Page 39 of Technically Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #4)
Yth'al shifts behind me, his bioluminescence patterns suggesting discomfort with my level of disclosure. Standard protocol would be minimal information until subjects are secure aboard the transport vessel. But these aren't standard subjects, and this isn't a standard retrieval.
But even as I speak to Alex, my attention keeps returning to Finn.
The empathic bond is humming with his emotions—relief, joy, and something deeper that he hasn't put into words yet.
There's a fragility to his hope, as if he's afraid to fully believe this is real until he knows exactly why I've returned.
"Tev'ra," Finn says quietly, his hand still gripping my shirt as if afraid I might vanish if he lets go, his fingers brushing against my skin through the fabric sending pulses of sensation through our bond. "Before anything else happens, I need to know something."
The seriousness in his tone causes my bioluminescence to dim slightly, responding instinctively to his emotional state. "What?"
His eyes search mine, looking for any hint of deception. "When you sent me back with those gems, was that your choice? Did you want me gone, or were you following orders?"
The question cuts deep, but I understand why he needs to ask.
Three weeks of separation would create doubt about my feelings, about the reality of what we shared.
Through our bond, I feel the vulnerability beneath his question—the lifelong fear of abandonment, the belief that he is ultimately disposable.
"Never," I tell him firmly, my bioluminescence flaring bright with the intensity of my conviction, my hands still framing his face, thumbs brushing away the remaining traces of tears.
"I never wanted you gone. I thought I had no choice.
I thought protocol required your return, and I've been miserable ever since. "
As I speak, I let him feel everything through our connection—the hollowness of the past weeks, the way food lost its flavor, the way I couldn't focus on even the simplest tasks, the constant ache of separation.
"Protocol," Finn repeats, and there's something like wonder in his voice, a lightness breaking through the tension he's been carrying. His shoulders relax slightly under my touch as he processes this. "You were following protocol."
A small, disbelieving smile begins to form at the corners of his mouth—the first genuine smile I've felt through our bond since my return.
"Incorrectly," I admit, shame coloring my bioluminescence with darker blues. "I should have requested integration evaluation. I should have asked the Council for permission to keep you. I should have—"
"Wait." Finn's eyes widen, his grip on my shirt tightening as the implications hit him. The sudden spike of hope through our bond is almost painful in its intensity. "Keep me? That was an option?"
His voice catches on the words, and through our connection I feel his disbelief giving way to something brighter, more urgent. The idea that our separation was never necessary, that we've both been suffering needlessly, sends waves of conflicting emotions through our bond.
"Oh, Blue," he whispers, using the nickname that always makes my bioluminescence respond with involuntary brightening. The simple word carries so much intimacy, so much history—all our shared moments condensed into a single syllable.
Behind us, I hear Nor'em clear his throat diplomatically, his bioluminescence pulsing in the formal pattern used to regain attention during official proceedings. "Perhaps explanations should continue aboard the transport vessel? This location is not secure for extended discussion."
Yth'al shifts uncomfortably, eyeing the windows and the electronic devices scattered throughout the apartment. "Our presence may attract unwanted attention if prolonged," he adds, tone professional but tinged with genuine concern.
But I can't bring myself to care about security protocols when Finn is looking at me like I've just told him the impossible is actually routine, when I can feel the cascade of emotions through our bond—shock, hope, cautious joy, and beneath it all, a desperate need to understand everything he's been denied.
"Integration is standard procedure for successful assessments," I explain quickly, keeping my voice low but clear, watching realization dawn across his features.
"Three other humans from the program are currently living on our homeworld with their bonded partners.
I didn't know." My voice catches. "I thought all assessment subjects were returned to Earth regardless of outcomes. "
Through our connection, I can feel Finn's mind racing, connecting dots, reconstructing the past three weeks with this new information. The grief giving way to hope.
Alex steps closer, his body language shifting from cautious to confrontational, eyes narrowing. "Other humans?" His expression shifts from uncertainty to anger, hands clenching at his sides. "There are other humans living there permanently?"
"Three," I confirm, meeting his gaze directly.
"All chose to remain after their assessment periods.
The integration program has been highly successful.
" I hesitate, then add what I learned from Jake, Owen, and Derek.
"They've built lives there. Formed relationships.
Taken on roles within our society that utilize their unique human perspectives. "
Finn starts laughing—not bitter or angry, but with genuine relief, the sound breaking free like something long trapped.
It's a sound I haven't heard since our last night together under the moons, and it sends ripples of warmth through our empathic connection.
"We've been miserable for nothing. Both of us, thinking this was how it had to end, and it was all just a fucking miscommunication. "
His laughter is infectious, releasing tension I've been carrying since my arrival at the Council chamber. I find myself smiling in response, my bioluminescence brightening to match his mood.
"Subjects," Nor'em interjects, more firmly this time, his professional demeanor cracking slightly as he glances at the windows and the door. "Transport authorization has a limited window. We should proceed to the vessel for full debriefing."
I feel a flash of irritation from Finn at the word "subjects," his smile faltering. He's not a subject anymore—or he won't be, once the Council formalizes his integration status. The designation matters to him in ways Nor'em can't understand.
