“I was a foolish child,” Amanda said. “But I’ve become even more foolish as an adult. Having a piss-poor childhood can do that to you.”
— Willow McLeod, Beyond Lies
16 Decem, 5249 PD
“Where have you been?”
Alana froze in midstep, brows knitting briefly. “The forest. I needed time to clear my head.”
“I was worried.” Ezra stared at her from an easy chair with a good view of his front door. He was sitting in the dark, alone.
“You shouldn’t have been,” she said without thinking. “I was only gone for a couple days.” Her throat tightened. He shouldn’t have worried. Two days was nothing.
So why was there a lump in her throat and why were her eyes stinging?
“A couple of days,” he echoed. He got up from his chair and came to her as she let the door fall shut behind her, sealing out the dim of twilight and leaving them in darkness. His fingers were warm as they brushed her bare shoulders. “You disappeared for a couple of days after unleashing the rough side of your tongue on a Commonwealth Inspector. You didn’t say anything to anyone. You left your meds on the counter and I couldn’t tell if you’d actually come back here before you just vanished. I had no idea what to think, ‘Lana.”
“Ezra,” she stopped and gentled her tone, then started again. “I just needed some space. I snagged my camping kit and just…went. I didn’t realize it’d upset you like this.”
“I’ve been worried half to death,” he said, then sighed, one hand trailing down her bad arm, still cradled in the sling. “You must be in agony,” he murmured.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted. It was worse than that, but she wasn’t willing to admit it yet. If she did, he’d just give her medicine and put her to bed. She wasn’t ready for that yet. She wanted to lean into his chest and be held, but she didn’t allow herself that luxury.
Not yet.
“I overreacted,” she said without preamble. “I shouldn’t have done what I did.”
“I forgive you.”
She felt his palm brush her cheek and sighed, leaning into the touch. She had gone too many years without gentleness, without warmth and comfort in someone’s touch. Every second he was with her eased that ache inside, filled in a little more of the gaping hole.
“‘Lana,” he began. She shook her head.
“No, Ezra, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for bursting in there like some kind beast and I’m sorry for disappearing after. It’s a lot to take. I stood for it for so many years, kept my mouth shut for so long…it’s hard. I’ve always known that the Commonwealth stood by while people suffered. It’s just that sometimes, being here, I’ve been able to forget. At least for a little while.”
She shivered as his arms closed around her, gentle and firm all at once.
“It all turned out for the best,” he murmured into her hair. “That’s all that you need to worry about.”
“So I didn’t cause some kind of incident, then?”
“We think too quickly,” Ezra said. “Though you need to thank everyone who was in that room and your lucky stars that the Inspector wasn’t offended.”
Alana nodded, resting her head in the crook where his neck met his collarbone and letting her eyes slide shut. Her foray into the woods had given her time and space to think, but it had been more lonely than she’d ever recalled it being in the past.
It’s because you’ve finally let someone other than Rachel and Lindsay inside your guard.
Guard? What guard? The walls are down—and those that aren’t are already falling to pieces.
“Good,” she murmured after a few silent moments. “I’m glad.”
He held her a little longer before his arms loosened. “You’re shaking, ‘Lana.” The doctor pressed his hand to her forehead. It was blessedly cool. She could almost see his face in the dim, his brows knitting in concern, a frown touching his lips. “And you’ve got a fever.”
“I’m fine,” she said softly.
“You’re not.”
She began to protest again, but her knees buckled and the words wouldn’t come. The last thing she was conscious of was him sweeping her into his arms and cradling her like a child before blackness overwhelmed her.
• • •
“You sounded upset,” Lindsay said as she and Brendan crowded in through Ezra’s front door. “What’s the matter?”
Ezra looked like hell, shoulders stooped and deep shadows under his eyes. It was as if he hadn’t slept since the meeting with Inspector Winston.
He probably hasn’t, Lindsay thought. No one’s seen Alana since then.
“Something happen with Alana?” Brendan asked, pushing the door shut behind them.
“She’s sick,” Ezra said flatly, turning away from them and heading back into his kitchen. “She came home today—this evening—and said she was sorry.” He raked his hands back through his hair and exhaled heavily. “She didn’t take any of her meds with her when she went out into the woods to do god knows what. I’m worried.”
“Of course you’re worried,” Lindsay said, putting her hand on his arm. “You love her.”
“Yeah,” Ezra said, looking away. Lindsay squeezed his arm, then looked at Brendan.
He smiled wryly. “You don’t have to say it. I’ll feed him. Go look in on her and see what’s got him all knotted up.”
“Some of the incisions are inflamed,” Ezra said as he slumped into a chair at Brendan’s urging. “I’m worried they’re infected.”
“They might not be,” Lindsay said as her stomach dropped.
Alana knew the risks when she started on this path. This was her choice—this was everyone’s choice for her. But she finally decided to do it.
“I hope not,” Ezra mumbled, burying his face in his hands. Lindsay looked at Brendan, their eyes meeting. Brendan grimaced shaking his head and nodding toward the door.
Lindsay sucked in a deep breath and ducked out, down the hall toward Ezra’s bedroom. It wasn’t hard to imagine that Alana would be there, not the way she and Ezra had been acting recently.
The lights in the bedroom were dimmed, though not turned off, and Alana lay on one side of the bed, tucked securely in with her bad arm lying swaddled in bandages above the covers. She was pale and a half-dried cloth lay across her forehead, probably once soaked in cool water to help her fever.
Sometimes, the oldest techniques are the best. Lindsay sat down on the edge of the bed, finding her cousin’s other hand and squeezing her fingers gently. Alana stirred, shifting in the bed before her eyes cracked open.
“Lindsay? Where’s Ezra?”
“Brendan’s making him eat something,” Lindsay said. “You’re running a fever.” She moved the cloth and pressed the back of her hand against her cousin’s face. It was hot, but not as hot as she’d feared from the look on Ezra’s face.
“I’m fine,” Alana murmured, shifting in the bed. She hissed in pain and went pale as she tried to move her bad arm. “Okay, maybe almost fine. That hurt.”
“Considering all the work that he did? I’m not surprised.” Lindsay shook her head. “What were you thinking, ‘Lana? You had to know he’d worry. And you left your meds here.”
“I took the antibiotics with me,” she said, her voice distant. “I’ve been carrying those with me. I just left the pain medication on the counter.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t think I’d need them,” Alana said softly. “Do you think that they gave me drugs when they put that cyberware in? They didn’t, not really. They gave me what they needed to so I’d keep quiet and then they gave me enough so I’d be able to move—nothing more. The pain…Lin, I can’t even tell you how much it hurt.”
“Worse than now?” Lindsay asked softly.
Alana squeezed her eyes shut. Lindsay could see tears rimming her eyes, caught in her lashes. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Though not by much.” Her fingers tightened slightly. “Am I being some kind of idiot, Lindsay?”
“Do you want the truth?”
Alana nodded. “Yeah.”
“You’re absolutely being an idiot,” Lindsay said, then smiled wryly. “But at least your lover’s a doctor. He’ll put it all to rights again once Brendan’s got him calmed down.”
“Have I screwed things up?”
“Probably not that badly,” Lindsay assured her. “Don’t worry. He loves you. He won’t stay angry—he’ll worry and watch you like a hawk, but he’ll forgive you. Trust me.”
“I hope you’re right,” Alana said in a distant whisper, her eyes sliding shut again. “I hope you’re right.”