Stardate 2260.201

"Thank you so much, doctor. We all really appreciate everything you did tonight."

Ace Conroe extended his hand to Voris, a wide smile spreading over his face. He was a much more agreeable foreman than Kor'la, the Klingon who supervised the Alpha shift, but he had a disturbing fondness for physical contact. Voris had spent all night in the tunnels giving routine checkups to the miners on Gamma shift, and after Voris had refused to be instructed in the custom of "fist-bumping," Mr. Conroe had simply taken to slapping him on the shoulder to express his delight that Voris had come to take care of his crew.

He braced his mind against the mental transference and shook the foreman's hand, then turned to make his way back to the clinic before it opened. In truth, he had only spent the night in the mines giving checkups the night shift workers because he had nowhere else to go. It had been illogical to leave his quarters the night before, but he had been experiencing anger he couldn't control and it had seemed more logical to extricate himself from the situation than allow his temper to continue to escalate.

It was the deepest shame, to know that he'd allowed his anger to surface. It had been hours since he'd taken T'Sala's candle and left Dagny sobbing in their quarters, and though he'd managed to restrain his anger, it was harder to contain his embarrassment over the way he'd behaved. It was even more difficult to reign in the fresh guilt over the entire situation.

Her words still rang in his ears. "I hate you. You ruined my life." She had finally confirmed aloud what he'd suspected since their encounter on Aldebaran. It was a terrible burden, to know she believed that. He had offered to surrender himself to the authorities, which she had refused, and upon discovering she was pregnant, he had offered to support her financially, which she had also initially refused. Then he had offered to tutor her and relocate to this colony, and she had thrown a rillan fruit at him. He had nothing else to offer her but apparently, it wasn't enough.

While he appreciated her hormonal imbalance had probably been the catalyst of her outburst, her hormones were not the source of the content of her words. That was how she truly felt, and the hormones had simply allowed her to speak without the filter of rationality. What a burden humans must face, he thought.

It was 0314 hours and he was exhausted. The clinic would open in three hours and sixteen minutes, and he could not recall the last time he'd slept for any length of time. Though he was not eager to return to his quarters, he could not avoid Dagny indefinitely and he certainly could not avoid returning to the clinic.

And avoiding her would be illogical, at least from his point of view. But if he was truly the source of her misery, maybe it would be more logical to avoid her and prevent upsetting her further. He continued to mull over it, unable to clearly focus his thoughts.

He was well overdue for not only rest, but also extended meditation. Unfortunately, meditation required silence and privacy but he had little of either of those things in his quarters, especially now that Dagny was confined to them for her health. It occurred to him that he could speak with the housing council about finding alternate accommodations—he could continue to support Dagny and eventually be involved in his child's life without cohabitating with her—but that wouldn't be particularly convenient at present. Living in close proximity to the clinic was essential, particularly for after hours emergencies.

It occurred to him Dagny was likely asleep at present, which meant he had approximately two hours of privacy prior to her waking to begin her day in the clinic. Two hours of meditation would not be nearly enough to soothe his mind and two hours of meditation meant he would receive zero hours of sleep. Meditation without sleep was not only ineffective, in many cases, it was counterproductive.

He thought of T'Sala's candle nestled at the top of his medical kit and forced himself to ignore the sadness creeping from his heart. He'd never stopped missing her and it occurred to him now that perhaps he never would. But he had allowed his grief for T'Sala to be transformed into obscenely illogical anger at Dagny. She had not understood the candle's significance. Even if she had, it was illogical to attach sentimental value to an inanimate object. Regardless, he had done to Dagny what he had warned her against—he had used her as a target for his negative emotions.

He suddenly tripped on a rut in the stone tunnel and just barely caught himself on the wall. Why was he so close to the wall? How had he not seen the crack in the stone? It dawned on him that his eyes had been closed. For how long? Had he been falling asleep as he'd been walking?

"Little tipsy, doctor?" The laughing accent was so thick Voris barely understood the words, but he recognized the odd lilt immediately.

"I tripped over the floor, yes," he admitted, turning to see Cillian Kilpatrick, the colony's chief constable, trotting up behind him.

"Ye're the most honest drunk I ever did meet then," Constable Kilpatrick grinned.

"I am not inebriated."

"Ye just said you were."

"I admitted to being tipsy."

"Tipsy, sloshed, hammered, pissed, drunk, all the same thing."

Voris raised an eyebrow. "I had presumed your slang indicated clumsiness."

