Page 24

Kav'eth

I settle into the bridge chair, far enough from Derek to provide privacy but close enough that our empathic bond remains active.

Every instinct I possess is screaming at me to prevent this conversation, to find reasons why the communication array is malfunctioning, to protect what Derek and I have built from outside interference.

Instead, I watch the human I am falling in love with prepare to seek advice from the human he used to love.

The irony of the situation is not lost on me.

Derek is about to speak with Jake Morrison; Zeph's human, the one who started this entire compatibility program reassessment.

But Derek has no knowledge of this connection, and Jake certainly cannot reveal that he knows exactly what Derek is experiencing.

The communication link crackles to life, and suddenly Jake's voice fills the bridge.

"Derek?" The surprise in Jake's voice is evident even through the audio distortion. "Holy shit, where are you calling from? This connection sounds weird."

"It's... complicated," Derek says, shooting a glance at me. "I'm traveling. Look, I know this is random, but I needed to talk to someone who actually knows me. Really knows me."

"Okay..." Jake's voice carries what sounds like genuine concern, though I know it must be carefully manufactured. "Are you alright? You sound different."

"I'm fine. Great, actually. But I'm in a situation where I might have to make some big decisions about my life, and I need perspective from someone who's been in a relationship with me."

"Derek, you're kind of freaking me out. What kind of decisions?"

Derek runs a hand through his still-damp hair, clearly struggling with how much to reveal. "There's someone. Someone I've gotten really close to really fast, and he wants... he wants me to relocate. Permanently. Like, give up everything here and start over somewhere else."

"Wow," Jake says, and his surprise sounds more measured now. "That's... a big ask."

I watch Derek's jaw clench with frustration. "I know it sounds crazy. But this is different, Jake. This person... he sees me. Really sees me. Not just the Instagram version."

"And he wants you to give up your entire career for him?"

"It's not that simple." Derek's eyes meet mine across the bridge, and through our bond I feel his conflicted emotions. "He doesn't understand my career. He thinks it's... superficial."

"Is it?" Jake asks quietly.

The question hangs in the air like a challenge. Derek goes very still, and I can feel his shock through our connection.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Jake pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is gentler. "Derek, you called me for perspective, so I'm going to give it to you. Your Instagram career was one of the reasons we didn't work."

I watch Derek's face carefully, noting the way his expression shifts from surprise to something that might be hurt.

"Because you didn't support it," Derek says, but there's less conviction in his voice than I would have expected.

"No, because you prioritized it over everything else. Including me."

The words make Derek go very still. I can feel his emotional state through our bond; shock, denial, and underneath it all, the uncomfortable recognition of truth.

"That's not... I never..." Derek starts, then stops. "Jake, when did you know? That we weren't going to work?"

The question seems to surprise Jake. "You really want to know?"

"Yeah. I need to know."

"Our six-month anniversary."

"What?" Derek's voice jumps with surprise. "But we had a good night. I thought... the sex was great."

"The sex was great," Jake agrees quietly. "But Derek, I got a manicure that day. And a haircut. I bought a new shirt that I thought you'd like. I even got waxed." He pauses, and I can hear the old hurt in his voice. "I spent the entire day getting ready to celebrate six months with you."

Through our bond, I feel Derek's growing dread.

"And you were an hour late to dinner because you had to reshoot content for a supplement company," Jake continues. "We missed our movie reservation. You spent half of dinner checking your phone to see how the post was performing."

"Jake, I—"

"That's when I realized I would never be a priority in your life," Jake says simply.

"I could get waxed and buy new clothes and plan special nights, but there would always be something more important.

A post that needed better lighting, a brand that wanted last-minute content, followers who needed your attention more than I did. "

"That's just one example," Jake continues, his voice still gentle but unflinchingly honest. "You used to reschedule our plans if a brand wanted to do a last-minute collaboration.

You checked your engagement rates during movies.

You'd be completely present for a livestream with strangers but give me half your attention during dinner. "

I watch Derek process these accusations, and I can feel through our bond that they're landing with the weight of recognition rather than the shock of unfair criticism.

"I didn't know I was doing that," Derek says quietly.

"I know you didn't. That's what made it so frustrating. You weren't trying to be selfish, but your entire world revolved around creating content and maintaining your following. Everything else—including our relationship—came second."

Derek is quiet for so long that Jake speaks again.

"Derek? You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Derek's voice is rough. "I'm just... processing."

"Look, I'm not trying to hurt you," Jake says, and his voice carries uncertainty.

"You asked for perspective, and I'm giving it to you, but.

.. I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. You're an incredible person, Derek.

You're dedicated and passionate and you work harder than anyone I know.

But you're also... I mean, you can be really focused on your career. Sometimes maybe too focused?"

I feel Derek's shame through our bond, sharp and uncomfortable. But also something else; relief, perhaps, at finally having someone articulate what he's been sensing about himself.

"The person you're with now," Jake continues, still sounding hesitant, "does he make you feel like you have to choose between him and your career?

Or is he maybe asking you to think about whether your career is as important as you think it is?

I don't know, I'm probably not the right person to ask. .."

Derek looks at me across the bridge, and our eyes meet. Through our bond, I feel his realization; not just about what I was asking of him, but about what his career might have been costing him all along.

