Nana didn't feel herself falling.
One moment she was fighting—dual guns blazing, taking down the vampire that had breached the hospital's north perimeter. The creature was fast, enhanced, coordinating with two hybrids that were trying to flank her position.
She'd killed the hybrids first. Two shots each, center mass, the kind of precision that came from nine months of survival training and twenty-one years of genetic modification. The vampire had dodged her third shot, closed the distance with predatory speed.
She'd kicked it. Hard enough to send it flying backward into the concrete barrier. Hard enough that she should have shattered its skull.
Except her aether core was empty.
Not low. Not running on fumes. Empty. Completely depleted from a week of constant combat without rest, without food, without anything except the desperate drive to save one more person, protect one more civilian, kill one more creature.
The kick connected but with normal human strength. Not enhanced. Not specimen-level power. Just what her skeletal muscle could generate on its own.
The vampire recovered faster than she'd anticipated. Was already coming back at her, fangs bared, red eyes locked on her throat.
Nana raised her guns. Pulled the triggers.
Click. Click. Empty magazines. She'd burned through her ammunition and forgotten to reload because her brain was running on autopilot and autopilot didn't include things like counting rounds when you were fighting for your life.
The vampire lunged.
Then gunfire erupted from three directions at once. Military snipers. Hunter backup. A coordinated strike that caught the creature mid-leap and tore through its energy matrix with enough force to destabilize it completely.
The vampire dissolved to dust before it reached her.
Nana stood there, swaying, her empty guns hanging from limp fingers. Around her, soldiers and hunters were staring with expressions that mixed horror and awe and something like pity.
Behind the perimeter, civilians who had been watching through the hospital windows were screaming. Not in fear of the vampire—it was already gone. Screaming because they'd just watched their protector nearly die. Watched the woman who had been defending them nonstop for days almost fall to a creature she should have been able to kill easily.
Watched her fail because she'd pushed herself past every limit trying to save them.
Nana tried to reload. Her hands wouldn't cooperate. The magazines slipped from her fingers and clattered to the concrete.
"Ma'am?" A soldier approached cautiously. Young, maybe twenty, with the kind of expression that suggested he'd just seen something that fundamentally changed how he understood the world. "Ma'am, you need medical attention. You're—"
Nana's legs gave out.
She hit the ground hard, her body simply shutting down. Not unconscious yet—her brain was still firing, still trying to process what was happening, still screaming at her muscles to GET UP, KEEP FIGHTING, THERE ARE MORE CREATURES COMING.
But her body had reached its absolute limit and refused to obey.
The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the soldier's terrified face. The last thing she heard was someone shouting for a medic.
Then nothing.
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Zayne was in the middle of a surgery when the nurse burst into the operating room.
"Dr. Li—it's Specimen 21. She collapsed at the north perimeter. They're bringing her in now."
His hands froze mid-suture. "What?"
"She's unconscious. Severe injuries. They're setting up trauma bay one—"
Zayne didn't hear the rest. Was already moving, already stripping off his surgical gloves, already shouting orders to the resident beside him.
"Dr. Chen—finish the closure. Standard protocol. You can handle this."
"But Dr. Li—"
"You CAN handle this," Zayne repeated, his voice hard. "I trained you. You know what to do. Close him up and move to the next patient."
He was out of the operating room before Chen could respond. Running through corridors filled with wounded, past triage areas where people called out for help, ignoring everything except the primal terror that was screaming through his veins.
Nana. Nana was hurt. Nana had collapsed. Nana could be dying.
He burst into trauma bay one just as they were wheeling her in on a gurney. She looked small on it—smaller than he'd ever seen her. Covered in blood and dirt and ash. Her hunter gear was torn in multiple places, showing injuries beneath. Her face was pale, lips almost bloodless, dark circles under her eyes that spoke of exhaustion so profound it had shut her body down completely.
A nurse was already checking vitals. "Blood pressure 90 over 60 and dropping. Heart rate 110. Respiratory rate shallow. She's non-responsive to verbal stimuli—"
"Everyone out," Zayne said.
The medical staff looked at him. At the frost spreading from his hands, at the ice evol that was manifesting unconsciously in response to his panic.
"Sir, we need to—"
"OUT!" The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Ice formed on the monitoring equipment. The nurse's breath came out in visible clouds.
They left. Quickly. Quietly. Leaving Zayne alone with Nana's unconscious form.
He moved to her side. Placed his hands on her—one on her chest over her aether core, one on her forehead. Felt how cold her skin was. How her breathing was too shallow. How her heart was beating too fast, trying desperately to compensate for systems that were failing.
The aether core beneath his palm wasn't glowing. Wasn't pulsing with its usual steady blue light. It was dark. Dormant. Like a battery that had been drained completely and couldn't recharge on its own.
