Chapter 16 #2
Than’s chest tightened. Not a breath. Not yet.
“They’ve confirmed the identity.”
The words landed unevenly, like something dropped from a height.
Mei-Lin Harada.
Than felt the freeze crack open, sharp and sudden, like ice giving way underfoot. Heat surged through him, fast and brutal, his skin prickling as sensation came roaring back all at once. His throat closed hard enough to hurt.
“No,” he said.
The word slipped out before he could stop it. Soft. Broken. Barely there. The reality of it broke him open, denial already rising.
He lifted his head slowly, eyes fixed on nothing and swallowed against the burn climbing his throat. The room blurred at the edges from the sheer force of the realization settling into his bones.
When she had kissed him, when she had given herself to him, he had known his life would never be the same.
Now that she was gone, his life would never be the same again.
Joss made a sound beside him. A raw, strangled noise that tore free of his chest before he could contain it. He bent forward suddenly, hands over his face, shoulders shaking as something inside him finally collapsed.
Bridge reached for him without looking, her own eyes locked forward, jaw clenched tight as if holding herself together by will alone. She slipped her arms around him and pulled him close, and like a small boy, he settled against her.
Than didn’t move.
He sat with his spine straight, hands clenched together so hard his fingers ached, eyes burning as he stared ahead. The room registered the shift in him, the moment the quiet, unbreakable one cracked just enough to let the truth show.
Something essential in him had been severed, and everyone could feel it.
Fly stood nearby, still and solid, his presence a steady line drawn through the chaos.
Than didn’t look at him. He couldn’t. Not yet.
He didn’t want to see the leader holding it all at bay, or the friend he loved like a brother.
One would contain the fracture. The other would reveal the cost. Than wasn’t ready for either.
For a heartbeat, hate surged, hot, sharp, undeniable.
This is your fault. You killed Mei, and you stand there like being a strong leader is enough.
The thought horrified him the instant it formed.
Guilt slammed in after it, swift and absolute, smothering the ache in his chest. It filled him up, pressed down, sliding over the grief like a new layer laid atop the old, heavy, deliberate, inescapable.
As if her death were already building something inside him, emotion stacked on emotion, each one harder to carry than the last.
He crushed the thought into silence, forced it down as though it had never existed. He loved Fly. Fly wasn’t to blame.
The officer said something else. Logistics. Next steps. Words that belonged to a world that still made sense.
Than held himself perfectly still and let them wash over him, even as something inside him bled quietly out of reach.
Than heard none of it. All he could hear was the echo of her voice, warm and sure, saying she loved him, and the absolute, irreversible silence that followed.
Until it was broken by the door opening. Joss rose, the blanket falling from his shoulders. “Mom,” he whispered, immediately seeking the shelter of her arms. His dad rubbed his back, and they ushered him out. He and Mei had bonded over sudoku. Mei treated him like a little brother.
Moments later, Bridge’s parents came in. She met them, hugging them both, nodding and brushing at her cheeks at her parents’ comfort. She and Mei were fierce competitors but joined forces in posting photos on Instagram about midshipmen girl power.
Suddenly, he didn’t want to see his brother, Bailee, his mom, or Chay.
He didn’t want to talk about Mei…he couldn’t.
But when the inevitable moment came and his big brother’s broad shoulders filled the doorway, something fundamentally rooted tightened.
He rose as Bear moved toward him in his steady, powerful cadence.
“Little brother,” he said, pulling him into his arms. “We’re here.”
Than rested against him, the soft touch of Bailee’s hand on his arm soothing for half a second. His mom waited, her face filled with sympathy and relief. Chay squeezed his shoulder. When Bear let him go, his mom pulled him into her arms, and like a small child, like Joss, he went with no shame.
Bear’s phone rang, and he looked at the screen. “It’s Ayla, Than.”
Than nodded. He took the phone. “Hey.”
“Than,” Ayla said, her voice soft but steady, a lifeline across the distance.
"I know what you're feeling, but you don't carry this alone. We are with you, just as Mei walks with you still.” There was noise in the background. It was clear Ayla took the time to call him in the midst of her job. "I’m sorry I can’t be there. I’m deployed, but I love you.
Let that fill you until I can hold you in my arms. Bye, my little brother. ”
It was all he could do to keep himself in check.
