She stared at him for a long moment, before she shook her head and made a sound that was not quite a laugh.
“This is impossible. You’re impossible.” She waved her hand helplessly. “I’m a geochemist. I study rocks and soil and atmospheric composition. I don’t know how to process this. Any of this.”
“Process?”
“Understand. Make sense of. Figure out.” She shook her head again. “I came here looking for an anomalous biochemical reading, and instead I found you. A living, breathing, impossible creature who apparently has memories of ancient Mars and learns English like he’s been speaking it his whole life.”
Most of the words washed over him, but he caught the most important one.Found.She had found him and woken him from a sleep that might have lasted forever.
“You found me,” he said.
“I found you,” she agreed softly. “I still can’t believe I found you.”
You were meant to,he thought. The certainty of it settled into his bones like warmth. She was meant to find him. They were meant to meet. Whatever had brought him to this moment had led him to her.
But the words to express this eluded him, so he simply tightened his grip on her fingers and said, “Good.”
She laughed, a bright startled sound that made his chest ache. “Good? That’s all you have to say?”
“Good,” he repeated firmly. “Alina found Rhyx. Good.”
“I suppose it is,” she murmured. Her thumb traced absent patterns across his knuckles, and he wondered if she knew she was doing it. He wondered if she could feel the same rightness he felt, the certainty that they belonged together.
She told him more about her work after that, about the machines that let her study the planet and the colony where she lived with other humans. He understood perhaps a third of it, although more meanings kept springing into his mind, but the sound of her voice was soothing, and watching her face as she spoke was even better. She became animated when she talked about her research, her free hand gesturing happily and her eyes brightening with enthusiasm.
He learned that she was young for her people. He learned that she had come to Mars because she loved it and wanted to understand it. He learned that she was curious and determined and braver than she gave herself credit for.
And he learned that she was exhausted.
It showed in the shadows beneath her eyes and the way her words began to slur together. She tried to hide it—tried to keep teaching him new words and asking questions he couldn’t answer—but her body was betraying her.
“Sleep,” he said finally, interrupting her mid-sentence about something called an atmospheric processor.
She blinked at him. “What?”
“Sleep.” He tugged gently on her hand, pulling her closer. “Rest.”
“I can’t just—” She yawned again, cutting herself off. “I need to figure out how to get back to the lab once the storm passes. If they send a search party, I won’t be able to explain you?—”
“Later.” He didn’t know what a lab was, or a search party. But he knew she needed rest more than she needed any of those things. “Sleep first. Then go.”
“I really should?—”
He sighed and lifted her onto his lap again, tucking her against his chest.
She went rigid for a moment, her whole body tensing. He half expected her to try and push him away again. Instead, she let out a long, shuddering breath and seemed to melt against him.
“This is crazy,” she mumbled into his chest. “I don’t even know you.”
“I am Rhyx,” he said simply. “You know Rhyx.”
“That’s not—” Another yawn. “That’s not how trust works.”
“Trust?”
“Believing someone won’t hurt you.” Her voice was getting quieter, her body heavier against his. “Believing they have your best interests at heart.”
He considered this. The concept felt familiar, like so many things did. Trust was precious. Trust had to be earned.
