Written for and originally published in Coin Operated Press.

Xavier walks into the hospital with a shaking hand to his head. The Wanderer had snuck up behind him, and he’s dizzy and nauseous after taking a hit. As he makes eye contact with the receptionist, his vision darkens, and before he can open his mouth, the waiting room silences to black. 

—

Xavier blinks. He’s in a hospital bed, and someone is speaking in a gentle, authoritative voice. The conversation is a train that left without him, and he cuts in, confused. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

Xavier’s voice is raspy, and as he blinks the room into focus, he meets a pair of steely green eyes through glasses. 

Doctor Zayne holds a clipboard and gazes back at him. 

“I’ve written this down, don’t worry. I know your memory may struggle for a few days. You’re experiencing a concussion as a result of the head trauma you encountered on your mission today. I was just asking whether you live with a roommate or if there’s someone who could stay with you.”

Xavier touches his fingertips to the bandage on his head.

“Right. Um, no roommate. And…no one I’m comfortable putting that kind of responsibility on.”

He looks around the room.

“Can’t I just stay here? If it’s a matter of cost, I—“

“Unfortunately no,” Zayne cuts him off. “We’ve got a high volume of patients, and we need the bed for those requiring more critical care.”

Zayne checks his watch. 

“Patient Services opens at 8 AM tomorrow. Is there anyone in town who could look after you? I can’t discharge you unless it’s into someone’s care.”

Xavier sighs. 

“No. It’s just me. But I’m sure I’ll be fi—“

Zayne cuts him off again, his voice betraying exhaustion. 

“That’s not how it works, unfortunately.” 

He closes his eyes, rubbing tension out of his jaw. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted. I’m just tired; I didn’t mean to be short. I’ve exceeded the 80-hour limit again, so I’m being sent home after I sign off on your discharge.”

He pauses, staring into space before speaking once more.

“Since I can’t log any more hours, though, I might have a solution that gets us both out of here in a timely fashion. You can stay with me tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll look into care options.”

Xavier’s eyes widen, and he stammers. “I—no, I couldn’t trouble you like that…”

Zayne shakes his head, looking away. “It’s no trouble. You’d be doing a favor getting me out the door.”

He sighs, meeting Xavier’s gaze once more. 

“Xavier, I know it’s been a while. I know I should have reached back out. Honestly, I haven’t known how, so…can you let this be a start?”

Xavier lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He hadn’t been in any position to call out the tension between them, but now that Zayne had, it’s like he can finally drop the facade of formality. He sighs, wincing as the throb of his headache comes back into focus. 

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll come to yours.”

—

Xavier sits on the sofa as Zayne draws the curtains. He tips his head forward, closing his eyes and taking slow, deep breaths. The lights and motion and general stimuli of the drive had been nauseating. 

He hears a shuffle and a soft tearing of paper, then feels a hand on his knee. Zayne’s gentle voice drifts up.

“Smell this. It’ll help.”

An astringent scent fills his nostrils, and as he raises his head, he sees Zayne squatting in front of him holding an alcohol wipe. He takes it, freeing Zayne’s fingers to drift up and ghost over a bruise near his temple. 

“You’re lucky this wasn’t worse,” Zayne mutters. “If you’d lost consciousness in the Protofield…”

“But I didn’t,” Xavier snaps. 

He closes his eyes, taking a breath to try again. 

“Sorry. I didn’t. And…I don’t have the energy to have this conversation again. My job is too dangerous. Yours is too demanding. Neither of us has the time, so why should we even bother.”

They’re both silent for a moment before Zayne breaks through with his soothing baritone, both hands now resting on Xavier’s knees.

“Is that how you thought it went?” A flicker of sadness crosses his stoic face. “You thought I was saying I didn’t want to try?”

Xavier’s eyes remain shut as he leans his head back. 

“How else was I supposed to take it?”

Zayne lets out a slow breath. He stands, stretching and then sitting sideways next to Xavier on the sofa. He leans his temple against the soft leather of the couch. 

“Your job is dangerous. My job is demanding. We don’t have the luxury of time or security. So while most people figure this out between dinner dates and phone calls, we’re going to need to figure it out between missions and night shifts.” 

He brushes Xavier’s hand, letting his fingertips settle into the hollow space between thumb and palm. 

“I never said I didn’t want to try, Xavier. I only meant we’d have to make it count.”

Xavier’s eyes open to Zayne’s face just a breath away. 

“You said my memory isn’t working right now.

What if I forget all this by morning?”

Zayne chuckles softly.

“I’ll just have to remind you.” 

He lets go of Xavier’s hand, leaning over and reaching for his work bag. He digs around for a moment, pulling out a notepad and a pen before rising. 

“Rest. I’m going to make you something to eat.”

Xavier pulls his legs up to his chest, tucking himself under the blanket on the couch and closing his eyes as he lies down. He hears a rustle of cloth and paper as Zayne places something on the coffee table next to him. 

As soon as Zayne leaves the room, he opens his eyes and spots a note. 

From the desk of Dr. Zayne Li
You have a concussion.
You’re staying at mine tonight.

And this time, I won’t let you go.