Page 43 of Fifth
Her mouth went dry. “Married? If I say that word my mother will start a list and cry into it.” A breath that was almost a laugh. “Not yet. Not as a word. We can say we are committed. That I’m safe and happy. That you’re my partner. We can tell them more once they’re breathing again.”
“Then that is what we say,” he agreed. “Committed. Partner. Your choice.”
She squeezed his fingers. “Fifth: where?”
“Their home,” he said. “Daylight. Quiet. Isuggest inside their house, if they insist, but a park is better. You choose.”
“Their house,” she decided. “They won’t let me meet them anywhere else first.”
“Sixth, safety,” he continued. “I will stay one step behind you. Sixth will put a perimeter two streets out without being seen. Translators on. If anyone approaches who should not, we leave.”
“Seventh,” she whispered, throat tight, “if they ask where I’ve been?”
He spoke it clean. “We give them what we agreed, medical care after a violent incident. No specific designation. You were moved and protected. You are cleared. You are home.”
She breathed. It didn’t solve the ache, but it gave her something to hold. “And if they ask about the future?”
“We say we are building one,” he replied. “Together. We will honor your customs and mine. If they ask about marriage, we say we will have a ceremony your way when you are ready.”
Her eyes burned. “And if they ask if you’re human?”
“We do not tell them unless you wish it.” His mouth softened. “If they press, Iwill be what keeps them calm. Later, if you want the truth, we will give it to them.”
Hannah picked up the final slice of fruit and held it to his mouth. “Here’s what we agreed to,” she said, as if saying it made it real. “We call today. Short message. I’m safe. I’ll come see them tomorrow. You look Earthen. We say partner, not married. We tell them I was under medical care after an accident and that I’m cleared. We keep the rest for later.”
He bit the fruit and nodded once. “Affirmative.”
She caught his wrist, alaugh slipping out. “And until then? Just… be my quiet place.”
“I am.” He reached past the tray and pulled the bedding higher over their legs as if that simple act could keep the plan in place. “We will do this. Step by step.”
He reached for the corner of the sheet as if to tuck her in. She shook her head, smiling. “Shower. Fast.”
“Affirmative.” Two fingers touched the wall panel. “Bathing chamber. Cleanse and rinse, low heat.”
The door whispered open to the same chamber she had used before—panels giving off a low, ambient glow, steam once again lifting from invisible seams. At a brush of his fingers, water poured in a seamless, soundless veil from overhead. The sonic field kept the air warm as the dark floor wicked moisture away with no visible drain.
They went in together. Warm spray fell in a steady sheet. Locus stepped in behind and set her where he wanted her under the fall, one palm firm at her hip, the other tipping her chin so the water sluiced her face. His touch was assured, skimming her shoulders, working soap through her hair, careful over the places his teeth had marked. She soaped his chest in return, along with the long planes of his back, quick and efficient. Their bodies bumped once and he caught her with a low, rough growl. He cut the heat for the last pass, acool rinse wakingskin.
She hissed, then grinned.”Done,” she said, breath easy again.
He touched the panel and the air-dry engaged. Warm currents spiraled down while a faint sweep of light passed over their skin, drawing moisture away without a towel. In moments they were dry. They returned to the bed clean and loose-limbed. He lifted the sheet and pulled herin.
“Should I call my parents now?”
“Give me a moment. Iwill route the call through a secure relay and send your ‘I am safe’ message first—voice only.”
The line opened and her mother broke on Hannah’s name, tears and relief pouring through the speaker. Her father came in gruff, questions clipped, and then steadied as she said, “I’m safe,” again and again.
“Are you hurt?” her father demanded.
“No,” Hannah said. “I’m being cared for. Ipromise. I’ll come tomorrow.”
Her mother sobbed. “Tomorrow. Oh, Hannah—tomorrow.”
Her father cleared his throat. “Bring the person who’s been taking care of you so we can thank them.”
“What time?”
