FLYBY (b. bradshaw)

𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙔-𝙊𝙉𝙀

She felt his lips place a gentle kiss across her hot forehead. "We're home, L."

Bradley had been letting her pretend to sleep, just like she knew he'd been letting her not utter a single word the last 24 hours.

Sure, before they had docked, sleep had taken up the majority of Lilah's remaining time on the ship, save for the few minutes after surgery when the doctors had let up on the morphine pumping into her bloodstream, so talking to Bradley hadn't been her first priority, but now she just couldn't bare to meet Bradley's eyes.

She'd heard them all talking about deployment when she was being transported from the boat to the car. Maverick had shushed them pretty quickly, probably because he knew Lilah couldn't take hearing about everyone leaving.

Plus, when everyone else left, it meant Bradley left.

And Bradley leaving scared her.

The doctors didn't know when she would fly again. Or if she'd even fly.

Sure, Lilah didn't need a fucked up shoulder, a busted leg, and a couple of ribs to fly, but the trauma of it was the problem.

Everyone from the mission was still on an absolute high. Everyone but herself.

What about her?

She was sick. She was sick and she was tired. So tired of fighting.

Lilah finally let her eyes flutter open. She was met with Bradley's somber, green ones. "Good morning, sunshine."

She couldn't even muster up the energy to flip him the bird. She was wrapped up in a blanket. A blanket that smelled like a hospital. She smelled like a hospital.

She tired to tear it off of herself, ripping it from under her thighs and where it was tucked under her shoulder. Lilah wanted to scream, the sound like bricks in her throat. She struggled against Bradley, his grip so tight his fingers cut into her skin. "Hey, hey, calm down."

She buried my head into his chest. He dropped my duffel bag onto the ground and didn't waste a second pulling her into his arms. "I know, I know. Shhh, shhh, you're okay now. You're home now."

She wept into his chest, soaking his shirt. Time moves differently while they sat there, Bradley stroking her cheeks and rubbing her back, and she wasn't sure how much time had actually passed when she finally got back onto her feet.

The sun was gone and the stars were out, but even the moon didn't seem to be able to make the earth any brighter.

"I can order dinner, pizza, or burgers, whatever you want."

She glanced up from where he placed her on the couch. "I'm not hungry."

The action of speaking felt weird, like she wasn't supposed to be doing it. Her throat was hoarse and harsh.

"You have to eat," Bradley called from her room. Our room, now, she guessed. She could see him through the crack in the door, making sure the bed was ready. "Burgers and beer?"

Lilah shrugged in reply. He was staring at her from the door frame now. He leaned up against it, arms crossed against his chest.

"Do you wanna take a shower?"

She shrugged again as she pushed herself off the couch. Her sweatpants hung loosely against her hips and the thin shirt did nothing to hide the large bandage on her shoulder. She'd said screw the sling about five minutes into their car ride.

She could feel Bradley's irritation as she pressed past him and into the bedroom. Lilah felt his fingers graze down her arm, willing her to stop, to speak. Shivers shot up her spine as she stopped, a few feet away, her back to him, her head at the ground.