His sister’s words, like Bailee’s touch, Bear’s embrace, his mother and Chay’s comfort, settled in the place he always held for them, a fraction of the heat he once felt, the cold of Mei’s absence like frost in his veins.
He handed the phone back to Bear as M&M and Clint walked in.
Fly was in conversation with the commandant. M&M, with Clint trailing, just simply walked up to Than and slipped her arms around him. “There’s a good lad.” She held him for a second, and Clint set his hand on his shoulder and squeezed, his eyes warm and kind.
The commandant came over to offer his condolences.
Fly went into M&M’s arms, clasping her hard to his chest, Clint surrounding them both with bands of steel.
“We’re gutted. She was such a sweet, sweet girl.
I’m so proud of you for how you’ve handled everything.
” Fly released her. “They tell me you have to account for yourself at an inquisition.” She took his hands. “We’ll be here when that happens.”
“The ranch,” he said, his chest heavy with the memory of Mei.
“Old Tex is going to handle it for us. He’s as competent as hell. No need to worry.”
“Yeah, he’s a good mate,” Fly said. He glanced over at Than and could see that even his family wasn’t breaking through that cold wall he’d erected.
“Excuse me for one moment,” he said. Fly caught Bear’s eye and gestured with a sharp tilt of his chin toward the corner of the room.
They needed a moment away from the noise, away from the comforting hands that couldn't fix what was broken.
Bear didn't hesitate, disengaging from the group with that silent, grounded grace he always carried.
They found a quiet spot away from the flow of traffic. Fly turned to him, dropping the formal posture he’d been holding like a shield all day. Bear clasped his shoulder, already knowing what Mei meant to them. They had visited often enough to know who she was.
“Than…he needs…” Fly said, his voice low, intense. “It’s not just grief. It’s...it’s heart deep.”
He looked toward Than, feeling the phantom weight of his loss.
“What changed between them?”
"They loved each other. They only had a week, that’s all the time they were given.
Now he’s staring at a future he didn't choose, one where she doesn't exist." Fly shifted his weight, his jaw tight “I’m watching my brother fall apart, and I don’t know how to help him.” He looked back at Bear, his gaze steady and unyielding. "He needs professional help. Not just time. Not just us. I can stand with him, and I can carry the watch, but this...this is deeper than command. It’s deeper than brotherhood. We need to get him someone who knows how to treat this kind of wound. It’s the right thing to do. "
Later, after he got M&M and Clint settled in a hotel, he went back to his dorm. Than was already asleep, or pretended to be. Fly sat on his bed, and the weight of everything came down on him so fast it stole his breath.
He might have saved himself and the crew. That mattered. He wouldn’t downplay it. But he’d failed Mei. He’d lost her. She was gone, and the only fact that wouldn’t loosen its grip was that he had waited too long to tell Hollis to go to fuck off and head for shore.
He remembered every warning. Every shift.
Every moment when instinct had spoken before certainty caught up.
He hadn’t felt vindicated for a second. He had spent four years obeying orders, training himself to wait for permission.
Mei had paid the price for that blind spot, and he would carry it for the rest of his life.
His phone buzzed.
MJ: Everyone’s totally messed up over Mei. Do you need some comfort?
Fly stared at the screen. The hollowness inside him couldn’t be filled with mindless sex. She would be a body. Nothing more. After what Than and Mei had shared, that emptiness felt obscene. He typed back. No. Thank you, though.
He set the phone down. A knock came almost immediately. MJ didn’t like taking no for an answer. Fly opened the door, his jaw set to gently rebuff MJ, but the words died in his throat.
It wasn't her. It was Joker.
The sight of the man hit him harder than the rogue wave had. Joker. Bear’s LT. The man who had been instrumental in shaping him before the academy. The man who had taught him that leadership wasn't about being the loudest in the room, but the steadiest.
A sharp burn stung the back of Fly’s eyes. He swallowed hard. Gratitude surged with something darker underneath. Joker seeing him like this, raw and fraying, felt like failure.
He tried to speak.
Joker didn’t let him.
The older officer stepped inside, closed the door softly, and reached up. His hand was warm and calloused as it closed around the back of Fly’s neck, firm and grounding.
“I’m here, kid,” Joker said. “For you. Let’s talk.”
