed the ramp, set his bags down, and grinned, ruffling Jimin's blonde hair as the ship door shut behind him.

"Changed your hair, kid?" Jin motioned to the blonde. "Looks good on you. Not as good as it'd look on me, but it's the thought that counts."

"You're hilarious."

Jimin rolled his eyes and took Jin's bags for him, escorting him to his quarters that had been vacant for a while. Yes, Jimin had reserved quarters for Jin ever since the day Jungkook had purchased the ship in Jimin's name. Inside was a shit ton of mirrors, more mirrors, and, you guessed it, mirrors.

Otherwise, the room remained blank to give Jin room to decorate, though Jin didn't strike Jimin as an interior designer. If anything, he could request a personal kitchen, but not much more.

"Ah, what a wonderful view," Jin said, motioning to the window that showed the landing pad of New Atlantis. Jin flung it off. "Bye bye, UC suckers."

Jimin leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "Didn't know you hated them that much."

"Those asswipes locked me up for leaving duty. All I wanted was to join your crew. How hard is that?"

"I don't think Logan likes me, so pretty hard."

Jimin pushed off the wall and shut the door, locking it for good measure. He helped Jin unpack, and it was a quiet move in day. It took an hour, and Jin went on and on about how he had almost killed four UC security guards because they tried to take his favorite hat. Something about no one touching Jin's "style."

The room didn't have any major changes after they finished. There was a stack of cookbooks in the corner and a pile of biology books next to it. His bed contained a fluffy white blanket and three pillows. He added another mirror and set up his surplus skincare products Jungkook had sent him the credits for on Jimin's behalf. Wasn't like Jimin was in any position to handle any captain duties. Jungkook had taken over, and Jimin had no time nor mental space to be thankful for that.

"Hey," Jin said, zipping up his galaxy-themed luggage and sliding it under his bed. He sat on the bouncy mattress and brushed his long locks back to make eye contact. "You're quiet for once. What's wrong?"

"They didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what? Kid, all I got was a confirmation message from Jungkook that you guys could pick me up. Something happen?" Jin paused to chuckle with no humor, scratching the back of his neck. "It's been a while. I can only imagine what you've been up to."

Jimin didn't want to sour the mood, but he knew he couldn't hide much, if anything, from Jin. That had him plopping down beside Old Man Kim, his bare hands folding together in his lap. For some reason, he became hyperaware of the scarf rubbing against his jacket.

"No easy way to say it, I guess." It was Jimin's turn to chuckle. "There's someone after us. Or... me. An assassin."

"Oh. Now's not a great time to join the crew, huh?"

"Not at all." Jimin peered at the ground. It felt weird, preparing to say it out loud, yet he knew he had to. "It's more than that, Jin. He..." Jimin bit the insides of his cheeks, counted the sights in front of him, and remembered to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. Nothing helped. "My mom's gone."

Silence followed. A buzzing air conditioner was about the most noise they had. Maybe some distant footsteps or laughter from Barrett, but nothing could overpower the silence.

After a moment, Jimin held up his hand to keep Jin's mouth shut. "I don't want pity or a bunch of apologies. I've gotten enough of them."

"Then what do you want?"

Jimin nibbled on his nails. "My mom."

Or dad.

He wasn't picky. Either one would suffice.

"I wish I could give her to you, kid, I really wish I could."

"I know." Jimin lowered his head and gazed at the metal floor, spotting the crusting dirt on the tips of his worn black boots. He wanted to wipe them away like tears, yet he knew he never could. "I don't get it, Jin."

"Get what, son?"

Jimin hesitated longer than he should have. "When I lost Y/n, I just... I wanted to blow up everything. I wanted the world to burn. But Ma?" Jimin laughed and smiled. Somehow, it reached his eyes. "I don't even want to do anything anymore."

"I'm-" Jin cut off before the s word could pass, though Jimin heard the slithering sound of it and had to glare to shut him up. Jin cleared his throat. "I don't know what to say, kid. No one should lose a parent so young."

