Cookies and milk. Funny how they always tasted better in the kitchen, even though her mother had never baked in her life. And strange to think these would be the last ones she’d have for a while.

“Do you think you could send me some?” Elena asked their cook, who smiled, drying her hands on her apron.

“Don’t see why not,” she said. “You always did like my cookies better’n bought ones.”

Elena grinned, wiping the ring of milk from around her mouth on the back of her hand.

“’Lena, use a napkin,” her mother scolded. “And Bridget is going to have far too much to do to think about sending you food parcels.”

“But what if I get hungry?” Elena protested, her eyes wide. “What if I don’t like the food?”

“Don’t be silly. And cookies are not a food anyway. They’re a snack.” She looked down at the small expensive timepiece on her wrist. “And it’s time to go.”

“Oh.” Elena jumped to her feet, cookies quickly forgotten in her renewed excitement, the crumbs falling to the floor. “I can’t wait!”

---

“Simon?” Kaylee was standing in the doorway to the infirmary, watching as her husband finished redressing Freya’s left foot. One of the wounds had become infected, and although it was finally healing he was keeping a close eye on it.

He looked up. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Can I … can we talk?”

“Of course.”

“In private.”

“Oh. Fine.” He looked at Freya. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Your wife needs you,” she said, a small smile flittering across her lips. “Nice to be needed.”

“I won’t be long.”

“Okay. Not going anywhere.” Just sitting in the dark, she thought, watching the two of them walk out into the common area.

Simon kept glancing back over his shoulder at the woman laying on the medbed, her face still lined with pain.

“Is she okay?” Kaylee asked.

“I don’t want to leave her too long.”

“No, I understand. It’s just …” She ground to a halt.

“What is it, bao bei ?” he asked. “Is there a problem?”

“I don’t know. Is there?” She lifted her face