Disconnected

Sure, she was a Mentor to a lot of the youth here, and it'd be nice to think she'd made herself invaluable to the colony, but it was more likely that she was—yes, valuable, but inevitably—exchangeable. She'd never really bonded with people easily; connecting over a task was easier than making small-talk. There were other Mentors available on base here. She'd slipped into that role in the first place, when she was barely out of Orientation herself, because of Seth. What other Occupations could she do? Honestly, she trusted that she could do anything, fill most any niche, with a little training. The world was her oyster, if a dangerous one. Maybe she wouldn't do the dangerous jobs; she'd leave the Mission tasks to the Missioners like Seth. So, where would she go?

What if she did indeed follow her tryst-fellow to Samic colony, as Seth had so scathingly suggested? That would be romance straight out of the storybooks, wouldn't it? She sought out Taz and formally met him; they shared an awkward smile and conversation before she created a polite reason to excuse herself. She played around with the idea of getting to know him better, but determined that, at least for now, it would only add more cumbersome layers to her situation. The charisma of a drunken encounter wasn't a solid foundation for a relationship, outside of fantasy.

***

A couple days later, Seth was standing around gabbing with some of his crew when Cassie walked nearby. She greeted each of them cordially by their last names, then continued past to offer stilted guidance to a struggling teenager, a student of hers. "Kynthia, that is not the best way to do that. May I show you how you can better accomplish that task?"

Seth stared after her for a moment. Catching the intimation that there was still strain between them, he called after her, "Cassie." She showed no sign of hearing. "Cassie!" he summoned louder, in a more familiar tone. Still she did not respond. Her shoulders had stiffened, but she only completed the demonstration to her student and made to leave. Again he called out to her, with more exasperation in his voice, but still not moving his feet.

She only turned around after the third call. "Missioner, that is not an appropriate way to communicate in the workplace. If you have something to say, it is more productive to approach the person instead of calling everyone else's attention to an issue that is not their own." He rolled his eyes at her pompous tone, but she turned and continued her way onward without impedance.

He quick-stepped to catch up and reached out to halt her. "Cassie, we were all just talking about what to do tonight. Will you be part of our group?"

She pulled away from his grasp, and, with a flat face, responded, "Please thank the group for the invitation, Masters, but I have my assignments to carry out, and I have had my time off." She nodded tightly at him, and turned again to leave.

"Come on, Cassie," he kept pushing, stepping in front of her.

She froze, and hissed up at him, "Seth Masters, you cannot have it both ways. Since you feel the need to end our association, you cannot refer to me so familiarly. I can't very well insist that you have nothing to do with me when you seek me out. If others see this behavior, and hear you using my first name, they will unavoidably assume that you know me personally. I can treat you just like any other citizen or Missioner—I can—but the thing is, most other citizens refer to me by my title, and they don't invite me to join their activities. Don't try to play it halfway. I. Can't. Do. That. I'm sorry. I don't know how." Her face was tightly blank as she jerked herself aside to pass him, but her raw emotion showed up in her voice and the hint of tears that she blinked hard away.

His belated realization of her anxiety level left him a little weak. "I didn't mean it," he protested—they both understood he was referring to his denial of her—but sounding lame even in his own ears.

"Yes you did. You always mean what you say. Even if you don't say it very well." Her wounded eyes softened as she turned her head back to look at him, and he thought maybe that was a behavioral trait she was fond of in him. But then her glance lowered and she seemed to retreat into herself. "But you're right; this is what you need. I've been like a security blanket for you, and you gotta throw it away before you can really feel like a man. I get it. I don't like it, but that's just because... it sucks being the blanket." Speechless, he watched her exit.

He returned to hanging out with his friends, but he couldn't focus for brooding about Cassie. His coterie would be leaving soon with new assignments, and he determined he needed to talk with her again, to get this all properly sorted before he left.

He sought her out, but she effectively avoided him by keeping busy seemingly everywhere besides where he looked. He left notes for her in her office and at the house, but she either ignored them or didn't see them. Finally, he simply waited outside her house for her to finish up in the evening.

