She was still alive. Barely.
Kneeling by her side on the bed, Rocke had one of her hands in both of his, his stricken visage pale and tearless, for undoubtedly he had no more tears to cry. And at the dying female’s feet, Lyric’s fathers were crouched together, Qhuinn holding Blay, who was just staring down—
Loud footsteps rushing in had Lyric glancing over her shoulder.
Rhamp all but mowed her over as he arrived, but she didn’t have the energy to bicker about being shoved out of the way.
Especially as her twin stopped short like he’d forgotten how to move.
Blay looked up. “Hi, guys. Come on in.”
As if they were young once more, they did as they were told, and shut the door quietly. But when they didn’t approach the bed, Rocke smiled and motioned at them.
“Get closer, so that she knows you’re both here. I have a feeling… I think she’s aware of us. All of us.”
Lyric took a step forward—and when Rhamp didn’t follow, she hooked her arm through his and brought him along. At the bedside, there was space to sit a hip down, and she took advantage of it, opposite her grandfather.
“Hi,Granmahmen,” she choked out. Then she looked at her dads. “What happened? What changed?”
Blay took a deep breath. “About fifteen minutes ago, her heart stopped while I was checking her oxygenation. It started again on its own. Then stopped a couple of minutes later… it’s just time. Ehlena and Doc Jane said they could try and give her stimulants, but…”
Through the lump in her throat, Lyric addressed her namesake: “We’re here, too,Granmahmen. Rhamp and I are here.”
She expected her brother to chime in. When he didn’t, she glanced at him. He hadn’t sat down, but rather was hovering on the periphery, his eyes on the wall across the way, his body tense as a statue.
“Rhamp,” she whispered. As he looked at her, she nodded at theirgranmahmen. “Rhamp’s here, too,” she said more loudly.
He shook his head and took a step back, his hand dragging down his face.
Lyric refocused on theirgranmahmenand saw more clearly what her frantic first glimpses had missed. The elder Lyric’s mouth was slack and blue-tinted, her sunken eyes ever so slightly open but surely not seeing anything, her hollow chest barely inhaling… barely exhaling…
“I love you,” Lyric said roughly as she stroked the thin white hair.
She thought back to just nights ago, when she had stretched out next to the female. Those moments had seemed important, then. Now? They were precious beyond any earthly wealth, for they were the last ones she was to have.
Sniffles percolated up, and she realized they were coming from her.
And then she looked at hergranmahmen’s free hand as it lay on the flowered quilt, so still, the purple veins and white bones showing through the paper-thin skin.
She looked at Rhamp. “You need to say goodbye—”
He shook his head once more.
“No,” she intoned. “Come here. Sit with me. And talk to her.”
Rhamp took yet another step back, and she thought of their youth. He was the one who had always protected her, even before his change, when he’d been small. And then after his transition, when he’d come through things, he’d been so big, big enough not just to fight, but to win against the enemy.
Whereas she had been… a Barbie.
She was still pissed at him for that crack. Except that wasn’t what was on her mind now. The only thing she was remembering… was what he would do when they’d been young and the thunderstorms had come during the day, and the rumbling had been so loud and deep, that it had vibrated down even into the underground.
He had always turned to her then, and been the one to seek her comfort when he’d been scared.
For all his courage in the field, he was scared now.
“Rhamp,” she said with force. “You’re going to regret this for the rest of your life. Come and sit with me, and tell her you love her.”
Extending her arm, she kept their eyes locked. “It’s going to be okay. Come here, brother mine.”