Zayne's medical training warred with his panic. He knew what was happening—physiological collapse from sustained energy depletion. Her enhanced body required constant fuel to maintain its modifications. Constant energy to power the aether core. Without it, the enhancements started failing. Started breaking down.
Started killing her.
But he didn't know how to fix it. Didn't know what kind of serum they'd used on her. What the maintenance requirements were. What she needed to survive when her power ran dry.
The facility was gone. The scientists were dead. All the data about the specimen program had been destroyed. And Nana was dying because he didn't have the information to save her.
"No," Zayne whispered. His hands were shaking. Frost was spreading from them across Nana's body—unconscious manifestation of his terror. "No, you don't get to die. Not like this. Not after everything."
He pulled her into his arms. Held her against his chest. Felt how limp she was, how her body wasn't responding, how she was slipping away and he couldn't stop it.
Tears froze on his cheeks before they could fall. His ice evol was out of control now, responding to emotions he couldn't suppress. The entire room was coating in frost, temperature dropping toward dangerous levels.
"Please," he said into her hair. "Please don't leave me. I just got you back. I just—please. Stay. STAY."
Nothing. No response. Just the shallow rise and fall of her chest, getting shallower with each breath.
Zayne closed his eyes. Pressed his forehead against hers.
And felt something.
Not physical. Not medical. Something else. A connection that went deeper than anatomy, deeper than training. The same connection that had pulled them together across timelines and deaths and memory resets. The thing that had made them find each other again and again no matter how many times the universe tried to separate them.
His ice evol pulsed.
Not outward this time. Inward. Flowing from his body into hers, seeking the dormant aether core that wasn't firing, that had run completely dry.
Energy transfer. Impossible by any medical standard Zayne knew. But they weren't operating on medical standards anymore. They were enhanced. Modified. Built to be more than human.
Maybe that meant they could do more than human things.
The frost spreading from Zayne's hands changed. Instead of coating Nana's skin, it seemed to sink into her. Not freezing her—feeding her. His ice evol finding her aether core and jumpstarting it the way you'd jumpstart a dead battery.
Nana gasped.
Her eyes flew open. Not slowly, not the gradual return of consciousness—just suddenly awake, suddenly breathing, her aether core igniting with a blue glow that was dim but present.
She stared at Zayne with wide, disoriented eyes. "What—?"
"You collapsed," Zayne said. His voice was rough, scraped raw with emotion. "Your aether core was depleted. You were dying."
"Oh." Nana looked down at herself. At the blue glow returning to her chest. At Zayne's hands still pressed against her, frost still flowing between them. "You jumpstarted me."
"I didn't know if it would work."
"But you tried anyway." She smiled. That beautiful, stubborn smile that Zayne had fallen in love with twice now. The smile that said she was going to be okay, that she was too stubborn to die, that the universe could throw whatever it wanted at her and she'd survive out of pure spite.
Then she saw the tears frozen on his face. Saw the terror still evident in his expression. Saw the way his hands were shaking even now, even with her awake and breathing and alive.
"You thought I was going to die," she said quietly.
"You WERE going to die," Zayne corrected. His voice broke. "Your heart was failing. Your aether core was dark. I couldn't—I didn't know how to save you and I—"
Nana pulled him down into a kiss. Gentle despite the urgency of it. Grounding. Reminding him that she was here, she was alive, they were both still fighting.
When they broke apart, Zayne was crying properly now. Not frozen tears—real ones, streaming down his face while he held onto her like she might disappear if he let go.
"Don't ever do that again," he said fiercely. "Don't push yourself until your core depletes. Don't fight until you collapse. Don't—"
"I have to," Nana interrupted softly. "Who's going to guard the hospital if I don't? The military isn't enough. The hunters are scattered. Someone has to hold the line."
"Then rest between fights. Eat. Sleep. Let your core recharge before—"
"There's no time for that. The creatures keep coming. The portals keep opening. If I rest, people die."
"If you die, MORE people die!" Zayne's voice rose. He didn't care who heard. Didn't care that they were in the middle of a hospital with wounded everywhere and military personnel just outside. "You're the strongest fighter we have. The most effective defender. If you kill yourself trying to save everyone, then we lose our best weapon against this nightmare!"
Nana went still. Something shifted in her expression—recognition, maybe. Understanding.
"I'm not a weapon," she said quietly.
"Yes, you are." Zayne's voice was gentler now but no less intense. "You were built to be a weapon. Enhanced to fight creatures that normal humans can't handle. That's what they made you. But that doesn't mean you're disposable. Doesn't mean your life matters less. Doesn't mean you have to sacrifice yourself to prove you're more than what they built."
He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"You are a weapon. But you're also Nana. The woman who kicks Wanderers with bare legs. Who raids my candy drawer. Who survived nine months of hell and came back for me. Who chose to use the power they forced on you to protect people instead of destroy them." His voice cracked again. "You're allowed to rest. You're allowed to survive. You don't have to die to prove you're worthy of living."
