He stared down at the body.
She was so quiet, so unmoving. It if weren't for Trance's reassurance Dylan would have thought that she were dead. How did he let this happen? He was supposed to look after her. Protect her. Be a friend and love her. How could he not have seen what was going on?
"I let you down." He sighed and reached out to take her hand in his.
Dylan stared down at her, until his eyes began to blur and he had to blink and look away. She was so still, so pale.
His Beka was always moving and talking. Or laughing and smiling, or threatening him, or teasing Harper. But she was always in motion. She probably tossed and turned in her sleep.
It hurt him, to see her there. So small and fragile. It was wrong. He felt it should be him on the brink of death. She didn't deserve this.
Dylan brushed her hair back and smoothed it into place.
It was weird, but he couldn't stop the laughter from coming out. All he could remember were all the stupid fights they ever had. Right from the start they argued. From who was in charge all the way down to who could make a better grilled cheese. And the thought that he would never get to rile her up again, or that she would never try to make him laugh during a diplomatic meeting, seemed too bizarre to be real.
It was impossible. She wasn't leaving. She couldn't. He needed her. She had to know that, she had to realize how selfish she was in trying to do this.
And then Dylan hated himself. This wasn't about what he needed. It was about what she needed, and the fact that he wasn't there before to give it to her.
"Beka, I am so sorry that I've done this to you. But when you get better, I promise, I'm going to make it up to you."
His only response was a sudden erratic beeping from the machines.
