"Is this going to be our thing? Helping each other work through survivor trauma while fighting raiders and arguing about electrical systems?"
"Probably. Along with driving each other crazy and stealing each other's food and debating proper maintenance protocols at inappropriate hours."
"That actually sounds good." She smiled, small and uncertain. "Complicated and messy and probably disaster-prone, but good."
"Welcome to relationships. I hear they're all complicated and messy and disaster-prone."
"Where'd you hear that?"
"Er'dox. He waxed philosophical about it after bonding with Dana. Apparently love is equal parts terror and joy with significant logistical challenges."
Elena laughed again, and I committed the sound to memory, wanted to collect every version of her laughter, catalog the differences between amused and delighted and surprised.
"He's not wrong," she said. "Though I'd add 'electrically charged' to that description."
"Electrically charged?"
"From my perspective. Your perspective might be different. Maybe 'tactically complicated' or 'strategically inadvisable.'"
"From my perspective?" I pulled her closer, until her face was inches from mine. "It's worth dying for. Which I almost did. So yeah, I'd say it's significant."
Her breath caught. "Don't joke about dying."
"I'm not joking. I'm stating a fact. You're worth fighting for, Elena. Worth surviving for. Worth being recklessly vulnerable with." I traced her cheekbone with my free hand, careful of my own injuries. "Worth everything."
Tears spilled over, tracking down her cheeks. She didn't pull away, didn't hide. Just let me see her completely, the fear and hope and desperate wish to believe what I was saying.
"I don't know how to do this," she whispered.
"Neither do I. But we'll figure it out." I wiped her tears with my thumb. "One day at a time. One argument at a time. One impossible survival situation at a time."
"You make it sound easy."
"It won't be easy. It'll probably be one of the hardest things either of us does." I held her gaze. "But I'm done pretending I don't want this. Done letting guilt and fear make decisions for me. So I'm asking you, Elena Vasquez: Will you take this catastrophically complicated risk with me?"
She kissed me instead of answering, deeper this time, hungry and desperate and real. Her hand cupped my face, careful of the medical equipment but claiming nonetheless.
When she pulled back, her eyes blazed with that fierce determination I'd come to associate with Elena at her most dangerous.
"Yes," she said. "But if you die on me after making that speech, I'm going to rewire your security systems to play embarrassing music every time you walk past."
"Noted. I'll endeavor to stay alive."
"Good." She settled back into her chair but kept my hand clasped in hers. "Because we're doing this properly. Dates that don't involve derelicts or raiders. Conversations that don't happen during combat operations. Normal relationship things."
"You think we can do normal?"
"No. But we can try."
The medical bay doors opened and Zorn entered, his forest-green skin and gold markings catching the sterile lighting. He stopped when he saw Elena still occupying the visitor chair, his warm brown eyes moving between us with obvious assessment.
"She was supposed to be resting in her quarters," he said mildly.
"I tried." Bea appeared behind him, datapad in hand. "She threatened to rewire the medical bay if I forced the issue."
"Could you actually do that?" Zorn asked Elena with genuine curiosity.
"Yes. But I won't. Because you saved Vaxon's life and I owe you forever." Elena met his gaze steadily. "Thank you. For everything."
