still thought of her as a kid, even after all these years. An
embarrassment to the team. To him.
If she hadn’t before, she’d proved it tonight with her
behaviour, picking fights and smashing glasses. Taz felt ill
again as she saw his angry face in the dim light of the bar.
Up never got angry with her.
The room was quiet. Until her latest promotion had
granted her these quarters, Taz had never had so much
space to herself. She’d bunked with fellow junior-grade
lieutenants, ensigns, cadets, and before that, lived in the
same room as her mama in her aunt’s house – but no, she
wouldn’t think of her mama tonight. Not after spending the
whole night trying to drink her away.
Confined to quarters. She’d literally never been so alone.
A knock.
Taz lifted her head, willing her vision to stop swimming.
“Taz? It’s me.”
She was fairly sure her heart stopped at his voice.
“Come in,” she said, eventually.
Up came in tentatively, looking around until he saw her
in the dimmed night lighting, wrapped up defensively in her
bed. He crossed his arms and surveyed her.
“You look like shit,” he said. The anger had left his
voice. “Didn’t Pedro help you get home?”
“I chased him out,” she said.
“Well, you need to get cleaned up,” he said. “Come on.”
Slowly, excruciatingly, she unravelled herself and
crawled out of the blankets. Up raised his eyebrows and
then averted his gaze when he saw what she was- or wasn’t
- wearing. She wrapped a blanket around herself, her
shame growing, and shakily walked to the bathroom. It was
only when she put her hands into the tap water to wash her
face that she saw the blood on them. “Mierda.”
“What is it?” Up asked, peering around the corner.