"Eight." Jimin kept his smile. "I lost her when I was eight. But that's not true, is it? She died in my arms two weeks ago. I saw her body. She wanted to bake me cookies just an hour before..." He picked his head up and made eye contact with Jin, unblinking. "I hate her." Jimin raised his trembling bare hand, extending his fingers and peering at their tips. "I still see purple stains, and that's because of her. Sometimes, I feel withdrawal for a drug I haven't done in over a year. Sometimes I stare at my wall for an hour and wonder what would be different if I had a mom who loved me.

"But she's gone now. There are no more what ifs or buts, just what had been. A mother who never loved her son, and a son left to wonder why. She said she loved me. I even felt loved sometimes. But I remember the yelling. The screaming. The slaps and kicks." Jimin paused, placing his sweaty hand back in his lap. Maybe it was another spike of withdrawal. "I don't know if she really loved me, but what's worse is I don't know if I really loved her."

"You did," Jin was quick to say, and Jimin didn't know how to react. That fit with every other second of every day since it had happened.

"If I don't know that, you sure as hell don't."

"You wouldn't be so numb if you didn't love her, Jimin. Grief is love."

"No." Jimin brushed the comment off and returned his gaze to the floor. "It's death, Jin. That's why I'm like this. I don't know how to feel about death."

All those years ago, Jimin had watched himself die in Vladimir's arms. Touching an artifact had led him to a foreign space, unlocking a new life. A life that could have been his, yet he had outlived all his fallen brothers in the multiverse. To that day, he didn't know why, or what he did to keep himself afloat. Death could claim him at any moment. It could claim him that night.

"Isn't it weird?" Jimin asked, but he didn't expect an answer. "My mom never told me about her first kiss, or her favorite memory, or the secrets she promised she'd tell one day. Now I'll never know, and that's true for all of us, isn't it? Everything we've ever owned, seen, experienced, and said stays here. It won't go with us beyond, will it? No amount of faith can change truth. When we die, I won't get to tell anyone about my love for Y/n again. I won't get to stay up late thinking about her smile. I won't get to look around my crew again. It'll be gone, and all I can do is wait and watch the mirror, counting the wrinkles until it's time to go."

Jin placed his hand on Jimin's shoulder. "It's life, kid. Life is..."

"Weird." Jimin smiled. "Really fucking weird."

Nothing followed except bumps from the air conditioning and laughter from Barrett echoing into the room. The way his laugh could bounce through a closed door had Jimin's smile widening, and he wondered how long he'd get to hear that laugh before one of them passed on.

"Get up," Jin said, and Jimin glanced at Old Man Kim at that. Jin stood and dragged Jimin with him, motioning out the window and toward the sky. "What do you see?"

Jimin brought his brows together. "Is that a trick question? The sky."

"Anything else?"

"No. Nothing."

"Exactly." Jin turned Jimin toward him, both his hands on Jimin's shoulders. "But somewhere, maybe millions of miles and jumps away, is another galaxy. Another lifeform. Another star or nebula." Jin squeezed Jimin, and it was his turn to smile. "Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't beautiful."

Silence. Something Jimin had become accustomed to. In his childhood, his crate had been silent with the occasional snore from his unconscious mother, if she had been home instead of out doing Aurora. When he had lost Y/n, his mind was raging, yet it was silent at the same time. When he had lost his mother, the emptiness was more consuming than any other silence had ever been.

Jimin sniffled. It was the first sound to crack the barrier. And then another, and another, and soon came the just-as-silent cries. Silent with no tears, for no moisture clogged his face. Instead, he ended up in Jin's arms, their minimal height difference becoming profound, with Jimin feeling like he hugged a statue, but a warm one. Or maybe more like a tree; tall, bulky, and the embodiment of life.

"Do you think she's okay?" Jimin whispered, the words firing out against Jin's thin shirt.

Jin's hand pressed against the back of Jimin's head.

"Yeah, kid. I think she is."

☆☆☆

Jimin hated the Freestar Rangers.