"Drunk people are clumsy, aren't they?"

A slight sigh escaped his lips. "I am not drunk."

"Then why ye running into walls then?" the constable roared, slapping him so hard on the shoulder that he nearly fell over.

Constable Kilpatrick was a large man, nearly has tall as Voris and thickly built. Most of his face hid behind a thick red beard, but even in the dim light of the tunnel, the bright exuberance of his eyes was difficult to miss.

"I am quite tired," Voris finally admitted.

"Ye don't have to explain yourself to me."

"I was replying to your inquiry."

Kilpatrick grinned. "So ye were. So ye were. Bit late to be visiting patients, though, isn't it?"

"I was performing preventive examinations for the miners on Gamma shift. I am returning to the clinic now."

"Ah, I'll walk with you then. I'm heading that way meself. I just live right across from ye, ye know."

Voris would have preferred to walk alone but he could see no reason to refuse his company. As they set off in the clinic's direction, he said, "It is quite late for you to be awake also, is it not?"

"Ah, I got called down to Jester's to break up a scuffle. Those eejits do all sorts when they've had a few. I really oughta sent that new boy yer way, noggin split to the bone from a bottle, but he wouldn't hear of it. His mates carried him off. Sure he'll feel like boiled shite in the morning."

He understood enough of the man's words to know he was speaking Standard, but his thick accent and unusual slang made him nearly impossible to understand. He was tempted to ask for clarification on words like noggin and shite, but he decided he truly did not care to know.

The tunnels were nearly deserted at this hour, and the few people they did pass looked as tired as Voris felt. The constable continued to ramble on and eventually Voris got the sense that he'd been called to put an end to some sort of public disturbance in a local tavern, but still, he could not bring himself to be concerned with the drunken inclinations of the colony's more reckless and irresponsible residents.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Ye alright? Ye look like yer zoning out."

"I am quite well."

"Oh, well, as I was saying, the man who lives across from me went back to Corvan II. I suppose I'll end up with one of these new flunkies. I had a Klingon fellow living there last year, but he's gone now too."

"There is a vacancy in the quarters adjacent to yours?" Voris interjected.

"Haven't ye been listening to a thing I've been saying?"

"And your quarters are across from the clinic?"

"Not directly across, I suppose, but I could throw a rock and hit the clinic door, sure. Why, ye looking for a new place for you and the missus? I'll warn ya, they're not big flats, not a good size for a family, anyway."

Voris didn't care to explain he was considering obtaining separate accommodations from Dagny, but before he could change the subject, he noticed an unusual brown shape in the shadow between two of the lamps on the tunnel wall leading into the main tunnel. It was large and after several steps, he easily identified it as humanoid.

"Doctor, where ye going?"

Voris was already opening his medical kit to extract a tricorder as he glided in the direction of the motionless form on the ground. It wasn't until he was a meter away that he identified it as a human woman lying face down on the ground, and it wasn't until he knelt beside her that he realized it was Adelaide Proctor. Her nose was bleeding and her skin was so cold to the touch that he would have believed she were dead, had the tricorder not detected a faint pulse. Her drab clothing and the shadows cast by the overhead lights had camouflaged her quite well and he had no way of knowing how long she'd been lying unconscious in the side entrance to the main tunnel.

"Another pisser, is it?" the constable sighed, approaching the scene. "What is it about this time of year that makes people drink themselves half to death?"

"I do not believe she is drunk," Voris announced, replacing the tricorder in his bag. "But I do need to get her to the clinic immediately."

"My stars! Miss Proctor? What's she doing here? How long has she been like this?"

"Reasonable questions, constable, but answering them at this moment will do nothing to preserve her life. Can you assist me in carrying her to the clinic?"

He was about to recommend the constable fetch something that could be improvised into a stretcher while he braced her head and neck—she had fallen and he had no way of ascertaining the state of her central nervous system in a dark tunnel with only a standard tricorder—but Kilpatrick snapped into action, lifting her from the ground into his arms. Voris resisted the urge to cringe and analyzed the situation logically.

If she had a spinal injury, it was likely the constable had just made it worse, but now that she was in his arms, putting her back down wouldn't alter her prognosis.

"Are you sure she's not dead?" Kilpatrick asked, giving Voris a pained looked. "She don't weigh hardly nothin'."

Voris was certain she wasn't dead but he could not speak to how long she would remain alive. "Let us get her to the clinic."

