Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Pain. A lot of it, but he was used to agony. His chest was on fire. Why couldn’t he get up? Why couldn’t he open his eyes?
“Rowan…” His own voice, quiet and breathless.
“Stay still,” she said. His angel. The electricity of her nearness roared through him. It’s her. Where is she?
“Still,” he said. “Rowan…”
“I said, stay still.” She sounded irritated, and his heart stuttered.
Thunder. Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare leave me! Now she was frantic, her breath coming high and harsh. Justin!
“Shock him. Stand back, Rowan!” Henderson, barking orders. Delgado would have lashed out, but something weighed his arms and legs down. “Clear!”
White light. Lightning, to go with the thunder. “Justin!” Rowan was screaming. “Don’t! Don’t! Justin!”
Darkness.
When he could think again, he struggled up through layers of blackness. She was screaming.
Had Sigma gotten her? No, she’d been safe at Headquarters. He’d heard her over the commlink, cool and clear even when everything else faded to an indistinct gray pulsing of shock. He’d obeyed blindly, did what she told him.
Darkness took him again, but he heard Rowan’s voice, quiet and listless. “He won’t wake up.”
“It’s all right.” Brewster’s crisp accent was hushed, strained. “He’s tough. He’ll pull through.”
“I’m worried.”
“I know.” Brew sounded soothing. “But he’ll pull through. You did a good job.”
“He carried me out of my house,” she said. “After those men shot my father—and Hilary. There was glass on the floor. He remembered I had bare feet and carried me.”
“It’s a miracle you got away from the Sigs.”
“I guess so.”
The curtain of darkness fell again.
When he woke the next time, he heard rain slapping against the window. He was in the aboveground infirmary.
Why?
His eyes drifted open. Everything was dim and dark. To his left, the nurse’s station was lit, but only a soft glow reached the rest of the room. A few of the beds were curtained off.
A sound. Someone moving, a footstep he knew.
Rowan glided through the infirmary, white dress-shirt floating between the beds. She carried two coffee cups to the nurse’s station. Soft beeps told him someone—or maybe a couple of someones—in here were being monitored very closely.
“Here you are,” Rowan said softly. “Two sugars.”
“Thanks,” Emily replied. “You’re a godsend.”
“Any change?” Rowan leaned against the counter, an indistinct, beautiful shape in the dimness. Delgado shut his eyes, opened them again.
She was still there.
“Yeah, for the better. Sheila’s doing incredibly well. And Del… I think he might even be awake, but he hasn’t made a peep. All his vitals are steady. Are you okay?”
“It’s just a relief. Do you think he’s going to heal?”
“Well, he fought off the infection, and you’re working your magic on him, so I’d guess so.” Emily sounded uncharacteristically gentle. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“I can’t.”
“You haven’t since they brought him in. You should get a little shut-eye or you won’t be good for anything. Sheila will need another one of your treatments before long.”
“I’ll be fine.” But she sounded pale, her words floaty and disconnected. “I’m going to go check on him.”
“Okay… Ro?”
She stopped, sweeping her hair behind her ear. “Hmm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?” She sounded amused, and his heart leapt.
“Why him?”
“What?” Rowan took a sip from the cup, sucking in a little air at the same time to cool it.
“Why Delgado?”
“What are you talking about?” Now she cocked her head, as if puzzled.
“Nothing. Go check on him.”
“Emily, what on earth are you talking about?”
“It’s just… well, you’re pretty, and talented, and you could have pretty much any guy you wanted. Why him?”
Rowan laughed. It was a tired sound. “You mean why am I so worried about him? He needs it, I think.”
“No, I mean why are you dating him?”
“We’ve never been on a date.”
He recognized that tone—she didn’t want to talk about something, was using humor to deflect Emily’s interest.
“Come on.” Emily was having none of it.
“Oh, Emily. Really. It’s just that… I like him. That’s all.”
“Stranger things have happened, I suppose.” Emily sounded dubious.
“Was he really in Sigma?” Curious, wistful.
“He really was; Henderson got him out. They said he was insane from what they did to him. He roamed around Headquarters for a year like an animal. Hardly anyone saw him except the General. He kicked a Zed habit without any help, and that’s unheard of.
He knows everything about Sigma. They wouldn’t give him clearance for a long time, because they thought maybe he was a Sig sleeper. ”
“Oh.” Rowan said, thoughtfully. “Zed’s the stuff Sheila’s fighting?”
“I’ve never seen anyone pull through it like that, Rowan. If you can figure out how to reverse the addiction, it’d be… Well, we’d all be very happy.”
“I’m working on it. I’m close.” She sounded tired and thoughtful. “I’m going to sit with him for a while, Emily.”
“’Kay. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
She approached the bed, lowered herself down in a seat on his left. He hadn’t even seen the chair there.
He wasn’t going to say anything. Let her think he was asleep.
“Rowan…” He couldn’t help himself. His lips cracked over the word.
She set her coffee aside and leaned forward, her fingers sliding under his. He felt the irritation—there was something stuck in the back of his hand.
“Justin,” she whispered. “It’s all right, I’m here.”
“Should be… sleeping.” It was difficult to talk, his mouth was slack, resisting.
Rowan’s fingers trailed over the back of his hand and touched his wrist. “I have nightmares. Without you there they get worse.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. How do you feel?”
“Tired.” Even talking took too much of his limited energy; the darkness was closing in again. “Rowan.”
“I’m here. Rest. You’re going to be all right.”
He fell into darkness again before he could tell her what he needed, wanted, to hear.