Page 63 of Technically Abducted
I set the container of gems on my desk next to the old pizza box, the contrast between the beautiful alien crystals and the mundane reality of my life so stark it's almost laughable. Three days ago, this apartment was everything I needed. Now it feels like a tomb.
The silence is overwhelming. After three days of Tev'ra's presence, of feeling his emotions through our empathic bond, the isolation hits me. I'm completely alone in a way I haven't been since... well, since before I met him.
I sink into my desk chair and stare at the gems. They catch the ambient light from my monitors, probably worth more money than I've ever seen in my life. Enough to solve every financial worry I've ever had, to upgrade every system, to never worry about rent or groceries or client payments again.
And I hate them. I hate what they represent—the Council's assumption that money can compensate for what I've lost. That a few pretty stones can make up for the fact that I'll never see Tev'ra again, never feel that empathic connection, never wake up in his arms under the light of alien moons.
I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Alex:Back home. Thanks for covering everything. Systems look good.
The response comes back almost immediately:No problem. Glad you're back. Everything ok?
I stare at the message for a long moment, then type:Yeah, just tired. Talk tomorrow.
Before I can put the phone down, it starts ringing. Alex.
"Hey," I answer, my voice rough.
"Finn? You sound like shit. You okay?"
"Yeah, just... tired. Long few days."
"So how was the family emergency?" Alex asks, and I can hear the skepticism in his voice. He knows I don't have family.
"Complicated," I say, which is the understatement of the century. "But it's over now."
"You sure you're okay? You sound really off."
"I'm fine," I lie. "Just need to get back to normal routine. Thanks for covering everything."
"No problem. Your systems ran like clockwork, by the way. Whatever you set up worked perfectly."
Of course they did. My systems always work. Unlike my heart, apparently.
"Good," I say. "I'll be back to normal operations tomorrow."
"Alright, but Finn? If you need anything..."
"I know. Thanks, Alex."
I hang up and look around my apartment again. Three days ago, this was my sanctuary. Now it feels like a prison.
The gems continue to shine in their container, beautiful and cold and utterly insufficient. I could probably retire on what they're worth. Travel the world, buy anything I want, never worry about money again.
But none of that will bring back the way Tev'ra's bioluminescence brightened when he laughed, or the feeling of floating in warm water while he told me stories about his homeworld, or the profound peace of falling asleep in his arms.
Some things can't be compensated for.
Some losses can't be made right with pretty stones and good intentions.
I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, trying to remember exactly how Tev'ra's voice sounded when he described the coral forests that reach toward the blue moon's light. But the memory is already starting to fade, becoming less vivid with each passing minute.
Maybe that's for the best. Maybe forgetting will make this easier.
But right now, sitting alone in my apartment with a fortune in alien gems and an ache in my chest that feels like something vital has been surgically removed, I'm not sure anything will ever feel easy again.
Chapter Twenty
Tev'ra
