As Weston worked the synthicator, he asked himself what he was doing standing in the quarters he’d reserved for Piper. The plan was to leave her at her door with the information that he was across the hall if she needed anything. That was the safest way to handle the situation. He’d planned to be as hands-off as possible with Piper due to her connection to Pippa.

He hadn’t expected her to be so attractive. She had probably been that way years ago, when he last remembered seeing her, but he had been fully occupied with thoughts of his recently deceased son, and he hadn’t noticed anything of the sort. He’d barely been aware of anyone’s presence there. Now, he was admiring her and appreciating the sweet curves of her body.

He didn’t think it was just because he’d been celibate for almost seven years—except for the night Pippa claimed he had gotten drunk and forced her to have sex with him, which led to her conceiving the baby. He still didn’t buy that story, because though he had drunk that night at an official function, it had been a single glass of wine. Unless someone drugged him, there was no plausible explanation for why he would’ve lost his memory and behaved in such a horrible fashion.

He tried not to think about it as he turned to Piper, presenting her with a tray of various assortments that he hoped would please her upset stomach. “Wesley used to like these when he was having tummy issues.”

Her face softened for a moment, but there was a sharp, jagged line of grief bisecting her mouth and dragging down the corners of her lips. She reached out to put a hand on his tentatively before quickly withdrawing it. “I never really got a chance to tell you how sorry I was about Wesley’s passing.”

Weston cleared his throat, swallowing the familiar lump of moisture that always came when he thought of his child. “Thank you. If I recall, Pippa wasn’t very welcoming, and I didn’t get a chance to say much of anything.” Their altercation had briefly registered, but he’d been too immersed in grief to pay attention or try to resolve any friction between the sisters at that point.

He turned back to the synthicator to serve himself a helping of food before joining her at the table. She looked startled, but he tried not to take it personally as he flashed a brief smile. “We should probably get better acquainted, don’t you think?”

She opened her mouth, looking like she was going to say something, but then closed it again and settled for taking a drink instead. He wondered what thought had crossed her mind, but she never voiced it. She just shrugged.

He cut into his synthetic steak as she carefully sipped clear broth. “What do you do at Greer?”

“I’m an exobotanist, and Greer specializes in trying to revive and save endangered and extinct plants from all over the galaxy.” Her brown eyes shone with excitement as she started talking about the various plants. There was true passion in her expression, which had the uncomfortable effect of making his groin ache with desire as she talked about her beloved Anjovian ferns.

Weston shifted in his seat and tried to ask intelligent questions, though he wasn’t certain he was successful. Somehow, a few minutes passed before there was a lag in conversation again. “As soon as you feel up to it, you can work in aquaponics. The captain of the sector is looking forward to working with you. You come highly recommended and have good credentials.”

She blushed faintly. “Thank you for saying so, Commander.”

“I think you should call me Weston,” he said gently.

Her cheeks turned brighter red. “Of course. I think I just slipped into work mode for a moment. It’s difficult think of us as…family.” There was a note of longing in her tone.

It sent a shiver down his spine, but he cautioned himself not to read too much into it. She was clearly missing the connection, but that might’ve been with Pippa and nothing to do with him. Abruptly, before he could think better of it, he asked, “Why did Pippa look so different from you, Piper?”

Her expression chilled. “Why don’t you ask her?” She blinked and looked devastated for a moment. “I’m sorry. I forgot…” She trailed off with a half-shrug. “I guess I should say why didn’t you ask her?”

Weston lifted his shoulder. “I did once, but she made it clear that was something she didn’t want to discuss.”

“I’m sure.” Piper leaned closer to him, trailing a finger down her cheek.

At first, he wasn’t certain what she was doing, but then he saw the faint scar. “What happened?”