Mentally reviewing what he wanted to say to her, he also played out how she'd potentially react. He'd tell her how sorry he felt for his outbursts, but that he had realized how much he cared about her, and that the jealousy had actually helped him come to that realization. He hoped she'd throw her arms around him and tell him she felt the same way. Or maybe she'd say she was flattered, but all she could see him as was her brother. Or maybe she'd say'fuck off, it's too late, you've already rejected me and I've already hooked up with someone else'.

He should have kissed her again the other night, after having dinner together. He could have sworn she had been thinking the same thoughts he had, as he hugged her goodnight: of how delicious she felt squeezed up against him; how it felt like there were magnets under their skin pulling their faces closer to each other's. It would have cleared up all of the confusion between them, then and there, and this stupid shit with what's-his-name could have been avoided entirely.

***

She walked home in the dark, but she knew her way and her footsteps were brisk. As she approached her porch light with keys in hand, Seth stepped out of the shadows. She stopped cold when she saw him. Her back was straight and her face showed caution, her voice as even as usual, "Good evening, Missioner Masters. What can I help you with?"

"We need to talk." He tried to match her calm tone as he paced closer. She tilted her chin down, in the style of a bull's warning.

"This is not the time or place to have a discussion, or business meeting."

"I tried to see you all day; I tracked you for a while, but I think this is better anyway."

"I don't see how, Missioner."

Seth swore in exasperation. "Come on, Cass; don't do that. I didn't mean—I mean, I think—" He sighed, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. "I wanted to say that—" He stepped closer in frustration. Maybe it would be easier to start the conversation out byshowing her what all he was feeling, instead of trying to shape the mess into words. He leaned in to kiss her, but she immediately stepped back and shoved his chest away with the hand holding her keys.

He couldn't decipher the complexity in her facial expression, but he thought maybe it was time to try an experiment. He couldn't find the words to explain how he felt about her or what he wanted anyway, even to himself, and damn this was frustrating. Maybe if he showed her moredecisively that he was interested in her, instead ofaccidentally, she'd understand everything that had been going round the whole week between them. And, well, maybe the gossiping girl was right, and Cassie really did prefer a more forceful style of romancing.

He grasped her wrist to pull her arm down and behind him, to bring her close up against him. Reaching his other hand around the back of her head, he kissed her hard. By stepping forward and steering with his grip on her, he forced her stumbling backwards until her shoulders hit the wall, and he could grasp both sides of her face and push his mouth deeper on hers, spiraling his tongue along the insides of her teeth. He couldn't see her face in the darkness of his shadow over her, but for a moment he thought she moaned in response, and he pressed the length of his body tightly up against hers in a sort of sour victory. He rolled his forehead against hers to breath for a moment, letting his hands slide down to frame her neck. "Alright—" he rasped.

But the flash of a hand in his face interrupted him as it snaked between his forearms, breaking his hold on her in two quick thrusts. A palm strike to his chin immediately followed, stars blasting up in his vision as he stumbled back a step, and then a kick straight to his chest knocked him on his ass. He sat for a moment, stretching his jaw and blinking away the stars, and couldn't help but chuckle, feeling unexpectedly relieved. That was much more of the response he had wanted to see in her from the first, when he'd confronted her in her kitchen. "That was quite a kick, Cass," he congratulated her.

Her voice quavered out, "After what you said to me, Becks thought something like this might happen. But I never imagined it would be you." He peered up at her, confused, and was shocked to see, in the illumination of the porchlight, her face crumpled into a grimace of agony. He started to climb to his feet, but she growled, "Stay down," and he froze at the edge of steel in her voice—broken steel—and the sight of a shock stick barrel pointed straight at him. "You really thought the worst of me, didn't you?" She wrenched out each word from the sobs that were beginning to streak her face with tears. "You selfish. Little. Undescended. Ball sack." He felt like he had been hit over the head; he was frozen with incomprehension. What was she talking about?

