Risk and Rebel

17: SURFACING

I didn't wake up so much as I did resurface.

I distantly recognized I was in a hospital, but as was routine with this sort of thing, those were not the first thoughts I allowed to cross through my mind.

My name is Rebel, I work for LASAR, I am part of Team Alpha—

A nurse peeking in on me interrupted the line of thought. I focused on her with a cool gaze, watching as her brows arched in surprise before she stepped into the room. "You have a visitor, sir," she informed me with a too-chipper smile and false enthusiasm that made me want to scowl.

"Who?" I asked, ignoring how scratchy my voice sounded.

She forced her smile to stay in place, but I could see the skepticism. "I believe she said her name was Risk." And that was all she said before she left my room.

She was swiftly replaced by the one face in the world I knew above all else. Her hair was the same pixie-length I was used to, and though the clothes themselves I didn't recognized, the all black fit her style, not to mention the leather jacket she was holding — her every movement was familiar.

"How long was I down?" I asked as she sat on the hospital bed beside me.

It took less than a fraction of a second for me to notice the bruising across her collarbone; the way her short sleeves revealed yellowing bruises predominantly across her left arm. A couple new, fresh scars was forming across her left arm as well, and I calmly categorized those away with all of her other injuries that I knew so well.

Her smirk, however, was not in place. But I knew the look in her eyes — something significant had happened. "Technically, you've only been unconscious a few days. But actually, we were both out a month and a half."

I nodded once in understanding. "And we'll talk in the car," I finished for her, a small, knowing smile tugging at my lips.

After all, it may have been bad, but at least we still had each other.