That wasn't fair considering he wasn't one, but being all noble and kind wasn't up his alley. Crime was his best friend. Not Constellation, not Jungkook, not Hoseok—the thrill of a robbery, or the laughter from pissing on a UC grave, or the credits from pickpocketing. Nothing beat that.

Though he had a feeling the Rangers wouldn't like that.

Jimin set his shoulders in front of Marshal Kim, the dragon-like eyes glaring at him, though not at at him. It was Namjoon's resting face. If he wasn't glaring, something was wrong.

Beside him was his XO, Jeon Jungkook. Anywhere Jimin went, Jungkook was right on his ass. Something about needing Jungkook for grounding. Jimin didn't believe it. He was capable of handling the quest. He had to. For mom.

Marshal Kim's office was as sad as Namjoon. Beige walls with about as much personality as Sarah's empty coffee cup collection. A portrait of Solomon Coe—who had the same bright ass blue eyes Sam had—hung behind the wooden desk. Real wood. Didn't get much of that on Neon.

Neon.

Jimin threw the word away as fast as he could.

"Our tech guy is named Alex," Namjoon said, staying seated and rocking on the creaky wooden chair. In the distance, Jimin heard scurrying footsteps, laughter, and typing. The Rock was packed that day—packed full of Rangers who wanted to crack the case more than Jimin did.

And it was his case.

"Where is he?" Jimin asked, but Namjoon brushed the question off.

"You're not meeting him. No offense, but after what happened, we're trying to give you space. You'll report to me and me alone for the time being."

Ah, wonderful, the good ole avoid the person who went through tragedy to avoid trauma dumping and tears. Jimin couldn't blame them; Jimin would do the same. Unless it was Y/n. Though, perhaps he had done that. He couldn't remember the last time he had asked her how her day had been, and he definitely couldn't remember her last answer.

"If that's what you want. Now, why'd you call me here?"

Well, the call had been for the previous night, but Jimin was late. It wasn't Jimin if he wasn't late. Though, that time he had different reasons for why.

"Alex decrypted that slate and found a trace between Mei Devine and Marco. Nothing about Marco's location, but if you interrogate Mei, you could find something."

Jimin brought his brows together and scoured his brain for any memory of Mei Devine. Jimin had encountered countless individuals in his time in the galaxy. Some, like Starborn Y/n, were complicated and memorable. Others, like Brayson Bayu, had about as much memorability as a fart on a Tuesday.

Jimin shrugged. "Who is-"

"Mei Devine?!" Jungkook slammed his metal hand on the wood, and it cracked the surface. "What the hell does she have to do with this?"

Jimin placed his hand on Jungkook's shoulder, but Jungkook threw it aside, glared at Jimin like Namjoon had, and returned his sharp gaze to Marshal Kim.

"She's a criminal, Mr. Jeon," Namjoon said, his stare unwavering, not so much as flinching at the crack on his desk. "A high profile criminal running one of the most profitable organizations in the galaxy. She has her dirty hands in every crime branch you can think of. Marco's a smuggler, so she helps him. I'm willing to bet she gives him Ecliptic guards, routes for shipping, and maybe free drinks, who knows."

"Anyone want to fill me in?" Jimin asked when Namjoon finished, and Jungkook lowered his prosthetic from the desk but didn't face Jimin.

"Mei is the owner of the Red Mile."

Oh.

Oh.

"Jungkook." Jimin's voice was sharper than he intended. "Maybe you should sit this one out."

"No." Jungkook's voice was sharper too. "If you need information from Mei..." Jungkook turned, his glare the same as it had been before. Jimin couldn't tell if it was directed at him or the thought of Mei. "I'll get it."

"I know she's a criminal." Jimin softened his tone as best he could, though with a man an inch taller than him with biceps as large as his entire body standing four feet away with narrowed eyes, it was hard to keep the stutters out of his words. "But if you resort to violence, it won't end well for any of us."

"Oh, Sarah hasn't told you? Been there done that. If Mei needs a good fist to the face, I know how to aim." Jungkook curled his prosthetic into a fist. "And I'll make it hurt more this time. The last time I gave her a punch, an asshole melted my arm off, so it had to be with the weaker one. Thanks, Jimin."

