You never spoke about Earth.

Ever.

Not with Miller. It was one of those things. Those unspoken things that were best left unsaid. You were on Ceres now. You were with him. There was no point in bringing up Earth.

And yet, the more you didn't want to speak about it - the more he seemed to be interested. Not openly, of course. But you'd found articles and videos on his information pad you borrowed - before he could scrub them. Stuff about Earth.

Stuff about Belters and Earth. Their health issues. How it rendered life on Earth for Belters usually impossible. Their bones were too brittle after generations in lower gravity, their muscles damaged and vulnerable against the greater gravity of humanity's birthplace. They couldn't survive on Earth.

He'd even looked up expensive, trial treatments for Belters to acclimatise to Earth's gravity. They were way out of a Belter detective's paygrade - but he'd looked them up. Even if there were no clear-cut results yet. No actual evidence that the treatments weren't just a sham.

Unless genuine, radical gene therapies and treatments were discovered, Humanity's homeworld would remain untouched by Belters. Earth. A big blue orb, rich in the air and water that Belters struggled every day for. Out of reach. Forever.

One night, curled up in his arms - he broached the subject. That most taboo subject for Belters. A sore, sorry subject. Belters were usually proud of their heritage and their culture. Where they came from and their resilience. To ask about Earth almost seemed to admit that their difficult lives were chosen for them. Their bodies, limiting cages.

It was late, dark. Quiet enough, for Ceres. But it still felt like something taboo was being asked. Miller murmured -

"...What's it like? Earth."