He exhales once, a sound that might have been my name, and collapses back against the table.
The room goes very quiet.
Drel lets out a slow breath. “Remind me never to get on your patient roster.”
I drop the syringe into the disposal unit and rub my face. “Remind me to switch careers.”
We stabilize him, again. His breathing evens, heartbeat steadies. The monitors settle into a rhythm that’s almost peaceful. Almost.
The kind of peace that feels like standing on a minefield waiting for the click.
Later,after Drel leaves to file the transport log, I linger.
The medbay is half-dark now. The low light makes him look younger, less weapon and more man. The plating along his arm catches the glow like polished obsidian.
He was always too big for the narrow bunks, too loud for quiet rooms. Now he lies still, tethered by wires and tubes, the strongest man I’ve ever known reduced to fragile machinery.
I should hate him.
I tell myself that — over and over — like a mantra.
He’s the reason I lost everything.
He’s the reason Nessa will never know what a normal life looks like.
He’s the reason I’ve spent five years hiding under a false name on a forgotten rock.
And yet…
The sight of him breathing, alive, hits me like a pulse through the chest.
I lean closer, fingers brushing the edge of the table. His skin looks too pale against the matte black of the prosthetic. I remember that hand — warm, rough, strong enough to lift me clear off the ground and gentle enough to trace the back of my neck when he thought I was asleep.
“Why did you have to come back?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer, of course. But some muscle under his jaw twitches, and that’s enough to send a shiver down my spine.
Footsteps echo in the corridor. I straighten fast, heart in my throat.
It’s Drel again, holding a datapad.
“Command wants updates every four hours,” he says. “And a full neuro-map once he stabilizes. Guess who gets to babysit?”
“Lucky me.”
He studies me a moment. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I have,” I say quietly.
He hesitates, then nods and slips out again.
I watch the door slide shut. The sound feels final — like a seal.
I’m alone with Vael.
The silence between us is thick, filled with memories I can’t afford to replay. His breathing deepens, steady now, the low rumble of it vibrating through the metal table.
It’s stupid, but I find myself syncing to the rhythm. In, out.
