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Sico let out a long breath and sank back into the pillows, eyes drifting shut once more. His body, chastened and soothed in equal measure, welcomed the rest this time without protest.
Morning returned more gently the next day.
Not with urgency. Not with voices raised or footsteps hurried. It arrived the same way it had before that quiet, patient, slipping into the room on softened light that crept through the half-drawn curtain and rested against the far wall.
Sico woke slowly.
This time, there was no jolt of disorientation, no moment of panic as he tried to remember where he was or why his body felt wrong. Consciousness rose in a smooth, gradual way, like surfacing through warm water. The ache was still there with a familiar dull, but it no longer felt like something gnawing at him from the inside. More like an echo of what had been.
He lay still for a moment, eyes closed, listening.
The faint hum of the hospital. Distant voices drifting through the corridor. The occasional clink of metal, the soft shuffle of footsteps. The building breathing around him.
He inhaled deeply.
The air felt cleaner than it had yesterday. Or maybe that was just him.
When he opened his eyes, the light didn't stab behind them. That alone felt like a victory.
"Huh," he murmured. "That's new."
His body felt… steadier. Heavy, yes, but in a grounded way rather than a fragile one. He shifted slightly under the blanket, testing the limits of that sensation. No sudden dizziness. No sharp spike of pain. Just stiffness, like he'd slept too long in one position.
Which, to be fair, he probably had.
The door opened quietly a few minutes later.
The same nurse from the day before stepped in, carrying a tray. Her movements were calm and efficient, her expression relaxed in the way of someone who'd checked the charts and already knew what she'd find.
"Good morning," she said softly.
Sico turned his head toward her. "Morning."
She smiled. "You slept."
"Apparently," he replied. "Feels like it, anyway."
"That's because you did," she said, setting the tray table into place beside the bed. "Almost straight through the night. No interruptions worth mentioning."
He absorbed that, eyebrows lifting slightly. "That's… impressive."
She laughed quietly. "For you, yes."
Breakfast was much the same as the previous day with simple, warm, intentionally unremarkable. A bowl of grains with fruit, a slice of bread, a small serving of greens, water, and the now-familiar metal cup sealed with a lid.
He eyed the cup with suspicion.
"Curie," he guessed.
The nurse nodded. "She insists."
Sico sighed. "Of course she does."
"Eat first," the nurse said gently, already anticipating him. "Then the drink."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, only half joking.
He sat up a little more easily than the day before and began to eat. His appetite was better this morning. Not ravenous, but present and steady. His stomach accepted the food without protest, and that alone felt like another small sign that his body was finally cooperating.
As he ate, he found his thoughts drifting less insistently. Yesterday had been full of edges with frustration, restlessness, the need to do something. Today, there was a strange calm beneath everything, as if the worst of the storm had passed and left him standing in its quiet aftermath.
He finished the last bite, took a sip of water, and then reluctantly reached for the metal cup.
The taste was still unpleasant that is bitter and sharp, but he swallowed it without grimacing as much this time. The warmth spread through him again, slower now, familiar.
When the nurse returned to collect the tray, she paused, studying him.
"You look better," she said.
"I feel better," Sico replied. "Don't tell Curie. She'll think it's her doing."
The nurse smiled knowingly. "Oh, she already does."
After she left, he leaned back against the pillow, hands resting loosely at his sides. He didn't fall asleep again which not immediately, but he didn't feel the need to move either. His mind wandered lazily, unburdened by the sharp urgency that usually accompanied waking hours.
He was mid-thought of something vague about the way sunlight hit the far wall, when the door opened again.
Curie entered.
As always, she carried herself with purpose. Tablet under one arm, lab coat immaculate, hair neatly pulled back. Her gaze went immediately to him, sharp and assessing.
"You are awake," she said.
"I am," he replied.
"You ate."
"Yes."
"And drank."
He nodded. "Every drop."
She hummed, pleased, and stepped closer, setting the tablet down before beginning her examination. The routine was familiar now from temperature first, blood pressure, pulse, eyes, reflexes.
