“Oh, there was something else, wasn’t there?” Faith flinched, bent and sagged as she coughed. Fighting against the waves of hacking torture that wracked her crooked frame, the Admiral waved away the hands that reached to support her, stretched out, almost as if for some unseen object, and then let her frail hand raise up above the invisible mass that she couldn’t be sure was not there, crowding the bay around her. “Doctor. Doctor?”

The response came calm and soft, clear and immediate. “I’m here, Admiral.”

“In one of the pockets of the deep reactor suit,” she snapped her fingers dully “did you find... did someone find a badge? A distinguished flying cross...” She shuffled a half turn in the silence, stared into nothingness with dead, blank eyes.

“There was something...” Another voice spoke up, someone younger, their pipes keener, feminine. The quiet whisper of feet, and then a hand reached for hers, pressed something metallic into it. “This was the only thing we found on your person when you came in, Admiral.”

“Must be it.” Faith managed, running her thumb across the face of the little piece of metal and turning it over and over in her hand. From where he was, Panem could see the surface, could see the way the metal was streaked and warped, discolored by the currents and the soaking burn of exotic core radiations– but to Faith’s fingers, to her sightless eyes, it was the same badge, the same luck charm Panem had handed her in the deep reactor moments before the fickle energies of the core had reached up to sweep through her, to catch her and ravage her body in a way that no amount of medicines or greypatches could ever truly heal.

“Here.” She said, one gnarled hand offering the badge back to him. Another maimed smile stretched across her lips, showed teeth as cruelly pitted and scarred as her skin. “Some might say that what happened to me was far from good luck, but I’ve never been one to take the gift of life for granted.”

“I appreciate it, Admiral.” Panem smiled and, reaching out, gently closed her hand around the badge. For a moment, the Admiral looked on in quiet confusion, silent and unsure but open, willing to watch each action play out in the darkened world around her. Panem patted her hand softly. “But the truth is, I’d like you to have it.”

Faith’s lips pursed, uncertain, hesitating for a moment before she smiled again, nodded quietly. For the barest moment, it almost seemed as if she could see him, as if their eyes met over the curve of softening smiles, and in that moment, he saw the Admiral as she had been– the stunning, olive-eyed flower of cinnamon dust tall and strong in full maturity, a woman full of resolve and command, as strong and unwavering and beautiful as a blade forged from Damascus steel.

“I’m glad you came, Panem.” She said, and even as she smiled, he looked away, unable, unwilling to let the twisted face of the ravaged shell she had become imprint itself over the memory of her lost beauty. In the pause, she reached out, found his shoulder, squeezed. “Now, go get some rest. Admiral’s orders,” she gestured tiredly “And I’m sure doctor’s orders as well, considering what we’ve both gone through.” her grotesque smile spread, widened. “Besides, I’ve got a meeting with our pilots in fifteen minutes and I need a few moments to collect my thoughts.” She fought a cough, the buckling of tired knees, managed the edge of a dry chuckle. “I’m still not... one hundred percent.”

“That’s why you should be resting.” The doctor broke in, rushing over to help her, to support her as she lay back down. “But does anyone ever listen to the doctor? No. They always push themselves to the last instant, and then–”

“Enough, doctor.” Faith managed, her voice wispy, tired. “I’m not lying down. Maybe later, but not yet. That’s the best you’re going to get for now.”

“Let me...” Panem began, hesitating for the barest moment. “Let me help you, Admiral.” He took a quick survey of the bay. “Medical is really crowded right now.” He swallowed, reached for her hands again. “Let me be your eyes.”

The smile was slow to return, but when it came back, Faith nodded. Gnarled, bandaged fingers tightened across his hands, lips parting on a hoarse whispered “thank you.”

Panem nodded quickly, absently, then, remembering her blindness, he gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “Your office, right?”

“Right.” She managed.

Panem smiled again, nodded once to the doctor. “This way.”