Memory returned in fragments. The derelict. The raiders. Elena dragging my dying body to safety. That impossible jump across the void.
"He's waking." Bea's voice, clinically professional. "Vitals are stabilizing. Neural response improving."
I forced my eyes to focus. Found myself in a medical pod, monitoring equipment attached to every surface of my body. Bea stood at the controls, her pale blonde hair pulled back severe and practical, gray-blue eyes tracking data with the focus of someone who wouldn't tolerate failure from mere biology.
"How long?" My voice came out rough, damaged by the plasma exposure.
"Eighteen hours since we pulled you out of that derelict." Bea's fingers moved across her datapad, making adjustmentsto my medication drip. "You had third-degree plasma burns across forty percent of your torso, severe internal bleeding, and nerve damage that would have paralyzed a human. You're lucky to be alive, Commander."
"Elena—"
"Is alive. Stubborn. And currently sleeping in the chair next to your pod because I literally had to sedate her to make her rest." Bea gestured to my left, and I turned my head, carefully, everything hurt, to see Elena slumped in a medical chair, her injured shoulder wrapped in bandages, dark hair wild around her face.
She looked exhausted. Beautiful. Alive.
"She wouldn't leave," Bea continued. "Stayed through your entire surgery, all eighteen hours. Argued with me about medication protocols, apparently she thinks her electrical engineering degree qualifies her to debate xenobiology. Nearly punched Zorn when he suggested she should rest in her quarters." A hint of warmth crept into Bea's professional tone. "She cares about you. More than is probably wise."
I stared at Elena's sleeping form, at the way her hand rested near mine like she'd been holding it before exhaustion claimed her.
"The mission?" I asked.
"Will and Lisa are both alive, stable, and recovering. The derelict's navigation data was successfully destroyed, so Earth's location remains protected. Captain Tor'van wants a full debrief when you're recovered, but initial reports suggest you and Elena prevented a catastrophic intelligence breach." Bea's expression softened microscopically. "You both didwell, Commander. Try to remember that when the guilt sets in."
The guilt. She knew. Saw through to the core of what drove me, the need to protect, to save, to prevent the kind of loss that had destroyed my old unit.
"I failed them," I said quietly. "My unit. They died because I wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough?—"
"They died because war is chaos and loss is inevitable." Bea's voice was gentle but firm. "You can't protect everyone, Vaxon. Not from everything. The best you can do is fight for the ones in front of you and accept that sometimes just surviving is enough."
She moved toward the door, then paused. "Elena understands that. She spent months punishing herself for surviving when others didn't. But she learned something important on that derelict, that living isn't betrayal. That choosing to save someone you care about doesn't diminish the ones you've lost." Bea looked back at me, and for once her clinical mask dropped completely. "Let her teach you that. She's good at it."
Then she left, and I was alone with Elena's sleeping form and the weight of everything that had happened.
The mission had been successful. Intelligence had been secured, survivors rescued, catastrophic breach prevented. By any objective measure, we'd accomplished our objectives.
But all I could think about was the moment when Elena had chosen to save me instead of completing her mission. The moment when she'd defied every tactical principle, every survival protocol, to drag my dying body to safety.
She'd chosen me.
The thought terrified and exhilarated in equal measure. Because it meant this thing between us, this complicated, intense, impossible connection, was real. Not just attraction or professional respect or the bonding that happened during combat operations.
Elena Vasquez, brilliant chaos in human form, had decided I was worth saving. Worth fighting for. Worth risking everything.
Now I had to decide what I was going to do about it.
Movement caught my attention. Elena stirred, her face scrunching in that way that meant she was fighting consciousness. Then her eyes opened, hazel and bright even through exhaustion, and found mine.
For a long moment neither of us spoke. Just looked at each other across the small distance between pod and chair, communication happening in that loaded silence.
"You're awake," she finally said, voice rough from sleep and emotion.
"Thanks to you."
"Don't." She sat up straighter, winced as the movement pulled at her injured shoulder. "Don't make me a hero. I just did what any decent person would do."
"You completed the mission and saved my life. Most people can't manage both."
"Most people aren't trying to prove they deserve to exist." The words came out bitter, raw. Then she seemed to realize what she'd said, and looked away. "Sorry. I'm tired and everything hurts and I'm saying things that should stay in therapy."