He watched her quietly as she worked.
She moved with the same precision as always, but there was a subtle difference today. Less tension in her shoulders. Less sharpness around her eyes. She wasn't relaxed as Curie didn't really do relaxe, but she wasn't braced for bad news either.
"That is gone," she said after a moment, checking the thermometer again.
"What is?" Sico asked.
"Your fever," she replied. "Completely."
He blinked. "Really?"
"Yes," she said, looking up at him. "Your temperature has returned to baseline."
Something in his chest loosened at that.
"Well," he said lightly, "that's good."
"That is very good," Curie corrected.
She continued her checks, fingers resting briefly at his wrist as she counted silently. After a moment, she nodded to herself and stepped back.
"Your vitals are stable," she said. "Better than yesterday. Significantly."
Sico studied her face. "Am I still in trouble?"
She gave him a look. "Always."
That earned a faint smile from him.
"But," Curie continued, "your condition has improved enough that I am willing to allow a small concession."
He stiffened slightly. "That sounds dangerous."
"For you, perhaps," she said dryly. "For me, it is mercy."
She tapped something into her tablet, then looked back up at him.
"You may take a shower."
Sico stared at her.
"…I'm sorry," he said. "What?"
"A shower," Curie repeated patiently. "Hot. Not excessively so. And not unsupervised."
His eyebrows rose. "I feel like I should be excited."
"You should be grateful," she replied. "You smell faintly of antiseptic and rebellion."
He snorted before he could stop himself.
Curie's lips twitched, just barely.
"I will have a nurse prepare hot water," she continued. "You are not to rush. You are not to stand too long if you feel lightheaded. And you are to sit if necessary."
"Yes, ma'am," he said again, this time more sincerely.
She studied him for a long moment, then nodded once.
"This is progress," she said.
He leaned back slightly. "I'll take it."
Curie turned toward the door, then paused.
"And Sico?"
"Yes?"
"Do not make me regret this," she said.
He smiled faintly. "I'll try not to."
She left, the door closing behind her with its usual soft click.
Sico lay there for a moment longer, absorbing the news.
A shower.
It sounded absurdly mundane. Something he'd taken for granted every day of his life. And yet the thought of hot water, of steam and soap and the simple act of washing away the last lingering traces of sickness as it felt like another marker. A step back toward normalcy.
Toward himself.
The nurse returned not long after, carrying fresh towels and a set of clean clothes folded neatly in her arms.
"We'll have the water ready shortly," she said. "I'll stay nearby, just in case."
Sico nodded. "Thank you."
She hesitated, then added, "Dr. Curie is… watching the monitors."
"I assumed as much," he replied.
With assistance, he eased himself out of bed and into the small adjacent washroom. The space was functional rather than comfortable with tile floors, reinforced fixtures but it was clean, and soon the sound of water running filled the air.
When the steam began to rise, Sico closed his eyes and let out a slow breath.
As the hot water finally poured over him, he felt something inside him unclench completely. The warmth seeped into his muscles, easing the stiffness, washing away the residue of exhaustion and antiseptic and fear that clung to him more stubbornly than he'd realized.
The water ran until the steam thickened the air, softening the hard edges of the small washroom and turning the world into muted shapes and warmth.
Sico stood beneath the spray with his head bowed, eyes closed, one hand braced lightly against the tiled wall. The heat soaked into him slowly, deliberately, as if his body were relearning how to accept comfort without suspicion. Muscles that had been tight for days or weeks, maybe longer had began to loosen, the ache dulling into something manageable, something that no longer demanded all of his attention.
He breathed in.
Soap. Clean water. Steam.
It felt… human.
He washed carefully, methodically, as though rushing might somehow undo the fragile permission he'd been granted. The scent of antiseptic faded beneath soap and hot water, rinsed away along with the lingering reminder that he'd been a patient rather than a person. When he finally straightened and tilted his face into the spray, he let the water run over his hair and down his neck, carrying the last of the tension with it.
For a few long moments, he simply stood there.
