"Noted." He smiled and tucked the blanket higher over her shoulder. He traced his thumb over her lower lip. "Rest. I'll wake you when it's ready."
She made a small noise of agreement and buried her face in the pillow he'd given her. Within seconds, her breathing evened out again.
Standing, he rechecked his comm unit. The confirmation blinked back at him: PROCESSING.
He deactivated the unit and set it back on the desk, satisfaction settling cold and certain in his gut. He had a plan. He had intel incoming and if Harper ever found out what he'd just done, she'd never forgive him.
He glanced back at the bed where she slept, soft and trusting. Worth the risk.
She was worth any risk.
"The brain activity is distinct." Kellat's fingers flew across the holographic console, and Harper leaned forward in the uncomfortable chair beside Delilah's bed, hardly daring to breathe.
Her hand rested over Delilah's limp fingers. Her cousin looked pale, fragile in a way she’d never seen before. Even unconscious, with tubes and sensors monitoring her every biological function, Delilah somehow managed to look like she was taking a very expensive nap.
"See here? Her numbers are stronger, and any residual swelling is down."
Kellat flicked his fingers, and the hologram zoomed out; blue lines flared under his fingers as he stood on the other side of the bed. The scanning rings over Delilah's chest pulsed, soft and rhythmic.
She leaned in until her knee bumped the bedframe, squinting at the blue web of lines—meaningless to her. Kellat knew what he was looking at, though, and that was all that mattered. "Does that mean...?"
Kellat looked up, his expression warm.
"It means the neural pathways are re-establishing connections faster than I projected." He tapped a final command, and the blue rings dimmed, settling into a standby mode. "If this trend continues for another cycle, I believe I can begin the protocol to bring her out of the coma."
"She's going to wake up?" Her voice cracked. "For real?"
"For real," the healer confirmed, a small smile touching his lips.
The crushing weight that had been sitting on Harper's chest for days lifted. It vanished, leaving her lightheaded and dizzy with relief.
Delilah wasn't going to die. She hadn't killed her cousin by failing to stop her reckless impulse.
Heat pressed behind her eyes. She blinked it back, squeezing Delilah's fingers.
"Did you hear that, Dee?" she whispered, thumb rubbing her cousin's knuckles. "You're going to be okay. You have to wake up because the healer says so, and he's scary smart."
The door to the medical hall hissed open. She didn't need to look up to know who it was. Her body already knew.
Kirr.
He filled the doorway, the quiff of his orange hair almost brushing the top of the frame. He was back in his uniform, the leather emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders, but his face was open as his golden gaze locked onto her.
He moved toward her like he owned every inch of space between them.
"How is she doing?" Kirr's gaze flicked from Delilah's monitors to Harper's face. He stopped beside her chair, his hand settling on her shoulder. The weight of it was grounding. Solid.
She looked up at him, unable to keep the grin off her face. "She's getting better. Kellat says he might be able to wake her up soon."
She stood up, needing to move, needing to do something with the nervous energy buzzing under her skin. She bounced on the balls of her feet. "She's going to make it, Kirr. She's actually going to make it."
Kirr's expression softened, the lines around his eyes smoothing out. "That’s great news. I know you were worried."
"You have no idea." A laugh escaped her. "I thought... I really thought I'd lost her."
"You haven't." His thumb swept over the curve of her shoulder, a possessive, comforting touch. "Not while I'm on this station."
She giggled. “What, are you going to personally intimidate the universe into leaving me alone or something?”
