Day and night don’t have much meaning in a place without a sun, but there’s a certain routine that people follow. He doesn’t — not ever, really, but especially not now. He sleeps more than he did the jump cycle before, but still not much, and while there are a number of ways to fill those unoccupied hours on this ship, on more than a few such nights he finds his way to Medbay.

The gravity couches aren’t a comfort, exactly. His associations with them will never be one thing or the other, only panic overtaking him or cold, sweet oblivion. But the rafters above are where so many things began, for him, and so he pads across the open floor under the room's low blue glow, takes a few quick strides between heavy breaths, and vaults up the wall into the dark.

If the spot he settles into happens to have a direct line of sight to the pod belonging to a certain red-head who didn’t come out of stasis this month, well, somebody’s got to look out for her.