In the Quiet of Night [2/2]

Posted on Sun Aug 31st, 2025 @ 10:59pm by Commander Cornelius 'Kit' Hanlon & Crewman Mateo Gardel

2,362 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: To Boldly Go
Location: Personal Quarters, Deck 4, USS Fenrir
Timeline: Day 8, 00:30

Continued from part 1

A faint, crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, self-deprecating but softer now—less a weapon turned inward, more a quiet acknowledgment. "But I’m listening," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "I’m trying to listen to you more than the noise."

He shifted on the bed, pulling his legs in closer, the oversized sweatshirt pooling around him like a cocoon. The fabric smelled faintly of home, of comfort, of everything he hadn't realized he needed until this moment. "You always knew better than I did," he added, the glint of something familiar—something teasing—lighting up his tired brown eyes. "Even when I didn’t want to hear it."

Renata let out a soft breath as she sat back, her shawl wrapped loosely around her shoulders. "A mother knows," she said, with a small smile that was teasing in return. She knew her son well. She also knew he needed time to process things, especially emotions. His own as much as anyone else's. "You need to rest, Mateo. You are not sleeping well. Are you at least eating well?" she smiled at the words, realising she now sounded like her own mother. Ah, how life did turn in circles.

Mateo huffed out a quiet, tired laugh, the sound low but genuine, curling warmly in his chest. "Sí, má," he said, dragging the word out with theatrical exasperation, though the affection beneath it was unmistakable. He leaned back against the wall behind his bed, his sweatshirt bunching slightly at the shoulders, the loose fabric pooling around him like a shield he didn’t know he still needed. "I’m eating. I swear."

He rubbed a hand through his damp hair again, spiking it up absently as he spoke. "There’s a mess hall here... not terrible," he added with a small shrug. "And sometimes I replicate stuff from home." He hesitated, then offered a sheepish smile. "I even tried to make your empanadas the other day." His voice dipped a little, rough with something close to nostalgia. "Didn’t taste right, but it helped."

He studied her face through the screen, soaking in the familiarity of it—the gentle lines at the corners of her eyes, the soft set of her mouth, the way she always seemed to know how to anchor him without pinning him down. "I’m trying to take care of myself," he said more seriously, the playfulness fading into something quieter, truer. "Like you taught me."

His gaze softened further as he added, almost shyly, "And maybe next time I call, I’ll have figured out how to get the empanadas right." A small grin tugged at his lips, boyish and bright beneath the heavy exhaustion still clinging to him. "No promises though."

Mateo shifted, tucking one knee up against his chest, his fingers idly worrying at a loose thread near the cuff of his sweatshirt. The movement was almost absent-minded, something grounding, as he let the comfort of her presence settle into the spaces that had felt too sharp just a few minutes before.

"But..." he started, his voice lighter now, still hoarse with weariness, "you always ask about me." He tipped his head slightly, a boyish tilt that made him look younger for a fleeting moment. "How are you, má? Really?" He hesitated, then added with a small, crooked grin, "And how’s Benji? Still being everyone's favorite?"

The teasing softened the question, but the warmth behind it was real and palpable. He wanted to know—needed to know—that they were okay too. That even out here, hurtling through the stars, the two most important people in his life were still steady, still safe, still his north stars to come home to. His thumb brushed lightly against the side of his finger as he waited, a quiet, unconscious echo of the patience she had always shown him.

She rolled her eyes before she shook her head, a small smile on her lip. "Benji is doing well, but he misses you. He tries to hide it, of course, you know how he can be. But he misses being able to just reach out and pull you with him whenever he wants. As for me..." she waved a hand, unable to hold back the dismissive motion. "I am fine, really. The weather is unseasonable hot, but we try and keep cool. It is nice though, people always seem happier when the sun is out."

Mateo smiled—small, genuine, and a little sad around the edges. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice threading through the quiet her words left behind, "he always did have a way of dragging me into things before I could think of a reason to say no." His eyes dropped for a moment, a flicker of fondness passing through them. "I miss him too," he added, more quietly. "Even when he’s bossy. Especially when he’s bossy."

The corners of his mouth tugged upward again as she spoke about the heat, the sun, the way people softened under it. "I bet you're still leaving the windows open even when it makes the house too hot," he said, lifting one eyebrow in mock disapproval. "Just so you can hear the neighbors and complain about how loud they are."

He let the teasing hang there for a beat before his expression settled into something gentler. "I’m glad it’s sunny," he said, and he meant it—not just the weather, but her, and the life she kept building while he orbited lightyears away. "You sound... light tonight."

He shifted slightly, tugging the sweatshirt back over his shoulder like it grounded him, like it kept him tethered to the moment. "You both do," he added, voice softening further. "You help."

"We're family. We will always help," Renata said, her voice soft as she looked at him. "The neighbours are loud though. Their grandchildren are visiting. Shrieking as if there's monsters under their bed. Sometimes, I even hear them in my dreams..." she chuckled, knowing that it was her own doing. She liked the scent of the sun and kept the windows open. A cooler house with windows closed and blinds down would have been better for tempers, yet she couldn't resist watching the sun come in, or smell it on the breeze. No. She was set in her ways. "Tell me about your crewmates, Mateo. Humour your mother." She knew she had to set it up, for him to tell her properly. It wasn't him hiding anything from her, not at all, but she knew there were things he didn't see as important to her. He was wrong. Every aspect of his life was important to her, each little tidbit making her feel as if she walked next to him.

