Page 73 of Alien Patient
And I'd been professional and cautious, convinced that maintaining boundaries was essential to being an effective physician. Now I was bonded and helplessly in love, learning that sometimes the best healing came from allowing yourself to be vulnerable.
My wrist comm chimed, low priority message from Dr. Senna.
Draft curriculum framework attached. Initial thoughts on the training program structure. Can discuss tomorrow when you've both rested.
I smiled in the darkness. Tomorrow's work was already waiting, new challenges and opportunities to build something meaningful. But tonight, I had everything I needed right here: my mate sleeping peacefully, our home around us, the future stretching out full of possibility.
Bea shifted in her sleep, mumbled something I couldn't quite catch. I tightened my arms around her instinctively, protective and possessive and grateful beyond words.
"I've got you," I whispered, knowing she couldn't hear but needing to say it anyway. "Always."
Outside, Mothership warped toward the next mission, carrying its crew of healers and engineers and rescuers toward whatever crisis needed solving. Inside, we'd built something small and precious: love and healing and the courage to keep trying despite trauma and loss and all the ways the universe could break you.
Tomorrow would bring new emergencies, new patients to save, new challenges to overcome. But we'd face them together—partners in healing, bound by love and commitment and shared purpose.
That was enough. That was everything.
Bea's hand found mine in sleep, fingers threading together automatically. I held on, anchoring us both, and let my own exhaustion finally pull me under.
