Andreiya was nervous. Excited, but anxious.

He hadn't spoken to his parents in so long. He had deliberately not done the math, partly because the days that spent here on Earth passed so differently than those on Velencya.

He'd gone to his greenhouse to make the call. He didn't think they'd understand the colorful, cozy nature of his bedroom. He loved Steve, but he didn't want to risk them seeing him. He had a hard time explaining his roommate to people who knew of the oddities of Earth. The Commodore had warned that the stability of the message was undeterminable past a certain point, and he wanted to talk about home.

Andreiya had spent all day cleaning up the greenhouse. Dylas made an appearance; he'd grown a few inches since the winter, and Andreiya had asked him (politely) to please not make a scene while he called his parents. He explained to the snake what was going to happen, and while he supposed there might be a language barrier, Dylas had looked at him with soulful, understanding eyes. He had gone to sleep in the late afternoon.

When Andreiya had left home, he had been a Cadet. Now, he was a Commander. He brushed his hair, pressed his uniform, and made sure he looked healthy and vibrant.

His parents couldn't know that Earth was so chaotic. They couldn't know about Caedus. They couldn't know about Velencya's plight, or the Commodore's.

Andreiya wasn't going to lie to them, he thought they'd know if he did. His parents were always kind and doting, and he was both spoiled and supported by them. Being an only child wasn't uncommon, but his parents hadn't known if they were going to have children. They had been dedicated to their work, and had been happy with that. As the years went on, their relationship hadn't changed. Maybe they had. They weren't old, not by his own understanding of the word, but they had decided to have a child a bit later in life than the others of their generation.

It had worked out well for him.

They were well established in their fields, and they were mature and patient with him in a way that younger parents might not have been. He had no other family but them. They were indulgent, often letting him come to work with them, or spending time answering his constant flow of questions.

When he'd joined the Vanguard, of course they'd worried. They'd kept him pampered and content, and his aspirations consisted of making them proud. This was supposed to be his chance, but things were...

Complicated.

He'd prepared a list of questions, and an outline of things he could tell them about what he was working on. He'd even asked the Commodore to approve his conversation topics. Lyndin had obliged, although perhaps he had been a bit indulgent himself.

Andreiya liked the extra support. He needed confirmation when he was doing a good job. He didn't have his parents here to support him, so in their stead he had gravitated towards his friends. He felt more confident with the approval of others, and maybe he should have been more independent as a Commander, but he had to regularly find ways to assure himself that he was doing a good job.

He'd procrastinated on the call, but he wasn't sure why. He wanted to speak with them but it had been something to look forward to, also. Like a treat that he was saving to reward himself, only he couldn't think of anything he'd done to earn a reward.

In the end, he'd caved, and decided that maybe just being here for so long without them warranted a reward.

His parents were healthy. They must have been waiting by their devices because as soon as he had confirmation that a connection had been secured, they'd answered.

The first few minutes, they'd showered him in so much praise that he was glowing for the rest of the conversation. Then, they fussed over him--was he eating enough? Sleeping? Was he working hard? How were his friends? How was the Commodore? What was he working on?

He confirmed as much as he could for them. He assured them that he was taking care of himself, and he spoke a bit of the friends he had here. He wasn't lonely, he made sure they knew that. He hadn't been the most social child, he'd liked shadowing his parents much more than interacting with others his age, and maybe that was still mostly true, but he was doing much better.

The Vanguard, and Earth, had forced him to broaden his horizons.

The Commodore was busy, but he only had good things to say about him. He assured his parents that, though the mission had become quite a lengthy one, they were doing well and were optimistic about coming home. He hoped he could visit, but he explained to them that Earth had many opportunities and features available for research, and that he was making the best of his time there.

He'd been visibly proud when discussing his research, and he gave them a tour of his greenhouse. Dylas stayed hidden in a plant the whole time, and Andreiya intended to bring him some very nice treats as a result. He'd introduce his parents next time. It had been difficult not to vomit information about all of the plants, but he gave them a rehearsed summary of his greatest accomplishments, and where he wanted to take his projects.

Naturally, they had been supportive. They regretted that they couldn't get access to the reports he'd written, or any of the documents he'd published about his research, but he promised that he would do his best. He was giddy with their questions and praise, and, and he'd felt very much like a child the whole time. It was a perfect escape. His parents might not have known the full story behind everything, but their faith in him made him forget how dire things were and gave him a fresh burst of energy to fuel his work.

When he got to ask about how they were doing, about how Velencya was doing, he was a bit surprised by how mundane it sounded. He'd liked the steady, predictable ritual of his days on Velencya, but after his time on Earth it seemed so still.

He missed it, of course, but it just felt like there was so much more to do here.

While talking to his parents, he understood how much he missed home, but it made him realize that--for all of Earth's shortcomings--he might have missed here, too.

It was a complicated emotion, and not something he cared to process while he was speaking with his parents.

Half an hour went by too quickly, and he realized that the connection had started to fray in the last few minutes. The image of his parents would cut out, or their words would become jumbled and distorted.

He didn't want to say goodbye.

He missed them, immensely, and while this conversation had scratched an itch that had spent months growing, he didn't like that he didn't know when he'd be able to see them next. He could take solace in the fact that they were healthy and doing well, and the Velencya he knew was very much alive and well. For now.

He'd told them he missed them and that they loved him, and such sentiments were returned. Perhaps he was a bit more emotional now, but his parents indulged in that, too.

They'd known the connection was breaking up. The last thing he'd heard them say was that they were proud of him, and that they couldn't wait to hear all about his mission and how much he'd accomplished.

He wished he could have told them then.

Half an hour was next to nothing in the life of a Velencian, and when the screen went back and the connection fizzled for the last time, he'd been perplexed because it had felt like seconds.

Andreiya fiddled with his ComTech, like he might have been able to restore it one more time, but his parents never returned to the screen.

There was an ache in his heart that bloomed then, and grew steadily as the seconds ticked on.

Their absence was as hard now as it had been the first time he'd had to leave them, except he couldn't even look forward to a quick return.

He didn't know how long they were going to be on Earth for. He didn't know when he was going to get to see them again.

Andreiya was not emotionless. In the presence of others, he could hold his feelings in. Mostly.

Now, he was alone, and the weight of it all was overpowering. He felt his heart in his chest. He felt warmth in his eyes.

There were far better things to do than cry. He'd been homesick for a long time.

Half an hour was next to nothing, so the few minutes he spent wiping tears from his eyes was even less than that.

He didn't feel better afterwards. He felt tired.

The plants needed tending to, though. And Steve had been alone for most of the day. He had things to do to keep him busy.

He wouldn't have missed his parents so much if conversation with them didn't feel so unattainable. Lyndin had succeeded in reaching them once, though. Maybe it wouldn't be so long until he could speak to them again.

He'd spend tonight touching up his reports so that he was ready to send them off when he had a chance.

And, maybe he could see if anyone else needed company tonight.

Steve was great company, but he wanted to talk about home a bit more. He wanted to reminisce. He wanted to visit, but when that was out of the question, maybe he could at least return in his memories. Just for tonight.

Tomorrow was a new day, and he had work to do. He would be refreshed. He could pick back up on all of his projects, and maybe start some new ones.

He'd make everyone proud.