“His temperature is starting to drop. The respiratory rate is improving.” He gestured toward a chair positioned beside the exam table. “You can hold him if you’d like. Just try not to disturb the IV line.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. She sank into the offered chair and carefully gathered Mikoz into her arms, mindful ofthe tubing and equipment. He made a small sound and nestled against her chest, his breathing already sounding less labored than it had been.
“There you go, sweetie,” she murmured, stroking the tiny ridges on his head. “You’re going to be just fine. Dr. Bombaya is taking good care of you.”
Anya pulled up another chair and sat down, resting her head on Corinne’s shoulder. The young girl had been so strong through everything—the abduction, the escape, adapting to life on a Cire vessel—but she was still just a teenager who’d been scared for the baby she’d helped care for.
“Is he really going to be okay?” Anya asked quietly.
“Yes,” she said, because the alternative was unthinkable. “He’s strong. And he’s got all of us looking out for him.”
Selik moved behind them, one hand on her shoulder and the other on Anya’s. The three-point contact felt grounding, like he was physically holding them together through the force of his presence.
Bombaya continued working around them, checking monitors and adjusting equipment with the quiet competence of someone who’d done this countless times before. Occasionally he would stop to scan Mikoz or check his vitals, each time offering a small nod of satisfaction.
“Temperature is down another degree,” he announced after one such check. “The medication is working as it should.”
Relief flooded through her, so intense it made her dizzy. She pressed a kiss to Mikoz’s forehead and confirmed what thedoctor had said—the burning heat had eased to something closer to normal body temperature.
“Thank you,” she said, looking up at Bombaya. “For helping him.”
The doctor’s expression softened slightly. “I am a healer. That means treating those who need help, regardless of the circumstances that brought them to my med bay.”
He nodded and returned to his work, leaving them in relative peace. She settled more comfortably in the chair, adjusting her hold on Mikoz to better support his weight. The IV stand loomed beside them but she was getting used to it, accepting it as a temporary necessity rather than a threat.
Time passed in a strange blur. Anya dozed off against her shoulder, her head heavy and warm. Selik remained standing behind them, a silent sentinel who radiated protective energy. Bombaya moved around the med bay on quiet feet, attending to other tasks while keeping a watchful eye on his small patient.
Mikoz’s breathing evened out into the deeper rhythm of sleep. His color improved from the sickly pallor to something healthier, and the distressed sounds that had been breaking her heart finally stopped. He looked peaceful now, just a sleeping baby instead of a sick one. The knot of tension in her chest began to loosen. He was going to be okay. They’d gotten him help in time and he was going to be okay.
“You should rest,” Selik said quietly. “I will watch over him.”
“I can’t sleep. Not while he’s still sick.”
“The worst has passed. Bombaya said so himself.” His hand stroked over her hair, gentle and soothing. “You will do him no good if you exhaust yourself trying to maintain a vigil.”
He was right, but her body didn’t seem to care about logic. Adrenaline still fizzed in her veins, making rest feel impossible despite the exhaustion pulling at her bones.
“I’ll try,” she conceded. “But I’m not leaving him.”
“I would not ask you to.”
He gently lifted a sleeping Anya off of her side and placed her on one of the exam beds, covering her with a blanket. Then he settled into another chair that Bombaya must have brought over at some point. His bulk made the medical furniture look almost comically small, but he managed to arrange himself with the grace she’d come to associate with him. Before she could protest, he carefully lifted her and Mikoz onto his lap without disturbing any of the equipment. “Now lean on me. Close your eyes. I will wake you if anything changes.”
She wanted to protest, to insist she could stay alert through sheer force of will. But the warmth of his body under hers was so tempting, and Mikoz felt safe and secure in her arms, and exhaustion pulled at her with relentless fingers.
Just a few minutes.She could rest for just a few minutes.
She shifted carefully, adjusting Mikoz in her hold while leaning into Selik’s solid bulk. His arm came around her shoulders, supporting her weight, while his tail curled more firmly around her waist, wrapping her in a cocoon of safety.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For getting us here so fast. For knowing what to do when I was panicking.”
“You did not panic. You acted.” His voice rumbled through his chest, a soothing vibration she could feel where her shoulder pressed against him. “You got your young one to safety. That is what a good mother does.”
Mother.There was that word again, settling around her with a weight that felt both terrifying and right. She’d never given birth to Mikoz, never carried him for nine months or gone through labor to bring him into the world. But she’d promised his mother she would love him, and that promise had become truth. She loved him with the same fierce protectiveness she felt for Anya. He was hers, in all the ways that mattered, and she would fight anyone who tried to take him from her.
“I want to keep him,” she said quietly. “I know that’s what we’ve been working towards, finding him a home. But I want it to be with me. With us.”
“As do I.” His hand stroked through her hair, gentle and rhythmic. “We will build a life together. All of us. A family.”