When Dagny had sat in the clinic earlier that afternoon, she had been certain life could not possibly get more wretched. She had been wrong, apparently. It was possible to feel worse, as she'd discovered when Voris stormed out of their quarters the night before.

Assuming he'd just come downstairs to cool down, she'd wandered down to the clinic a few minutes after he'd left to apologize for being such a mean, hateful, violent bully, but she'd found the clinic empty. Now she was waiting for him to return, and it was agony. She'd run him off. How terrible of a person did she have to be before even a Vulcan couldn't stand to be in the same room as her?

Well, she had thrown the rillan at him. What had she been thinking? She hadn't been thinking. But what had possessed her to do it? Even though the rillan couldn't have seriously injured him, it had been an act of violence all the same. She could see herself clearly in her mind's eye, reaching into the pot, gripping the mushy gourd in her hands, and lobbing it at him with as much force as she could muster. She was so embarrassed, looking back on it now.

Worse yet, she'd told him she hated him, that he'd ruined her life, and those things simply weren't true. She'd told her mother she hated her once too, in a fit of anger. She couldn't even remember why she'd been angry, but she vividly remembered the look of pain on her face the moment the words fell from her mouth. She'd hurt her mother and reflecting on that memory on top of everything else just added to her pain. There were so many things to regret, and not enough mental energy to regret them all at once.

But perhaps worst of all, she had been awful enough to make Voris snap. He had been angry with her, and seeing him pushed to his limit was as terrifying as it was distressing. How could a candle mean so much to him?

What had he said? "It was given to me by my mate."

Dagny's cheeks burned. She knew almost nothing of Voris' life before they'd met, other than that he had been married but hadn't had any kids. What had his wife been like? Had they been happy? She felt an odd twinge of jealousy, thinking about Voris having a wife. It was silly to feel that way and she knew it, but she was jealous all the same. How irrational and petty to be envious of a dead woman who'd died before Dagny had ever even met him.

Maybe she wasn't jealous of his wife specifically, but jealous over what he'd had. What would it be like, to be loved by someone as much as Voris had loved his wife? He clearly must have loved her greatly, to get so angry over a candle.

Her hand traveled to her aquamarine necklace. Erik had given it to her, but she didn't wear it because she missed him, but because it was a reminder of everything she'd lost. It was the only tangible connection she had left to a happier life, or at least it had been until Ann had come by with the maternity clothes, some of which had been her mother's. Dagny understood the need to hold onto things, if only just to remember, and if she'd known the candle meant that much to him, she would have never…

She wanted to cry, but she was all out of tears. She wanted to hug someone, but there was no one to hug. Not even Harold. He had taken to roaming the tunnels for longer and longer periods and now she couldn't even remember the last time he'd been home for a meal. She was completely, utterly alone.

Until she wasn't. A very large man burst through the door, carrying a limp human form in his arms, and it took her mind several seconds to process this development. Cillian Kilpatrick. Why was he here? Had the buzzer gone off? Had he broken the door down?

She stumbled forward from the stool, instinctively going to the cabinet to fetch a tricorder when she saw Voris step out behind the hulking constable. They made inadvertent eye contact, sending her emotions in a million different directions. She was so happy and relieved to see him. Where had he gone? Was he still angry? How should she start the process of apologizing? Would he ever accept her apology?

"You are not wearing your proper protective equipment," he barked, motioning to the constable to set the woman in a biobed.

She touched her chin, realizing she'd wandered downstairs without that awful mask. But she wouldn't have come downstairs at all if he hadn't run away. Then again, he wouldn't have run away if she hadn't thrown their dinner at him. "Listen, I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Now is not the time. Go upstairs if you will not wear your mask."

Her first instinct was to bristle. He'd disappeared all night and had her worried sick, only to come back and start barking orders at her?

"I don't think she's going to make it," the constable murmured, patting the woman's cheek, who Dagny now recognized as the clothier who ran the stand next to Zernon's.

She blinked. Voris was right: now was not the time to reignite a petty spat. She took several steps back and whispered, "I'm sorry," but rather than acknowledge her admission, Voris turned his back to her and glided in the direction of his patient. Dagny cleansed her hands in the sonic sink and then wandered upstairs to find the mess she'd made the night before.

The rillan had dried into a crusty paste all over the wall. The box of apples was still sitting on the table and the water in the pot with the unpeeled rillan had boiled away and fused the rest of the stringy gourds to the bottom. It would take hours and a lot of elbow grease to get it cleaned away, but that seemed like an easy mess to clean, compared to the damage her words and actions had caused.

