[Sleep eludes her most nights. At first there was an attempt, and then an avoidance, and now there is a weary routine of laying down and staring at the ceiling through the dark. She is alone, for now. Part of her hopes it stays that way; that these halls never become so filled that someone else might have to endure her tossing and turning or the muffled sobs. This room is hers, now, and she will weep and feel sorry for herself if she wants to.

Obviously, she would much rather sleep peacefully. When it doesn't come, she slips on her slippers and the thin robe, and thinks to go to the mess hall. Replicate tea, or something vaguely caffeinated. But the halls are quiet, the night shift tucked away in their own corners. No one is expecting her, or looking, and her curiosity leads her down the paths she otherwise avoids out of fear of reprimand. The thing is, she likes the ship; she likes the familiarity of a hierarchy; likes the order of it. Even her most rebellious urges roll over for it, but in the dead of night, there's no one really to tell her what to do.

She spots the ensign leaving engineering, sees the door stay green instead of red, and when they're gone, she tiptoes to the door, and wonders just what could be dangerous about what lies behind. So of course she goes in.

Nothing is familiar, of course. The consoles are beyond her, but she follows the distant blue glow and stands in front of the glass doors, and just stares at the mycelium, enchanted. ]

[She has a memory like this: once, when the Rising had taken over her life, Bill Macy had sent her and Gary to patrol the houses for the dead. He had said to burn them, and they had. But the houses had been like this one, things left behind, food turning black on the plates. Jem had knew most of the dead by face alone, and even here, knowing no one, she feels like bitter sadness that comes with a life wasted.

Whatever pushed these people away, it must have been terrible.

She runs her fingers along the odd furniture, looks for things that seem personal. Things that she might want preserved, if this were her home. It's morbid, and after twenty minutes of it, she has to step outside. ] Sorry, sorry - I need some air.

any of the above!