I take his hand and hold it between both of mine. His skin is hot, too hot, the fever raging through him.
"You can't die." The words come out broken. "Maksim, you can't. Not after everything. Not now."
He doesn't respond. Doesn't even twitch.
I press my forehead to his hand, tears streaming down my face.
"I need you to fight," I whisper. "Please. Fight like you fought in Georgia. Fight like you fought to get us out of that compound. Just—don't give up. Don't leave me alone."
The only answer is the steady breathing.
Time passes. I don't know how much. Minutes or hours or days—it all blurs together in this small room.
Semyon brings clothes like he promised. I change without leaving the room.
Anya brings water. “Any change?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
I notice she’s wearing a pair of sweats that are way too big for her. She looks awful, but at least she’s out of the awful dress.
“How are you?” I ask.
I noticed the bandage on her upper arm. She looks at it and smiles. “I’m fine. Semyon says shrapnel. Cleaned and stitched. What about you?”
“I’m okay.”
“I don’t know about that,” she says. “You protected me with your body. I bet you have injuries you can’t even feel because you’re in shock.”
“I’m okay.”
She nods. “I’ll let you get away with that for now. Semyon is making some dinner.”
I stare down at Maksim. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was dead.
I need to clean him up.
I go into the bathroom and soak a couple of towels with cold water and return to the room. I’m hoping the cool towels will help bring down his temperature.
I sing to him as I clean away the blood.
“Kira, you need to eat,” Anya urges. “And you need to clean up.”
“I can’t.”
“Kira, now.” Her voice is firm. “I’ll stay with him. Go. Wash up.”
“I’m okay,” I repeat, but I do go to the bathroom to clean away the dried blood. I do find a couple of cuts and my body is one large bruise, but nothing that requires Semyon’s attention.
I return to the room and see Anya sitting on the bed next to Maksim.
Anya looks at Maksim with tears in her eyes. "He saved us," she says quietly. "Both of us."
"I know."
"He loves you so much." Her voice cracks. "I could see it. Even when he was pretending to hate you, I could see it."
I can't respond. The words are stuck behind the lump in my throat.