Jimin rubbed his temple and chose to ignore that, directing his focus to Namjoon. "Alright, we'll get to work on going to the Red Mile, but for probably obvious reasons, we should take a day to cool off, yeah?"

Namjoon nodded. "I agree with your assessment, Captain."

If Jungkook had protests, he didn't voice them. At least he was smart enough to know that'd get him nowhere.

"Good. Anything else you got for me, cause this could've been a voice message, y'know. I didn't need to fly my ass all the way out here."

"Yes, I do have more for you. For starters, you should have the decrypted slate back. It doesn't say much of note, but it's a reference." Namjoon freed the slate from his jacket. Like Jimin, Namjoon wore the same jacket every day and didn't bother changing it. He slid the metal square across the wood, and Jimin winced from the scraping sound while Jungkook took it. "But the more important thing is the First."

"Bayu told me a bit about them." Jimin swallowed and did his best to throw the Neon memories away. "And you know them too?"

"I fought with them during the Colony War." Namjoon sank his head, and his shoulders slumped. "We were the most dangerous fighters in the galaxy. We kicked the UC's asses. If it weren't for all the bullshit peace treaties, the UC wouldn't exist, and that was because of us. We were good with mechs, sure, but we were the best at ground combat. Boots in the dirt, grime on our faces, rifles in hand... that was the First. Hell, we were so good we lost fifty men in the entire war."

"Jesus." Jimin couldn't fathom losing so few. Shit, he had watched more than fifty people die in his life, yet the First lost less in war. "And that's who you think we're up against?"

"Gotta be. If Maya Cruz is involved, I'm guessing some of the First are back in business. I served with her. She was an expert with hacking and anything tech."

Sounded familiar. Jimin had gotten his start with his technical expertise. Lockpicking and hacking was all digital, and he had learned how to do it at the age of nine. Out of necessity. To keep his mother safe.

"I looked into the Clinic at the request of your XO," Namjoon said, but the words sounded slurred to Jimin. Sweat formed on the sides of his head, and wrinkles tugged his vision. Little creases at the edges of his sight. "Maya was there and had her cot rigged. Almost killed me. She was so cautious she even went there under an alias. She knew we were onto her and fled, and all I got was jump coordinates from the Clinic's systems. She's hiding out in the Sakharov system, in the asteroid mines. I sent probes to investigate, and we found a few hideouts inside the asteroids. Once I find out which one is hers, I'll let you..."

And that was when the conversation tuned out altogether. Jimin's ears rung, and he winced, unsure why. Another wince. His chest ached, same with his calves and neck. His figure felt stiff and like his lungs had been twisted around and around, tied up with his rapid heart.

Jungkook shook Jimin and said something, but Jimin didn't hear it over the ring vibrating his eardrums. His breathing picked up. His hands felt like they had plopped to the ground and separated from his burning body.

Somehow, Jimin ended up outside Namjoon's office with Jungkook, his back pressed against the wall and unable to take in his surroundings. He had seen the hallway on the way to Namjoon's office and knew it had walls as wooden as Namjoon's desk, same with the creaky floorboards. There was supposed to be a white ceiling with low lighting along with Freestar paintings depicting their classic bird and various important moments in their history lining the walls, yet all Jimin spotted was crimson liquid staining everything surrounding him, including Jimin himself.

Jungkook got him sitting on the clean floors and took off Jimin's gloves. Jimin's bare hands went to touch said clean floors, and he felt the bumpy texture of the wood. His breathing managed to even out maybe a minute later (or perhaps five, Jimin didn't know). His vision refocused, and Jungkook's knitted brows and wide eyes awaited.

"There you are," Jungkook whispered, and Jimin swallowed what he hoped was thick saliva and not bile before nodding. "I would ask if you're okay, but I think I know the answer to that."

"You..." Jimin coughed. "Are the smartest man on the crew."

"Not smarter than Sarah."

"Man, Jungkook. I said smartest..." Jimin wheezed. "...man."