The glass dome of the biobed reflected the overhead light, obscuring most of Adelaide Proctor's face, but Voris didn't need to see her face. She was unconscious. She'd started to come to about an hour ago, mumbling about someone named Ada. He'd sedated her in order to perform a more comprehensive full body scan, and her vital signs were weak but stable. For now.

It was remarkable she was alive at all. He'd encouraged her to come to the clinic from the first day they'd arrived at the colony, but based on the mathematical projections of the scan, she had been beyond help for more than a year. The tumors were simply too large and too embedded in the fabric of her physiology to be excised and successfully treated.

The cancer had started in her skin, metastasizing to the bones, liver, brain, and lungs. Cancer was an ailment of the pre-modern Federation, much like heart disease or antibiotic resistant bacterial infections. Early and rapid detection, along with personalized immunotherapies, had virtually eliminated cancer as a cause of death in developed parts of the Federation.

But they weren't in the Federation, technically. Citizens of Earth, New Vulcan, and all the other central Federation planets had access to advanced facilities staffed by large teams of medical personnel, and he was just a lone doctor on an isolated colony world with scant equipment, a paramedic, and a part-time, half-trained Orion nurse at his disposal. He'd lost a patient to childbirth just two weeks ago, so perhaps the idea that he would lose a patient to cancer should not have surprised him.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Another of his patients was going to die and he could do nothing to prevent it. He had had better access to more advanced equipment on the Sekla, a small diplomatic vessel that could carry no more than thirty passengers, than he had on a stationary colony world with more than 1,100 inhabitants. Had Dagny arrived in this clinic in the same condition she had arrived in on the Sekla, she would have died.

"Voris?"

He opened his eyes, blinking several times to clear his vision. Had he been falling asleep again? Something brushed against his left arm, sending shivers down his spine. He rubbed his eyelids with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, glancing to his left to see Dagny standing beside him. How long had she been there?

"Is everything ok?" she asked.

"Yes." His answer was reflexive and not technically correct, so he added, "Though Miss Proctor has metastatic cancer."

Dagny frowned, taking several steps toward the biobed. "Is there anything you can do for her?"

"No. I can continue to sedate her and provide relief for her symptoms but she will live much longer."

"Are you ok?"

"Ok is an imprecise term. Clarify."

Dagny's shoulders rolled forward. "I'm so sorry for last night."

Voris didn't immediately reply, but before he could contrive any response, she continued. "I didn't know that was your wife's candle. If I had known, you know, that it was special to you, I wouldn't have-"

"It is illogical to attach meaning to material objects."

She turned and gave him a strange look. Her mouth silently formed the beginning of several sentences, but before she spoke any words aloud, the biobed beeped, alerting him to an increase in Adelaide Proctor's cardiac activity.

"Excuse me," he said, moving past her to see to his patient.

Miss Proctor's eyes sprung open as he came along her bedside, revealing a woman in the throes of confused terror. "Where- what- where-"

She started to cough violently, sending bloody sputum against the glass. "Get-me-out!" she wheezed, weakly pushing against the dome.

"Miss Proctor, you collapsed in the tunnel leading to-"

"Get me out!"

Her heart rate continued to accelerate, as did her cough. Her panic reminded him of Dagny, straining against the pain of radiation poisoning in the biobed aboard the Sekla. A lifetime had passed in those five months.

"Get me out get me out get me out!" Adelaide shrieked, in between bloody coughing fits.

"Voris!" Dagny pleaded, reaching for the switch to release the dome.

"The atmosphere of the biobed is providing supplemental oxygen, which you-"

Adelaide's pleas turned into a single, animalistic scream. Dagny gave him a determined look and released the dome. The lack of a glass barrier amplified his patient's screams, but it slowly subsided as she fell into another bout of violent coughing.

"She requires supplemental oxygen," Voris said, too physically and mentally fatigued to subdue his annoyance.

"She was having a panic attack," Dagny snapped.

"And now her dissolved plasma oxygen levels are falling," Voris replied, racing to the cabinet to get a nasal cannula.

"I said I didn't want no doctor!" Adelaide wheezed.

"Constable Kilpatrick and I found you unconscious and hypothermic just off the main tunnel. You would be dead now had we not intervened."

"I want to go home."

"That is out of the question," Voris replied, fumbling with the plastic hose and machine that concentrated the oxygen from atmospheric air.

