*Wyl*

Wyl worked his ass off on the Wreck for the next six days, staying under the radar and avoiding Danica as much as possible. Every passing day brought him closer to going back to the station, and to Robbie. He sometimes stopped in the middle of his work, paralyzed by a memory, savoring the vivid sensations his brain provided as he remembered Robbie's hands, the feel of his mouth, and the softness of the bed beneath his back as Robbie pressed into him, held him, and took him. It was occasionally awkward having such vibrant recollections, and Wyl was very glad he was working alone.

Finally it was almost time, everything was almost ready, and Wyl was more than ready. The Wreck looked better than it had in years, but he kept at it anyway, trimming the lines, rechecking the new seals on the door, loading the last of the cargo—

"That's a very annoying habit you've picked up."

Wyl froze for a moment, his body locked in a rigor of fear before calming down enough to turn around. "What habit?"

"Whistling," Danica replied, walking across the docking bay towards him. "I've never heard you do it before, Wyl. It echoes abominably, it makes my head hurt just to listen to it."

She stalked up to him, cat eyes glaring, smoldering like dying stars. Her metallic, coppery hair glittered like thousands of tiny knives, and the skin-tight black leather suit she was wearing looked more suitable to a dominatrix's wardrobe than a miner's. She stopped less than a foot away from Wyl, cocking her head to one side, her expression cold.

She smelled like flowers. It was an incongruous combination.

"What could put you in the mood to whistle, Wyl?" she asked, anger and bitterness suffusing her voice. "Looking forward to something? Or someone?"

"Just pleased with my work."

"Fucking bullshit." She raised a hand faster than Wyl could see and leveled it across his face. The crack from the slap reverberated throughout the docking bay.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Wyl was reeling, his face burning and his mind numb from the blow, when Danica grabbed his hair and hauled him close to her. Tiny flecks of spittle flew from her lips as she broke into a shout. "Did you play at being someone's little whore, you slut? Did you? Who was it? What did she do to get you into her bed?"

She. At least she hasn't put everything together. "You're paranoid," Wyl said painfully, his jaw aching. "And it's none of your business. So fuck off."

Danica's face contorted with fury, and her skin flushed. Wyl could see that the whites of her eyes were actually pink, and her skin was burning to the touch. She's on something. He didn't have time to wonder what, because an instant later she threw him, head first, at the Wreck.

Wyl managed to turn so that he didn't hit with his face, but that was the best he could do. The side of his head and his shoulder impacted the metal with a thud, and he dropped to the ground, blind with pain. He barely even felt it when she grabbed him by the hair again.

"You're going to go up there and finish this, because if you don't I'll have that marshal fucker breathing down my neck. You'll finish it, and I hope you enjoy yourself, because when you come back I'll keep you here working off your bond for the next ten years of your life."

"You can't..."

Danica laughed cruelly. "No one is checking on you, Wyl. No one cares about you. I can do anything that I want to you, and nobody will give a shit." She shook his head violently, nails digging into his scalp. "You think you're special? Think again. I own this world. Nobody tells me no, least of all a snotty little bonder." She let him go and straightened up, flipping her long hair over one shoulder.

"Vic won't be flying you up there this time. Mike's accompanying you. He'll be here in half an hour, so have everything ready to go then." She whirled around and stalked away, leaving Wyl crouched on the floor with his head still ringing, confusion and anger warring with pain. There was truth in what she said, and that was the worst part. She was right. He was just a bonder. The system couldn't help him, and neither could Robbie.

He'd tell him the truth. Make a clean break. Robbie wouldn't want him once he found out about his past, anyway...

Sudden nausea at that thought bent Wyl double. Damn his sensitivity, and damn the way Danica made him feel. He slowly got control of himself, breathing shallowly. He touched his head. It hurt, and his face still stung, but that was nothing compared to the sudden grief his soul was howling to express. He clamped down on it harshly. Now wasn't the time. Now would never be the time. He had to hold it together long enough to see Robbie and explain things. Then he could come back down here and fall to pieces.

Maybe Danica would watch.