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i.
Last time Solana saw Talla Keyali, Talla was giving an impassioned argument to her father about why the Union isn’t a waste of her talents. It’s a little hard to think of the person who called her father narrow-minded as family, even if she technically is, even if he technically is. They haven’t talked at length since Solana was ten, and they’re sure as hell not going to talk at length now. Talla must hate her.
“I just found out about it,” Alara reassures her, her fingers stroking Solana’s arm. “I would have said something if I knew.”
Solana scoffs. It’s playful, sisterly, but rooted in genuine annoyance. “You really didn’t know our cousin replaced you as chief of security on the Orville? Are you sure?”
Alara throws her hands up, breaking the contact. “I’ve been… busy. They’ve been busy. Not a lot of time to check in with old friends.”
She says it with a radiating sadness that stabs a a similar ache into Solana’s chest. She’s trying so hard to be the sister Alara needed, to be in tune with Alara’s emotions, to help her when she needs help and support her when she needs support, to synchronize their lives for the first time ever. She’s trying so hard to be lovable to Alara, juggling balls and plates, scrambling around in frantic, futile movements just to keep her love intact. She was a bad sister. She will no longer be a bad sister. She’s trying so hard. She’s trying.
So she won’t press it further. It’s clear that Alara is telling the truth now; she only gets that look in her eye, the gaze of a starving and neglected pet begging strangers for food, when she’s ignored.
It’s shameful that she only figured that out recently.
Solana sits back, watches space swirl all around them from the viewscreen of their shuttle. Alara wanted to see all of this, wanted to protect every crevice of the universe, wanted to embed herself in distant planets and distant loves and never look at Xelayah again. Alara wanted the universe---and as Solana watches the darkness of space blend up a dark harmony with Alara's hair, Solana begins to understand her desire for exploration.
That's all the Union really is, she thinks. Exploration, and protection. Alara wore her bravery like chest armor back then, tight and safe around her, and Solana had turned away, blinded by her own reflection in the metal.
ii.
She's only seen the Orville in small flashes. She studied Alara's quarters when they had their rare, brief calls; they always seemed too large and too empty for one person, a loneliness hazard. She studied the images Alara sent her of the bridge view over 2 dimensional space. She studied the layout of the ship when Alara landed her military design position and dug the blueprints back out for reference. None of that can even remotely compare to the real thing.
The real Orville is massive. She knew that on some level, but the full breadth of it only hits her as she helps Alara off the shuttle and takes in the sight of the interior---bright, metallic, and pristine. She unfolds Alara's other forearm crutch and slides Alara's hand over the handles. It must have meant the entire galaxy to Alara when she arrived here those years ago. A refuge, a ship full of saviors, a haven away from Solana. It's so impressive and welcoming that she can't even resent it for taking her sister away from her.
They're greeted by one smiling face and one smiling face that falls instantly when it notices Solana. Of course. Of course Talla would come to greet them; she's the chief of security, and - ugh - family.
"You must be Solana," says the other woman, her grin still plastered wide. "I'm Commander Kelly Grayson. I've heard a lot about you."
Solana gives an awkward smile, her lips quivering. "Well, whatever you've heard, I'm sure it wasn't great. But.. just know that things are different now."
"Oh, yeah?" asks Kelly. "How so?"
She puts her arm around Alara. "Because I finally know how cool my baby sister is."
Alara shoots her a look that definitely means your tongue was in my mouth five hours ago shut up, but Solana shakes her head and stares back at Kelly, darts her eyes to the floor, to the spiral staircase just outside the door, to anything besides Talla's presence.
"Well," Kelly says, gesturing to Talla, "Lieutenant Keyali will show you to your quarters. The wedding starts in about eight hours. I know Claire will be so happy to see you, especially now that you're getting along. Have fun, guys, see you later."
Solana forces herself to look.
Talla's face has recoiled back into its normal expression of warmth. She doesn't look upset at all anymore; her face says welcome, says joy, says relief.
"You didn't tell anyone?" Alara asks as they walk down what feels like a boundless spiral of hallways. "I don't get it."
"I just thought it'd be better if I kept it to myself," Talla shrugs. "I didn't know how you'd feel if I did, so I just... didn't." She pauses. "Plus, we did get launched into a war almost immediately after I showed up, so there wasn't a lot of time to talk about it."
Oh. The war.
Solana thinks back to the day they saw Kaylon forces move toward Xelayah. They clustered in the skies and blotted out the light, the entire surface of Xelayah dark and harrowing. The red from their ships formed large circles over the ground of every land, like human blood splattered across glass. The planet was blanketed in the sounds of shrieks and cries and sobs, and Solana had been blanketed in Alara's kisses. Neither of them expected to survive it, so why not, when they thought the end was imminent? Why not give in to the desires they had both been stuffing down their throats like rotten meat? Why not?
She looks over. Alara's face betrays her; she's thinking the exact same thing.
"That makes total sense," Solana interjects. "Doesn't it, Alara?"
Alara nods, gives a sheepish mm-hmm.
"Right," Talla says, shaking her head. "So, how have you been? I heard you're working for the Xelayan military now, Alara?"
