Empress Rathe Darkblood sat on an unoccupied bed in the healing ward, hunched over with her face buried in her hands. She had been awake for thirty-six straight hours and was running on coffee-pills and two hours of sleep that she had collected in small snippets over the past few hours. But she couldn't fall asleep now, because one of Sargent Nightfire was lying wounded in the bed next to the one she was sitting on.
The Professor had told her that the Sargent would live. Though his left leg had been blown off by an enemy electron sniper, the Professor had assured her that a one would be grown back in a matter of hours. But he had lost so much blood and was currently unconscious, and all she could do was sit there waiting for him to either die or wake up.
He was lying under the covers, left arm on top of the sheets and resting over his chest and the other under the blanket, and his eyes were fluttering behind his lids. He seemed like he was peacefully asleep, perhaps dreaming of an existence without bloodshed. His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and was messed up around the crown of his head.
The Empress wondered if he looked like this right before he woke up on any other morning. Rays of dawn's light peeked through the window on the far side of the ward, washing the room with a pale hue of rosy light. The red sun was rising, signaling morning on the Industrial Sector of Mar. The sunlight caressed his skin softly, giving him even more of an innocent, dreaming appearance.
Slowly stretching am arm forward, the Empress curled her petite fingers around his hand. She squeezed his palm, feeling every groove and blister on his large hand, and bowed her head in shame.
She had brought him into this war. In fact, she had brought this death and destruction onto all her people by declaring war on Nija, the mother planet. Perhaps the humans hadn't been ready for an uproar against those who colonized them, those who saved their ancestors from their dying original planet Earth over four hundred years ago, as Sargent Burnwind had pointed out at the beginning.
A tear came to the cusp between her gray eye and face. No, my people want change. She reminded herself. And they have can't change under the reign of Nija's wicked government. The Dhis had been enslaving non-perfects for far too long. She just couldn't bear the thought of losing Sargent Nightfire. Or any of the people who were fighting for the rights of the human race.
"Rathe?" She heard his voice, though it was faint, and snapped up her head to look at him.
Blinking and swiftly wiping away the tear that lingered on her eye, she spoke. "S-Sargent...I'm glad you're awake..." She then realized that she was still holding his hand, and blushed furiously. Inwardly, she chided herself for acting like a love-crazed schoolgirl. "The P-Professor says you'll be fine...your leg just needs to grow back..."
He cut her off, speaking curtly but still with a worried hint to his words. "Rathe, what's wrong?"
The Empress realized he had used her informal name twice. The only people who called her by her first name were General Wingdust and the Lady; never any of her Sargents, especially Sargent Nightfire. He was very strict about his respect for her, which made him seem distant and cold. But now, using her true name in such a warm tone, he sounded friendly. Loving, almost.
She sniffed, collecting her thoughts. "Nothing is wrong. An Empress needs not be upset about anything..."
"Cut it out, Rathe. Tell me what's wrong." Again, he stopped her. His voice was more pleading this time.
Not being able to stop another tear from escaping her eye and traveling quickly down her cheek, she shut her eyes tightly. "I...I'm scared. Of losing you. Well, of losing anyone. But especially you."
It was his turn to blink in confusion, but realization filled his expression. "But you said I'd be fine. There is nothing to worry about." Still holding her hand, he clung to it more firmly.
"Yes, but...what if you weren't?" She knew this fear was irrational, but for some reason she felt like she had lost him, and that he wasn't talking to her at that moment.
"It doesn't matter. This is war, lives will be lost. And you can't blame them all on yourself. You're fighting for the good of our kind." He studied her expression, trying to detect a sign that she was taking in what he was stating. "Rathe, you have so much good in you. Please know that."
She shook her head slowly, letting her charcoal-colored eyes flutter closed as more tears spilled forth.
In an attempt to prop himself up, he strained his arms and pulled his upper body up to it was leaning against the headboard. She immediately opened her eyes, let go of his hand, and shot forward, grabbing his shoulders to make sure he didn't tip over. "You really shouldn't be moving..." She scolded, before glancing up through her eyelashes and seeing that his face was mere inches away from hers.
His hazel eyes glowed like gold in the morning light, and though she could see a glimmer of the pain deep in them, there was something else there too. She could feel his breath billowing against her nose, with remnants of coffee-pills and sweet-flavored medication on his breath.
"Why can't you see it, Rathe?" He inquired softly. Feeling him expell his words so close to her face made her dizzy and confused, and all she could to was remember to breathe and watch the gold flecks dance in his eyes.
When she didn't answer, he did something drastic. Stretching his face forward and downward, his lips met hers. Her heart almost stopped beating, and she could hear his own rapid heartbeat somewhere deep in his chest. Her face caught fire, flushed from embarrassment and an overwhelming vehemence.
They stayed like that for a few moments, which seemed to stretch into eons. She forgot momentarily about the war, and he about the pain. When she pulled back, he watched her with concern.
"Sargent..." She paused.
He blinked. "Rathe, you need to stop running away from your own happiness. And even if I'm the one who can't give you happiness, so be it, but you can't just deny yourself of affection and companionship..."
It was her turn to interrupt him by planting a quick kiss on his frowning lips. "I'm not running away." She assured him, before kissing him again.