"Researcher Tev'ra," Yth'al adds, his tone respectful but insistent. "Standard extraction protocol specifies maximum surface exposure of fifteen minutes. We've already exceeded that threshold."
"They're right," I tell him, reluctantly releasing my grip on his shirt but maintaining contact through our joined hands.
The physical connection feels essential after weeks of emptiness.
"We should continue this conversation somewhere more private.
But Finn..." I pause, needing him to understand this before we go anywhere, my bioluminescence involuntarily dimming with the seriousness of what I'm about to say.
"If you choose to come with us, if you choose integration, it would be permanent. You wouldn't be returning to Earth."
I need him to understand the magnitude of this decision—that unlike his assessment period, integration is intended to be a lifelong commitment. Through our bond, I feel his immediate response—not hesitation or fear, but a surge of certainty that takes my breath away.
His eyes flick briefly to the apartment around us, taking in the life he's built here—the technology, the organized chaos, the solitary existence that defined him until three weeks ago.
"We're ready," Finn says, his confidence flowing through our bond. "We've been preparing for this since we sent the message."
His certainty shouldn't surprise me, but the completeness of his preparation does. I can feel through our connection that he's already mentally left this place behind, his focus entirely on what lies ahead.
"We took care of everything," Alex confirms with a satisfied smile.
"Those gems you sold gave us plenty to work with.
Everyone we care about is financially secure, and I've arranged contingencies for your clients.
" He glances at me. "We've been planning for this possibility for a week, ever since we decided to force contact. "
I notice the dark circles under Alex's eyes, the tension in his posture despite his casual tone. They've been working toward this outcome since the security breach was initiated, preparing meticulously while hoping for exactly this response.
"You've thought of everything," I say, impressed by their thoroughness.
"Had to," Alex says, his expression becoming more serious. "Once we decided to hack systems, we knew there'd be consequences. We just hoped they'd be the right kind."
He pauses, his determination clear. "All I want now is answers about my own situation. About what happened ten years ago."
"You will get answers," I promise, my tone carrying the weight of official assurance. I glance at Nor'em, who nods slightly—confirmation that the Council has authorized a full investigation into Alex's case.
"And if I want to stay too?" Alex asks quietly, his eyes never leaving mine.
The question surprises me, though perhaps it shouldn't. I can see Nor'em's bioluminescence flicker with alarm—this scenario wasn't part of our briefing. But as I study Alex, I can see the logic in his request.
"Because you were abducted as a minor, integration evaluation would be available if requested," I confirm, choosing my words carefully. "Though the process is more complex for non-assessed individuals."
"We'll figure it out when we get there," Finn says firmly.
"So you'll come?" I ask, unable to keep the hope from my voice, from my skin, from the empathic waves flooding between us.
"Tev'ra," Finn says, reaching up to touch my face, his fingers tracing the patterns of light beneath my skin with a reverence that makes my breath catch.
His eyes meet mine with absolute certainty, all doubts dissolved by the truth of our reconnection.
"I've been trying to get back to you for three weeks. Of course I'll come."
The simple statement, the absolute certainty in his voice, makes something fundamental settle in my chest. He wants this.
Not just the adventure or the escape from his previous life, but specifically this connection with me.
I can feel it through our bond—the way everything in him has oriented toward me, toward us, like a compass finding true north.
"Subjects," Nor'em says, and there's genuine warmth in his tone now, his bioluminescence shifting to the informal patterns used among friends rather than the rigid configurations of official duty. "Shall we proceed to transport?"
I notice how he deliberately softens the word "subjects," removing the clinical edge that bothered Finn earlier. A small accommodation, but a meaningful one.
"Just one thing," Finn says, moving to his desk and picking up the three remaining gems. They catch the light from my skin, refracting it into prismatic patterns across his hands. "I kept these. Seemed important somehow."
Through our bond, I feel the significance these crystals hold for him—how they represented both loss and possibility, how he couldn't bring himself to sell them despite their value. They were his last tangible connection to me, to the experience that changed everything.
He pockets the crystals, then takes one last look around his apartment—the chaotic workspace that represented his entire existence until three weeks ago. I feel his emotional inventory—not regret, but acknowledgment, closure.
Yth'al signals that the transport field is charging, the faint hum of molecular reconfiguration beginning to build around us.
"Ready?" I ask, extending my hand toward him, my skin glowing with anticipation.
"More than ready," Finn confirms, taking my hand. The warmth of his skin against mine sends a cascade of sensation through our empathic bond.
Beside us, Alex takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he steps into the growing transport field. His expression is a complex mixture of determination, apprehension, and wonder—the face of someone stepping into the unknown by choice rather than circumstance.
The transport field begins building around us, blue light filling the apartment one final time.
But unlike our previous separation, this transport represents beginning rather than ending.
Through our joined hands, I feel Finn's excitement overtaking his lingering anxiety, his mind already racing ahead to possibilities neither of us had dared consider three weeks ago.
As reality dissolves around us, I feel Finn's hand tighten in mine and the empathic bond humming with contentment and anticipation and love—a symphony of emotions so complex and beautiful I can barely contain them within my bioluminescence.
The blue light intensifies, wrapping around us like an ocean current, carrying us away from the life Finn has known and toward something neither of us fully understands yet. But this time, we face it together.
This time, when the blue light fades, we'll be going home together.