Three Sentence Ficathon

They pass paths sometimes in the night - well, very early morning - when she's coming home from another night at the bars and a stranger's apartment. She's never sure why he's still awake, but his face never changes, the same calm nod as he keeps going, the crispness of his uniform unruffled as ever.

It takes time to realize that even after everything she did he's still worried about her, takes time to realize that she should have left as soon as he came out of the hospital room, that it's not just her she's hurting by staying in the barracks and the ship and the neural link.