Space wasn’t silent. It was crying.
John had his hand resting gently on EOS’ frame and his eyes closed. She had stopped asking him questions, stopped querying his reactions. She didn’t understand, but trusted that he did.
His other hand reached up to cover his eyes, whether to hide from the expression on his brother’s face or to try and comfort himself he didn’t know.
Virgil was bleeding music.
He hadn’t heard his brother cry in years, but this was, this was the sound of tears. How long had this been building up? How long had his brother been feeling this way?
But amongst all the pain, there was so much hope. A searching, a need, a determination. John looked up at his brother to find him biting his bottom lip, his frown of concentration so intense it looked painful.
“EOS, prepare the elevator. I need to go home.”