Jungkook chuckled and leaned back on his heels, crouched in front of Jimin with his metal arm dangling more than his real arm did. "Glad you didn't lose your sense of humor."

"Are you kidding? It's the only thing I got anymore." Jimin placed one hand on the wall, feeling the same wooden texture as the ground and rubbing his thumb over it. His chest burned, and he didn't know where his heartbeat was. "But forget that. What'd I miss?"

Jungkook helped Jimin to his feet. "Marshal Kim is worried about you."

"Didn't know that old bastard could do that."

"We're right outside. He can hear you."

Jimin rolled his eyes, tried to ignore what just happened, and stomped back in the office, making eye contact with Marshal Kim. "Alright, I'll ask you, then: what'd I miss?"

"Your XO is right," Namjoon said, folding his hands together. His hands had bruises and calluses, something Jimin imagined Rangers had countless of. "I'm worried for you, Captain. I want you as a Ranger, I do, but if you can't handle this mission, I need you to stay out. This isn't about you or proving you can do something anymore. People could die if you mess up."

"Yeah." Jimin let out a small whistle and swayed on his feet. He couldn't tell if it was for attitude or because he couldn't maintain a proper balance. "Been there before. I know what it feels like to cause people to die, Marshal, so trust me, I don't want to go through that again. I can handle it. I need this."

Without a mission to distract him, he would have time to think. The more time he had to think, the more events like... that would occur. He would think about Neon, or his mother. Or how he had sacrificed everything to protect her only for her to die in his arms anyway.

Jimin rubbed his chest and coughed, trying to tear the pain away from his ribs. His figure felt sore and like he had done another Vanguard exercise.

"If you insist," Namjoon said, and the deep tone gave Jimin a temporary grounding. "But, please, take a day, then go to the Red Mile and interrogate Mei. I will do my best to ensure we have something about Maya Cruz's exact location as soon as possible. I have my best on the case."

Freestar Rangers were, by default, the best. Maybe aside from the First, based on what Namjoon had said. But that meant if the Rangers said they were going to do something, they would do it.

"Thanks, Joon." Jimin held up his hands when Namjoon glared. "Namjoon, sorry. Thank you."

"Didn't know you had manners."

"I do, I just don't like using them." Jimin snatched his gloves from Jungkook, who stood behind him without speaking, sheathed his hands again and didn't say another word before departing. The same applied to the walk back to the ship: silent.

They made it to the spaceport without any issues, though Jimin slowed and didn't enter the massive ship yet. The setting sun of Akila had the city in golden hour with amber glows illuminating every wooden structure.

Everything looked rustic and like it had popped out of Old Earth. In a way, it had. The city had been built during the early colonization of the stars, and no one had bothered to modernize it. It caused the city to have an old Western appearance, and anyone from Akila was like Sam: a space cowboy with deep accents and drawls. Martian drawls were scratchy like they had dirt in their lungs all day every day, but Akila drawls had more country put into them.

"Thank you for being here," Jimin said, and Jungkook stiffened by his side.

"Sir?"

"I don't say it a lot, but I appreciate you. I know we don't see eye-to-eye on most things, especially the Fleet, but you're here. You stepped up when I couldn't. So, thank you."

"Are you okay?"

"Dammit, am I allowed to thank my XO for doing a good job?" Jimin huffed and pulled out a credstik, tossing it Jungkook's way. He caught it with his prosthetic. "Consider that a bonus. I'm raising your salary. Additional ten grand a year. Sound good?"

"Uh... okay." Jungkook cleared his throat and tossed the stick in his flightsuit's pocket. It was gray and had red and white paint splattered on it, but Jimin had never seen Jungkook painting before. "Thank you, Captain. What about the rest of the crew?"

"They'll get an additional five thousand. That sound good, or are you gonna keep riding my ass about it?"

"Well, Captain, if you're offering..."

"Oh, Jesus." Jimin rubbed his head and chuckled. It felt like the first time he had laughed in years. "Let's get out of here, Executive."

"Whatever you say, sir."

