“Nothing broken,” he confirmed. “But you're going to feel that for a week.” He pulled my shirt back down. “Anything else you're hiding from me?”
“Hit my head when we landed. Saw stars. Passed.”
“Concussion?”
“Possible. Minor if so.”
He sighed. Long. Suffering. “You're a terrible patient.”
“You are terrible at following security protocols. We are even.”
“Noted.” He was quiet for a moment. Then: “Thank you. For tonight. For keeping me alive. For being brave and stupid and impossible all at once.”
“Is what I do best.”
“Apparently.” His hand found mine. Squeezed. Brief but meaningful. “But maybe next time you could be brave and stupid without getting shot three times?”
“Will try. Cannot promise.”
“Good enough.” He released my hand. Started gathering the used medical supplies. “You should rest. Dr. Amir said you needed to sleep. Actual sleep. Not whatever half-conscious state you usually achieve.”
“Will rest when you leave.”
He paused. Looked at me for a long moment. Something unreadable flickering across his face. Then he nodded. “Right. Of course.”
He finished cleaning up in silence. Packed away the medical kit with the same care he'd used treating my wounds. Methodical. Thorough. Avoiding my eyes.
“Sebastian—“
“It's fine.” He moved toward the door. “You need rest. I should let you sleep.” His hand was on the handle when he paused. Looked back. “If you need anything. If the pain gets worse or the bandages need changing. Call me. Not Dr. Amir. Me.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know you're okay.” Simple. Honest. “Is that allowed?”
“Da. Is allowed.”
“Good.” He opened the door. Hesitated. “Try not to die in your sleep, Viktor. Would be very inconvenient.”
“Will do my best not to inconvenience you.”
That earned me a small smile. “See that you do.”
Then he was gone. Door closing softly behind him.
The room felt colder without him. Emptier. I stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about how much I'd wanted him to stay.
How much I'd wanted to ask him to stay.
Outside, rain fell. Inside, the warmth he'd brought with him was already fading.
I closed my eyes. Let exhaustion pull me under alone.
Sleep wouldn't come.
I lay in bed for two hours, staring at the ceiling while my shoulder throbbed and my ribs ached and my arm hung useless in its sling. Every position hurt. Every breath reminded me of bullets and grenades and how close we'd come to dying.
How close Sebastian had come to dying.