Fly nodded, trusting nothing about his voice. He glanced at Than’s bed. Than hadn’t moved. Fly didn’t want to risk breaking the fragile quiet holding him together.
Joker read it instantly. He tightened his grip and guided Fly down the hall, his arm settling around Fly’s shoulders. It felt less like escort and more like a lifeline.
The common room was empty, lit only by the glow of a vending machine. Joker dropped onto the couch and pulled Fly down beside him.
"How are you doing, Flynn?" Joker asked, his voice low and devoid of the usual military brusqueness.
Fly let out a shaky breath, staring at the floor. "I'm...holding it together."
Joker snorted softly. “No one ever checks the guy in charge. They think rank makes you bleed less. We both know that’s bullshit.”
The words spilled out before Fly could stop them. “You warned me. You said leadership would shape me in the best and worst ways.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I didn’t understand then. I do now.”
Joker studied him for a long moment. “I talked to Andrew Hollis. I saw the footage Harvard took.”
Fly’s stomach dropped. “It’s on film.”
Joker nodded, pulling out his phone, handing it to Fly.
Fly took the phone, his hand trembling slightly, and pressed play.
The storm filled the screen. Gray water, chaotic swells, the boat pitching hard enough to blur the horizon.
He watched himself move through it, decisions clean, timing exact.
No hesitation. No wasted motion. He recognized the turn he’d made at the critical second, the brutal angle that kept them from being broadsided.
The wave broke over the bow, a wall of water washing the deck, and then the safety line snapped.
Mei went over.
Fly lowered the phone before the footage ended.
None of it absolved him. Not the precision.
Not the outcome. Watching it again didn’t answer anything.
It only carved the truth deeper. You could do everything right and still lose.
Responsibility didn’t come with guarantees.
Leadership wasn’t control. It was standing in the aftermath when control failed.
He handed the phone back, his throat tight. “I don’t know how to process this.”
Joker took it, slipped it into his pocket. “You don’t yet,” he said quietly. “That part comes later.”
“I did everything right,” Fly said, the words tearing out of him before he could stop them. His breath hitched, grief dragging at him like an undertow. “I still lost her.”
Joker held his gaze. “Perfection’s a lie,” he said. “That video doesn’t show failure. It shows the cost of command.”
“She wasn’t just a crewmate,” Fly said quietly. “Or a classmate. She was a friend.” His jaw tightened. “Even that word doesn’t touch it.”
Joker nodded once. He didn’t rush to fill the silence.
“That’s the other side of command,” he said at last. “Not the authority. The access. How far inside you let them get.”
Fly didn’t look up.
“Your brothers won’t just fight beside you,” Joker went on.
“They’ll hold you up. They’ll carry you when you don’t think you can stand, and all the while, their lives will still be in your hands.
” He leaned back, eyes distant for a moment.
“I lost people I didn’t think I’d survive losing.
” Fly finally looked at him. “I kept leading,” Joker said, steady now.
“Not because I had to. Walking away would’ve meant they died for nothing.
Leadership is how you honor them. You don’t abandon the work. You carry it forward.”
Joker squeezed his shoulder, the pressure firm and grounding. Then he pulled Fly into a hard embrace, holding him tight for a long moment before pulling back to look him in the eye.
"Your job is to complete the mission and get your people home," Joker said, his eyes steady and piercing. He let the words settle in the silence between them, heavy and absolute. “You didn’t falter, Fly, or make a mistake. But we’ll carry everyone we lose, a burden, and a sacrifice we’ll never be able to shake.
But that’s what we signed up for, and maybe we don’t understand until our first loss, but every fiber of our being will be locked onto the people we are responsible for, not because we’re leaders, but because we feel every one of those losses. ”
Fly let the words sink in, the truth of them settling into the hollow spaces of his chest. It didn't make the pain go away, but it gave the pain a purpose.
Joker gripped the back of his neck one last time, his eyes steady. "You and me. We'll carry it all." Joker stood. “Try to sleep. I’ll be here for the funeral. I’ll be back for the inquest.”
Fly nodded, the words settling over him like a heavy blanket. He knew the inquiry was coming, the formal investigation into the incident. He would face the board, and he would tell the truth. For Mei. For his crew. For himself. Mei would matter.
"Thank you, sir."
Joker gripped his shoulder one last time, gave him a nod, and walked out.