She'd made the offer, with everything that came along with it. The whole deal, no holding back. And he'd mumbled an excuse about wanting to do a walkabout of the ship and then hit his bunk. A brief moment of hurt across her face before she got herself re-adjusted.

His entire round of the ship, he was mentally kicking himself.

Reynolds, you are a bonafied humping idiot. She's offering it - offering herelf - to you and you're making excuses. You told her that life was too short for ifs and maybes, so why are you making up ones that ain't there?

But he knew the answer. Because he didn't want to lose anyone else.

The door to her shuttle was open, and he fancied himself a belief she was waiting for him to come to his senses. Nevertheless, he knocked.

The precise moment she appeared in the doorway with just a towel wrapped around her, he knew he was standing too close to the ragged edge.

The precise moment she dropped the towel and he got his first good long look at what he'd only imagined for close on a year, he knew he'd fallen off that edge.

The precise moment he guided himself inside her, he knew he'd hit rock bottom.

And the precise moment he poured all his grief and hurt and brokenness into her when he came, he fell downward another 50 feet.