"I think..." Derek says slowly, "he's asking me to consider what actually matters to me."

"And what does matter to you?"

Derek's gaze never leaves mine as he answers. "He does. This person matters to me more than anything I've ever felt before."

"Then maybe the question isn't whether you should give up your career for him. Maybe the question is whether your career has been preventing you from having the kind of relationship you actually want." Jake pauses. "I mean, I don't know. That's just... that's what I think, anyway."

I watch Derek absorb this perspective, and through our empathic bond, I feel something shifting in his emotional landscape. Not just understanding, but acceptance.

"Jake," Derek says after a moment, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Are you... are you happy? Like, genuinely happy with your life right now?"

There's a pause, and when Jake speaks again, there's something different in his voice. Warmer, more content than I remember from Derek's descriptions of their relationship.

"Yeah," Jake says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Actually, I really am. I'm in a relationship with someone who... who sees me the way you're describing this person seeing you. And it's incredible."

"That's good," Derek says, and I can feel through our bond that he means it. "I'm glad you found that."

"Derek, where are you calling from? Really? This connection is unlike anything I've heard before, and you're being really vague about where you are."

Derek glances at me, and I can feel his moment of decision through our bond.

"I can't really explain right now," he says finally. "But I'm safe, and I'm... I'm figuring some things out."

"Okay. Just... be careful, alright? And Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever you decide, make sure it's because you want to be with this person, not because you're running away from something else. If that makes sense."

"I will. Thanks, Jake. For being honest with me." Derek pauses, his voice becoming rougher. "And Jake? I'm sorry. I'm really fucking sorry. I didn't know I was doing that to you, but that doesn't make it okay."

"Hey," Jake says gently, "as long as you do better next time, it's all good. That's what matters, right?"

"Yeah," Derek says quietly. "That's what matters."

"Take care of yourself." Jake pauses, then speaks haltingly in broken Nereidan: " Keth'va... um... naleth mor. Shan'dal... kava... neseth ."

The connection terminates immediately.

Derek frowns, looking at the communication array. "Did you hear that? At the end? He said something but I couldn't make it out."

I remain perfectly still for a moment, processing what Jake just said. He deserves to be loved completely. Take care of him.

"I heard only static," I say carefully. "There may have been signal interference at the end."

Derek sits motionless for several moments, processing everything he's just heard. Through our empathic bond, I can feel the complexity of his emotional state; hurt, shame, understanding, and underneath it all, overwhelming confusion.

"So," he says finally, his voice shaky. "That was... fuck."

I remain silent, unsure what response he needs from me.

"He's right, you know," Derek continues, running his hands through his hair.

"About me being self-absorbed. About putting my career before everything else.

" He looks at me, and I can see the pain in his eyes.

"I hurt him, Kav'eth. I hurt someone who cared about me and I didn't even realize I was doing it. "

"Derek—"

"No, let me..." He stands abruptly, then seems uncertain what to do with himself. After a moment, he moves toward me, sliding onto my lap more for comfort than intimacy. "I need to think about this. About what Jake said. About what you're asking me."

I can feel through our bond how overwhelmed he is, how this conversation has shaken his understanding of himself.

"You don't have to decide anything right now," I tell him gently, my hands settling on his waist to steady him.

"But I do, don't I?" Derek's voice is quiet, vulnerable. "The assessment period has an end date. You have to report back to your Council."

"Yes," I admit. "But perhaps... perhaps we can find ways to extend the evaluation period. To give you more time to process what you've learned."

Derek leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. Through our bond, I feel his gratitude for the space I'm offering him, even as his emotions remain chaotic.

"I think..." he says slowly, "I think I want to choose you. Choose this. But I need to be sure I'm choosing it for the right reasons. Jake said to make sure I'm not just running away from something."

"And are you? Running away?"

Derek is quiet for a long moment. "Maybe partly," he admits.

"But also... when I think about going back to my old life, it feels empty now.

Performing for people who don't know me, optimizing everything, never being fully present with anyone.

.." He pulls back to look at me. "I don't want to be that person anymore. "

"But you're not certain yet."

"I'm getting there," Derek says, and I can feel the truth of it through our bond. "This conversation with Jake... it clarified a lot. But I need some time to sit with it all."

"Take the time you need," I tell him, meaning it completely. "This decision will affect the rest of your life. It should not be made in haste."

Derek smiles for the first time since the call ended, and through our bond I feel some of his tension ease. "Thank you. For letting me call him. For staying with me while I heard all that. For not pushing me to decide right now."

"I love you," I say quietly. "That means I want you to choose what's truly best for you, even if that choice takes you away from me."

Derek's eyes fill with something that might be tears. "How are you real?" he whispers.

Through our empathic bond, I feel his growing certainty, his recognition that what we have is worth fighting for. But I also feel his need to process, to heal from the revelations about his past behavior before he can fully commit to a different future.

"I'm going to figure this out," he tells me. "I'm going to make the right choice. For both of us."

"I believe you will," I tell him honestly.

As Derek settles more comfortably against me, I can feel through our bond that his chaos is beginning to settle into something more manageable. Not answers, not yet, but the beginning of a path toward them.

For now, that's enough.