For his part, Oran rejected Pisces’s support and walked as though he contained nothing but strength in his battered limbs. His torso was bruised and sliced so that his skin was more mottled purples and reds than pale brown, and his feet were bare against the metal floor, yet he walked as though he drew power from the pain and cold. In the presence of those who knew his past, he walked, Caledonia thought, like a Fiveson.

Even she felt the pull of it.

Leaving him in the med bay was out of the question. Instead, they brought him to the room next door to Caledonia’s. It was a mirror image of her own, with the cots secured to the opposite wall.

Pisces paused at the door. “I’ll find Hime,” she said, expression shuttered as she left.

Stay away from me.

The words would haunt any interaction they had. Anything Caledonia said right now would only make matters worse. So she swallowed her heart and turned back to the Fiveson.

The instant the door closed behind Pisces, he collapsed against the lower cot, only Oran again. All the strength he’d shown on their journey through the ship vanished, and his breath came in shallow puffs.

Caledonia crossed the room to kneel before him. “I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened. And I should have known it might.”

“Not your fault,” he said with a careful shake of his head, eyes drifting closed. “I just need a minute.”

She began to stand, but his hand darted out and caught hers. She froze.

“Caledonia.” Oran’s voice was low and strained. “I thought you were dead.”

His fingers curled around her own, rough but warm and so tempting. She thought of the kiss she’d taken. The thrill of it, the electric current in her blood. She wanted it again.

And maybe she could have it. Her heart was raw, still aching from the loss of Triple and the unexpected rift with Pisces. Everything was complicated and difficult, but maybe this could be simple.

She threaded her fingers firmly through his, drawing him to his feet with a tug. His eyes flew open in surprise, his lips parted, and she stepped in close. And then she stopped, hovering an inch from him.

“Cala,” he breathed, warm air ghosting over her lips.

As her eyelids fluttered closed with longing, she realized what she was doing. Nothing about Oran could ever be simple.

She pulled away. “I thought you were just a Fiveson,” she answered.

A doleful smile tilted one side of his lips. “I suppose we were both wrong.”