Darkness had been here for a while.
A blank, endless absence where nothing mattered. No thoughts. No time. No sense of anything resembling self. Just fragments. Half-formed impressions that slipped away the moment they began to take shape.
Thoughts tried to form, then slipped. Others followed, just as unsteady. They drifted aimlessly, unstable pieces that refused to come together.
Until one did. It held. And with it came a cognizance so abrupt it felt violent.
I am.
The realization came all at once, sharp and disorienting. I was… alive. The notion didn't feel natural; my mind hadn't caught up yet.
And the darkness wasn't empty. It was constructed. By me. My eyes were closed.
The sensation changed. What had been distant and infinite compressed instantly, taking a shape. The darkness became weight. A thick, suffocating mass that sealed me in.
I tried to open my eyes.
Nothing happened. I couldn't even tell if I'd actually tried. The command went out, but my body didn't answer. The signal got lost somewhere between mind and muscle.
There was a flicker of unease. I tried again, harder this time, searching for the motion itself.
And there it was. A strain. Faint and distant but ultimately present. I pushed on.
Light split through the dark. And with it, everything else followed.
The air smelled clean. Dry, perfectly tempered and carrying the faint coppery edge of filtered oxygen. Above me, the ceiling curved slightly, segmented into translucent panels that glowed with a pale, artificial daylight. Lines of soft blue light traced between them like veins.
I couldn't feel most of my body.
A dull awareness spread outward from my chest. My ribs felt… reinforced. Wrapped. I tried moving my limbs. No response. They might as well have belonged to someone else. So I did the only thing I could. I looked.
Six shapes.
Scattered around the room. Some on the couch and floor, one slumped against the wall. All of them asleep.
Even in this state, I easily recognized them. Bran, Lydia and Kate. They sat together on the couch, slumped together in an uneven cluster, heads resting against one another. Curled toward each other on the floor were Cuiran and Mous, hands loosely clasped, foreheads almost touching. And leaning on the wall was Jen, mouth slightly open as a thin line of drool trailed down her chin.
They all looked intact. Peaceful even. Something inside me eased.
The console beside me lit up. Lines of data began cascading across its surface, accelerating rapidly as if reacting to my awareness. The rhythm near me adjusted, noticeably aligning closer to my breathing. Not too long after, the door parted.
A man stepped in, already looking at me. He wore a white coat over grey scrubs and walked briskly into the room.
"Captain," he said, voice steady, projecting more to the room than to me. "You're awake."
He came to my side, checking over the equipment.
Behind him, there was some movement. Jen woke up first. She wiped away the drool, eyes locking onto me.
"You're awake," she said half to herself, then louder. "He's awake."
The others stirred. They groggily pushed themselves up, slowly approaching me.
Mous rubbed her eyes, blinking hard. "Capt–"
"Stay back," the doctor said, without turning. They stopped.
"You'll have time," he added. "Not now. Give him space and be quiet."
"All right ." Kate yawned, stretching slightly. Reluctantly, they backed off, returning to where they'd been.
The doctor leaned closer. "Can you hear me?"
It took effort to force out the reply. "Yes."
"Good. Don't push it."
He adjusted something off to the side. One of the floating interfaces shifted, and the pressure in my chest eased slightly. The machine breathing for me softened, syncing closer to my own rhythm. It made speaking less difficult.
A little while passed as he studied me, before straightening slightly.
"You were exposed to a high-density shockwave," he said. "Combined with multiple pre-existing injuries. You were already operating beyond your limits."
His eyes flicked briefly to a display, "Even the pain suppressors and epinephrine could do nothing for the sustained stress on your body."
I said nothing. My gaze drifted past him instead. To Mous. Her expression said everything.
Told you so.
"You went into systemic failure," the doctor continued. "Your lungs were the first to collapse. Internal bleeding followed. Oxygen levels dropped rapidly. Cardiac instability shortly after."
I felt that, distantly. A hollow echo in my chest.
"We stabilized you on-site, transferred you here, and performed immediate thoracic repair. Your lungs were… extensively damaged." A pause. "They are partially functional now."
"How long?" I swallowed.
The words scraped. He didn't need clarification.
"You were unconscious for just under fifty hours."
I blinked slowly. Two whole days.
"But you're alive," he said, matter-of-fact. "That is impressive. Far more than you know. The level of trauma you absorbed would have killed most individuals twice over."
Twice over? It sure felt like it.
"Full recovery?" I asked.
He gestured, and one of the projections expanded. Various sections of my musculature were highlighted in different shades.
"Your muscles sustained widespread micro and macro tearing. Your cardiovascular system was pushed beyond safe thresholds. Neurological strain is present, though not catastrophic."
