Well, maybe once he'd been promoted to Command himself he could make the many changes he envisioned. After, say, winning a decisive victory against an existential threat to humanity.
That was a more pleasant thing to contemplate than a numberless horde of killer robots conquering the universe.
* * * * *
The next time Lana woke up was infinitely better than the first.
Most of that was probably due to the fact that Dax was seated in a chair beside her, awkwardly holding her uninjured hand around the straps that bound her to the bed. His face was the first thing she saw, brows furrowed anxiously and expression a mixture of wariness and concern, and the warmth of his touch the first thing she felt.
The surge of relief that swept through her at his comforting presence hit her so sharply, she began to cry in spite of herself. She clutched his hand as if it was the only thing keeping her from flying off into the deep, black void of space, reluctant to let go as he gently pulled free of her grip so he could remove her gag.
“Dax!” she nearly shouted the moment she could talk. “Are you okay?”
“Nothing Ali's medical expertise can't fix,” he said with forced cheerfulness, taking her hand again and giving it a reassuring squeeze. With a slight grimace he shifted his other arm, which was in a sling. “A week's healing has already got me well on my way to recovery.”
Lana tensed in spite of herself. “It's been a week?”
He nodded, his expression its usual blank mask but eyes full of sadness and pain. “Eight days, actually.” He opened his mouth to say more, hesitated, then shut it again, a hint of guilt joining the other emotions in his eyes.
A week. So much time, to be unconscious and immobile on this bed. She was surprised she didn't ache from inactivity. But then, maybe Ali had been stimulating her muscles or regularly turning her over or something. And come to think of it, the distant pain in her hand was much reduced, although she still couldn't seem to move her fingers or even feel them.
But none of that mattered at the moment. She stared anxiously at her boyfriend, or more likely former boyfriend considering how she'd betrayed him, looking deep into his eyes. “Why am I awake? Are we-” she cut off sharply, about to ask if they'd reached some place where Aiden could kick her off his ship, but unable to bring herself to.
Not yet; better to save that pain, to put off dashing this fleeting moment with the man she loved. Perhaps the last she'd ever have with him. The thought made the tears streaming from her eyes sting even more sharply, and she couldn't keep her shoulders from shaking in silent sobs.
Dax took a deep breath. “I needed to talk to you.”
Well there was certainly plenty that needed to be said between them. But had he woken her up because he'd missed her, or because he wanted to break things off after what she'd done, what he'd learned she was? Lana was afraid to ask, but also afraid not to. “Ali said you were avoiding me,” she whispered. “I was afraid you hated me.”
The young man gave her a sickly smile and squeezed her hand. “Never, Lana. No matter what happened, what might happen. I know you, and I love you.”
Her entire body shuddered as she cried even harder. “But I almost killed you,” she nearly wailed. “I've got some . . . some monster inside me that nearly destroyed this ship and murdered everyone I care about. How can you love that?”
“Because it isn't you,” he said simply. “And I'll find a way to help you get rid of it, I swear it.”
That was going to be a trick, when Aiden planned to dump her at the first opportunity. “It was bad enough when they'd just wiped my mind,” she whispered, sniffling. “But this? It's so, so much worse. I don't even feel in control of myself anymore, when at any moment I could stop being me.”
“I know,” Dax said gently.
Lana gave him a sharp look, angry for a moment, and then her expression softened. His Construct conditioning may not have made him a traitor without him realizing it, but it was something he'd had to learn to overcome in order to open up to her. Something he still struggled with to this day.
She supposed that out of everyone on the crew, if anyone could understand what she was going through he could. “I'm so sorry, Dax,” she whispered. “I'd never hurt you. I never would!” Even though that was obviously a lie, given she actually had, she meant it with all her heart.
He struggled to wrap his arms around her in spite of the fact that she was bound to a medical bed, holding her in the comfort of his strength and self-control. And, somehow, she felt like he passed some of it on to her. She let herself give into the torrent of emotions surging through her, clutching him desperately. As if she was hanging over a bottomless cliff and he was the only thing keeping her from falling.
Maybe he was.
“I know you wouldn't, Lana,” he whispered. “I'm so sorry they did this to you.”
She couldn't bring herself to say anything, didn't want to risk anything that might take his comforting presence away from her. He seemed equally reluctant to end the embrace, awkward and uncomfortable as it was, as if he feared the same.
Finally, though, she worked up the courage to make a final request of the man she loved. Aiden was going to throw her off the Last Stand, and she would've insisted on leaving anyway since she was such a threat. But before she was forced back into unconsciousness, perhaps not even allowed to wake up until after she was safely
