Chapter 11 #2
Mikoz’s breathing evened out into the deeper rhythm of sleep.
His color improved from the sickly pallor to something healthier, and the distressed sounds that had been breaking her heart finally stopped.
He looked peaceful now, just a sleeping baby instead of a sick one.
The knot of tension in her chest began to loosen.
He was going to be okay. They’d gotten him help in time and he was going to be okay.
“You should rest,” Selik said quietly. “I will watch over him.”
“I can’t sleep. Not while he’s still sick.”
“The worst has passed. Bombaya said so himself.” His hand stroked over her hair, gentle and soothing. “You will do him no good if you exhaust yourself trying to maintain a vigil.”
He was right, but her body didn’t seem to care about logic. Adrenaline still fizzed in her veins, making rest feel impossible despite the exhaustion pulling at her bones.
“I’ll try,” she conceded. “But I’m not leaving him.”
“I would not ask you to.”
He gently lifted a sleeping Anya off of her side and placed her on one of the exam beds, covering her with a blanket.
Then he settled into another chair that Bombaya must have brought over at some point.
His bulk made the medical furniture look almost comically small, but he managed to arrange himself with the grace she’d come to associate with him.
Before she could protest, he carefully lifted her and Mikoz onto his lap without disturbing any of the equipment.
“Now lean on me. Close your eyes. I will wake you if anything changes.”
She wanted to protest, to insist she could stay alert through sheer force of will. But the warmth of his body under hers was so tempting, and Mikoz felt safe and secure in her arms, and exhaustion pulled at her with relentless fingers.
Just a few minutes. She could rest for just a few minutes.
She shifted carefully, adjusting Mikoz in her hold while leaning into Selik’s solid bulk. His arm came around her shoulders, supporting her weight, while his tail curled more firmly around her waist, wrapping her in a cocoon of safety.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For getting us here so fast. For knowing what to do when I was panicking.”
“You did not panic. You acted.” His voice rumbled through his chest, a soothing vibration she could feel where her shoulder pressed against him. “You got your young one to safety. That is what a good mother does.”
Mother. There was that word again, settling around her with a weight that felt both terrifying and right.
She’d never given birth to Mikoz, never carried him for nine months or gone through labor to bring him into the world.
But she’d promised his mother she would love him, and that promise had become truth.
She loved him with the same fierce protectiveness she felt for Anya.
He was hers, in all the ways that mattered, and she would fight anyone who tried to take him from her.
“I want to keep him,” she said quietly. “I know that’s what we’ve been working towards, finding him a home. But I want it to be with me. With us.”
“As do I.” His hand stroked through her hair, gentle and rhythmic. “We will build a life together. All of us. A family.”
Family. Another word that wrapped around her heart and squeezed.
She’d lost so much—her husband, her old life, her sense of safety in a universe she’d thought she understood.
But she’d gained something too. These people who’d come into her life through tragedy and terror and somehow become the center of her world.
Anya, prickly and brave and slowly learning to trust again. Mikoz, small and vulnerable and entirely dependent on her protection. And Selik, solid and steady and offering her a future she’d never imagined wanting.
“I choose you,” she whispered, echoing the words from the training room. “All of you. For however long we have.”
“Then you will have me for the rest of our lives.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the gesture so tender it made her throat tight. “Sleep now, s’kara. I will keep watch.”
The combination of his warmth, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the emotional exhaustion of the past hour finally pulled her under. Her eyes drifted closed and she let herself sink into the comfort of his embrace, trusting him to wake her if Mikoz needed her.
She didn’t dream. There was only warmth and safety and the deep knowledge that whatever came next, she wouldn’t face it alone.
When she finally woke, it was to the gentle pressure of Selik’s hand on her shoulder and his quiet voice saying her name. She blinked up at him, disoriented, taking a moment to remember where she was.
Med bay. Mikoz. The fever.
She jerked upright, heart hammering, and looked down at the baby in her arms. He was awake, blinking up at her with clear eyes, the glassy quality from before completely gone. His skin felt normal temperature beneath her palm and his breathing sounded easy and unlabored.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she whispered, voice rough from sleep. “How are you feeling?”
He made a small sound—not distressed, just conversational—and wrapped his tiny hand around her finger with his usual surprising strength. Relief crashed over her so hard it stole her breath.
“He is much improved,” Bombaya said from somewhere behind her.
“The fever has broken completely and his respiratory function has returned to normal. I would like to keep him here for a few more hours to ensure the infection is fully under control, but he should be able to return to your quarters by morning.”
“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate for the magnitude of what he’d done, but they were all she had. “Thank you so much.”
The doctor nodded, something that might have been a smile crossing his alien features. “It is my job. And my pleasure, when the patients are so cooperative.” He glanced at Mikoz, who was now staring around the med bay with the curiosity of a healthy infant. “He is strong. Takes after his parents.”
She opened her mouth to correct him, to explain that she wasn’t really Mikoz’s mother, that she was just someone who’d made a promise. But the words died in her throat because they would have been a lie. She was his mother in every way that mattered. Biology be damned.
“Yes,” she said instead, pulling the baby closer. “He certainly does.”