“I need to sleep…” Bette moaned, laying her head on Helena’s shoulder. Water cascaded over their hair as Helena reached around to rinse Bette free of soap. “I haven’t been sleeping lately, what with all of our fighting…”

“yeah.” Helena commiserated. “Listen, sweetheart,” She dipped her lips to Bette’s ear before pulling away and facing her. “I think that we’ve reached that critical point in all relationships, where we need to communicate more often—through words rather than just physically.”

Bette smiled brightly, touching her nose to Helena’s briefly. “So we’re in a relationship now? I’m not just your body guard, fuck buddy…”

“no! who said such a thing?” Helena was slightly hurt, though she read Bette’s insecurity through her words. “You’re wonderful, you’re perfect…I love you Bette.”

“Oh those words—how you struggle with those words.” Bette sighed. “I love you to.” She said firmly, kissing Helena until they both started laughing. The shower, as luxurious as it was, was also incredibly small.

Bette moved off to crawl into a free bed, while Helena retrieved Caiohme from Peggy.

“She’s beautiful.” Peggy said quietly, handing over the sleeping baby. “She eats a lot. I suppose babies do that.” Her apologetic tone was meant to make up for the knowledge, shared by both women, that she had never really interacted with Helena as an infant.

“you saw enough of me.” Helena said gently. “You just never did the dirty work…diapers, feedings…I mean, what did we eat?”

Peggy shrugged. “in those days, everyone fed with formula…it was considered the thing to do. Now, is this the part where you tell me that your neuroses are caused by a lack of breast feeding?”

“No Mother, that’s not what I’m saying and you know it.” Helena tried to keep her tone neutral, but fatigue took over and she began to get annoyed. “Look, I’m going to take a nap with Bette and Caiohme. We’ll talk again over lunch, ok?”

While Bette, Helena, and Caiohme napped in one room together, Catherine and Dylan slept next to them.

Alice and Lara spent a few hours with Peggy, hearing stories about how the rich and famous were waiting out this crisis. Neither could swallow the bitter pill, that when the shit hit the fan, money could still buy its way out of crisis.

While Alice and Lara pondered their socialist futures, a lone figure waited on the outside of their aircraft. Oozing with congealed blood, the thing’s jaw fell off halfway through the trip—its arm soon to follow. Yet it held on, waiting, hoping, wanting so much…
…to feast on the warmth it smelled within…