“When I was seven years old, Pippa attacked me with a laser scalpel she stole from Mother’s medical kit, planning to change my face enough so that I didn’t look like her. She intensely resented having a doppelgänger in the world, and she hated me because she thought our father loved me more. I doubt it was true, but that was what she believed.” Her lips curved in what could be a rueful smile, but looked bitter too. “Mother was more worried about the calibration of her scalpel being affected than my face, but she was always more devoted to her career than us.”

Weston was appalled, but not entirely surprised. He’d seen some of Pippa’s rages over the years and had been on the receiving end more than once. “Why didn’t you ever get the scar removed?”

She took a moment to sip her drink before answering. “It was a reminder to myself to never trust her.” She licked her lips, appearing to gather her thoughts. “When we were of age, and she received her inheritance, she decided to change her face so that it looked nothing like mine. I suppose she decided her face was too plain and ordinary anyway, so she went for exotic and beautiful. The money gave her the effect she wanted.”

Weston knew better than to voice his opinion that Piper’s quiet attractiveness was far more appealing than Pippa’s perfectly sculpted face. It wasn’t just her face, or even her curves, but also her attitude. She was so much calmer and more restive to be around than he’d ever felt with Pippa. As a younger man, Pippa’s exotic beauty had enthralled him briefly, but he wondered how his younger self could have missed Piper’s quiet loveliness back then, even accounting for his shallower tastes in the past.

He hated contrasting them together, especially since Pippa had been his wife, but she kept coming up short in the comparisons. She hadn’t been his wife for at least four years, at least in any form besides name only.

Sex with her had stopped shortly after Wesley’s first birthday, as they’d grown ever more distant, though they had maintained the charade of a shared bedroom for a few years afterward—a bedroom he’d avoided as much as possible by working late and leaving early each day. After Wesley’s passing, she had moved into a separate room next to his, apparently deciding there was no reason to keep up any pretense once Wesley was gone.

He was certain she had been unfaithful many times, but was apathetic about her infidelity. He hadn’t bothered with a divorce, being too busy and truly not caring enough to get rid of the albatross around his neck. Her presence had protected him from other women who would circle around if he was single, and she seemed to show no interest in divorcing him. She’d liked the status of being the station commander’s wife too much to give up that role, he was sure.

Realizing he’d let the silence last too long, and she was giving him an odd look, he asked, “How did you get along later, after the scar incident?”

Her eyes moved away from his for a moment, and she sighed heavily. “Not well. If Pippa could hurt me, she was determined to do so. It was a game for her, and the worst thing she ever did was steal—” She broke off, her skin going bright red for a moment as her gaze darted away. When she looked back at him, her expression was carefully blank, but he was certain that was a mask to hide the emotions running through her. She yawned with a hint of melodrama. “I’m really tired, Weston.”

He’d only finished about half of his meal, but took the hint graciously. He got to his feet and cleared both of their trays, stacking them in the demoleculator before heading to the door. “I’m just across the hall if you need anything, Piper.” He paused once more at the door’s biometric panel. “Don’t forget to reprogram this to recognize your biometrics.”

She nodded, yawning again. This time, it looked genuine, and he felt a sliver of guilt for having delayed her rest, even if it was to feed her. “Sleep well.”

She murmured something, and he nodded before leaving. He stood in the corridor for a moment as the door closed behind him, listening until he heard the beeps on the other side that indicated she was recalibrating the biometrics to respond to her hand and iris scan. He could move away and feel easier about her safety. Not that he had any reason to suspect she would be in danger, other than the fact that Olympus Station was the equivalent of a huge city, where people were always coming and going—and some of those people had ill intentions.

* * *

Weston was just about to go to bed a few hours later when he heard the chime of the door. He walked over and opened it with his palm, eyes widening at the sight of Piper standing on the other side. He moved aside so she could step inside, wondering why she’d come to his room wearing only a bathrobe. Perhaps she had something on underneath it, but it wasn’t immediately obvious.

