AUTHOR:  Claire
RATING:  PG
SUMMARY:  Face is still depressed about Ton’s death.  Dia helps.
DISCLAIMER: "And if I bought a pair of shoes with the money I’m (not) making from this Fic, every step I took would sound like 'Not, mine. Not, mine. Not, mine.'  Except if I was skipping.  Then it would be 'Not-not mine! Not-not, mine!'"  'K, so I cribbed that from an old Friends episode, but you get the drift.  Ain’t mine, never will be.
A/N:  Gods, its hard writing about Face.  Everytime you go to mention someone’s *face* you get all self conscious and try to think of another synonym.  Eventually I gave up.  Still, I suppose it’s better than being “The Body.”

Face Loran stared blankly at the wall beside his bunk.  Yeah, sure, he’d talked to the commander.  He knew it wasn’t his fault that he’d lost two squadmates, one a very good friend, in the last fortnight.  He’d accepted that, come to terms with it.  But he couldn’t seem to shake the depression that dogged him over Ton Phanan’s death.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to.  It was becoming more and more tempting to simply give in, to wallow in the pain and mourn his friend.  He was keeping these little sessions, where he curled up into a ball and just shook, a secret from the others.  Not even Dia knew.

They all thought he was ‘over it’, that, yeah, he missed Ton, but, hell, they all did, and life had to go on.  They had to keep fighting.  And they had enough to worry about, with the Hawkbat’s mission.  They didn’t need *another* headcase in this squadron.  So he’d work it out himself.  Just keep on retreating every now and then, trying to purge the grief he still felt bubbling up all too often.

He buried his face in his hands.  He was getting better.  He knew that.  But there was still a tenseness inside that refused to leave him, no matter how much he let himself give in to his feelings, no matter how desperately he clung to Dia.

As if his thoughts had conjured her up, the door chimed, and he heard her voice on the com.

“Face?  It’s me.”

“Not now, Dia.  I need some time alone.”

“That’s all you’ve had recently.  Let me in.”

He ignored her, knowing she’d be mad later, but… he’d cope with that then.

The door whooshed open.

He tried to glare at her, but could only manage a weak, miserable expression as she stood framed in the doorway, looking at him, sympathy evident in her face.

She walked over to him, sat down on the bed, stroked his back soothingly.  To his surprise, she made no attempt to kiss him, or embrace him in any way. Somehow she knew that that wasn’t what he needed right now.

“You still miss Ton badly, don’t you.”  It wasn’t even a question.

He didn’t even both to nod, just asked

“How did you-”

“How did I get in?  I had Castin give me your codes a while ago.  How did I know?  Well… you’ve been so quiet recently.  You don’t make jokes anymore.  It wasn’t difficult to realise it’s because you miss him.  I thought if we gave you enough time, you’d start to hurt less… but it hasn’t happened, has it?”

He shook his head.

“I’ve tried almost everything.  Not thinking about it.  Thinking about nothing but him.  Being with people, isolating myself… nothing makes me feel better.  Even when I’m with you, there’s still this small part of me that’s just wailing”

She could see the anguish on his face, the expression usually hidden by the actor’s mask…  he looked utterly lost.

“Face… there is one more thing you can try… the most surefire cure in the world for snapping out of depression.”

She tugged at his arms, trying to pull him up off the bed.

“Dia…”

“Face, just shut up and come with me.  I want to show you something.”

She dragged him out of the room, and off towards the hanger.  Well, he thought, if they were going *there* then it wasn’t sex.  And he didn’t think that flying was going to make him feel much better, either.  But he was too tired to be anything but apathetic, so he just let her drag him.  To his vague surprise, they went right past the hanger, and on into the mechanic’s staffroom.  There she tugged him to a closet at the back, opened it, and stood back with a self-satisfied grin.

Face dropped to his knees, and bent forward, carefully picking up one baby, and cuddling the indescribably cute bundle of fur to his chest, his expression smoothing totally for the first time in days as the little thing purred loudly against his chest.  He stroked its back with one gentle finger, marvelling at the soft fluffy fur.  He turned to Dia, who was cradling one in her arms as well, an unusually tender look on her face.

Her eyes met his, and she smiled back at him.

“Kitten therapy.  Works every time.”

He stroked the little baby cat, only just preventing himself from coming out with some embarrassing baby talk to the cute little thing.  Dia had no such compunctions, unashamedly telling her kitten how adorable and sweet it was.  For almost the first time since Ton’s death, he couldn’t suppress a grin, and he felt the final bitterness over his friends death begin to fade.

“How did you find them?”

He placed the kitten back with its mother, and picked up another.  They were in a large, rag lined box, so he guessed the mechanics had been looking after them.  Gods only knew how a cat – a pregnant cat at that – had sneaked onto the supply ships, but stranger things had been known to happen.

“Cubber told me.  I’ve been playing with them for days.  Thought it might do you some good as well.  And it obviously has.”

Face felt another, easier grin, tug at his lips.

“Yes, you are clever.  I do have great taste in women.”

She shook her head and laughed at him.

“Now I *know* that you’re fine.  You’re bragging again.”

“Thank you.”  He didn’t just mean it sarcastically.  He meant for her help.  She knew it, too, from the happy light in her eyes, and he found himself reaching for her again, pulling her close and kissing her, his arms tightening round her until the kitten he still held squalled as it got squashed between them.

“Sorry, furrball,” he said as he put it down again, before wrapping his arms around Dia once more.

FIN