53 Ganymede

Episode 32 -- Wayfinder

Three of them sit around the coffee table — Claire and Lucy lounging comfortably on the couch, Declan cross-legged on the hardwood floor with Beans' head on his leg. He strokes the dog's wispy white fur absently while sipping black coffee, his eyes tumbling over the papers foisted in front of him.

Claire, still in pajamas, takes a bite of Froot Loops and leans back into the couch, surveying the familiar scene; it has become an unspoken tradition for Declan to join them on Sunday mornings, the three of them idling around and chatting until noon. Whatever polite formalities had once accompanied these visits have been eroded by time and repetition, so gradually that Claire can't pinpoint any particular moment when her self-consciousness softened into comfort. No matter how hard she tries, she cannot locate the shift from friends to family, only the warm fullness within her that assures her that this change has indeed occurred.

"You guys have a lot of ideas here." Declan flips one of the papers, revealing more lines packed with scribbled writing.

"You say it like it's a bad thing," Lucy says.

"No," he counters, "I say it like it's not even nine in the morning."

"He's right though," Claire says, "We need to focus it down into something concrete. Right now it's just a bunch of lists."

"Yeah, yeah." Lucy talks through a mouthful of multi-coloured cereal, "We've got time while we finish our courses."

"So, that's still the plan?"

If Lucy notices Declan's cheek twitch, the way his gaze drifts slowly downwards, she doesn't mention it. But Claire does notice, and for a moment she feels a desperate urge to hold onto this morning forever.

"It's only for a couple of years — " she begins, but is interrupted by a rhythmic knock at the door. They glance at one another, exchanging a silent question which Claire rises to answer.

"Hey, happen to have any ice?" Marcus asks as she opens the door, Mack shifting from foot to foot behind him.

"Oh my god, Marcus, what happened?"

Claire has always noticed the dark circles around Marcus' eyes, the evidence of never-ending jet lag, but the purple and blue ring around his left eye this morning is something different entirely. Swelling forces the eye shut, or very nearly, and the storm-cloud of bruising leaks down over his cheekbone. A dark-crusted gash mars his lower lip, a thin line of fresh blood still oozing out from beneath the scab. He steps through the door as Claire rushes to the freezer, rummaging until she finds a half-empty bag of peas which she wraps in a tea towel hanging from the oven door.

"Here. Sit down."

"I'm alright," he begins to protest, but Mack interrupts.

"Marcus. Sit down."

Their eyes meet for a heartbeat, but Marcus' eyes — or at least one of them — falls as he shrugs and drops beside Lucy on the couch.

"What the hell happened?" Lucy demands.

"We went looking for Lana — River's mom," Mack says, leaning down to hold the peas against his boyfriend's head.

"Did you find her?" Declan asks.

With a laugh as cold as the ice at his temple, Marcus answers: "No. But we found her husband."

"He did that?" Declan lifts Beans into his arms and moves to stand beside Claire.

"Guess he didn't like me asking after her," Marcus says, cringing as Mack gently inspects his eye.

"Is she... Oh my God, is she still there? With him?" Lucy asks, and Claire is grateful, her lips trembling too much to mouth the question herself.