Mateo let out a soft huff of laughter, the kind that slipped out before he could think to filter it. "Of course you're dreaming about the neighbors’ grandkids," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners. "You secretly love the chaos. Admit it." There was no judgment in the words—only affection, threaded with the ease of a hundred similar conversations. He knew her habits like his own. She liked the world noisy and alive, even when she pretended not to.

He shifted again, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his hands, the sweatshirt slipping loosely off one shoulder. At her request, he hesitated—just for a beat. Not because he didn’t want to share, but because he was never quite sure what to share. What counted. What mattered. But the way she said it—humour your mother—made it easier. Made him want to.

"They’re... different," he said, his brows pulling together slightly as he searched for the right words. "I thought it would be like the other ships. Cold. Temporary. But it’s not." He glanced back at the screen, his expression earnest, a little surprised. "There are people here who actually want to know me. Who aren’t just waiting for me to mess up."

He paused, picking absently at a loose thread near his knee, then smiled—small and lopsided. "You’d like them," he added quietly. "I think you’d really like them."

And for the next hour, Mateo told her about the people he’d met. Not all at once and not in any particular order, but in the winding, layered way he always shared things—through observations, offhanded comments, and the rare, unexpected note of vulnerability. He let her into his days, his routines, the moments that made him pause, the people who made him feel a little less alone. He told her the parts that mattered. The parts she would carry, long after the screen went dark.

Renata listened with a small smile, seeing the emotions play across her son's face. She loved seeing him like this. The life in him grew strong, sparkling in his dark eyes. She followed each road easily, knowing how his mind worked, knowing that he would come back to some at a later point. She made soft sounds of agreement, or interest, but didn't interrupt him. She never wanted her children to feel as if they weren't being listened to. When he finished, when there was silence between them, she gave a small nod. "It seems to me you have the tools you need to shape the world around you," she said with a small smile. "Your own lab as a domain. It sounds like...you are finally seen. It might scare you, Mateo. Face it, accept it. You can't worry about tomorrow when today isn't finished. And worrying about yesterday isn't productive either, it is the past."

Mateo’s breath caught—not from surprise, but from the way her words slipped past his usual defenses and landed somewhere deep. Like they always did. His fingers stilled on the loose thread he'd been worrying at, and his gaze dropped to his lap. For a moment, he just breathed—slow and deliberate—letting her voice settle inside the quiet parts of him that still didn’t quite know how to believe in peace.

"Seen," he echoed under his breath, the word unfamiliar in his mouth. Not unpleasant—just delicate. Fragile. It felt like a truth he wasn’t sure he was ready to carry, but one he didn’t want to put down, either. He rolled it around in his mind, tried it on like something borrowed. "Yeah... maybe I am."

He leaned back slowly, the movement unhurried, thoughtful. The sweatshirt shifted around his frame, slipping off his shoulder again, exposing the curve of bone and the edge of an old tattoo faded with time. "It does scare me," he admitted, his voice quieter now, stripped of pretense. "But it also..." His brow furrowed slightly, words gathering in his throat. "It makes me want to stay. To keep trying."

He looked back at the screen then, eyes a little shinier than before, but steady. "I think I'm not used to today feeling like enough," he said, his voice barely louder than the ambient hum of the ship around him. "I've always been chasing the next crisis. Or outrunning the last one." His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, a gesture both familiar and unguarded. "This place—it’s asking me to just... exist. And that’s new."

He shifted his weight forward, folding his legs beneath him, the oversized sweatshirt pooling around his frame. His posture was tired, but open, and something about the shape of it said he’d let the walls down for tonight. "You always know what to say," he murmured, not with awe, but with the quiet certainty of someone who had never stopped needing her voice to find his own. "Even when I don’t know what I need to hear."

A small, slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and this one didn’t vanish so quickly. "I’m trying, má," he said at last, voice low but resolute. "I really am."

"I know you are, Mateo," she said, and she didn't hold back the pride in her face or her voice as she said it. Because she was so proud of him. "And they will know too. You know your worth...and maybe now, others are finally seeing it too. I am so proud to have you as my son."

Mateo’s expression shifted—barely, but deeply. His eyes softened, lashes dipping low as the corners of his mouth wavered between a smile and something more fragile. The weight of her pride, spoken so plainly, so freely, settled in his chest like warmth blooming in cold hands. It filled places he hadn’t realized had gone hollow.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, the breath catching slightly before it left him. One hand rose, brushing the edge of his sleeve across his cheek—not to hide, but to hold. "You always say things like that like it’s simple," he murmured, his voice thick with quiet emotion. "Like love’s not the hardest thing in the universe."

He looked back up at her, gaze open in a way it rarely was with anyone else. "But when you say it... it feels real," he added, voice softer now, shaped more by awe than doubt. "It always has."

His next words came low, reverent. "You’re the reason I ever believed I was worth anything," he said, each syllable deliberate, careful. "You stayed. Even when I didn’t know how to be stayable."

He leaned closer to the console, fingers hovering just above the surface as if he could reach her—feel her hand in his, steady and familiar. "I’m proud to be yours," he said, the words gentle, almost shy. "Always."

And in the hush that followed, something unspoken passed between them—stronger than distance, louder than silence. A knowing. A homecoming. A love that had never once let go.

OFF:

Crewman Mateo Gardel
Medical Science Specialist
USS Fenrir

&

Renata Gardel
[Written by Hanlon for this post]

 

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