The room was quiet as Tommy finished his story, his voice trailing off into the stillness. Vince sat across from him, leaning slightly forward in his chair, his expression unreadable as he took in the boy's—no, the young man's—words. Six years had passed since that day, but the memory still hung heavy in the room, as fresh and raw as if it had just happened.
Vince exhaled deeply, his gaze steady but filled with an unspoken respect. "It's incredible, Tommy," he said quietly. "Everything you've been through. Most people wouldn't have come out of that with the strength to keep going. But here you are."
Tommy sat back in his wheelchair, his hands resting on the armrests, fingers idly tracing the worn fabric. He looked down for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I don't know if it's strength," he said finally. "Some days, it just feels like surviving. Like I'm stuck in that moment, even now."
"Maybe," Vince replied, his tone soft but firm. "But surviving isn't easy. It takes guts to keep moving forward, to rebuild yourself after everything's been taken away." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "You've done that. It's been a long time, and you're still fighting. That's strength. Don't sell yourself short."
Tommy glanced up, his lips twitching in the hint of a smile. "I understand," he murmured.
Helena stood near the doorway, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. The years had etched lines of worry and resilience into her face, but her eyes still held a protective light whenever they landed on the young man. She gave Vince a small nod, a quiet acknowledgment of his words.
"So," Vince said, easing the tension with a faint smile, "what's next for you? I mean, any big plans you're working on?"
As he spoke, his eyes drifted to a small table near Tommy's wheelchair. Stacked neatly on its surface were a few well-worn books, their spines cracked and pages dog-eared. He leaned slightly, reading the titles: Advanced Concepts in Mechanical Engineering: Principles and Applications, Comprehensive Exploration of Human Anatomy: An Integrative Approach, The Intricate Interconnections in Plant Biology: Hidden Mechanisms and Their Ecosystems
Vince raised an eyebrow, glancing back at Tommy. "Engineering, anatomy, and plants?" he asked with a faint chuckle. "That's quite the mix. You planning to build a robot that grows flowers and fixes broken bones, or what?"
Tommy laughed softly, the sound hesitant but genuine. "Not exactly. I've been taking online classes—trying to figure out what clicks, you know? Engineering's cool, and I like learning how things work. Anatomy… well, that's more personal. I just wanted to understand my own body better, why it works the way it does now." He gestured briefly toward his legs, immobilized in braces.
"And plants?" Vince prompted, a curious tilt to his head.
Tommy smiled a little wider. "That one's just… calming. I started growing a few things a while back—nothing big, just herbs and flowers. It helps when my mind won't quiet down."
Vince nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting back to the books. "Sounds like you're figuring it out, piece by piece. That's a good way to go about it. Learning different things, finding what works for you."
Tommy's smile lingered, and he glanced at the books himself. "Yeah. It's slow, but… I like it. It keeps me focused on something other than, you know, everything else."
"That's good," Vince said. "You've got time. You're moving at your own pace, and that's what matters."
For a moment, the three of them shared a lighter exchange. Vince asked Tommy about his hobbies, and Helena chimed in here and there, her voice quiet but warm. There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a loosening of the heavy grief that had filled the room moments before.
Finally, Vince stood, adjusting his jacket as he looked between Tommy and Helena. "I should get going," he said, his tone gentle. "Tommy, thanks for sharing all of that with me. I know it's not easy to relive, but it's part of what makes you who you are. You're a lot tougher than you think."
Tommy looked up at Vince, his gaze steady. "Thanks," he said simply.
Vince turned to Helena, his expression softening. "And you—you've done an incredible job. You've kept things together, and you've been there for him through all of this. Don't ever doubt how much that matters."
Helena gave a small, tired smile. "Thank you, Vince. For listening, for being here."
Vince nodded, stepping toward the door. Before he left, he looked back at Tommy one last time. "If you ever need anything—or even if you just want to talk—you know where to find me. Take care of yourself."
Tommy nodded, a faint smile breaking through. "I will. Appreciate it."
With that, Vince left, stepping out into the cold night air. The echo of Tommy's story stayed with him, heavy in his chest, as he walked toward his car. Six years might have passed, but the pain and loss were as vivid as ever.
He instinctively slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his coat, fingers searching for the familiar pack of cigarettes. He patted one pocket, then another, his brow furrowing. Nothing. A quiet, self-deprecating chuckle escaped him as the realization hit.
"Left it back at BBPD," he muttered to himself. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he tilted his head back to gaze at the night sky above. The stars were faint, scattered like specks of silver dust on black velvet. "Three days without a smoke," he murmured, shaking his head. "And everything that's happened in those three days… probably more exciting than all the shit I dealt with in the last two years combined."
He let the thought hang for a moment before a different kind of weight settled in his chest. His gaze wandered across the stars, catching on a familiar pattern: three bright ones in a line, with others scattered around them—the hunter, Orion. A wistful smile tugged at his lips, bittersweet and fragile.
"Wish you were here," he said softly, the words slipping out like a quiet confession. His voice grew gentler, heavy with unspoken thoughts. "Do you remember? The first constellation you showed me… it was this one. Orion. You always had a way of pointing out the things I never noticed before."
His eyes traced the faint outline of the hunter's belt, the memories coming unbidden. "Our first kiss," he murmured, the words catching slightly. "Your lips, your eyes… The way you laughed when I couldn't find the stars at first. You made it all seem so easy, so clear. You told me it would always be there—Orion. No matter what, I'd be able to find it."
He exhaled deeply, his gaze falling for a moment before rising again to the stars. "I can see it now," he said, his voice quieter. "But it's not as bright as it used to be. Maybe it's the city lights, or maybe… maybe it's me. Things don't feel as clear anymore."
His thoughts shifted to Tommy, to the young man—who had just poured his story out to him. Tommy Brown, who carried a burden no one should have to, who had been forced to rebuild himself from the ashes of unimaginable loss. Vince felt his chest tighten, the heaviiness of his own memories pressing harder.
"The boy's a fighter," he muttered. "He's lost so much, and yet he's still finding his way. His world's been shattered, but he's still looking for the pieces." Vince saw himself, his reflection in the boy. He let out a faint, bitter laugh. "Just like me. Except I'm not sure I've got the same strength he does."
His fingers brushed the inside of his coat again, instinctively searching for the cigarettes he knew weren't there. Instead, he found himself clutching at the memories—the ones he rarely let surface. The soft laugh, the touch of her hand as she pointed to the stars, the way she said, 'Look at Orion. He's always watching, always standing guard.'
"Still standing guard, huh?" Vince murmured, his eyes fixed on the constellation. "I hope so. Because I could use you right about now. I just wish… I wish I could see you as clearly as I see him."
The ache in his chest deepened, the pain of loss and the weight of unspoken words lingering in the cool night air. He let the silence stretch, the hum of the city distant, the faint rustling of the breeze carrying a strange kind of comfort.
Finally, Vince squared his shoulders and let out a long breath, forcing a tired smile to the surface. "Tommy's still fighting. He's got Helena. He's got time. Maybe that's enough." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Keep watching, okay? For him, for me. We're not done yet."
With one last glance at Orion, Vince turned and walked away, the memory of her voice and the faint outline of the constellation following him into the shadows.