The hangar smells the same.
Fuel, metal, oil — familiar enough that it settles something in her chest she didn’t realize was tight. Carol pauses just inside the open doors, helmet tucked under her arm, taking in the quiet hum of a place that never really sleeps.
Earth’s changed. She knows that. So has she.
She’s been gone longer than she meant to be. Longer than anyone expected. Space has a way of stretching time until it stops feeling real, until “home” becomes a concept instead of a location.
Carol exhales, slow, steady.
She’s not here for a parade. Not here for answers. Just checking the altitude. Seeing what still holds.
If anyone’s looking for her — she’s not hiding. She’s just… back.