Nana stared at him. At the man who had been turned into a specimen just like her, who understood what it meant to be built as a weapon, who was choosing to see her as human despite everything they'd both become.
Then she pouted. Actually pouted, her lip pushing out in that stubborn expression that made Zayne's heart clench with affection despite the seriousness of the moment.
"I wasn't trying to die," she said. "I just... forgot. Forgot to reload. Forgot to check my core levels. Forgot to—"
"Forgot that you're still human enough to need rest," Zayne finished. "Even with all the enhancements. Even with the aether core. You still have limits."
"So do you," Nana pointed out. "You've been performing surgeries nonstop for three days."
"I'm not depleting my core fighting vampires."
"No, you're depleting it saving lives. Using your ice evol as a surgical tool. That takes energy too."
Zayne opened his mouth to argue. Closed it. She was right. He'd been using his enhancement constantly—forming ice sutures, creating temporary scaffolds, cooling fevered patients. Using power the same way she'd been using hers.
They were both running themselves into the ground. Both pushing past their limits. Both refusing to stop because stopping meant people died.
"We're idiots," Zayne said finally.
"We're specimens," Nana corrected. "Built to push past human limits. Built to fight and save and protect no matter the cost." She smiled again, softer this time. "But maybe we can be idiots who take five-minute breaks occasionally."
Zayne pressed a kiss to her forehead. Gentle. Reverent. A promise that he'd keep trying to keep her alive even when she was determined to sacrifice herself for others.
"Five minutes," he agreed. "Then you can go back to being the hospital's guardian. But you eat something first. And you let me monitor your core levels. And if they drop below twenty percent again, you STOP fighting and let someone else take over."
"There is no one else."
"Then we MAKE someone else. Train the hunters better. Coordinate with the military more efficiently. Find a sustainable strategy instead of you single-handedly holding back an invasion."
Nana considered this. Then nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll try."
"You'll succeed," Zayne corrected firmly. "Because if you don't, I'll sedate you and keep you in a hospital bed until you promise to take care of yourself."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
They stared at each other. A battle of wills between two stubborn people who were both too used to being the one who sacrificed for others to accept being protected themselves.
Finally, Nana broke. "Fine. I'll be more careful. I'll check my core levels. I'll take breaks. Happy?"
"Ecstatic," Zayne said dryly. "Now eat." He pulled a protein bar from his pocket—standard hospital issue, meant for staff working long shifts. "Your core needs fuel to recharge properly."
Nana took it without argument. Tore into the wrapper and started eating while Zayne watched with the same intensity he'd use to monitor a critical patient's vitals.
When she'd finished, she stood—testing her legs, making sure they'd hold. The blue glow in her chest was brighter now. Not at full strength but functional. Enough to fight.
She started gathering her weapons. Checking magazines. Reloading with the mechanical efficiency of someone who had done this thousands of times.
Zayne watched her transform. Watched the exhausted woman who'd nearly died become the hunter again. The guardian. The weapon.
She picked up her dual guns. One in each hand. The familiar weight settling into her grip like they belonged there. Like she'd been born holding them instead of being engineered to wield them with perfect precision.
She looked exactly like what her parents had tried to create. A killer machine that didn't blink when pulling triggers. That could dual-wield with accuracy that made professional sharpshooters look amateur. That moved and fought and killed with efficiency that was beautiful and terrible in equal measure.
But Zayne saw more than that. Saw the way she'd smiled when he'd scolded her. Saw the way she'd kissed him despite the urgency of returning to battle. Saw the humanity that still existed beneath all the modifications and enhancements and programming.
She was a weapon. But she was also Nana. And that made all the difference.
"Be careful," he said as she headed for the door.
She looked back. Grinned. "Always am."
"That's a lie."
"I know." She blew him a kiss. "But it makes you feel better, so I say it anyway."
Then she was gone. Running back to the perimeter. Back to the endless fight. Back to being the hospital's most effective defense against creatures that wouldn't stop coming.
Zayne stood there for a moment, watching the empty doorway, his chest tight with a mixture of love and worry and fierce pride.
She was going to get herself killed. He knew that. Knew that no matter how many times he made her promise to be careful, she'd throw herself into danger the moment someone needed saving.
But she was also the strongest person he'd ever met. Not because of the enhancements. Because of the choice she kept making—to use what they'd built her to be for something better than they'd intended.
To be a weapon that chose to protect instead of destroy.
To be a machine that chose to care.
Zayne turned and headed back to his own battlefield. Back to the trauma bays and emergency surgeries and impossible cases that needed someone who could do impossible things.
They fought separately. Together. Each using their enhancements the way they'd chosen to use them.
And in the hospital's perimeter, in the trauma bays, in the desperate spaces where life and death met—
They saved people.
Not everyone. Not even most.
But some.
And that had to be enough.
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To be continued.