"I know. And I can't promise to stop being reckless when someone needs help. It's who I am." She met my eyes. "But maybe we balance each other out. Your caution. My impulse. Your strength. My technical skill."
"Your brilliance," I added. "Your courage. Your refusal to accept limitations."
"Your honor. Your loyalty." She smiled. "Your extremely attractive brooding."
"I don't brood."
"You absolutely brood. It's very effective." She kissed my jaw, gentle and sweet. "But I like it. I like you. Even the brooding."
Before I could respond, Bea's voice cut through the partition. "Elena, if you're not in your quarters in the next five minutes, I'm getting Er'dox to physically carry you there."
Elena groaned. "She's serious. Er'dox once carried Dana out of Engineering when she wouldn't stop working."
"Then you should go."
"I don't want to."
"I'll be here when you wake up." I squeezed her gently. "I promise. Not going anywhere until Bea clears me."
She hesitated, clearly torn between exhaustion and the need to keep me in sight. Finally, reluctantly, she pulled away. Climbed carefully off the bed, steadied herself when her legs nearly gave out from fatigue.
"Forty-eight hours," she said. "That's how long Bea said you'd need. I'll be back in twelve."
"Elena—"
"Twelve hours. I'll sleep, shower, check on Will and Lisa's progress, then come back." Her expression was fierce. "And then we're going to talk about this bonding thing properly. With both of us conscious and not covered in blood."
"Deal."
She leaned down, kissed me softly. Her lips were dry, chapped from stress and dehydration, but the touch sent heat through my entire body despite the pain.
"Don't almost die again," she whispered against my mouth.
"I'll do my best."
"Your best better be excellent." She pulled back, managed a smile. "Because I've got plans for you, Commander. And they require you staying alive."
I watched her leave, her small frame swaying slightly with exhaustion but her spine straight with determination. The door closed behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the steady beep of medical monitors.
Dana appeared a moment later, moving between the diagnostic stations with practiced ease. "She's in love with you," she said casually, not looking up from her work. "In case you were wondering."
"She said she wants to try."
"That's Elena-speak forI'm terrified but I'm in too deep to back out now." Bea glanced at me. "She doesn't do vulnerable well. The fact that she admitted anything is significant."
"I know."
"Do you?" Bea came to stand beside my bed, her expression serious. "Because Elena's been running from connection since she arrived on Mothership. Watching her friends bond, isolating herself, taking increasingly dangerous assignments because she's convinced she doesn't deserve happiness. You getting injured broke something in her, but in a good way. Made her realize what she stands to lose if she keeps pushing people away."
"I'm not going to hurt her."
"I know you're not. Not intentionally." Bea adjusted my medication levels, her movements precise. "But you both carry trauma that makes healthy relationships challenging. You'll trigger each other. Get overprotective. Make mistakes."
"You're not exactly selling this."
"I'm being realistic. Love doesn't fix trauma. It gives you someone to heal alongside." She met my eyes. "Are you ready for that? For the actual work of being with someone as damaged as you are?"
The question deserved consideration. I'd spent four years on Mothership keeping everyone at careful distance, convincing myself I didn't deserve closeness after failing my unit. The idea of opening myself up to Elena, to her chaos and brilliance and desperate need to matter, was terrifying.
