by Alana Serra
Perhaps that pain was why his next words were so utterly careless.
"Yes, we are quite strong. So strong we must now rely on humans to propagate our species."
Adi'sun stepped back from him as if he had struck her, and he felt the full brunt of that betrayal, hers and his alike. It was almost enough to stagger him, but he kept to his feet and tried to think of where he could possibly go from this moment.
"I'm very sorry you have to lower yourself to my level," she said, and he could hear the tears in her voice, "but I assure you, it won't be a problem."
True fear gripped Kor'ven's heart as he considered the implication of her words. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I have no plans to get in the way of your work, or anything else you wish to do. Your genes won't be weakened by having kits with me. What happened between us last night…"
She choked on the words, and Kor'ven moved to comfort her. What else could he possibly do? She was speaking utter nonsense.
Once again, though, she did not allow him to touch her. She swiped at her eyes, then looked up at him.
"What happened last night will not happen again."
It was Kor'ven's turn to simply stare, mouth agape. "That is absurd. You are my mate, and I am yours."
She shook her head and turned away from him. "My work is everything to me, Kor'ven. And I know you feel the same way about yours. And today… today is proof that you and I cannot reconcile that." Sadness overtook him, and he was unsure if it was hers, or his. The smile she gave him suggested the former. "We are both too stubborn. Too driven."
An anguished growl tore through Kor'ven's throat. She was an intelligent woman. She knew so much about his people. How could she not understand this?
Crossing the room to her, his hands went to her face once more. "You are mine," he insisted. "I am yours. I can prove it to you."
He kissed her then, with everything he'd come to feel for her. Every complicated, exhausting feeling that had conspired to break down that door within him. And at first, she responded in kind. Her own kiss was fierce, desperate. She clung to him as if she did not wish to ever let him go.
But she drew back quickly, severing that connection and leaving his soul cold. Her gaze left him, and he followed it to an image of a woman who looked very much like Adi'sun.
"You have no idea how much I wish I could be what you want me to be," she said forlornly.
"You already are."
Adi'sun shook her head. "No. This is what I am." She gestured to the messy office around her. "Sleepless nights. Outdated records. Books organized in a way that only makes sense to me. I'm a scientist, and I won't compromise on that."
Kor'ven had been praised as one of the most intelligent Karuvar in existence, and yet he could not understand what she was saying. He did not want her to be anything other than what she was. Did one scientific disagreement--when they had already had so many--truly make her doubt that?
Evidently so, as before he could even fathom a response, his mate--the woman who now held his heart, his life, his future--walked out of the room and left him behind.
15
Addison barely had time to tell anyone she was taking a half day before she rushed out of Waystation Helios.
She knew she couldn't rely on the bus to just magically show up, and so she walked home. In heels and a lab coat, on a hot day when her endless supply of tears had already turned her mascara into a horror show.
She walked, keeping her attention straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might try and talk to her. It was the rudest she'd ever been since she'd been transferred to Everton and Waystation Helios, but she just couldn't handle talking to anyone right now.
She knew there was a good chance word of her current state would get back to Meg and Ash. They would likely stop by with heaps of greasy food and a bottle of wine and expect her to let them in and be willing to talk about what had happened until she found some catharsis.
But Addison wasn't entirely sure she would ever find catharsis. Not about this. Because the moment she left that room, she could feel her heart being torn in two.
It was ridiculous from a scientific perspective. Everything she was feeling was just a chemical reaction caused by one part biology and one part social programming. There was no such thing as a broken heart. And yet…
She climbed the stairs to her flat and fumbled for her keys. As soon as she was inside, she all but collapsed against the closed door and just sobbed. Deep, soul-wracking sobs that wrung her out with every gasp for air.
Her actions were justified. Even disregarding what was best for Karuvar and humans alike, Addison knew she couldn't be what Kor'ven needed. He didn't want someone to challenge him. He fought with her at every turn, and the only times they'd actually worked together were when they had no other choice.
She refused to make herself smaller for him. She refused to fall into the role of devoted mate and mother while Kor'ven received accolades for his brilliant work. She'd seen what that had done to her mother--how miserable it had made her. She absolutely refused to follow in her footsteps.
But when she thought of Kor'ven's face, of those violet eyes searching hers so helplessly, some part of her desperately wanted to run back to that Waystation and tell him she was wrong; tell him that the connection they had went far beyond just one night.
The hell of it was, it had only taken her a few steps to realize she'd been utterly unfair. She'd been able to feel that pain rolling off of him, and for half a second, she let herself unpack it and examine it. What she found there had made her pick up the pace--had made her decide to leave the Waystation for the day instead of just burying herself in her work.
He was right. He had every reason to resist altering the master code. The previous Pathfinder had forced him to be a part of something that compromised his integrity, as a scientist and as a Karuvar. And because of that, he'd lost everything. His mate, his child, and no doubt the respect of any colleagues who knew about it, too, considering his beliefs.
He had confided all of this in her, told her things that could get him dismissed from Drol'gan's service, and she had tossed it all back in his face.