Alive. Standing. Breathing.
That, too, felt like progress.
When he finally turned the water off, the silence rushed back in, punctuated only by the faint drip of water from the fixtures. He reached for the towel the nurse had left, wrapping it around his shoulders and drying off slowly. His reflection in the small, slightly clouded mirror looked… better. Still tired. Still pale. But his eyes were clearer, his posture steadier.
Not fixed.
But improving.
He dressed carefully in the clean clothes provided that simple, comfortable, unmistakably hospital-issued and opened the door back into his room.
The nurse was waiting nearby, just outside the doorway, leaning lightly against the wall with a tablet tucked under one arm. She straightened when she saw him, her eyes immediately scanning his posture, his face.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
"Clean," Sico replied honestly. "And not dizzy."
She smiled. "Good."
She stepped aside to let him pass, then followed him back into the room, already adjusting the bed with practiced ease.
"Dr. Curie's orders," she said gently but firmly. "You're to rest now."
Sico sighed, though there was no real resistance in it. "I figured."
"You're cleared to return to duty tomorrow," she continued. "Not today."
He paused, glancing at her. "Tomorrow?"
"Yes," she said. "Assuming no setbacks."
That concession softened the frustration he'd been about to voice. Tomorrow wasn't exile. It was a horizon.
"Alright," he said. "I'll behave."
"Good," she replied, pulling the blanket back for him. "Because if you don't, she'll lecture you again."
That earned a short laugh from him. "I'd rather not test that."
He eased himself back into the bed, settling more comfortably than he had the day before. The mattress felt less confining now, less like a boundary and more like support. The nurse adjusted the pillows, checked the monitor once more, then stepped back.
"Try to sleep," she said. "Or at least rest."
"I can do that," he replied.
She gave him a nod and left quietly, closing the door behind her.
The room fell into its familiar stillness.
Sico lay there for a while, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. His body felt heavy again, but this time it was a welcome weight with the kind that came after effort, after something done rather than something endured.
Tomorrow, he thought.
It was strange how much that single word meant right now.
He let his eyes close again, not forcing sleep, just allowing his mind to drift. The quiet wrapped around him, unhurried, and when he did slip into rest, it came easily.
He wasn't sure how much time passed before voices filtered into his awareness again.
Not urgent. Not raised.
Paper shuffled.
Footsteps that familiar, efficient.
His eyes opened.
Magnolia stood just inside the doorway once more, looking every bit as composed as she had the day before, though the faint shadows beneath her eyes suggested she hadn't enjoyed the luxury of enforced rest. Elise stood beside her again, arms once more laden with folders and a clipboard, her expression politely apologetic.
"Oh no," Sico murmured. "You're back."
Magnolia's lips curved faintly. "Good afternoon to you as well."
He shifted slightly, propping himself up a bit. "I thought we were done."
"We were," Magnolia replied calmly. "Then more paperwork happened."
Elise winced sympathetically. "It breeds."
Sico closed his eyes for a second. "Of course it does."
Magnolia stepped closer to the bed, already opening one of the folders. "This will be brief. I promise."
"You promised that yesterday."
"And I was mostly honest."
She slid the folder toward him, tapping the indicated line with her finger. "These are final confirmations. Things that cannot wait until tomorrow but do not require your full attention."
He eyed the page. "Am I allowed to read this one?"
"No."
He sighed. "I had to ask."
She handed him the pen. "Sign."
He did.
She flipped the page. "And here."
Another signature.
Elise passed her the next folder with the air of someone resigned to the process.
"This one confirms the temporary delegation of duties that will automatically revert to you tomorrow morning," Magnolia said.
He paused, pen hovering. "Automatically?"
"Yes," she said. "I made sure of it."
Something in her tone made him glance up at her. "You didn't enjoy filling in."
Magnolia met his gaze evenly. "I am very good at my job. That does not mean I want yours."
He smiled faintly and signed.
They moved through the remaining documents quickly, efficiently. Magnolia summarized. He signed. Elise stacked the folders neatly as they were completed.
