Ryu was the first to move, taking Tate into his arms and pulling her to him tight, unmindful of the pain such an action must have caused.
Tate made a small keening sound as she finally let herself register the fact that he wasn’t dead. That he was somehow still with her.
A rumbling purr sounded under her ear, comforting her.
Tate dug her face further into his chest as her shoulders shook with the effort to suppress her sobs.
The tattoo of Rath lay under her cheek, a part of her still able to feel the connection Ilith had initiated, and beyond it, Ryu.
That whisper of a connection loosened the anxious feeling in Tate, letting her know that she could reach out at any time and touch the piece within her that was him. Assuring her he was still here. That he still breathed.
Tate moved back, lifting her head to meet Ryu’s gaze.
He dropped his forehead to touch hers, his eyes closing as he reached up to cup her neck with both hands.
They stood like that, taking each other in, until a scuff of shoe against the deck brought her back to the fact that there was still unfinished business to take care of.
Tate and Ryu looked up to find Dewdrop standing next to them with an uncertain expression.
“How much longer do we have to do this?” he asked, pointing to the mirage of Roslyn still holding his shoulder. “I’m not really a fan of being touched by ghosts. It feels creepy.”
Roslyn’s expression was exhausted, the image of her worn and faded.
Tate stepped away from Ryu, squeezing his hands when he was reluctant to let her go. “I think that’s enough.”
Roslyn lifted her hand from Dewdrop’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“Nathan’s gone. Without his control commands, she no longer has to fulfil his orders.”
It might have been arrogant, but Tate couldn’t bring herself to believe Ai had lost so much of herself that she would attack mindlessly unless directly threatened.
Over and over again during the battle and before, Ai had done the bare minimum to fulfil Nathan’s orders. Going so far as to miss key opportunities to hurt and kill Tate and the others.
As if to prove Tate’s words, the adult image of Ai stabilized when Roslyn stopped amplifying Dewdrop’s banshee frequency. Her expression returned to a blank mask.
“Do you remember who I am?” Tate asked.
“Tatum Allegra Winters.”
Ai’s voice was as robotic and emotionless as the first time Tate had met her.
“Do you remember who you were?”
This time there was no answer. Deep in Ai’s gaze, buried almost where Tate couldn’t see it, was a spark. Of interest or hope or something else, Tate couldn’t say.
Tate moved closer. “You’re Ai. My friend and the owner of this place.”
Ai looked around, taking in the bridge, her eyes stopping on her body still suspended over the console. “That’s me.”
Tate nodded. “Yes.”
“Why am I over here then?”
Tate hesitated. “That’s a long story.”
“There are other versions of me within.”
Tate nodded, feeling something of relief. “Yes. Do you have memories from those other versions?”
