I map out the wrinkles on his face, the curl of skin between his deeply frowning eyebrows, the sparkle in his eye that appears dull with the hard, determined look in his eyes.
This close, I can even map out a few faint scars that aren’t visible from far away.
Through it all, I can’t stop crying. The sobs tear their way out of me as violently as my trembling, and not once does Falco relax his grip on me.
He holds me as close as he can and I clutch at his shirt, weeping openly as my mind churns with fading thoughts and only one explicit instruction.
Keep my eyes on Falco.
Then I’m in my lap and he’s cradling me. Finally, after a few soft bangs, Falco looks down at me and there’s a very brief flicker of confusion. “Aerin. You’re safe now, do you hear me? Can you understand what I’m saying?”
“I’m safe,” I repeat, following the same compulsion that’s been dragging me along all night.
Falco’s brow dips faintly, and he tightens his grip on me, tucking me in against his neck and under his chin.
I breathe in, flooding my lungs with the comforting mix of leather, fabric softener, salt, and the familiar musk that drifts off Falco.
It’s a steadying, familiar scent. Using that as my grounding point, my tears slowly begin to fade.
It’s unclear how much time passes, but when the van stops Falco’s hand very gently touches my cheek and he tenderly sweeps away a few lingering tears.
I blink blearily up at him as the compulsion in my heart is gradually replaced by a deep exhaustion that weighs down my eyelids with every slow blink.
“You want me to check her over?” comes an unfamiliar voice as Falco lifts me from the van and keeps me tucked against him. There’s a rush of cold air as we exit the van and it kisses glimpses of my bare skin that escape the blanket and jacket still wrapped around me.
“No,” comes Falco’s reply. “Not yet.”
“You sure?” comes a second, unfamiliar voice. “Might be good while it’s fresh.”
“Look at her.” Falco’s voice grows distant. “She can’t keep her eyes open.”
“What takes this long to hit?” comes a third voice.
This one is familiar. I know this one. As I’m carried past a door frame and floral wallpaper that doesn’t strike any familiarity in my heart, I search my thoughts to place that name.
But each slow blink drags my body deeper and deeper into a sluggish state.
As much as I try to fight it, as much as I fight to stay away with Falco, something’s taking over.
The voices around me grow deep and incoherent as I seemingly float out of Falco’s arms and land on something soft. Falco’s faceremains over me and I watch his lips move, but nothing he says reaches my ears.
Other faces mill about behind him, blurry and unfocused like mites dancing around a lightbulb.
I blink and Falco’s face is closer as if he’s trying harder to get his words to reach me.
He’s here. That’s all I need to know.
I blink again.
And don’t wake up.
16
FALCO
“Don’t hurt her,” I snap at Bullet, one of Pidge’s friends as he settles on the bed beside Aerin’s now unconscious form.
“I’m not going to,” Bullet says gruffly, his voice thick and cracked from far too many years nuzzling cigars. “But we need a sample.”
