Chapter 8 #2
"No." She propped herself up on one elbow, glaring down at me with fierce determination. "You don't get to nearly die and then order me around. I'm staying right here until Bea throws me out bodily."
Despite everything, the pain, the exhaustion, the emotional weight of the past hours, I found myself smiling. "You're incredibly stubborn."
"You're incredibly protective. We're both disasters." She settled back against me. "Might as well be disasters together."
"Is that a proposition?"
"It's an acknowledgment of reality." But she was smiling now, small and tentative but genuine. "I'm tired of fighting this. Fighting you. Fighting myself."
"So what do you want instead?"
She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. When she spoke, her voice was steady despite the vulnerability in the words.
"I want to stop running. Stop taking unnecessary risks because part of me thinks I deserve to die. Stop pushing away the one person who makes me feel like maybe I'm worth keeping alive." She looked up at me. "I want to try. With you. If you'll have me."
If I'll have her. As if there was any question.
As if I hadn't been drawn to her from the moment she'd snapped at me six months ago, refusing to back down despite being half my size.
As if I hadn't spent countless hours watching her work, admiring her brilliance, wanting her with an intensity that should have terrified me.
"Elena Vasquez," I said carefully, "I would be honored."
Her smile bloomed slowly, transforming her exhausted features into something radiant. "Honored? That's very formal for someone who just convinced me to sleep in his med-bay bed."
"I'm a warrior. We do everything with excessive formality."
"I've noticed." She shifted closer, careful of my shoulder. "So what happens now? We date? Court? Do Zandovians even date?"
"We bond," I said. "When two Zandovians find each other compatible, they enter a formal bonding period. It's—"
"I know what it is. I watched Dana and Er'dox go through it. Jalina and Zor'go too." She bit her lip. "That's pretty serious."
"It is."
"Are you, I mean, is that what you want? With me?"
I studied her face, memorizing the hope and fear warring in her expression.
I'd never considered bonding before. Never imagined finding someone who could tolerate my protective instincts, my guilt, my absolute need to shield others from harm.
Never thought I deserved that kind of happiness after failing my unit so catastrophically.
But Elena understood failure. Understood guilt. Understood the weight of survival when others didn't make it. She'd looked at my darkness and hadn't flinched, had matched it with her own and somehow made both burdens lighter.
"Yes," I said. "If you're willing."
"I'm terrified."
"So am I."
"But you almost died, and all I could think was that I never told you how much you matter. How much I—" She stopped, swallowed hard. "How much I've come to need you. Even when you drive me crazy with your overprotectiveness."
"I can't promise to be less protective. It's who I am."
"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 for I'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.
But I'd almost died today, and she'd saved me. Had fought for me with the same fierce determination she brought to every electrical problem. Had stayed beside me while I was unconscious, holding my hand like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
She'd chosen me. Despite my overprotectiveness, despite my brooding, despite being a warrior when she valued intelligence over violence. She'd looked at my darkness and decided it was worth navigating.
The least I could do was give her the same courtesy.
"Yes," I told Bea. "I'm ready."
"Good." She smiled. "Because that girl is going to be back here in exactly twelve hours, and she's going to want answers. Make sure they're good ones."
She left me then, returning to her monitoring stations and her other patients.
Through the transparent partition, I could see Will and Lisa in their stasis pods, life signs stable but still critical.
Two survivors pulled from wreckage, kept alive by jury-rigged systems and one engineer's desperate determination.
Elena had spent months searching for them. Had risked everything, including me, to bring them home. Had carried guilt for surviving when they didn't, never knowing they'd made it out too.
But now she knew. Now she could let go of at least some of that burden. Could start the process of forgiving herself for being the one who escaped.