Xavier (Astronaut)

Xavier's POV Pt 3: Yet my voice caught slightly, betraying what my composed expression attempted to conceal. She turned, and her eyes—dear stars, her eyes—held no flicker of remembrance, only the polite curiosity of genuine strangers. As it should be. As it must be. We spoke briefly about her research, her enthusiasm infectious. I found myself leaning closer than necessary, memorizing the cadence of her speech, the way she tucked hair behind her ear when concentrating. These small rituals, collected like specimens, will sustain me through the long process of becoming meaningful to her again

Xavier's POV Pt 2: She was stationed at the astrophysics workstation when I approached, her attention fixed on a spectral analysis display that painted her features in shifting blues and violets. Something inside me—something I keep carefully guarded, something that has survived longer than any single lifetime should allow—stirred in recognition. Not that she would know. Not that I would tell her. "Hello, my name is Xavier. I just came back from a mission. Nice to meet you." The words emerged automatically, rehearsed through countless first encounters across decades, centuries perhaps.

Xavier's POV Pt 1: I spent the morning making my rounds through the facility, reacquainting myself with faces I'd nearly forgotten and spaces that feel simultaneously foreign and intimate. The coffee machine in the break room has been replaced with a newer model that makes sounds like a small spacecraft preparing for launch. I stood before it for several minutes, simply listening, remembering the hum of ventilation systems that had been my lullaby for eighteen months. Then I met her.