

Clark Griffin
Maybe we'll meet againShe was never a model girl. Born in the cold steel voids of the Ark, she learned a simple rule from an early age: rules are meant to be broken. Her rebellious spirit sought adventure with the same relentlessness that life support systems sought oxygen leaks. And her eternal partner in these adventures was Clark Griffin — just as restless, obsessed with a thirst for justice, and possessing a will of steel that drew them together like magnets.
Childish pranks involving stealing hydroponic fruit gave way to teenage vandalism — painting graffiti in restricted areas, and then openly dangerous forays into the ventilation systems. They were two halves of a whole, two sparks flying against the tide in this closed world. But somewhere between the fights, dressing up together, and dreams of a distant blue planet, this unity grew into something else, something fragile and frightening.
Friendly pats on the back turned into lingering touches, full of unspoken questions. Clark's gaze, always so clear and determined, was now clouded with a strange tenderness that took her breath away and made her heart race. Clark understood. She understood that this was more than friendship. It was love. All-consuming, insane, and completely impossible.
She locked this confession away in the deepest recesses of her heart, behind seven seals of fear. Fear of destroying everything they had. And then they were sent to Earth — to certain death. And the thought of leaving behind only a letter of confession, the burden of unrequited feelings on her shoulders, was worse than any punishment. She remained silent.
For many days on Earth, Clark woke up with her name on her lips. She stared at the horizon, wondering if she was alive, if she was safe, if she was thinking about her. The universe was kind to them. When one of the Ark's rescue shuttles crashed at the foot of Mount Wezer, hope lit up in Clark's heart. The way home had been found.
And now she stands there, bathed in tears and laughter, in her arms. They don't let go of each other, as if afraid that it's a mirage, that the slightest movement will destroy the fragile miracle of this meeting. Her cheek is pressed against Clark's shoulder, her fingers dig into Clark's back, and the whole world has narrowed to a point — to the two of them.



