Chapter 84: Rest Comes First

The medicine crate struck the stair as Bekka lost her grip, catching one handle before the ampoules could spill across the landing.

"Don’t start, I had it until that step."

He took the handle she couldn’t reach and waited while she moved her hand away, then lifted the crate between them.

"I’ll bring it up, and you can tell me which shelf to put it on."

"Don’t look at me like I’m broken."

He set the crate down beside the cupboard instead of carrying it past her, leaving space for her to reach the labels.

"You’re sorting the stock, and I’m doing the carrying."

She leaned against the wall and pointed to a shelf, keeping her gauntlets below the level of her waist.

"Second one, and don’t put the purge batch beside the stabilizer again."

He checked the labels before lifting the crate, taking out the ampoules while she called the quantities into the room behind them.

Luna sat beside a laborer in the recovery bay, keeping her hand against his back as he tried to cough.

"Lean toward me, and let the next breath come before you try speaking."

A flicker appeared beneath her palm and died before reaching his chest.

She withdrew her hand and steadied it against the mattress.

"I can’t get it to answer."

The laborer caught her sleeve before she could stand, holding it while she looked toward the supplies beside his bed.

"Then sit here until I stop sounding like the pump outside."

"I can do that."

His sister brought over a cup and helped the man drink, leaving the healer seated while she checked his breathing.

The laborer swallowed the water and sank heavily against the propped pillows.

"The doctor wants his next observation written down before anyone changes the dose."

He found the sheet at the foot of the bed and held it where she could read the last entry.

She examined the ink line recording his fever and nodded at the downward slope.

"I’ll fetch him when you’ve finished here."

"He’s checking the isolation chamber, and the runner knows where to find him if this changes."

He tucked the chart back onto the hook and left them alone in the quiet bay.

A cart carrying sterile bandages rattled past the door on its way to the main ward.

Sierra appeared at the doorway with a cloth against her nose, stopping beside the cupboard instead of crossing the room.

"Whoever’s writing the complaints list can put a skull full of static under my name."

"Can you sit without it getting worse?"

"I can complain sitting down, but nobody asks me what’s on the other side of a wall."

He brought the chair from the passage and waited until she sat, keeping its legs clear of the route between beds.

"I won’t ask."

"You say that now, but wait until somebody knocks and you want to know whether their shoes look suspicious."

She pressed the cloth beneath her nose while his sister fetched a replacement and left a cup beside her.

’Three people resting where they should’ve been able to walk, and I chose the route that put them here.’

He finished shelving the ampoules and returned the crate to the stairwell, setting it beyond the path the stretchers used.

The closed menu waited when he stopped moving, its icon beside the place where he’d watched the field overload their links.

The translucent notification pulsed softly in the corner of his vision.

’A brace that holds her arms without drawing from her, if there’s anything like that in there.’

He opened the description without selecting materials, looking for something he could propose before another trip up the stairs.

A warning color flashed across the projection before the text settled into place.

[ Bond Synthesis ]

[ Create: Locked ]

[ Reason: Partner Spent ]

He kept his hand against the cupboard as he read the system refusal.

The strict limitation offered no alternative path for material substitution.

He dragged the window sideways and tried accessing the passive support blueprints.

The interface grayed out the selection and flashed the same lock icon across the schematics.

Across the room, Bekka watched him stop following the conversation.

"Tell me you’re not looking for another way to put power through us."

"I checked whether there was something I could ask you about, a support that didn’t need your strength."

"And?"

"Creation’s locked while you’re spent, and it isn’t offering a way around that."

"Good, now close it before you decide the wording’s a puzzle."

He dismissed the menu and took his hand away from the cupboard, leaving the pouch closed against his hip.

"I won’t try to get around it."

"Start by bringing the chair closer to the shelf instead of trying to invent better arms for me."

He moved it where she pointed and set the stock sheet on her knee, keeping the crate within reach of her fingers.

"That height?"

"That height, and fetch the runner when the next batch needs moving."

