The ore doesn't respond to the meteorite glass. I've run through every possible way I can think of to make it work. Even some ways I never thought were possible. The shields and the old tech seem completely hopeless and out of reach, even more so now after that surprise hope. I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes for a moment as I think.

Maybe I need to take a break from this and work on something else. The invaders' ship maybe—it's no longer a side project. We need the low-tech cart that it came with, but so far, nothing we've tried has succeeded in unlocking it.

I certainly can't read the directions. The writs still elude me, another point of frustration, especially since cracking them could have really helped me figure out how to open the cart.

As I turn to the problem of the cart, I feel a deep sense of disappointment—in myself. I feel like I've failed and now I'm giving up, even though I tell myself I'm just switching gears for the moment.

It puts me in a terrible, ugly mood that I just can't seem to shake by falling into the new problem. Focusing on work usually helps. But not this time.

"I brought lunch for you, Addison," Melchior murmurs when he comes into the lab not much later. "It is a good time to take a break."

"Can't you see I'm working, Melchior?" I snap, not looking up. "Your interruptions aren't exactly helpful."

As soon as I say the words and feel the shift in the air, I immediately regret them.

When I look up at Melchior's face, I can see the hurt and confusion in his expression and feel even more terrible.

"Sorry," I quickly say. "Thank you for the food. I just...I need to focus, okay?"

He nods stiffly, his expression smoothing out. Not in a good way. More like he's putting on a mask to cover up.

"Of course," he murmurs, setting the food down near me and stepping away. "I shall not disturb you again."

Oh no. The comment really stung. And I don't think my apology was enough to smooth things over.

He settles into work alongside me, but the unfamiliar tension between us is...not great, and he doesn't speak to me like he usually does while we're in the lab. He's silent. Coldly so. Working in that chill is extremely uncomfortable.

I glance at his stone face from time to time, coming up with and discarding possible ways to break it. I hate the silent treatment. But I also know I was out of line.

I slide on a mitt and pick up one of the pieces of vanadium while I rack my brain for the best way to break the ice, maybe to apologize again.

Melchior is wonderful. Sweet, caring, always right there when I need him. I feel like a complete ass for being mean, for taking out my frustration on him when he was trying to be his usual thoughtful self. I'm so bad at this...whatever this is between us. But I'm worse at staying in this uncomfortable silence with him angry at me, so I finally decide just to dive right in.

Fuck it.

"Melchior, I—" I turn towards him with the ore in my hand, not knowing exactly what I'm going to say, but deciding anything is better than nothing.

But I shut my mouth abruptly as an odd click echoes in the lab.

And the cart, shut tight as a drum all this time while it sat next to us, just...opens.

I stare at it, totally flummoxed.

"What the..." I gasp, looking down at the ore in my hand. Was it as easy as waving the stupid ore at it? Really? But that can't be right. I've had the ore near it for a while now.

I shake my head, excitement bubbling up inside me as I get closer to the open cart. Who cares how it happened! There's time to figure out how I did it later. Right now, I just want to celebrate the fact that something actually went right in here for once! Maybe not through any real intent on my part, but I'll take anything at this point.

I turn back to Melchior to revel in the moment with him, but then I pause. He's already leaving the lab.

"I'll report the progress to Errol," he throws back at me over his shoulder. And then he's gone.

What? I stare at the empty door. The empty lab.

I try to hold on to that feeling of excitement, of accomplishment and success, but my heart can't hold on to it. All of that joy just leaks right back out of me. I immediately deflate, because Melchior isn't there to enjoy this moment with me.

I turn away, covering my face with my hands. I didn't mean to snap at him. He didn't deserve it at all.

A flash of memory hits me, of my mother snapping at me for anything and everything, her bitterness seeping into all aspects of life. I know I tend to do the same. Despite my best intentions, I've learned bad habits from her that I can't always shake. Including the snapping, a defensive technique that isn't at all productive. Just hurtful.

I sit down on the stool, propping my elbows on the table to brace my head.

I went through a period where I was basically an emotional porcupine. My defenses were always up, a way to keep everyone at arm’s length. So they couldn't hurt me. But I've kept a fairly tight lid on that tendency for years, worked hard so I could build relationships.

Up until now.

When it really counts.

"Ugh!"

I lay my head down on the cool table, barely resisting the urge to bang it on the surface repeatedly. This sucks. This really, really sucks.

Damn it.