Her hand slipped into his hair—wet, tangled, matted from sweat—and pulled his face to her shoulder.
"Slow down," she muttered.
The words didn't carry judgment. Just direction. A line to hold onto.
Cubes moved behind her, sensors active. Its core processor dialed down the ambient heat in the containment bay by two degrees. Airflow shifted, pressure stabilizers adjusted automatically, and the cold returned across the lab in a quiet breath.
She didn't look up. Her arms stayed wrapped tight around him.
Elias wasn't resisting. He wasn't collapsing either. He was just there—heavy, shaking, breath catching between her ribs. His hands hovered near her biceps, fingers barely resting against the sleeves of her uniform. He didn't pull away.
"How are you even alive?"
The question slipped out quieter than she expected. Still sharp. Still weighted.
She didn't let go.
"You killed yourself," she said. "For Kikaru. Said there was nothing left. No one to fight for."