Addison curled up against the door, drawing her knees up to her chest. When she was a girl, her mother had taught her to always pursue what she knew to be right, what she knew to be true, no matter the cost. She'd lived her life by that philosophy, but it had been less than an hour and the cost already felt far too high.
She wasn't sure how long she stayed there on the floor, but eventually she forced herself to her feet and made her way to the stove, putting a kettle over the fire. Another thing she'd retained from her childhood: hot tea when she was upset.
Addison stood there while the leaves steeped and tried to consider her options. She could go back and apologize; find some way to work with Kor'ven and Drol'gan and still protect the future of their two species. But if she did that, she was letting go of what she knew was right, and she wasn't sure she could live with herself if she did that.
The only other option, she supposed, was to somehow convince Drol'gan that the master code absolutely needed to be changed, but she was unsure of how to do that. And she knew doing it would absolutely destroy any chance she had of patching things up with Kor'ven.
It was a choice, then. Her own integrity, her own beliefs, her worth as a scientist… or Kor'ven. She always thought such a choice would be easy. A no-brainer, as they said. But now she was beginning to understand how her mother might have come to the conclusion she had.
God. Her mother had been pregnant with her fairly early on in her relationship with her father. What if she, too, was already pregnant?
Her hand moved absently to her stomach just as a knock sounded at the door. Dread coiled in her. Would Kor'ven have found her? She remembered Meg saying Verkiir had tracked her down after she walked away from him. But Kor'ven seemed more… rational than Verkiir, to put it mildly. She couldn't imagine him showing up at her door, and she couldn
’t feel him that close.
"Just a second," she said, fishing the leaves out and setting her cup on the counter to cool just a bit.
As she walked to the door, she realized for the first time that she felt… unwell. Feverish, when it wasn't remotely hot. Clammy, as if she'd been sweating for hours. Her stomach wasn't just in knots, it seemed sour. Her little crisis had managed to mask much of the physical anguish, but she certainly felt it now.
She knew what it was. Mates did not do well apart. It lessened somewhat after they were mated, but Addison still felt like death warmed over. Maybe her body knew somehow that she'd rejected Kor'ven and things were only going to get worse from here.
She pushed that thought away and stood on her tip-toes to look through the peephole. No one was standing in the hallway, and Addison frowned as she undid the locks.
Opening the door changed nothing. There was still no one there. When she looked down, though, she saw a scrap of paper on the floor. Bending down, Addison picked it up and read the tight, neat handwriting:
You're in over your head. Turn back now.
Her brow furrowed and she glanced either way down the hall. "Is this someone's idea of a prank? Because I'm not in the mood."
Now she remembered why she spent so little time here. Aside from the biting loneliness, she also had to contest with bored teenagers who had nothing better to do with their time.
But as she read the letter again, Addison got the distinct feeling that this wasn't some prank. You're in over your head. Turn back now. Those words meant something, and they could only be in regards to her work.
…What if this letter was written by the same person who tampered with Vazik's implant? Or if not them, someone who was directly involved with them? What if they were trying to stop her from pursuing this any further?
She brought the letter inside and held it up to the light, searching for a watermark or anything else that might give the writer away. There was nothing, and she didn't recognize the penmanship. But something in her told her this was more than it seemed, and she was forced to weigh it into her choice.
She could return to Helios and make peace with Drol'gan and Kor'ven. Show them the letter and have them… what? Dismiss it? Push it to the back-burner?
No. She couldn't do that.
The other option, though, was one that terrified her. She took no issue with standing up to Drol'gan, but proving him wrong on this matter was dangerous. She'd have to somehow prove that the clock was their enemy, and that individual fixes just weren't going to cut it, but the only way to do that would be to deliberately alter an implant's code and allow it to stay altered for several days without intervention. She wasn't going to subject an innocent to that.
But perhaps...
Addison glanced down at her arm, at the spidery patterns that radiated out from her implant. She could alter her own code. Just one small change that she could control. Enough to compromise her immune system, but not enough to put her in any real danger. It would prove that individual manipulation was too slow, too risky; that they would be safer altering the master code.
She wasn't a geneticist, though. And what if altering her implant somehow made it not respond to Kor'ven's anymore? If he could create mates out of nothing, perhaps alteration could also destroy them.
But then… was that really the worst thing?
Yes, some part of her screamed, and yet she was able to bury it down deep. Yes, it would hurt, but no more than the inevitable. She couldn't be Kor'ven's mate. She knew that. At least this way, maybe they would be spared the side effects.
It was crazy, but what choice did she have? Someone obviously didn't want her to get to the bottom of this, and that was precisely why she needed to take such drastic action.
The world will tell you you're wrong, baby girl, her mother used to tell her. But you'll know. Deep down, you'll know when you're doing the right thing.
And she did.
Letting out a slow breath, Addison grabbed her cup of tea, crossed the kitchen to her terminal, and got to work.
16
Adi'sun did not return to Waystation Helios that day.
