"And even if those factors didn't exist, I'm not—I can't—" She stopped. Took a breath. Started again. "I'm broken, Zorn. I'm carrying damage I don't know how to process. Getting involved with me would be a disaster."
"I know that too."
Bea laughed. Short, bitter, nothing like genuine amusement. "Then what the hell are we doing?"
"Having an honest conversation." I took a careful step closer. Not invading her space, just... closing some of the distance between us. "I'm telling you the truth because the alternative is watching you avoid me forever while wondering if you did something wrong. You didn't. I'm the one who complicated things by catching feelings I had no business developing."
"Catching feelings," Bea echoed. "Like it's a disease."
"Isn't it? In this situation?"
She didn't answer. Just stood there looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Confusion and something else. Something that might have been reciprocation if I let myself hope.
But hope was dangerous. Hope led to expectations that would only make the waiting worse.
"I won't push anymore," I said. "Won't force therapy, won't threaten medical leave, won't hover or micromanage or any of the other controlling behaviors you've rightly called out. But I also won't apologize for caring. For noticing when you're struggling. For wanting to help even when you don't want help."
"Because you care."
"Yes."
"Not professionally."
"No."
Bea closed her eyes. "This is so stupid."
"Agreed."
"We can't do this."
"I know."
When she opened her eyes again, they were bright with unshed tears she absolutely wouldn't allow to fall. "I started seeing Dr. Senna. Had my first session yesterday. It was... hard. Harder than I expected."
The admission felt like a gift. Like trust.
"That's good," I said carefully. "Hard means you're actually dealing with things instead of avoiding them."
"Dr. Senna says I use work as self-medication. That I'm running from trauma I haven't processed." Bea's voice stayed controlled, but I heard the thread of vulnerability underneath. "She's probably right. But knowing that doesn't make it easier. Doesn't make me want to stop working and start feeling all the things I've been avoiding."
"No one said healing was easy."
"You did. Three days ago. In your quarters. You said healing was letting someone help you."
I'd forgotten to say that. Or maybe I'd just never expected her to actually hear it.
"It is," I confirmed. "But it's also hard and scary and requires more courage than any medical procedure."
"I don't feel courageous."
"You are anyway."
Bea laughed again. This time it almost sounded genuine. "You don't give up, do you?"
"Not on things that matter."
"And I matter?"
