Page 131 of Dustwalker

Lara couldn’t dance now, couldn’t smile, couldn’t even open her eyes or react to anything around her.

“We’re doing everything we can,” the woman said. She’d been at the edge of his vision, watching him.

“I know.”

“They told us it was rough on you getting here. There wasn’t much information at that point, but…from the first moment, our only priority was keeping her alive. That’s not going to change.”

Ronin shifted his focus to the woman. His processors replayed her words twice, analyzing her tone, before understanding dawned on him. This was compassion. Sympathy. Traits he’d rarely seen in this world, apart from in Lara.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Cyndi.”

“Thank you, Cyndi.”

She smiled, and the sad gleam in her eyes reminded him of theblonde synth who worked in the clinic. Perhaps he’d been overly harsh in his judgment of Mercy. Her sympathy was likely just as genuine as Cyndi’s.

“Thank Nancy. She’s the one who really saved this girl’s life.” She moved deeper into the small space and plucked something from a metal tray in the corner. Ronin’s processors slowed at the flash of gold.

With the ring resting on her palm, Cyndi held out her hand. “We needed to remove it to bandage her ribs.”

Yours Until the End of Time.

He stared at the painful reminder that he’d failed in his vow to protect Lara. Keeping his hand steady, he took the ring from Cyndi, closing his fingers around it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Cyndi left, and Ronin relocated the chair to the bedside. He took Lara’s hand again, seeking comfort in its warmth and finding little. He slipped the ring onto her finger and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to it.

“Don’t leave yet,” he repeated. “Don’t…leave me.”

Four hours later, the curtain rustled. Reluctant to look away from Lara, Ronin turned his head slowly to find Will, the younger of the two Andersons, peeking through the gap.

“Ronin? Would you come with me, please?”

Facing Lara, Ronin shook his head. “I’m not ready to answer more questions yet.”

The pulse monitor continued its gentle rhythm without variation.

“I’m not here to interrogate you. My father and I noticed you were damaged when you came in. We’d like to get you repaired while Lara rests.”

Ronin glanced down. The hole in his chest, visible through his torn shirt, was large enough to fit his thumb into. The four on his back were presumably smaller, and the skin there had been ripped apart to access his power cell. Though internal components had been damaged by the bullets, leaving him with power leaks and operational inefficiencies, nothing critical had been destroyed. But the punctures in his casing were invitations for dust and moisture. The degradation of his functions was unavoidable in his current state.

Regardless, his preferred response was refusal supported by several potential excuses. Ronin wasn’t inclined to leave Lara’s side. He knew they wouldn’t let him sit here until she awoke, but he would stay withher as long as possible. They’d insist on continuing their interrogation eventually, and if enough time passed, they would likely demand he contribute to their community as a price for her continued care.

Unfortunately, the contributions Ronin was most suited to make came with a high likelihood of him collecting more bullet holes in his casing.

“The equipment’s in the corner,” Will said, “maybe a hundred feet away. You’ll be close.”

Ronin dropped a hand to his knee, curling it into a fist. He’d seen the equipment when he entered the room. Lara’s monitors would be well within earshot from there, and he could be back at her side in seconds if the need arose. There was no logical reason to refuse.

Leaning forward, he gently lifted her hand, brushed his lips over her knuckles, and settled it back onto the bed. When he stood, he allowed his optics to linger on her before he turned and followed Will to the repair machines.

Will directed Ronin to remove his shirt and climb onto the flat table at the center of the setup. He did so, lying face down with his arms folded beneath his chin. Will moved to stand beside Ronin and pressed his foot down on a pedal on the floor. With a quiet hum and gentle vibrations, the table rose, stopping once it was above his waist.

“I know what it’s like,” Will said as he examined the bullet holes.

Ronin furrowed his brow, turning his head toward Will. “What?”