Throughout the session, I noticed Aeon watching me—not just with clinical interest but with something hungrier and more personal. When I demonstrated breathing techniques, his gaze fixed on my lips. When I laughed at my own fumbled explanation, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a warmth that seemed meant only for me.
The others seemed to notice, too. I caught sideways glances between several technicians when Aeon volunteered for every demonstration, positioning himself consistently at my side.
By the end of the three-hour session, I was impressed by how quickly they absorbed information. Their retention was extraordinary, as if they were recording every word. Yet their questions revealed their humanity—concerns about pain management, emotional support techniques, and what to say to frightened mothers-to-be.
“You did remarkably well,” I told them as we concluded. “Tomorrow we’ll continue with?—”
“You’re exceptional,” Aeon interrupted, his voice lifting above the others.
The naked admiration in his eyes made me flush. It wasn’t just professional respect. It was open adoration, displayed without reservation before his entire team.
“Thank you,” I managed, gathering my materials. “That’s enough for today.”
I watched the last technician file out, leaving me alone with Aeon in the suddenly too-quiet medical bay. The silence between us felt thick enough to cut with a scalpel as I busied myself reorganizing my materials that were already perfectly organized. Aeon stood between me and the door, his large frame somehow making the spacious room feel intimate and confined.
“Your teaching methods are... unconventional,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “But exceptional, like I said.”
I laughed, the sound a bit too high-pitched for my liking. “Well, I’ve never taught a room full of people who could recite medical knowledge verbatim before.”
“We learn quickly.” He took a step closer, and I felt the heat from his body. “Some things, anyway.”
My heart thumped harder against my ribs. Was he talking about us? About that night when his hands had explored my body with the same focused intensity he applied to everything? I wasn’t ready to have this conversation—not when I couldn’t even sort through my own tangled emotions.
“Aeon, I?—”
The door slid open suddenly. Rebecca, one of the pregnant cyborg women, stumbled in, grabbing at her swollen belly. Clear liquid streamed down her legs, creating a puddle on the floor.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” she gasped.
All the awkwardness between Aeon and me evaporated instantly as we sprang into action.
“Your water broke,” I told her as I turned to Aeon. “We need to get her on the delivery table and prep the equipment,” I ordered, already grabbing a sterile gown. “How far apart are the pains you’re feeling?”
“Three minutes, twenty-two seconds,” Rebecca replied through gritted teeth.
I guided her to the table while Aeon prepared the monitoring equipment. Without exchanging a word, he handed me the fetal heart monitor just as I reached for it. When I needed gauze, his hand was already extending it toward me. When Rebecca’s contractions intensified, he adjusted the angle of her bed before I could even ask.
It was like dancing with a partner who anticipated my every move—exhilarating and oddly intimate. We moved around each other with a synchronicity that felt almost supernatural, as if he could read my thoughts before they fully formed.
“Push now, Rebecca,” I encouraged her as we approached the final stage. “The baby’s crowning.”
Aeon wiped Rebecca’s forehead with a cool cloth while maintaining steady pressure on her lower back—exactly where I would have placed my own hand if mine weren’t occupied.
“One more big push,” I instructed, and moments later, I lifted a squalling, perfect baby boy into the world.
As I placed the newborn on Rebecca’s chest, I noticed Aeon watching me with an expression so tender and intimate it made my throat tighten. Pride gleamed in his eyes—not just for the successful delivery but for me.
Several of the cyborg medical staff not currently assisting us had gathered at the doorway. I noticed their expressions had shifted from their usual neutral assessment to something resembling respect, even admiration.
Two exhausting hours later, after ensuring mother and baby were stable, fatigue hit me like a physical wall. My legs wobbled slightly as I stripped off my gloves.
“You need rest,” Aeon said, his deep voice soft with concern.
“I’m fine,” I lied, stifling a yawn.
“You could come to my quarters if you’d like.” He hesitated, an endearing uncertainty crossing his usually confident features. “You can sleep there. I’ll take the floor if you want.”
I should have declined. I should have maintained those professional boundaries I’d promised myself to keep. But the thought of his strong arms around me, of feeling safe and warm in his embrace, was too tempting to resist in my exhausted state.
