Chapter 19 #3
"Enslak." His voice broke on my name, splintering into pieces. "Brother. I thought—we all thought—"
He closed the distance between us, pulling me into an embrace so tight it made my ribs scream in protest. The mercy blade clattered to the ground, forgotten, as he held me like he was afraid I'd disappear if he let go.
I stiffened for a moment—the pain was intense, every wound protesting the pressure—but then I felt the tremor running through his body. Felt the wetness of his tears against my pelt. Felt the desperate relief in how he clutched at me.
And something inside me gave way.
I wrapped my arms around him and held on, ignoring the pain, ignoring everything except this moment. This reunion. This brother I'd found again.
"I thought you were gone," Charick choked out against my shoulder. "I thought—when we saw what they'd done to you—when you couldn't speak, couldn't recognize us—I thought we'd lost you forever. That the brother I knew was dead, and only this... this shell remained."
"I was gone," I said quietly, honestly. "For a while, I was. The walls were so high, so thick. I couldn't find my way out. Couldn't remember how."
"But you came back." He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gripping my shoulders, his eyes red and swollen. Fresh tears spilled over as he really looked at me—not at the wounds, not at the blood, but at me. "You fought your way back. You didn't give up."
"She fought for me," I corrected, glancing at Niki. "When I couldn't fight for myself. When I'd forgotten how. She refused to let me go. Refused to let the darkness win."
Charick looked at her too, and the grief in his tears transformed into something else—gratitude so profound it seemed to overwhelm him.
"Then I owe you everything," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Everything I am, everything our family is, everything we have—it's yours. You gave us back what we thought we'd lost forever." He swallowed hard. "You gave us back our brother."
"I didn't do it for you," Niki said, her voice still fierce despite her own tears. "I did it for him. Because he deserved a chance to heal."
"I know." Charick straightened, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "But I'm grateful all the same. More grateful than I can ever express."
He turned back to me, and I saw the question forming in his eyes before he asked it.
"Mother will want to see you. To know you're..." He hesitated. "To know you're healing. That you're really back."
The thought of facing her—of seeing the guilt and grief in her eyes, of having to reassure her that I didn't blame her for giving up—made something in my chest tighten painfully.
"I know," I said. "But not yet. I need more time. I need to—"
"He needs to finish healing," Niki interrupted. "Away from pressure. Away from expectations. Away from people watching him, waiting for him to be who he was before. He needs time to become who he is now. And he needs to do it at his own pace."
"How much time?" Charick asked.
"As much as he needs." She squeezed my hand, and I felt that bond between us pulse with warmth and certainty. "However long it takes. Days. Weeks. Months. It doesn't matter. What matters is that he heals properly. Completely. Not just his body, but his mind. His spirit."
Charick studied us both for a long moment. His gaze moved between our faces, our joined hands, the way we stood together like two halves of the same whole.
Then he nodded. "I'll tell Mother. She'll understand. She'll wait." He paused. "But Enslak... she needs to know you're alive. Really alive. Not just breathing, but you. Can you speak to her via comms? Give her that much? Let her hear your voice, hear you say her name?"
I thought about it. About the guilt she must be carrying, the hope she must be clinging to, the desperate need to know her son was still in there somewhere.
"Yes," I said finally. "I can do that."
Relief softened Charick's expression. "That will be enough. More than enough. Just hearing you speak, hearing you remember her—it will give her hope."
He tapped his comm unit, his voice shifting to the clipped, authoritative tone of command. "Verik, bring a full medi-unit. Priority one. And prep a supply drop—food, water, medical supplies, shelter equipment. Everything my brother and his mate will need for an extended stay planetside."
"Acknowledged," came the response through the comm. "ETA four minutes."
Charick turned back to us, his gaze sweeping over my wounds with professional assessment. "Let me see what we're dealing with while we wait."
I started to protest, but Niki squeezed my hand. "Let him help," she said softly.
I sat on the grass while Charick examined the plasma burns on my torso, the deep gashes across my shoulders, the countless smaller wounds covering my body. His touch was efficient, clinical, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darkened at each new injury he catalogued.
"You should be dead," he said finally. "These burns alone—"
"I know."
"And you fought anyway." He shook his head, something like awe flickering across his face. "You're tougher than I remembered, brother."
"My mate is the tough one," I insisted, finding the strength to lift her hand to my lips and press a kiss on her knuckles.
A low hum announced the arrival of another shuttle, descending from the Bardaga on anti-grav pulsars. It settled beside us with barely a whisper of displaced air, the ramp lowering to allow a young Aljani to exit, his arms loaded with supplies.
Charick took the medi-kit, a regeneration wand, and a case of dermal sealant from the Aljani's arms. "Sit," he ordered, pointing to a fallen log.
I obeyed, too tired to argue. Niki stayed close, her hand never leaving mine.
The regeneration wand hummed to life, and Charick began working on the worst of the plasma burns. The sensation was strange—not quite pain, but something tingling as the wand accelerated my healing, knitting flesh together at an unnatural pace.
"Your turn," Charick said to Niki once he'd finished with me. "Don't think I didn't notice those cuts on your arms."
Niki hesitated, but I nodded at her. "Let him help."
She sat beside me, and Charick's touch gentled as he examined her wounds. They were minor compared to mine—defensive wounds, mostly. But each one made my chest tighten with a mixture of pride and guilt.
"She fought well," I told my brother as he sealed a particularly deep cut on her forearm.
"I wasn't going to let them take him," Niki said simply.
"I can see that." Charick's expression softened with approval.
More supplies arrived—three large containers lowered from the shuttle, packed with everything we might need. Food rations, water purification tablets, thermal blankets, a portable shelter unit, weapons, ammunition, and more medical supplies than we could use in a month.
Charick's men began unpacking and organizing everything with military efficiency. They worked in silence, but I caught them glancing at me, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and something that might have been respect.
"That should hold you," Charick said, stepping back to survey his work.
The worst of my wounds were sealed now, the regeneration process well underway.
I'd still need time to heal fully, but I was no longer in danger of bleeding out.
"Use the regeneration wand on the deeper wounds every six hours.
And rest. Actually rest, Enslak. Your body needs time to recover. "
"I will," I promised.