Mei'gahn encouraged him to let her be, but Kor'ven knew something was not right. Perhaps Adi'sun had dismissed him as her mate--something that was causing him no end of physical and emotional anguish--but she would not dismiss her work. It was everything to her. So much so that she had very definitively chose it over him.
Still, he allowed her "space," as Mei'gahn and Azh'lee both claimed she needed, in various degrees of helpfulness. He finished changing the code in Vazik's implant and oversaw the update. He ran diagnostics and congratulated the parents when everything appeared to be working as it should. He met with Drol'gan and discussed a strategy for deploying this information to the other Waystations.
It all felt hollow without his mate.
It even felt hollow when he received another message from Teiv informing him that he had finally isolated a strain of mutations that could potentially prove Kor'ven's theory. Without Adi'sun here to share it, it just seemed… empty.
It was a strange thing. Kor'ven had always been independent. He was the only kit born to his sire and dam, and he had learned from a young age to look out for himself and take pride in his own accomplishments rather than relying on anyone else to tell him how to feel. But now he wanted his mate's opinion. He wanted her to criticize and poke holes in his theories. He wanted her to fight him with that impassioned look in her eyes.
She would make him a better scientist. She would make him better in every way. And Kor'ven knew he could be the same for her. He would dedicate his life to that purpose, if only she would allow it.
That night, he had already made a plan to speak to her. He would not back down from this. It was his future as much as hers, and he would stand for both of them until he could assuage her fears. He might not be a fierce warrior, but he would fight for what they could be.
When she did not show up for work, though, that conviction became tainted by a sharp sense of dread. Leaving to find her was not even a question, he merely needed to know where she was. As Helios had her information in the database, Kor'ven was able to escape by mid-morning and set out into Everton to find her.
The place Adi'sun called home seemed much like Kor'ven's own home. Small. Cramped. Likely barely used because she spent so much time at the Waystation. He climbed the stairs, preparing himself for what he was going to say, hoping the unease he felt was merely an overreaction.
But as he reached her floor, he knew it was not. The suffering that occurred when mates were parted was meant to ease when they were near each other again, and while Kor'ven did not feel as if he might collapse at any moment, he still did not feel well. Instinct drove him, and he raced to her door, banging his fist against it and calling her name.
She did not answer, nor did she come to let him in, or even to tell him to leave. Her home was deathly silent, and Kor'ven wasted no time. With a roar of effort, he rammed himself into the door, shoulder first. It splintered violently and he had to catch himself before momentum sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Adi'sun," he called, his voice sounding desperate.
He did not see her, and so he made his way to the only other room in her home. He looked for her upon her bed and at her terminal, but she was not there, either.
Something called to him, though. Some silent, inexplicable force drew his gaze downward, and there he found her.
"Adi'sun," he said, fear making her name waver as it left his mouth.
She was not dead. He would have felt that loss deep within his soul. But she was not well. He dropped down to his knees to examine her. Her skin was hot to the touch, and when he lifted one eyelid, she was not responsive. But she was breathing. Shallow breaths that worried Kor'ven deeply, yet they were breaths just the same.
Again he did not hesitate, scooping her into his arms and walking out of her home. When the Matchmaker program began, he had been made aware of how fragile h
umans were and how disastrous it was for them to be apart from their mates, and perhaps that was what this was. It did not feel that way to Kor'ven, though. It felt like something deeper, and yet he could not puzzle out what was behind it even as he carried his mate back to Waystation Helios so she could receive treatment.
The medical staff, Mei'gahn included, stabilized her and treated her symptoms. She was in a "coma," they said, which was a human word for an unresponsive sleep--one that could last for a few days or… indefinitely.
Kor'ven stayed by her bedside, paying little heed to anything else. He only ate and drank because Mei'gahn forced such things upon him, and there was a limit to how much he was willing to be coddled.
"All of your energy must be focused on Adi'sun," he'd snapped. "She is the one who needs aid, not me."
Human and Karuvar alike had left him alone after that. For the most part. At some point during the next morning--and he only knew it was such because of the light streaming through the window--Azh'lee came to Adi'sun's room. She knocked first, which even Kor'ven recognized as polite for the youngling. He permitted her entry, hoping she was only here to see her friend.
And it seemed that she was. She moved to the opposite bedside, her brow set in a deep furrow. Kor'ven watched, his heart aching as she reached out and brushed Adi'sun's hair from her forehead.
"My sister said once that Adi'sun would work herself to death," Azh'lee began quietly. "And I always thought… nah. I won't let that happen. I won't let her do that to herself. But… here we are."
Azh'lee's words were choked with emotion, and Kor'ven could see tears racing down her cheek. He knew he should comfort her in some way, but he did not know how.
"She is not dying," he said, pointing out a fact. "She is strong. She will recover from this."
"Yeah. Well." Azh'lee sniffed, then swiped at her eyes. "I, um. I have some equipment in the hall I need to wheel in if it's cool with you. Or even if it's not, I guess. Addi usually does this, but hey."