The secret did not originate from a
confession.It was born from silence.
Elián understood on the third day after the nighttime visit, when he stopped
receiving direct orders and began receiving stares. Long, appraising stares, heavy
witha new caution. The K-7 complex hadn't become more hostile; it had become
more vigilant.
That was worse.
She walked through the corridors with studied calm, as if nothing had changed. But
inside her chest, every heartbeat carried Kael's name, uttered soundlessly, like a
prayer that shouldn't exist.
She had learned to survive in hostile environments. What she hadn't learned was
toto hide a bond that left no visible marks, but did leave deep ones.
In the biological analysis room, Elián reviewed data without really reading it.
Graphs, pulses, neural recordings. Everything indicated that Kael had stabilized
after the contact. Fewer episodes of agitation. More regular breathing.
Fragmented sleep patterns… but present.
The system wasn't
lying.The
Confederation, yes.
—Doctor Rowe.
The voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up and saw Lysa, a field
technician assigned to the Kha'Reth sector. She was young, efficient, and overly
observant.to Elián's liking.
-Yeah?"I noticed something curious," he said, moving closer. "The cortisol levels of subject
Kael..."They came down after their intervention.
Elián kept his face neutral.
—That was to be expected—he replied. —Regulated contact can decrease stress
responses.
Lysa raised an eyebrow.
"Regulated contact?" he repeated. "According to the official report, there was
no authorized physical contact."
Elián held his gaze for barely a second longer than necessary.
"The sensors don't always pick up everything," he said. "Sometimes presence is
enough." Lysa watched him intently, as if she were measuring something invisible.
"You must be careful, doctor," he warned. "Here, presences are
noticeable." When he left, Elián exhaled slowly.
The secret was already out.
That night, Kael stood motionless in his cell, his eyes closed.He meditated. He
listened.
She had learned to identify human sounds: footsteps, breathing, buzzingspecific to
certain communicators. But there was something else, something that didn't come
from outside.
Elian was nearby.
She couldn't explain it rationally, but her body knew. The vital connection didn't
require constant contact. Once established, it flowed like an undercurrent.
Kael opened his eyes just as the lighting in the hallway
changed.Elián appeared in the doorway, accompanied by two
soldiers.
"Five minutes," one of them ordered. "Nothing out of the
ordinary." Elián nodded.When the containment field was adjusted to the minimum, Kael stepped forward.
"You didn't come out of curiosity," he said. "You came out of necessity."
Elián didn't respond immediately. He approached as close as allowed, his
handsvisible, the body tense.
"They're going to move you," he finally said. "To a deeper
sector."Kael frowned.
"That's not observation," he replied. "It's isolation."
"I know," Elián said. "And it's not because of your behavior."
"It's because of you," Kael
concluded. Elián didn't deny it.
"They're monitoring my interactions," she admitted. "They're looking for an
excuse to…"
retire… or something worse.
Kael watched him silently for long seconds.
"Then this must change," he said. "Whatever is growing between
We… cannot be visible.
Elian felt a bitter pang.
"I don't want to lose this," he confessed. "But I also don't want you to be punished
because of me."
Kael moved a little closer to the field. The energy vibrated gently.
"Secrets are nothing new to me," he said. "I've survived thanks to them." Elián
looked at him intently.
—What do you propose?
Kael bowed his head, thoughtful.
"A silent agreement," he replied. "No more visible contact. No words that can be
recorded. Only controlled presence."
Elián understood immediately.—Nonverbal communication—he said—. Rhythm, breathing, eye
contact.Kael nodded.
—And one more thing—he added—. If they ask you… deny it.
Elián felt a knot in his chest.
—I'm not good at lying.
"Then learn," Kael said gently. "Because if they find this out, they won't separate
us."
"What will they do?" Elián asked in a low
voice. Kael lowered his gaze.
"They'll reprogram me," he said. "And you... they'll delete you from the system."
Silence fell between them like a
sentence.Elian clenched his fists.
"I won't let that happen."
Kael looked up.
"You can't save me by confronting them," he said. "But you can stay."
Elián felt the weight of that word.
Stay.
"That's what I do," he replied. "Even when I shouldn't." The
system issued a warning signal.
"Time," announced the mechanical voice.
Elián took a step back, aware of every glance on the other side of the glass.
"Be careful," Kael said. "Humans can smell fear... but also attachment."
Elian held his gaze.
—And the Kha'Reth smell the truth—he replied.That night, the secret was sealed.
Not with promises.
Not with contact.
But with an invisible synchronicity.
Elián, in his room, sat on the floor with his back against the wall and regulated his
breathing, slow and deep. Kael, in his cell, did the same. Without seeing each other.
Without touching each other.
Their pulses found the same rhythm.
In the following days, the K-7 complex operated as usual. Procedures,controls,
reports. But something had changed.
Kael obeyed… without breaking.
Elián watched… without
betraying himself.
The secret grew in the spaces in between: in a gaze held for one more second, in a
calculated pause, in a shared rhythm that no sensor could measure.
Lysa approached Elián again one afternoon.
"The records are stable," he said. "Too stable."
"Is that bad?" he asked.
"Here, yes," he replied. "Stability breeds suspicion." Elián
nodded.
"Instability destroys," he said. "Balance only causes
discomfort."Lysa looked at him with an unreadable expression.
"I hope you know what you're doing, doctor."
Elián did not respond.
Because I knew it.
And at the same time… no.
That night, Kael allowed himself something he hadn't done in years: close his eyes
without conscious vigilance. The memory of Elián wasn't a distraction; it was an
anchor.
For the first time since his capture, he did not dream of cages.He dreamed of space.
With a place where breathing wasn't an act of resistance.
And elsewhere in the complex, Elián wrote in his private diary, outside of the
systems.officers, one line:
The secret is not the bond.
The secret is that the bond saved me first.
When she turned off the light, she knew it was no longer just about
protecting Kael.It was about protecting what they were quietly
building.
Something that, sooner or later, would require being named.