When it was done, Magnolia closed the last folder with a decisive snap and straightened.
"That's it," she said. "You're officially still in charge, even while horizontal."
"Comforting," Sico replied.
She studied him for a moment, then softened just slightly. "You look better."
"I feel better," he said. "Apparently I'm not allowed to enjoy it yet."
"Tomorrow," she reminded him.
"Yes," he agreed. "Tomorrow."
Magnolia nodded once, satisfied, and turned toward the door. Elise followed, then hesitated, glancing back at him.
"Feel better, sir," she said quietly.
"Working on it," he replied.
They left as quickly as they'd come, the door closing behind them.
The room returned to stillness once more.
Not the fragile stillness of interruption paused, but the deeper, settled quiet that followed departure. The faint hum of the monitors filled the space again, steady and unhurried, as if nothing of consequence had happened at all. Afternoon light filtered through the window at a shallow angle now, stretching pale gold across the far wall and the edge of the bed.
Sico lay there, breathing evenly.
Paperwork done. Orders given. Tomorrow acknowledged.
For the first time since he'd woken that morning, there was nothing pressing at the edges of his mind. No voice demanding his attention. No problem demanding his immediate solution. Just the quiet weight of rest, earned rather than enforced.
He let his eyes close again.
Not to sleep at least, not intentionally, but to drift. Thoughts came and went without snagging, like clouds moving across a wide sky. Small things surfaced: the feeling of hot water on his shoulders, Magnolia's dry tone, the nurse's knowing smile when she'd mentioned Curie's lectures. Ordinary details, grounding in their simplicity.
Then.
A sound.
Not footsteps. Not the door.
A low, rising hum that did not belong to the hospital.
Sico's eyes snapped open.
The air at the center of the room began to shimmer, light bending and warping as if reality itself were being folded inward. A familiar blue glow blossomed outward in a tight sphere, crackling faintly, casting sharp highlights across the walls and the metal fixtures.
His heart kicked hard in his chest.
Institute teleportation.
His hand twitched instinctively, muscles tensing as if reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. He pushed himself up against the pillows, pulse spiking, eyes locked on the forming light.
Here?
Now?
The Institute was still at war with the Brotherhood of Steel. Teleportation signatures were being tracked, jammed, countered. Every jump was calculated, deliberate, dangerous.
And someone had just appeared in his hospital room.
The blue light intensified for a brief, blinding second.
Then collapsed inward.
Nora stood where the air had been empty moments before.
She materialized smoothly, boots touching the floor without a sound, posture already alert as the residual light faded around her. Her Institute coat was immaculate as ever, dark hair pulled back neatly, but there was something different in the way she stood that less formal, less composed than he'd ever seen her in a briefing or command setting.
Her eyes were already on him.
"Sico."
His name left her mouth immediately, without ceremony, without rank.
Shock rooted him in place.
"Nora?" he said, voice rougher than he expected. "What—"
She was already moving.
Crossing the room in quick, purposeful strides, her gaze scanning him from head to toe with an intensity that made his breath hitch. She stopped beside the bed, close enough that he could see the fine tension in her jaw, the way her fingers curled and uncurled at her side as if she were restraining herself from touching him outright.
"What happened?" she asked, too quickly. "They told me you collapsed. That you were unconscious. That there was a fever."
He stared at her.
Of all the things he'd expected from strategic updates, guarded concern, carefully measured words and this wasn't it.
"I'm… fine," he said slowly, still trying to catch up to the moment. "I mean. Not fine-fine. But better. You shouldn't be here."
Her eyes snapped back to his face. "Is the fever gone?"
"Yes," he answered automatically. "Curie cleared it this morning."
"And your vitals?" she pressed. "Your heart rate? Blood pressure?"
"Stable," he said. "Improving."
She exhaled, sharp and controlled, but the relief was unmistakable. Her shoulders eased by a fraction, as though she'd been holding tension there for hours.
"And the pain?" she asked. "Are you still—"
"Nora," he interrupted gently. "Slow down."