He looked back at me. "You will be functional in a few weeks."
"And work?" I pressed.
He didn't answer immediately.
"Three months," he said. "Minimum."
I exhaled slowly. The machine followed.
"Closer to six if you expect full performance restoration," he added.
Three to six months. A long time to be out of commission. But maybe I should be grateful it was just that. After all, death was the alternative.
"You're fortunate," he said, quieter now. "Rest. Your body is rebuilding. Don't interfere with it."
He began to step back, then paused.
"And next time," he added, almost as an afterthought, "maybe just stay put."
The door sealed behind him and the room settled again. Across the room, six pairs of eyes were fixed on me.
Waiting. For my permission.
"Fine," I sighed. "One at a time."
"Yeah, so long story short," Bran said around a mouthful of food, "they've got everything."
He didn't slow down as he spoke, already halfway through his sandwich.
"The scene, the evidence and suspects have all been locked down. We're out."
The rest of them had gathered closer at some point. They sat around the bed, occupying whatever space they could find. Food had appeared from somewhere, passed around without much thought.
I wasn't hungry. Didn't make it any less weird to be the only one not eating.
"Well," I said, voice still rough, "as long as everyone got out."
Mous and Lydia exchanged a look. I caught it.
"What?"
Lydia set her plate aside. It hovered silently, just above the floor. "We couldn't save everyone."
Mous stepped in before the silence could settle.
"You did everything you could, Cap," she said, placing a hand lightly against my shoulder. "But it was just too much."
I closed my eyes. The director. He didn't make it. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. He was already in a critical state by the time I got to him. Even without the bomb, his survival was still a toss up. But still…
"It's a miracle you managed to survive," Jen added. "There was nothing more you could have done."
"I know," I said, opening my eyes. I really did. I just didn't like it. "What about Ms. Vance?"
"She's okay," Mous said, stifling a yawn. "Took some hits from debris when the blast went off, but nothing serious."
That was a relief. The results were by no means ideal but it could have been worse. A whole lot worse.
As they continued to eat in silence, I felt the urge to rub my chin. There was something I was missing. A couple of things, actually.
"Kate," I said, finally recalling. "My belt."
She looked up. "I knew you'd ask".
"That's why I brought these." She set down her wrap and reached into her pocket. Then pulled out three items. Two small black cases and a watch. A pressure I hadn't noticed left my shoulders.
"You didn't turn them in."
She shook her head. "Didn't feel right."
I let a small smile form. "And that's why you're number two."
She turned slightly toward Bran, tilting her head. "You hear that, tercero? There's levels to this."
Bran scoffed, already reaching for another sandwich. "Yeah, yeah."
"Don't forget my credits," she added. "Tomorrow."
I laughed. It came out rough, scratching my throat, but I let it happen.
"You might want to ease up on the gambling," I said. "It's not for everyone."
Bran shot me a look, unimpressed, and turned away. I looked over at the items in Kate's hand. The case was already in CCA hands. Out of our jurisdiction. Didn't mean it was over.
Not even close.
"We're not done with them," I said. That got all their attention.
"They'll come back," I continued. "Groups like that always do. And when they do, we won't get the luxury of reacting."
I looked at Kate. "Take one of the cases to the commander tomorrow. Tell him everything we know about rox."
She nodded.
"The other one," I added, "keep it hidden. Just in case."
No one questioned the decision. Good.
But there was still something else. Something I was forgetting. I just couldn't put my finger on it.
Cuiran stood. "I'm heading out for drinks. Any requests?"
"None for me," Kate said.
"Lemon soda," Bran managed between bites.
"Water," Mous and Jen said at the same time.
"Coffee," Lydia added, rubbing at her eyes. "Organic."
"Anything–" I began.
"Orange flavoured?" Cuiran completed with a grin. "Got it."
I guess I was that predictable. He jogged out the room.
Jen turned to Kate. "What's with the watch?"
Before I could respond, the door split open. And the answer walked in.
Caitlin seemed fine, just as Mous had said. There were signs of the blast. Some faint cuts along her arms and neck and thin healing lines across her face. A cast wrapped around her right hand, stark against everything else. But nothing too serious.
She slowly walked over, stopping just short of the group.
"Hi, guys," she said, offering a tired wave.
"Hey, Caitlin." Mous replied.
They were now on a first name basis. Noted.
The others acknowledged her with nods and quiet greetings. Her attention shifted to me.
"How are you?"
"As you can see," I said, "I've been better."
"Mmm." She nodded. Her expression conveyed something. She wanted to talk.
I cleared my throat and glanced at the others. "Why don't you all give us some privacy."
"Why–" Kate's hand clamped over Jen's mouth just as she started.
"Got it," Kate said smoothly. "We'll give you space."