Jimin boarded his ship with Jungkook, closed the ramp behind him, and assigned Jungkook to clean their weapons with Taehyung. Taehyung needed to learn weapon safety, and while he had improved, there was always room for more growth. Unlike Jimin, Taehyung hadn't grown up in gunfire. Maybe Taehyung was one of the "lucky" ones. By Neon standards, anyway.

The memories of Neon flashed back, and Jimin didn't know if his mother's death or the loss of his home hurt more. He decided to push them both aside and try to maintain his lighter demeanor. Distractions. That was what he needed—distractions.

He ignored Sam's state and skipped the infirmary, heading straight to the cafeteria and finding Barrett and Andreja there sharing a meal of noodles that looked blander than spinach. Noodles and nothing else. No side dishes. Jimin would throw himself out the airlock if he had to eat that.

"You guys hungover or something?" Jimin asked, trotting to the fridge and spotting Marbles on the counter beside it. She meowed and wagged her tail like a dog. Jimin scratched behind her ears and kissed her head.

"I wish," Barrett said with a sigh. "You, Capt'?"

Jimin opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of strawberry wine from a New Atlantis vineyard. He waved the holy substance back and forth and grinned. "About to be."

"Is that a good idea?" Andreja asked, and Jimin blew a raspberry at her.

"Andreja, you worship a serpent. You are the last person who should judge my life decisions."

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but every time we jump, I know I feel a presence."

Jimin shrugged and motioned to Barrett. "That's Barrett's cooking. You'll get over it."

Barrett went to lunge at Jimin (not that that would end well), but Andreja halted his movements with one hand. Andreja had more strength than most in the crew, same with stamina, which meant Jimin liked to utilize her for missions on planets with no atmosphere, as they required more strength to traverse.

"See you later, Barrett." Jimin beamed and skipped out of the cafeteria to leave the raging Barrett behind. Jimin went to his room, paused outside it, and ended up back in Jin's quarters.

Jin didn't ask any questions and instead let Jimin sit in bed and drink his ass off while Y/n took them back into orbit. No one liked being on the surface of Akila if they could help it; the frequent dust storms meant they had to take their baby to the shop to get a cleaning every week.

"Rough day?" Jin asked, staring out the window at the space beyond. Stars glimmered and illuminated Jin's face in the otherwise dim room. Jimin made a mental note to begin installing those lights he had bought a few weeks back.

"Rough life."

Jimin took another swig. It was a sweet red, which Jimin preferred, though he enjoyed beer, too. One of the few things Jimin remembered about his father was the life lesson he had given about beer. He had said to learn to like beer, as it made life easier. Going to a bar with a limited selection? Get beer. Need something cheap? Beer. Want something to burn your throat without needing hard liquor? Beer.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Nope," Jimin said, smacking his lips together as he did so. Jimin didn't say anything else for a long moment, and neither did Jin. Then, Jimin swallowed. That time he was sure it was saliva. It was still thick, though. "How did you know?"

Jin didn't take his gaze off the window. "Know what, kid?"

"How you were a man."

Jin shifted at that. His arms that were crossed over his chest went to his side instead, and he leaned against the metal wall with his loose t-shirt making his shoulders appear smaller than they were.

"I don't know. I never really questioned it. Why?"

Jimin drank again. He allowed the liquid to slide down his throat before answering. "Just wondering."

Jin sat next to him and stole the bottle to drink from it. Some crimson tainted his lips when he finished. "Kid, when you get to be my age, you realize you don't know shit. You don't know the galaxy, your home, or even yourself, but you keep trying anyway. If we don't, then what's the point?"

Jin returned the bottle, and Jimin held it but didn't raise it to his mouth. He peered at his dirty boots and wondered when he had cleaned them last, if ever. No knots waited there for him to tie, but he imagined them anyway. It was like he could see a man with curls, a cracked smile, and a scarf thrown over his Crimson Fleet gear kneeling there and grumbling curses while tying them for Jimin.

That got Jimin to take one final swig.

"Yeah. What's the point."

☆☆☆

A/n: Jimin is big sad