She stopped.
For a moment, she just looked at him, really looked at him, as if she were only now allowing herself to confirm that he was sitting up, conscious, breathing, undeniably alive.
Her expression shifted.
Not to command. Not to calculation.
To something raw.
"You scared me," she said quietly.
The words landed harder than any shouted order ever could have.
Sico blinked. "I… what?"
She seemed to realize then how close she was standing, how her voice had softened. She straightened slightly, drawing herself back by inches, but the moment had already happened. It couldn't be undone.
"I was informed late," she said, regaining some composure. "Communication delays. I was in the middle of—" She stopped herself, shook her head. "That doesn't matter."
She looked at him again, eyes sharp and searching. "You don't just collapse, Sico."
"No," he admitted. "Apparently not."
Silence stretched between them, thick and charged.
He'd known Nora for a long time.
He'd seen her furious, decisive, unyielding. He'd watched her stand before the Directorate without flinching, argue strategy with steel in her spine, issue orders that reshaped entire regions of the Commonwealth. He'd seen her grief once which is a year and a half ago maybe, that is raw and devastating, centered entirely on Shaun and the ghost of her husband named Nate.
But this?
This was different.
She reached out before he could react, fingers closing lightly around his wrist.
Not clinical. Not diagnostic.
Human.
He froze.
Her touch was warm, grounding. She pressed her thumb against the inside of his wrist, feeling for his pulse, eyes dropping to the point of contact with fierce concentration. He could feel the slight tremor in her hand before she steadied it.
"Still strong," she murmured, more to herself than to him.
"Nora," he said again, quieter this time.
She looked up.
Their eyes met.
For a long second, neither of them spoke.
"You shouldn't have come," he said eventually. "If the Brotherhood—"
"I took precautions," she said immediately. "Encrypted jump. Shielded signal. No trail."
"That's not the point," he replied. "You're the Director. If something happened—"
"If something happened to you," she cut in, "we'd already be dealing with consequences."
The bluntness of it stole his words.
She released his wrist slowly, as though only just realizing she'd been holding on. Her hand fell back to her side, fingers curling inward briefly.
"I've never seen you like this," she admitted, her voice lower now. "Not… down. Vulnerable."
He gave a faint, crooked smile. "Try not to spread it around."
"That's not funny."
"I know."
Another pause.
She glanced around the room then, taking in the hospital bed, the monitors, the sterile surroundings. Her jaw tightened.
"They should have told me sooner," she said.
"They did their job," Sico replied. "Curie was on it immediately."
At the mention of Curie, Nora huffed softly. "I don't doubt that."
She turned back to him. "She didn't push you too hard?"
"No," he said. "If anything, she chained me to the bed."
"Good."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're agreeing with her?"
"I'm agreeing with survival."
That earned a small breath of laughter from him. "Fair."
Nora pulled the chair from beside the wall without asking and sat down next to the bed. The motion was uncharacteristically casual, almost domestic, as if she belonged there.
"You're cleared to return to duty tomorrow," he added. "In case you were wondering."
"I wasn't," she said. "I already knew."
Of course she did.
She leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on her thighs. "How do you actually feel?"
He considered the question carefully.
"Better," he said honestly. "Not invincible. But… clearer. Like my body finally stopped fighting itself."
She nodded, absorbing that. "Exhaustion will linger."
"I know."
"Promise me you won't push it tomorrow."
He hesitated.
She noticed immediately. "Sico."
"I'll try," he said.
Her eyes narrowed. "That's not a promise."
He met her gaze. "I'll listen when Curie tells me to stop."
That satisfied her, at least partially.
"Good."
Silence settled again, but this time it was different. Less tense. Almost… companionable.
Nora glanced at the window, at the slanting light. "I shouldn't stay long."
"No," he agreed. "You really shouldn't."
She didn't move.
Instead, she asked softly, "Did you think I wouldn't come?"
The question caught him off guard.
"I didn't think you could," he admitted. "Not with the war."
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. "I make time."
