Athena's fingers pressed lightly to Spider's wrist, counting the faint but steady beats beneath her touch.
Relief came in increments, in the way his pulse no longer faltered, the way the rise and fall of his chest found a more natural rhythm. She brushed damp strands of hair from his forehead, speaking softly under her breath—words not meant for anyone but him, though she wasn't sure he could hear.
"How is he doing?"
The voice made her flinch somewhat, and she jerked her gaze over her shoulder. Ewan stood just inside the doorway, shadows pooling around him. She hadn't even heard him follow.
For a moment, all she could do was stare. He looked so at ease leaning against the frame, arms folded, yet the bandage wrapped around his thigh betrayed otherwise.
Meanwhile, the question lingered in the air, heavy and careful, the kind of question that asked more than it appeared to.
"I didn't know you were here," she admitted finally, her hand retreating from Spider's wrist.