She tried to swallow her tears but it just turned into a wheeze, and he winced; he had never heard that sound from her. "And I kept thinking the best of you. I still thought we hadsome sort of friendship, if nothing else. Some level of mutual respect from our years growing up... Gods, I am delusional!" Her free hand swiped angrily at her cheeks as she circled him. He didn't know what to say or do. It all felt surreal suddenly. Obviously pulling at the tattered edges of her composure, she straightened her shoulders and bent her knees smoothly to pick up her dropped keys. Her face twitched, but it was the twist in her voice as she tried to speak calmly again that wrenched at him. "Well.Thank you, Seth Masters, for helping me see clearly. You were right to cut ties. I seenothing left of the boy I helped raise. You could be a changeling for all I know."

"Now, wait a minute. What the hell do you think—"

She froze his attempt to scramble up again by pointing the barrel right at his face as she straightened up quickly. She spoke in an intense whisper, words nearly flowing together in their rush to exit her lungs. "Listen to me Seth Masters you stay the hell away from me until you leave tomorrow and we never need to see each other again."

"No Cassie, No, no, No... What just—I was just trying to—" She ignored his jumbled protests, backing towards the door and letting herself in without dropping her bead on him. "Stop, please Cass. I won't touch you. I was, I didn't mean—No, stay!" When she slammed the door and he heard the deadbolt click into place, he jumped up to pound on the door with rising hysteria. "Cassie, Cassie!" He bellowed, "Fuck Fuck FUCK!"

Seth turned in a circle on the doorstep, holding his fists to his forehead as if that would help him think more clearly. Going back to the door, he tried hitting the door with his open palm. "Cassie, talk to me! We've got this all wrong. Fuck, Cass! That wasn't what I meant, I didn't mean any of it!" He backed away from the door to call towards the windows, curtains unmoving. "Cassiopeia, you know me better than that. Cassie!! Listen to me! I'm not leaving until you explain. Or letme explain! Fuck. Let me talk to you!"

He pounded and shouted until he was interrupted by a voice inside. "Seth!? What the actual hell?" He froze, breathlessly watching its opening, but it was Becks who slid out and shut the door behind her. Her face was appalled—confusion, shock and concern worn all over it. "What happened?" She demanded of him. "I've never seen Cassie this upset, or anywhere close."

"I gotta talk to her, Becks, please; this isn't what it looks like." His eyes were desperate, and did nothing to reassure her.

"I don't knowwhat it looks like, but Cassie isn't talking at all right now, not even to me. Clearly you two have something serious to work out, but now is not the time. You need to go back to the barracks. When she's calmer, I'm sure she'll come talk it out."

"No, I'm leaving tomorrow! We have a new Mission, and we're loading out first thing. I have to talk to her!" He was begging now, manic energy almost visibly crackling.

Her eyes softened with reluctant sympathy. She looked over her shoulder as if she could see Cassie through the closed door, and then firmed her resolve. "Then write her a letter. But you need to leave now." Becks retreated inside, leaving Seth crouched on the front step, clasping his forearms around his neck.

In tears, his mewl turned into a howl. "NonononoNoNoNONONO!!!" He paced and thrashed. Panting, he scrubbed his face hard with both hands. "You were right, Cassie, you hear me? I'm sorry! I was jealous, ok? I'm sorry—that's what I was trying to say! Please! Listen!" It was a long time he stood staring at the silent, motionless door before he resigned to the fact that Cassie wasn't coming back out.

***

Over the next few weeks, out in the Mission field, Seth mulled over the situation. He'd totally lost his cool. He'd basically thrown a tantrum, which was mortifying to look back on. That hadn't happened in years, and then all at once he'd blown his top twice in a week. He didn't blame Cassie for rejecting him for that behavior. Though there was a pattern he was starting to see: in all of his rebellions, it was always against Cassie that he struggled. That had to be exhausting for her. But there was clearly something about her that stimulated him deeply.

He just couldn't understand her response. Yes, he'd been pretty much an asshat, but the level of her emotion was unprecedented and uncalled for. And the thing was, she hadn't overreacted to his temper outburst in her kitchen. To that, she'd been as rational as always, though he'd seen it had hurt her. No, she freaked out at his second kiss, to his—granted, clumsy and misguided—attempt at communication. Honestly, he had never seen her break down even half that badly.

