Heat flooded my face again. "It's not, we're not?—"
"You're holding hands in my medical bay after he nearly died protecting you. That's definitely something." She gestured toward the food. "Now eat before I make it a medical order."
I ate. Showered. Collapsed in my empty quarters that suddenly felt less empty knowing Vaxon was healing just two decks away.
And for the first time in eight months, I didn't dream about the wormhole disaster or Liberty tearing apart or everyone I couldn't save.
I dreamed about plasma burns healing and survivors waking and a warrior's hand wrapped around mine like a promise neither of us was quite ready to speak out loud.
When I woke six hours later, exactly six hours, because I'd set an alarm, I dressed quickly and headed straight back to medical. My hands were finally clean. My uniform was fresh. But my heart was still doing that complicated thing, the flip and stutter that meant danger ahead.
Good danger. Terrifying danger. The kind of danger you walked toward instead of away from because the alternative was worse than the risk.
The medical bay doors opened to reveal Vaxon sitting up in bed, regeneration fields powered down, color returned to his face. He was arguing with Bea about something, probably medical restrictions or return-to-duty schedules or any ofthe hundred other things warriors argued about when forced into recovery.
Then he saw me. And whatever he'd been saying died mid-sentence.
"Elena."
Just my name. But the way he said it, like relief and want and promise all tangled together, made my stomach flip.
I crossed the bay to his bedside, hyperaware of Bea watching with barely concealed interest. "You look better."
"Feel better." His eyes tracked over me, cataloging details. "You slept."
"Bea's orders. Six hours, non-negotiable."
"She's terrifying when she gives medical orders."
"I heard that," Bea called from across the bay. "And thank you."
Vaxon's mouth twitched toward a smile. Then his expression turned serious, focus sharpening to that intensity I recognized from combat situations. "About earlier. What we said. What you..." He paused. "I wasn't just high on painkillers, Elena. I meant it."
My heart was definitely trying to escape now. "Which part?"
"All of it. Especially the part about wanting to try this. If you still?—"
I kissed him again. Because talking was terrifying and actions were easier and I needed him to understand that I wasn't running away this time.
When we broke apart, Bea was absolutely not hiding her grin.
"Medical bay," she said pointedly. "There are patients present. Including two who might wake up at any moment and be traumatized by whatever this is."
"This is Elena agreeing to try," Vaxon said without looking away from me. "Agreeing that whatever happens next, we face it together."
"Partners," I managed.
"Partners," he confirmed.
Behind us, one of the stasis pods beeped. Status change. Someone stirring toward consciousness.
Will or Lisa. Survivors finally waking up. Finally home.
I squeezed Vaxon's hand once, then stepped back to give Bea room to work. To watch another impossible thing become real. To see proof that searching mattered, that survival was possible, that hope wasn't always foolish.
And maybe to believe that I deserved the same second chance I'd fought so hard to give them.
Chapter
