I stand when Njande collapses on Jheghda's chest and shouts echo down the corridor from the elevator. I pick up my knife, Mikscn supporting me when I nearly fall over, and make my way cautiously through the men and bodies between me and Njande. I don't make a sound when I stop by his side, but he looks up at me, his face covered in blood and tears.
"You—" a low growl tears out of his throat, thick and choked. "You know."
I nod, because I do, because I get it now.
"Please," he chokes out.
The Vrah'di are filtering into the room, calling to Rowan and Cherian. I step behind Njande, find the space between two vertebrae, and drive my knife in. Njande's body falls over Jheghda's and my knife slips from my fingers.
*~*~*
I wake up alone again and stare up at the ceiling, half-remembered snatches of dreams and Njande and I love you echoing through my mind. I shake myself out of it and roll out of bed, rubbing my aching shoulder.
I dress quickly and make my way to the bridge. Jye and Mikscn have been gone for two days and aren't due back for another three from the Cabal's capitol planet, Control. But when I come onto the bridge, Bastien is frowning at something Ruadh is telling him, and I know I won't be able to get his attention.
"No! Leave me alone!" I turn at the sound of Cherian's voice and accidentally catch his eye. He makes a beeline for me, Rowan on his heels, and I cringe.
"Eri—"
"No, I'm not going!"
"We don't have a choice! You broke the law when you kidnapped me—"
"I had to!"
I inch away from them, but Cherian steps with me and Rowan follows like he's caught in Cherian's orbit.
"You should have trusted me!"
I blink, look at the way they're angled toward each other, aggressive and in each other's space. Oh.
"How was I supposed to know? You never—"
I beat a hasty retreat, am exhausted by the time I get to the mess, and decide to go back to sleep even though I just woke up. But I end up staring down at the tablet Bastien gave me, and the report Vance submitted about the situation.
"Overextension of abilities", and "traumatic experience", and "recovery time unknown" leap out at me. I turn the tablet off and toss it at the tiny desk bolted to the opposite wall. I stretch again, try to feel for Mikscn, searching the place where he normally rests in my mind, but he's gone like he never existed in the first place.
I bury my face in my hands, trying to ignore the ache. In this tiny room, on this ship with people I barely know, even with Cherian down the hall, I feel more alone than I ever have before in my life.
Vance and Aiya think being apart from Mikscn for a couple of days will help, that I strained myself and him being gone will let my mind rest, but I resent every second that he and Jye are gone. Connecting with Njande, even though it was only for a few seconds, feels like a betrayal.
Mikscn and Jye will come back. They have to. I know they will. But it's silent in my head and I miss Mikscn's comfortable steadiness like a phantom limb. I flop onto my back and fall asleep counting all the times Mikscn and I were synchronized in the adjunct.
Hey there, little one. Why are you crying?
Sh, go to sleep, it'll be okay.
I'm sorry, lambling. Would you like me to sing you a lullaby?
We'll always be here, sweet one, all three of us and Mik. You'll never be alone.
Trust us. Trust him. We love you.
I surface to consciousness slowly, cocooned in warmth and soft skin. I shift and try to push the fogginess away, confused and not liking it.
"Sh." Nails scratch lightly at my scalp, accompanying a gentle prod towards sleep. "We just got in." Jye's voice is a low rumble against my throat.
"You came back," I say thickly.
Mikscn squeezes my arm, fond amusement overtaking my confusion. "Of course we did. We said we would."
"You came back," I whisper again, my eyes squeezed shut so I can revel in Mikscn's emotions.
Mikscn's slow exhale ruffles my hair. "I had to."
I nod. "Okay."
Fin
About the Author
Siobhan discovered the wonderful world of boy love when one of her friends pointed out that two of her characters were probably beating each other up constantly because of unresolved sexual tension. After the seed had been planted, slashy love started showing up with more and more frequency in her stories until she had to own up to being a hardcore slasher and made the transition to writing slash full-time.
She can’t go without writing for more than five days, even if it’s just a couple words scribbled on a piece of napkin or a note in her phone. If Real Life gets in the way and she has to go without her sweet, sweet fix, she morphs into a snarly, grumpy grizzly bear until she can hide in a corner with her laptop and some Good Strong Coffee. She’s not addicted though, stop grinning.
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