Naomi hesitated.
He did not reach for it.
That mattered.
She turned the photograph toward him.
The captain stared.
His eyes moved across the face.
The uniform.
The gold wings.
The small engraved plate beneath the image.
CAPTAIN MARCUS BROOKS
The captain inhaled.
His eyes closed for half a second.
When they reopened, they were wet.
Naomi frowned.
“You knew my daddy?”
The captain did not answer immediately.
He looked toward Claire.
Then toward the other passengers.
Finally back to Naomi.
“Yes.”
His voice had changed.
Quiet.
Rough.
“I knew him.”
The older woman beside Naomi shifted impatiently.
“Captain, if you could simply move the child—”
The captain turned.
Every trace of grief disappeared from his expression.
“No.”
The single word silenced the cabin.
The woman blinked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“No one is moving this little girl from her seat.”
“I have already explained—”
“I heard enough.”
The captain stood.
His posture made the narrow aisle seem smaller.
“This seat belongs to her?”
Claire nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then she stays.”
The older woman’s mouth opened.
The captain turned back toward Naomi.
“You’re Marcus Brooks’s daughter?”
Naomi nodded.
“Naomi.”
His expression softened.
“I’m Ethan Cole.”
Naomi knew that name.
She had heard it.
Not often.
But somewhere.
Her mother had a box of articles from after the accident.
Names.
Passengers.
Crew members.
She remembered seeing Ethan Cole printed beneath one photograph.
“You were there.”
The captain’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
The entire First-Class cabin seemed to lean closer without moving.
Naomi looked down at her father.
“My mom said Daddy saved people.”
Captain Cole swallowed.
“He saved everyone.”
Naomi looked up.
“Everyone?”
“Yes.”
His gaze drifted past her for a moment.
Two years disappeared from the aircraft around him.
He could smell smoke again.
Hydraulic fluid.
Burned wiring.
He could hear the alarms.
The screams.
The pounding of the emergency door.
He could hear Marcus Brooks telling everyone to keep moving.
“Don’t stop.”