Page 134 of Dustwalker

No. I won’t accept that.

“She’s a fighter,” Nancy said. “I hear you are, too. That means a lot. Hell, if you hadn’t brought her here so fast, I don’t think she’d have survived the night.”

They lapsed into silence, and Ronin watched Lara’s still form. The machinery provided a gentle ambiance.

“I’ll give you some space,” Nancy said. “I’m sure you’re already aware, but Jack’s not going to wait much longer to question you again. For now, I’m going to recommend that the best thing for Lara is to hear your voice and feel your touch. That’ll keep him at bay for a little while more.”

She walked past him, pausing for a moment to place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze gently. Then she exited the partition, sliding the curtain closed behind her.

It was jarring to face so much understanding, so much compassion, from so many people. He was a bot, but these people didn’t seem to make any distinction between metal and organic.

He slid the chair over to the bed and sat, grasping Lara’s hand. None of that compassion would make a difference if she didn’t recover. Hers was the only touch he craved, the only understanding he needed.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

She floated in darkness. It devoured her, suffused her, pulsing within and around her, it filled her bones with ice, wracked her with pain, and clawed at her consciousness. She longed to cry out, but she had no mouth, no lungs. There was nothing but agony and the endless void.

Until a voice penetrated the blackness.

Don’t leave yet.

Warmth bloomed through her, chasing away the cold for a fleeting moment. She knew that voice. It was her only source of comfort, a shining beacon, the one solid thing to clutch at in this vast nothingness. When it spoke, shimmering blue flickered through the darkness, like the rolling waves of an ocean she’d never seen.

But the voice and its light were gone so quickly it might never have existed at all.

The pain came roaring back, and she suffered alone.

There were other voices, distant, muffled, and unfamiliar, and she shrank from them. They came often, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups. They weren’t what she wanted to hear. Weren’t what she needed.

Time had no meaning. She didn’t have a name, didn’t have a memory, but she had that voice to cling to. That voice to anchor her, to keep her from spiraling into oblivion. It was the only thing to ease her pain, the only thing to anticipate.

Don’t leave yet.

She didn’t want to leave him. Not yet. Not even when the pain reached its worst, and the other voices grew louder while the darkness thickened.

Him? Yes, she knew that voice. She knew him…

Don’t leave yet.

The words echoed through the void, and she grasped at them. She didn’t want to be taken away, she refused to be.

Don’t…leave me.

Opening her eyes was the hardest thing Lara had ever done, but she forced her leaden eyelids up and stared through blurred vision at a blinding white light above her. To her right, something beeped slowly and rhythmically. As she blinked, the room gradually came into focus, but the shapes didn’t make sense.

Those unfamiliar voices were clear now.

“How long is this going to take?” a man asked from nearby.

“I can’t say for sure,” a woman replied. “She’ll wake up when her mind and body are ready.”

“It’s been three days, and she hasn’t so much as wiggled a finger.”

Focusing all her will through her confusion and pain, Lara twitched a finger.

“We can’t just force her to wake up, Dave. That’s not how it works.”

“She might never wake up at all, Nancy.”