He studied her face with the exhaustion she tried to hide, the strain etched faintly at the corners of her eyes.
"You don't have to," he said quietly.
"Yes," she replied. "I do."
He didn't argue.
For a moment, she looked away, gaze unfocusing slightly as memories surfaced unbidden.
"I almost lost Shaun," she said. "I don't do well with… sudden absences."
His chest tightened. "I'm not going anywhere."
She looked back at him, something fragile flickering across her expression.
"You'd better not."
The hum of the monitors filled the space between them again.
The hum of the monitors filled the space between them again.
Steady. Rhythmic. Almost intrusive now, as if it were suddenly aware it was the only thing making noise in a room charged with everything neither of them was saying.
They sat like that for a moment longer than either of them probably intended.
Sico reclined against the pillows, shoulders relaxed but his attention fully on her. Nora sat forward in the chair, elbows on her knees, hands loosely clasped, her posture composed yet subtly tense like a coil held just short of snapping.
They looked at each other.
Really looked.
And then, almost at the same time, both of them seemed to realize how long they had been doing exactly that.
Nora's eyes flicked away first, settling on the far wall with sudden interest. Sico shifted slightly, gaze drifting toward the ceiling as he cleared his throat, the sound rougher than necessary.
The moment broke.
Awkwardness crept in that not the uncomfortable kind born of strangers, but the kind that only came from familiarity pushed into unfamiliar territory.
Sico inhaled, then exhaled slowly.
"…Can I ask you something?" he said.
Nora's head turned just enough to acknowledge him. "You're already doing it."
He huffed faintly. "Fair."
He hesitated, fingers curling lightly into the blanket. For someone who'd faced down armies, negotiated fragile alliances, and issued life-altering commands without blinking, this felt strangely harder.
"Why," he began, then paused, recalibrating. "Why do you care this much?"
That got her attention.
Nora turned fully back toward him, brows drawing together slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he continued carefully, "I get it. You don't like sudden absences. You've said that. And I know the situation from war, instability, the Institute stretched thin—"
He glanced at her, searching her face.
"But… you didn't have to come. Not personally. Not like this."
She didn't respond immediately.
Her jaw tightened.
Sico pressed on, unaware he was digging himself deeper.
"We're friends," he said. "Good friends. Trusted ones. I just—" He shrugged slightly. "I didn't expect this level of concern."
The silence that followed was not gentle.
It was sharp.
Nora stared at him.
Not with concern now. Not with softness.
With disbelief.
"You are unbelievable," she said flatly.
He blinked. "I, what?"
She stood abruptly, the chair scraping softly against the floor as she turned to face him fully. Any remaining softness in her posture was gone, replaced by something bristling and bright.
"Are you actually this dense," she asked, "or do you just enjoy testing my patience?"
Sico frowned, genuinely confused. "Nora, what—"
"Friends?" she repeated incredulously. "That's what you think this is?"
"I... yes?" he ventured. "I thought—"
She stepped closer to the bed, close enough now that he could see the flash of irritation in her eyes, the faint flush rising along her cheekbones.
"You think I risk an encrypted jump during an active war zone," she said, voice low and dangerous, "because I'm being polite?"
"Well, when you put it like that—"
"Or because I 'don't like absences'?" she continued, cutting him off. "You think that's all this is to me?"
Sico opened his mouth.
Closed it.
His brain was clearly lagging behind the conversation.
"I thought—" he tried again.
"That's the problem," Nora snapped. "You didn't."
Before he could react, she reached out and pinched his side sharply.
"Hey—!" He jerked, sucking in a breath. "What was that for?"
"For being a blockhead," she shot back. "And for almost getting yourself killed without apparently realizing there are people who would be devastated if you did."
He stared at her, stunned.
"You, what?"
She didn't give him time to process.
"Do you have any idea," she said, voice trembling now not with anger but something dangerously close to it, "how many people I've lost?"
He swallowed.
"Do you have any idea what it feels like to get a report that someone you trust or someone you care about collapsed without warning?"
Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
"You don't get to dismiss that as friendship," she said. "Not after everything."
Something clicked.
Not fully. Not cleanly.
But enough.
"Nora," he said softly. "Are you saying—"
She made a frustrated sound, stepped even closer, and before he could finish the thought.
She leaned in.
Her fingers caught lightly at his waist again, more a grounding touch than a pinch this time.
"Dummy," she muttered.
Then she pressed a kiss to his cheek.
It was quick.
Warm.
Unmistakably deliberate.
And then she was already pulling back, composure snapping back into place with practiced efficiency even as color lingered in her cheeks.
Sico froze.
His mind went completely blank.
She stepped back toward the center of the room, eyes already avoiding his, shoulders squared once more.
"I don't have time to explain feelings to someone who collapses and then asks stupid questions," she said briskly. "Rest. Actually rest. And don't make me come back here again for reasons like this."
The familiar blue light began to bloom around her again.
"Nora, wait." he said, finally finding his voice.
She paused, just for a fraction of a second, glancing back at him over her shoulder.
"For the record," she added, voice softer now, "we stopped being 'just friends' a long time ago."
And then she was gone.
The teleportation snapped shut, the air settling with a soft crackle as the blue light vanished, leaving the room exactly as it had been moments before.
Quiet.
Still.
Sico sat there, staring at the empty space where she'd stood, heart pounding in his chest.
His cheek still felt warm.
"…What," he whispered to absolutely no one, "just happened?"
The door opened.
Sico flinched.
Sarah stepped into the room first, one hand resting casually on the strap of her rifle, her expression easy until her eyes landed on his face.
She stopped short.
Piper followed right behind her, mid-sentence about something she'd overheard in the corridor.
"…and I'm telling you, the rumor mill is already oh."
Both of them stared at him.
Specifically at his face.
Sarah's brow arched slowly. "Why do you look like you just got hit by a vertibird?"
Piper squinted. "Or kissed by one."
Sico opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Sarah's eyes flicked briefly to the center of the room, then back to him. "Was someone just here?"
"No," he said far too quickly. "I mean, yes. But—"
Piper's grin spread immediately. "Oh my god."
Sarah crossed her arms. "Who?"
Sico rubbed his face with one hand. "Nora."
There was a beat.
Then Piper burst out laughing.
Sarah didn't laugh.
She sighed.
Deeply.
"Please tell me you didn't say something stupid," Sarah said.
Sico hesitated.
"…Define stupid."
Sarah closed her eyes. "You did."
Piper wiped at her eyes. "I leave you alone for one afternoon and Nora kisses you and teleports away?"
"She kissed him?" Sarah snapped, eyes flying open. "On the cheek?"
"Yes," Sico said weakly. "After calling me a dummy."
Piper clapped her hands together delightedly. "Classic."
Sarah stared at him. "Do you have any idea how long that's been obvious?"
"Apparently longer than I've been conscious," he muttered.
Piper leaned against the foot of the bed, grinning unabashedly. "You absolute idiot."
"Hey," he protested faintly.
"No," she said. "Full idiot. Endearing, sure. But still."
Sarah shook her head. "She risked teleporting into a hospital during wartime for you."
"I noticed that part," Sico said.
"And your takeaway," Sarah continued, "was to ask why she cares?"
He winced. "When you put it like that—"
Piper snorted. "Oh, I am definitely putting it like that."
She leaned closer. "What did she say?"
"That we stopped being 'just friends' a long time ago," he admitted.
Sarah nodded. "Finally."
"Finally?" he echoed.
"Yes," Piper said. "We've been waiting for you to catch up."
He looked between them, incredulous. "You both knew?"
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "We have eyes."
"And ears," Piper added. "And basic emotional awareness."
Sico groaned and sank back against the pillows. "I need another collapse. For my pride."
"No, you don't," Sarah said firmly. "Curie would murder you."
Piper laughed again. "Welcome to the club, Sico."
He stared at the ceiling, dazed but oddly… lighter. Tomorrow suddenly felt very real, and very complicated.
______________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-