A shadow passes across his features at that. “I couldn’t fly my Cyclone over, not with a broken arm. I was med-evaced in one of the shuttles.” A ghost of his old smile. “Once I found out you’d flown over to the Alexander, I wanted to follow you. Tried to steal a ship, and when that didn’t work, I busted my way onto the bridge.” He pauses to shake his head. “I tried to make them turn around to get you. They brigged me.” His voice breaks. “I’m sorry, Kades. I shouldn’t have let them leave you.”

She considers that, holding perfectly still. Turning the logic over in her head, examining it from every angle. Analytical mind looking for the flaw that’ll tell her she’s hallucinating. That she’s sick, or dead, or still in the escape pod, submerged in fever dreams.

But she can’t find it.

“Ezra.” The dawn of hope in her whisper.

He nods, swallowing hard.

She pushes to her feet, swaying, and the movement seems to release him—the next moment he’s running across the shuttle bay, watched by the debrief crew in the doorway who know better than to move a muscle.

She steps forward, one foot, then the other, and then he reaches her, and they come together with a crash. Her arms curl up around his neck, and his mouth finds hers like he’s drowning and she’s air, and her feet come clean off the ground as the world is forgotten.

And they’re together.