Before Alara can speak for herself, Solana jumps in again. "She sure is! She designs layouts for outposts and a few new bases we got after the Kaylon war ended. She's really good at it, too."
"That's cool. What about you?"
"Oh, I took a leave of absence from my job to help Alara out when she got back."
"That's really nice of you. It sounds like... you've changed your opinion on the military, then, huh?"
Solana gives a slow nod. "I'm sorry for how everything was before."
"Oh, it's fine," Talla says, waving her hand. She stops them in front of a closed door with a plaque pasted on the frame that reads 310. She suspects that these quarters will not be as spacious as Alara's were.
"Just so you know, we're accomodating a ton of Kaylon for the wedding, so there wasn't exactly a huge selection of quarters left when we got your late RSVP. You've got a king mattress. I hope that's okay, we can synthesize a---"
"It's fine," Alara interrupts. "I mean, it'll work."
"Why do the Kaylon need guest quarters?" Solana asks. "I didn't know they slept."
"They don't - as far as we know - but their leader asked for it and we're not exactly in a position to say no."
"Got it," Solana smiles.
iii.
Alara needs to rest as much as she can before the wedding; being off-world takes a lot out of her now. Being on Xelayah takes a lot out of her now. Solana wonders, sometimes, if she really did make a full recovery, or if their doctor was sugarcoating an unfortunate truth. Her mobility isn't what it used to be; she's out of breath when she walks, she complains of various aches on a daily basis, she gets tired too easily.
It doesn't matter. She's the same Alara; fuck anyone else who says otherwise. Solana will always be here to help Alara into bed, to pull the covers over her, to hold her arm as she walks, to retrieve her mobility aids. Atonement.
Love.
"Have you figured out what you're going to wear yet?"
"Oh, uh..."
Solana smiles, reads her mind. "I can pick something out for you if you're too tired. You know, if you trust me."
Alara pulls her down onto the bed with a weak tug and a tired moan.
"I do," she says. "You've always been way better at fashion."
"Is that why you used to steal my clothes?"
"It was part of why," Alara laughs, curling into Solana's arms. The blanket beneath her is plush and warm, the sheets a calming peach satin. As Alara holds her in soft silence, and Solana stares out once more at the scenery of space - beauty in the absence of light, beauty in void - she can almost understand why Alara adored this place so much.
"Hey," Alara says, slicing through the thick quiet. She leans further into Solana, the ridges of her forehead and nose sharp and pink over Solana's face. When they kiss, Solana melts down into her sister--she is careful with her touch, careful as she places her hand underneath Alara's chin to pull her closer, careful as her other hand slides over Alara's hip, careful, always careful, she cannot break Alara again. "I---"
There's the swaying sound of their door sliding open, a puff of cold, recycled air---
"Hey, so the captain and the commander were wondering if you wanted to---"
And, of course, there's Talla Keyali.
"...hang out in the---I'll come back later."
Solana springs up. "Wait," she says. "Wait."
It takes a moment for Talla to come back in, and in her absence Solana's heart flutters with anxiety. If this gets out---
Talla wouldn't, would she?
Would she?
"I knew there was something going on," Talla breathes, returning with a stride too slow for Solana's comfort. "Uh... wow."
"Please don't tell anyone," Solana says, because there's no point in saying anything else. "I'm so sorry, Talla."
Talla sighs. She looks at the big picture---Alara, weak and flustered in their king-sized bed, her hair unkempt and her lipstick smudged; Solana, her shirt half-unbuttoned, her legs shaking as she begs for Talla's silence. As Talla processes it, Solana studies her expression; it seems to flow in too many directions for her to decipher.
"Since when have you two..."
"We thought the Kaylon were going to destroy Xelayah," Alara blurts, "so..."
And then Talla unravels---her demeanor changes from shocked and tight to loose and nonchalant. "I kinda get it," she says.
"What?" Alara asks.
Talla folds her arms in front of her, like she's preparing herself to endure something unbearably stressful, but the look on her face doesn't read stress; it reads fascination.
"I've always thought that Solana was beautiful," Talla says, like it's the most normal thing in the world. "When we were kids I used to try and get in fights with her because I thought she was cute when she was angry."
Solana blinks. Alara blinks. Talla winks.
"Don't worry," Talla says, and there's an invitation in the scratch of her voice, "I won't tell anyone."
Talla turns to leave, but Alara stops her. Again. Captain Mercer is going to start wondering why she's been gone so long...
"Wait," Alara says, a small cough. "When... is the wedding, again?"
"Oh, uh, 0900."
"When do you have to be back?" Solana asks.
"I think I can spare a few hours. Everything seems pretty calm here." She presses a few buttons on the door, and it slides shut again with a locking noise. "So, what's up?"
Solana takes her hand. Her palms are rough, callused, and her grip is strong. She's one of the finest and fiercest Xelayans that Solana has ever seen.
Talla is beautiful. They've spent too much time apart.
She looks at Alara. Alara looks eager. Intrigued. They both want to watch this unfold.
"Tell me more," Solana says, sliding her other hand over Talla's cheek, "about how I'm cute."
