Eight
Vaxon
Consciousness returned in fragments, the sterile smell of medical, the steady beep of monitors, pain radiating from my shoulder and ribs like someone had stuffed burning coals under my skin. And through it all, a small warm pressure on my hand that anchored me to reality better than any vital sign.
Elena.
I opened my eyes to find her beside my med-bay bed, her head resting on her folded arms near my hand, dark curly hair falling over her face. She'd fallen asleep holding onto me, fingers wrapped around mine with a grip that spoke of desperation and determination in equal measure.
The overhead lights were dimmed to half-power, Bea's doing, probably. Through the transparent partition, I could see the main medical bay beyond. Will and Lisa still in their stasis pods, diagnostic displays scrolling data, Bea movingbetween workstations with the focused efficiency of someone managing multiple critical patients.
How long had I been unconscious? My internal chronometer said six hours. Six hours since Elena had piloted that shuttle through a debris field with raiders on our tail, her hands steady on controls she'd never trained for, her voice fierce when she'd told me to shut up and stop dying.
I'd never wanted anyone as much as I'd wanted her at that moment.
"You're awake."
Bea's voice was quiet as she entered my partition, checking displays with practiced movements. Her gray eyes cataloged everything, my vitals, the healing progress on my plasma burns, the way Elena's fingers still gripped mine even in sleep.
"Status?" My voice came out rough, damaged by whatever intubation they'd used during surgery.
"Stable. The plasma burns went deep, damaged muscle tissue and some nerve pathways, but I've repaired the immediate damage. You'll need another forty-eight hours of regeneration therapy before you're cleared for anything beyond light duty." She pulled up a holographic display, showed me the scans of my shoulder. "You're lucky. Another inch to the left and that blast would have severed your primary arterial cluster."
Lucky wasn't the word I'd use. I'd thrown myself in front of Elena without thinking, operating on instinct and training that said protect the vulnerable at any cost. The fact that I'd survived was secondary to the fact that she was alive.
"And the survivors?"
"Will and Lisa are both stable. Critical but improving. I'll be bringing them out of emergency stasis over the next thirty-six hours." Bea glanced at Elena, something soft crossing her expression. "She hasn't left your side. Dana and Jalina tried to get her to rest, even brought food. She ate maybe three bites before going back to watching you breathe."
The information settled in my chest, heavy and complicated. Elena had stayed. Had chosen to be here rather than celebrating the rescue she'd fought so hard for, rather than being with her friends or checking on the survivors from her old crew.
She'd stayed for me.
"She feels guilty," I said.
"Of course she does. You nearly died protecting her." Bea adjusted something on my IV, her movements precise. "But that's not why she stayed. She stayed because the thought of you not waking up terrified her more than facing her own trauma."
"You're sure about that?"
"I'm a therapist, Vaxon. I'm sure." Bea's smile was gentle. "The question is whether you're ready to deal with what that means."
Before I could answer, Elena stirred. Her head lifted slowly, awareness returning in stages—confusion, then recognition, then sudden fierce attention as she realized I was awake.
"Vaxon." My name came out hoarse, desperate. She sat up straighter, her free hand coming up to touch my face like she needed to confirm I was real. "You're okay. Bea said you'd be okay, but I needed to see?—"
"I'm here," I said. Caught her hand against my cheek, held it there despite the screaming protest from my shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere."
Her eyes were red-rimmed, exhausted. Still covered in dried blood, mine, probably, mixed with grime from the derelict and the shuttle escape. She looked like she'd been through a war and come out the other side raw and bleeding.
She looked beautiful.
"I'll give you privacy," Bea said quietly. "But Elena, after this, you're going to your quarters for actual sleep. Non-negotiable."
Elena didn't argue. Didn't even acknowledge Bea's departure. Just kept staring at me like she was memorizing every detail, cataloging evidence of survival.
"I'm sorry," she said finally. "I'm sorry you got hurt. Sorry I was reckless. Sorry I?—"
"Stop." I squeezed her hand, cutting off the spiral. "This isn't your fault."