He would think perhaps she'd been on her monthly cycle, but that was too easy of an excuse, and not likely. In all the years he'd known her—though not to say he'd really paid that much attention to that particular feminine struggle—she'd never gotten more than just cranky. She'd always been down-to-Earth, solid, stable.

Maybe she really had felt they were family, despite his insistence otherwise. As a sister, she would have been disgusted by his kiss. As a mother, perhaps she would have felt his feelings for her were terribly incestuous. Would that explain her responses? No, he didn't believe it, not really.

The thought hit him out of nowhere. Another time women were known to get crazy and become unable to control their emotional reactions would be when they were with child. What if she was pregnant? What if she had been intimate with another man, and was pregnant withhis baby? The idea made Seth feel physically ill, so that he had to grab on to something and bend at the middle to breathe for a moment. His brain didn't want to picture it, but still did so in great detail.

It wasn't a preposterous notion, or even unlikely. Seth had been away and distracted; she could have been full-on married without him knowing. She certainly was old enough to be living her own life. She would have said something to him about it, though, wouldn't she? Every encounter of Jubilee week flashed through his mind, now with a background of another man waiting for her at home. No, she had a roommate at home, not a partner.

And she wouldn't have been kissing that Missioner without even knowing his name, as if to get revenge on Seth, if she had someone else she was committed to. He believed Cassie had more integrity than to do that. Unless it was Taz all along? But no, she hadn't even known his name.

On the other hand, it didn't take marriage to get pregnant. Just a one-night-stand, a drunken mistake, an afternoon delight—one good fuck could do it.

But for that matter, she definitely wouldn't be drinking alcohol if she were pregnant. Unless she didn't know yet, herself? Was she at the med clinic discovering it even now?

This was unbearable. He had to stop thinking in circles. He would work it all out as soon as he got home. He had to get home. He just had to keep pushing for that assignment to carry mail back, so that he could get there as soon as possible.

***

He was called to the leadership office. Don Penn sat at his work desk, and Secretary Washil ushered him in, pointing him to a seat. "Is this about the courier assignment?" Seth asked hopefully.

"No, actually this is regarding a missive that we have received. Sit down, Missioner." There was a long silence after he sat, and Seth wasn't sure if he was supposed to do something here, but he thought it was wiser to wait. With an expressionless face, the man in charge sat back and opened a letter. "This is correspondence from Mentor Cassie Sparkes," he began.

Seth sat up keenly. "You've heard from Cassie? She wrote to you?" Why hadn't she written directly tohim? He was having a hard time putting his thoughts down on paper, but she'd always been better at that sort of thing. He had expected her to have reached out by now, and he had hoped he'd be able to respond better to whatever she wrote, instead of being the one to break the ice. Maybe a little cowardly of him, but—

"She said that, despite her promise to you that she pretend not to know you,"—here, Penn's eyebrows twitched, and Seth knew the Don wanted to inquire about that, but was keeping himself focused—"she felt the need to communicate with us, your leadership, so as to do what she could to help avoid future incidents from occurring."

"I... don't understand." This wasn't good, he could tell that already.

"Mentor Sparkes asserts that you are unstable and a possible danger to others."

"—She said what?"

Secretary Washil took over the explanation here. "According to her letter, she'd seen signs of your instability over the years she lived with you, but attributed it to your youth and immaturity. It wasn't until your most recent return home that she felt threatened. She isn't sure if that's because she'd refused to acknowledge the danger developing more seriously, or if it was the Mission that had changed you for the worse."

Seth didn't know what to say. He felt like Cassie had reached through her letter and slapped him. She'd never been spiteful; why had she written this? And why to his leadership, instead of to him?

"She is not requesting any follow-up to these altercations specifically. However, it is her suggestion that we assess you carefully, and assign you to a Task far from other people. And to look deeply into the psychological effects of Missioner service in general."

Seth lifted a hand up to rub the back of his head as he shook it in a slow, bewildered denial. "You've got to be messing with me. Cassie would never—"

"Her listing of your inappropriate behavior includes unsolicited physical contact and verbal abuse in her own home," Secretary Washil persisted.