Page 64 of Elas

We stop outside the clinic doors and his exhausted eyes meet mine. “Go get some rest,” I say, fighting the urge to lift onto my feet and kiss him.

“You and I both know that’s not happening. Please be careful, doc,” he murmurs, glancing through the glass doors.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s like asking me not to breathe, baby.”

Gods, he’s sweet. All I want to do is throw myself into his arms, but I settle for a smile instead. He smiles in return, but it’s thin, failing to touch the concern in his eyes. “I’ll be careful.”

“I should spend the day here with you.”

“You’re barely able to keep your eyes open, and it’ll only raise suspicion if you’re standing over me like a guard dog. Trust me, El.”

“I do.Fuck,I do… it’s everyone else I don’t trust.”

“If it’s too risky, I swear I’ll back off and wait for another time. I won’t be reckless.”

He stares at me for a long time, conflict swirling in the dark depths of his eyes. “Come back to me, doc.”

“Always,” I whisper, and I can see how he fights himself to take a step away from me. He says nothing else, but he doesn’t need to. His eyes say everything he can’t right now, and I try to communicate the same silent affection.

And then I turn and walk inside.

Everything is once again calm as I enter the clinic. Xeni spots me from across the hallway and waves, but doesn’t approach. Nothing is out of the ordinary as I head towards the locker room. Once I’m inside and alone, I grab a towel, a pair of scrub pants, and two tops from the freshly laundered spares. Medical work is messy, and despite the chief’s warning to always have my own scrubs clean, there are sets for emergencies.

Elas and I decided if I’m going to be somewhere I’m not supposed to be, I should reduce the footprint I leave behind, and that means scent as well. While my natural smell can’t be erased, this will dull it and make it fade fasteronce I leave a room. I change clothes, and have barely made it into the hallway when steps approach from behind me.

“Mr. Beckett,” Chief Aeliphis calls, and I wait for her to catch up. “Come. Your new assignment is ready.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Curiosity wars with frustration as she leads me down the hall. If she places me too far away, this will be a hell of a lot harder, but thankfully, we walk into the same corridor. We march past the file room I need to sneak inside, and I don’t even glance at the door or keypad as we pass, in case she has eyes on the back of her head.

Given how she notices everything that happens in this place, it wouldn’t surprise me.

At the end of the hallway is a rarely used restroom directly across from another room. Very few people come down here, and it’s eerily quiet. She scans her keycard and opens the door to a chaotic supply closet.

“Let me guess, patients still aren’t comfortable being seen by a human,” I deadpan, unable to keep the dryness from my voice.

“Surprisingly enough, they are coming around, these things take time. We can be… stubborn.”

“You don’t say,” I mutter, then clear my throat and stand straighter when she hikes that sharp brow at me.

“Believe it or not, I understand your frustration in wanting to make a difference. Sometimes that isn’t as cut and dry as we’d like it to be.” Her voice gentles, and as I meet her eyes, I’m reminded of my conversation with Elas yesterday. Chief Aeliphis spent part of her career at Ljómur—that is an indisputable fact.

Wasshe trying to make a difference there, or am I seeing what I want to see in her expression? Is my chronic optimism looking for the good where there is none?

“Thank you,” I say, forcing a smile. “Busy work has been frustrating when my skills could be used elsewhere.”

She cocks her head to the side, her lavender hair falling over her forehead. “Tell me something, August.”

Not Mr. Beckett, butAugust. Maybe we’re finally getting somewhere.

“Of course,” I say. “Anything.”

“Why is a man raised in rebel camps and taught to hate us so eager to help?”

“May I speak honestly, ma’am?” She nods, gesturing for me to continue. “Sometimes I think we hate each other simply because we’ve been told that’s what we’re supposed to do. Was it right how your kind crossed the divide and essentially conquered humanity? No, of course it wasn’t.” She hikes a brow, but says nothing. “But that was before my lifetime… before my parents’ lifetime, even. If we aren’t allowed to learn from our mistakes—if we’re not allowed togrow—than what are we doing? If an entire century can go by without us evolving to live together, then maybe we deserve this.”

“This?”

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