"You can't keep me here! I have rights!"

"And I have a duty to keep you alive. You will die if I send you home."

"I'm going to die anyhow!"

"Yes, you will, and quite soon."

Adelaide closed her mouth and glared at him, but couldn't conceal the fear that crept into her eyes.

"Maybe we should all calm down," Dagny interrupted, stepping between them and giving Voris a dark look.

"I want to go home," Adelaide insisted.

"You require medical care."

"I don't want your medical care," she sneered. "If I'm going to die, I want to die at home."

Voris blinked. How could she be so intransigent? "You truly prefer to suffer alone rather than concede to treatment?"

"Maybe she doesn't have to be alone," Dagny mused, looking at him.

"Explain."

"What if I go with her? You know, to her home?"

Voris exhaled slowly, sensing he was on the verge of fighting a battle on two fronts. "That is also out of the question. You remain immunocompromised-"

"We could install the biofilter leading up to our quarters in the doorway of hers," Dagny interrupted, crossing her arms.

"Even with the installation of a biofilter, her quarters would have to be thoroughly decontaminated as ours were, which will take a number of days, and-"

"I want to go home!" Adelaide yelped.

"Then what if she stayed here?" Dagny sighed, throwing her hands up.

"Construction has only just begun on the convalescent ward."

"Exactly. You've been saying I would need to stay in our quarters when they started drilling on account of the dust and they've been waiting for you to decide a convenient time. I can stay in our quarters and take care of Miss Proctor and the drilling teams can start on the ward."

"I ain't staying in any clinic or ward."

"You wouldn't be staying in the clinic, you'd be staying in our quarters," Dagny replied, glancing over her shoulder.

"I said I wanted to go in my own home, surrounded by my own things."

"If you want to go home and die alone, choking on your own bloody spittle, then be my guest," Dagny spat, whipping around to face her. "But you're going to have to walk there on your own."

Adelaide gave her a dangerous look, which Dagny returned. The two women glared at each other with such intensity that he began to wonder if they were on the verge of a physical altercation. "I don't trust no doctors. Why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm actually not a doctor," Dagny said triumphantly. "If you want to die, we can't stop you, but we're not going to help you along. So, what's it going to be?"

It had taken two hours and many more fights to get their quarters turned into a suitable site for short-term hospice. Voris had wanted to move the secondary biobed upstairs, but Adelaide had flatly refused to die in a "technological monstrosity."

It fascinated Dagny, watching Voris interact with his very crotchety patient. Despite their outward bickering, it was evident they respected each other on a fundamental level. Dagny had never formally met Miss Proctor, but she seemed well-acquainted with the Vulcan doctor, and he with her.

They had moved one of the beds from the backside of the clinic upstairs. Adelaide had insisted on having her own linens and quilts, so it had taken some coordination with the housing council to collect her things from her quarters. The clinic had opened shortly after Miss Proctor had regained consciousness and because Voris was needed to tend to the morning walk-in patients, he had recruited Zernon to fetch the many additional things Miss Proctor had decided she simply could not do without.

She'd sent the poor Tellarite back several times and Dagny was starting to think the whole of the woman's apartment would be moved into their tiny quarters before it was all said and done. It was late afternoon and Adelaide was resting when Zernon knocked on the door with a handful of items that included a rug, a hot water bottle, two separate shawls, a medium-sized wooden box, and a hair iron for curling hair.

"I think that's the last of her list," Zernon sighed, piling the items on the table. "I sterilized everything too, like the doctor said to, so you don't have to worry."

"Thank you, Zernon."

"Addy's been a good friend," he replied, patting his chest and glancing at the dozing woman in the corner. "I didn't realize she was so sick. I always told her she should see the doctor, but she would never go, not even when Velara was here. Won't be the same without her pestering me every morning."

"Do you know why she hates doctors so much?"

"No idea. She never talked much about herself at all. I know she had a daughter who died on Cygnia Minor. Sad business."

Dagny frowned, crossing her arms as she gazed at the sickly woman.

"I don't want to wake her up, but I'd like to come see her in the morning, if you agree. Dr. Voris already said it was fine. I thought I would drop off some cantaloupe. It's her favorite."

"I'm sure she would appreciate it," Dagny replied. Truthfully, she had no idea what Adelaide Proctor would and would not appreciate. Based on their interactions in the clinic that morning, she had one of the most ornery and obstinate personalities Dagny had ever encountered, but Zernon had worked next to her for several years.

