She kicks the light off, and it takes a second to adjust to the sudden black and the glow seeping in through the hatch. I drop my gaze to the pirate girl curled up next to me, but Swift’s eyes have already slid closed. Her shirt has ridden up a bit, enough for me to see the stark white of the bandage peeking out.

I think about what she said, about each of her scars being “for” someone. It sounds stupid. I’ve got scars, sure, little ones that dot my body from a lifetime in one of the most dangerous environments a child can grow up in. I’ve even got faint sucker marks wreathing my ankle where a cephalopoid pup got hold of me once, and I sure as hell didn’t get those “for” anybody. But if Swift wants to name her wounds and count her scars, so be it. I guess it’s not my business, except for where that one scar is concerned.

I wonder what it will look like when it’s healed. I let myself imagine the future Swift, with a neat white line slashing across the slab of skin that the bandage now hides. As much as I hate to admit it, a part of me wants to stick around and see how it turns out. If Swift’s decided it’s going to be mine, I can play along.

I drift off slowly, listening to the thrum of the engines and the hiss of Swift’s breathing until some combination of the two lulls me into unconsciousness.

In the middle of the night, I wake up to find that Swift’s shifted, one of her arms thrown lazily over my waist.

I decide that I kind of like it there and let the rhythm of the sea rock me back to sleep.

20

20

The next morning, we wake to Chuck throwing the door open, slamming it into the wall with a thunderous crash. She’s got a manic grin plastered on her face that only gets wider when she sees me in the bed and Swift’s hand trying to sneak back over the crest of my hip.

“I thought you sleep on the trainer deck,” she says, glee sparkling over her round features. For a moment it seems she’s forgotten why she came bursting in, but then her brow shoots up. “Captain’s ordered everyone down below. Apparently we’ve got a traitor in our midst.”

Something horrible is about to happen. There’s a beast in my stomach, clawing to get free, and the sensation persists as we get dressed and sprint down to the trainer deck, joining the throng of crew packed in there. Swift immediately plunges into the crowd, heading straight for the captain. I reach out, hook my fingers in the back of her jacket, and let her guide me forward.