His heart skipped a beat for a moment as he contemplated maybe she was there to offer him a very different sort of solace. He was torn between his desire to accept, and the decency that had kept him faithful to an unfaithful wife for the past seven years. It was unseemly to break his celibacy with her sister, wasn’t it? “What can I do for you?” He braced himself to mount a gentle rejection, especially since he didn’t want to reject her.

She bent over then, making it obvious she wasn’t there with seduction on her mind. Before he could think better of it, Weston picked her up to set her on the couch. “What’s wrong?”

Her brow was dotted with perspiration, and she was shaking. Her skin was pale, yet clammy to the touch. “I don’t know, but I don’t feel right.”

He rushed to page Gretel on his comm. Her face filled the screen on his wrist a moment later, and she looked like she was ready for bed as well. “I need you in my room, Gretel.” To her credit, she didn’t protest or take time to ask questions. She simply nodded and rang off, and he knew she would be there shortly.

As he waited, he knelt on the floor beside Piper, smoothing the hair off her forehead and dabbing at her brow with a cloth as they waited for the doctor’s arrival. He felt lousy putting her through this, and he briefly contemplated the idea of suggesting they terminate the experiment.

Since that would mean the loss of Pippa’s child, he held back. He might not be the father—and would in fact bet serious money that he wasn’t—but couldn’t bear the thought of the poor child expiring if there was a chance to save it. Though it was connected to Pippa, it was still a developing life, and after losing Wesley, he couldn’t stand idly by and allow that to happen to another child if there was a way to save it.

Unless it was risking Piper’s health, and then he wouldn’t hesitate to suggest termination.

Gretel arrived a moment later, indicating she had run from her quarters to his. He authorized the computer to allow her entry, and she burst inside with a bag in her hand. She came straight to them, gently nudging Weston aside with her hip so she could kneel in the spot he’d been occupying. She ran a scanner across Piper’s face and down her body, spending a moment scanning her abdomen and lower area.

“Am I losing it?” Piper seemed appalled by the idea.

He was reassured by that reaction as he took her hand. “If you are, I appreciate you trying.”

As her expression softened slightly, Gretel spoke to both of them. “She seems to be settling in just fine. It’s still more of the adjustment.” She turned to look at him. “I suggest keeping her close, Commander. I don’t see anything to really worry about at the moment, but Ms. Marston’s going to feel awful for at least a few days, and probably a couple of weeks. If you’re nearby, you can help ease the process for her. Pamper her as much as possible.”

He breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. “I can do that for sure, Gretel.”

Gretel turned her attention to Piper. “I know you feel bad, but this will pass. Just do your best to endure, and the same rules apply as before—get lots of rest and low stress. Eat when you can.”

“Weston already fed me,” she said through slightly trembling lips. There was warmth in her gaze as she looked in his direction.

It made his heart race and sent warmth spiraling through his chest. Something about her look was enchanting, though he doubted there was any intent from her for it to be. She was obviously too miserable in her suffering to be thinking about anything except her physical state. And his thoughts should center there as well.

Gretel left them a short time later, and he returned to the couch to pick her up. When she protested, he frowned. “She told you to rest, and I’m perfectly capable of carrying you.”

She frowned, looking doubtful. “I’m too heavy.”

He couldn’t help a laugh. “You feel like a feather to me.” Ignoring her skeptical look, because he was telling her the truth—it felt amazing to hold her, but certainly not any kind of burden that he couldn’t handle–he took her down the hall. Without thinking about it, he bypassed Pippa’s room and went straight to his, arranging Piper across his bed and pulling the covers over her.

He was moved to kiss her on the forehead, but averted at the last moment and hoped she didn’t notice the awkward hesitation. He cleared his throat. “Get some rest, and let me know if you need anything.” At her hesitant nod, he turned and left the room, leaving the panel open slightly so he could hear her if she called him in the middle of the night.

He bypassed Pippa’s room, not even able to think about sleeping in there with all her things still in the space, and went to the couch, where he stretched out. His thoughts were preoccupied, and sleep was a long time coming as he listened for cries or requests for help that never came.