"I'll be going then. I need to get back to the stand and close up for the evening."

Dagny nodded and inched toward her sleeping patient. She trembled and moaned softly, whether from pain or dreams, Dagny couldn't tell. Adelaide had made it quite clear she didn't want any medication, not even a mild pain reliever, but had agreed to the supplemental oxygen. She grabbed a chair and her tricorder and prepared to sit by her bedside when she saw Voris coming up the stairs.

There was so much to say, but where to begin? He noticed her watching him once he reached the top of the stairs and paused. "How is Miss Proctor?"

"The same as she was a few hours ago. She drifts in and out. Are you done in the clinic?"

"Yes, it is 1830 hours."

"Can I get you something to eat?"

Voris gave a single shake of his head. "Zernon brought me a plate of vegetables, which I ate in the clinic. As she has made it quite clear she doesn't want any assistance from me, I planned to relocate to new accommodations for the duration of her stay."

"Wait, you're… moving out?"

"It is the most logical solution." Voris made his way to his chest of drawers and began stacking his clothes in neat piles on his bed.

"Where are you going to go?" she asked, eyeing the growing stack of clothing on his bed.

"I intend to sleep in the clinic tonight, and tomorrow I will speak with the housing council. I understand quarters have become available adjacent to the constable's."

Dagny swallowed hard. "You're coming back though, right? I mean, I thought this hospice arrangement was supposed to be a temporary thing. You said she might not even make it through the night."

He glanced at the far wall, where he had been standing last night when Dagny had thrown the rillan at him. "I believe finding permanent separate accommodations would be mutually beneficial."

"I don't," she protested, not bothering to hide the automatic tears welling in her eyes.

He closed his mouth, not taking his eyes off the far wall. "When you first informed me of your decision to carry your pregnancy to term, you insisted you required nothing from me, but agreed to allow me to participate in the upbringing of our child. After openly expressing your hatred for me-"

"I don't hate you. I said some terrible things last night," she blurted. "I didn't mean them. I'm so sorry, Voris. I don't know what's wrong with me. I just can't control the way I feel anymore and it's making-" Her speech had finally become so distorted from her tears that she could no longer talk.

He finally looked in her direction, but did not make eye contact. "Perhaps we can discuss our living arrangements when Miss Proctor no longer requires hospice."

"P-p-please don't move out."

Voris began stacking his clothing into the bag in neat rows as though he hadn't heard her. He closed the top portion of the bag, swung it over his shoulder, and replied, "I believe it is necessary, at least in the short term."

"Promise you'll come back."

Voris cocked an eyebrow. "We cannot avoid each other. We share a workspace and in the near future, we will share the responsibilities of raising a child. Just because I would prefer to seek alternate accommodations does not mean I intend to extricate myself from your life."

"I just don't see why things have to change."

"Change is an essential process of life. It was never necessary for us to cohabitate. My departure would afford us both more privacy and, as you explained yesterday morning, would relieve you of the irritation of listening to me breathe."

"I'm pregnant and moody and said some stupid things. It doesn't mean I want you to leave."

"Ada?" Adelaide whispered. Her breathing was becoming more labored and though Dagny desperately wanted to finish her conversation with Voris and convince him to stay, she couldn't neglect her patient.

"I shall be down in the clinic, should you need anything," Voris replied, moving toward the stairs.

Dagny bit her tongue and rolled her eyes, wishing she could find the magic words that would fix this whole mess. Adelaide's pulse was weak and her blood oxygen was low, but overall, her condition was neither better nor worse than it had been all afternoon. She collected the last items that Zernon had brought and placed them around Adelaide's bedside, and when she'd smoothed out the wicker rug on the floor, she set a series of alarms to check on her every hour and laid down on her own bed, leaving the privacy curtain open so she would have a line of sight to her patient.

She was exhausted. She hadn't slept at all the night before, wondering if and when Voris would come back. She looked at the privacy curtain, wondering if he was right. It had been really awkward living with him, but she had grown used to it. She had grown used to him. She had spent her whole life living in overcrowded quarters, and even if she had fantasized about having her own room as a child, the thought of living alone was terrifying.

She pulled back the curtain separating his bed from hers, hating the fresh tears that welled in her eyes. She ran her hands over her swollen midsection, realizing that even if Voris did decide to leave, in a couple of months, she wouldn't technically be alone anymore, but maybe that would be worse. Maybe she needed him more than she realized, and it haunted her to think that maybe she'd realized it too late.