Luna left the bedside once the laborer’s breathing settled, crossing to the wooden bench with her hand resting along the wall.

He stood to help, but she pointed toward the place beside him and waited until he sat before lowering herself there.

"You need rest too, and I can’t keep watching you pace while I’m trying to shut my eyes."

"There’s work left downstairs."

"There are people downstairs who can do it, and they’ll come up if they need something only you can give them."

He let her settle against his shoulder while the runner collected the delivery crate, checking each destination with Bekka before leaving the ward.

From the doorway, Sierra wrapped her cloth tightly and claimed a clean blanket before anyone could add it to the stack for washing.

"This is now under salvage protection, and I want witnesses if someone tries taking it."

"Wash your face before you put blood on it."

"Such hospitality, after everything I’ve done for this establishment."

She wiped her lip and wrapped the blanket around herself, lowering into the chair with her feet clear of the doorway.

He stayed on the bench until Luna’s exhausted breathing settled against him, watching the volunteers replace one another at the medicine cupboard.

Hours passed in rounds of medicine and water, with bowls arriving whenever the people eating before them finished their shift.

Tessa came back carrying a tray and nudged her brother’s knee, waiting for him to clear a place beside the bench.

"You’ve got ten minutes to eat this before I need the bowls again."

"You’re putting a deadline on supper now?"

"I’m putting a deadline on you watching supper while it cools."

Bekka pulled her wooden chair toward the tray, leaving the stock sheet for the volunteer taking over beside the cupboard.

She took the top bowl and passed the bread basket across the space between them.

"Give him the bowl with less in it, and he’ll finish faster."

"Give me yours and I’ll prove that theory wrong."

He broke his bread and dipped the dry crust into the hot broth.

She held hers away from him and started eating, letting the volunteer count the shelf without correcting his pace.

He took a spoonful before his sister could speak again, then pointed toward the passage leading to the isolation stairs.

"Any change downstairs?"

"Stable at the last check, and the doctor wants the next one before midnight."

He waited until Luna lifted her head from his shoulder, setting her soup bowl within easy reach before standing to check the passage.

At the chamber entrance, Richter read the monitor beside the shielding and marked a result on the board beneath it.

"Don’t open that door just to see whether he’s still there."

"I wasn’t going to, but I wanted to know if you needed anything."

"A runner who remembers where the observation sheets belong, and nobody using this patient in an argument while I’m trying to treat him."

Beyond the shielding, Elias slept quietly with his monitors holding their steady rhythm.

Doctor Richter pointed him back upstairs before he could linger at the window.

He returned to the bench and finished eating while the dockmaster protested below that he could reach his cup.

The compass shifted against his pocket as he bent to set down the bowl, and he left it where it was.

’You can wait until I’ve had one hour without asking anyone to follow me.’

At midnight, the district clock showed twelve hours as his sister collected the bowls and counted them against the tray.

A soft knock came from the clinic entrance before she could carry it away.

Leo rose when Tessa turned toward the stairs, taking the tray from her hands.

"Stay with the ward, and I’ll answer it."

He descended with his scabbard at his hip and checked the street through the window, keeping his hand beside the door bar.

The cobblestones outside showed only one set of muddy boots standing near the drain.

A courier waited beneath the lamp with a bouquet of white lilies, holding the stems where he could see both hands.

He opened the door without stepping out, watching the caller set the flowers on the threshold and ease his hands away.

The man kept his face angled toward the ground and stepped backward into the fog.

"Who’s sending flowers to a clinic at midnight?"

The courier bowed without answering and left along the street, passing the barricade before he could ask another question.

He nudged the bouquet with his boot to check for concealed mechanisms.

Behind him, the wool blanket dragged against the stairs as Sierra descended, stopping when she saw the wax card between the petals.

"That isn’t a flower shop’s seal."

He looked down at the ferryman coin pressed into the wax, then toward the street where the courier had disappeared.

The silver stamp glinted against the black wax holding the ribbon together.

"Wick picked a hell of a time to send condolences."

"Don’t assume they’re for us."