The others stood, dragging their seats along with them. One was left beside me, close enough for Caitlin to sit.
They all relocated. Not out of the room. Just a little further away, clustered near the couch and still watching us. I stared at them. They stared back. I groaned. They were doing this on purpose.
"Guys, seriously."
"Oh, don't mind us," Lydia said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just pretend we're not here."
Before I could push it further, Caitlin spoke.
"It's fine." She moved past the moment and took the seat beside me.
Up close, the damage was clearer. Her eyes were red and swollen. Tired in a way that went beyond physical exhaustion. The last two days hadn't been kind to her.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Yeah." She lifted her cast. "All things considered, I got off easy."
She grinned but it didn't reach her eyes.
"So," I shifted my neck slightly, "what's the CCA going to do with you?"
"They've been surprisingly lenient so far," she leaned back. "Most of the lower-level staff were released after some light interrogation."
Not unexpected. Dragging in people who didn't know anything would just slow things down. Even for the CCA, that would be inefficient. Though not impossible. They weren't an organisation known for restraint.
"As for the rest of us," she continued, "the ones higher up, we took a deal. Full cooperation in exchange for their 'sincere consideration'."
I raised an eyebrow. "So that means?"
"My movements will be monitored and restricted for the foreseeable future." She pointed to the door. "The guards are outside. I was only allowed to come here because of… everything."
"Oh," I nodded slowly. "That's not too bad."
"No. It's not."
An awkward silence followed. I found myself avoiding her eyes. Didn't know why. Didn't like that I was. After a moment, I gave up.
"Look," I said. "I'm sorry about the director."
Her head lowered immediately.
"I couldn't save him," I continued. "I know it's not really my place, but you two seemed close."
She didn't respond right away. Just stared at the floor.
"You have nothing to apologize for," she said finally. "There was nothing you could have done."
I watched her shoulders and saw the tension. Saw how tightly she was holding herself together.
"At least…" she paused, her voice catching slightly, "at least he didn't die alone."
She looked up at me. A tear slipped free, tracing a slow path down her cheek.
"You were there," she said. "In his final moments. That has to be worth something."
It might have felt better if she was angry. Maybe if she yelled at me and blamed me for his death, I wouldn't have this muddy feeling in my chest. This was just…sad.
"Kate," I called. "Bring the watch."
She came over and pulled it out of her pocket. The recognition was instant on Caitlin's face.
"Before he died, he made me promise to get this to you." I said. "It was his last request."
Kate extended her hand. Caitlin reached out slowly, like it would've disappeared if she moved too fast.
She broke the moment it touched her palm.
Her fingers clenched around the watch as her body folded inward, a broken sound escaping her before she could stop it. The sobs followed.
Raw and unfiltered in how restrained they tried to be.
Her shoulders shook as she hunched forward, clutching the watch against her chest like it was the only thing holding her together.
We just looked. Because that was all we could do.
After a while, the intensity faded. She stood, wiping at her face, slowly regaining control.
She turned to me and stepped closer. I didn't move. Didn't expect what came next. As I opened my mouth to speak, she leaned in.
And her lips pressed against mine.
In those eight seconds, everything flipped.
My brain blanked completely, all sense of reason and direction completely out the window. There was no time to process it, just sensation. A soft, burning sensation. Then it was over.
She pulled away.
"Thank you," she muttered before running out of the room.
I didn't respond. I couldn't. Every eye in the room turned toward me. I simply stared at the ceiling, my mind frozen in place.
Did that just happen?
"So…" Jen said, breaking the quiet, "that was going on."
My thoughts snapped back all at once. "Nothing's going on." I said, a bit too quickly.
"There's no need for lies," Lydia grinned. "I saw the way you looked at her."
"Wait, really?" Bran leaned forward, suddenly interested. "That's great. You should go for it."
Kate nodded. "I agree. I just hope Lloyd's gonna be ok with that. He seems like the jealous type."
Laughter filled the room almost instantly. It grew quickly, the jokes feeding off themselves. I felt it catch me and let out a chuckle before I could stop myself.
A small part of me pushed back. We had just watched a person fall apart. Watched as everything she was holding in gave way. And still, somehow, we found humor in the aftermath.
The thought didn't linger long.
Loss wasn't new. It didn't stop anything. It didn't wait for you to be ready. If you let it take hold every time, you'd never progress.
Sometimes, the only way to move forward was to avert your eyes. Even if you knew exactly what you were turning from.
The door slid open. Cuiran stepped in, drinks in hand. He slowed after a few steps, eyes moving across the room, taking in the laughter and atmosphere.
"What did I miss?" he asked.
I closed my eyes. A smile settled.
No point in standing still.