“That’s not—” He tried to pull away, but she held on tight.
“It is. It’s exactly what you’ve been trying to do your whole life, isn’t it? Always trying to be the one holding it all together, the one making sure nothing falls through the cracks.”
His silence was answer enough.
“But here’s the thing about cracks, Elliot. Sometimes things have to break before they can be put back together in a way that actually works.”
He huffed out a sound that could almost be called a laugh. “Is this supposed to be helping?”
“I’m not done.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips lightly over his. “Do you know what I’ve spent my whole life doing? Running. Running toward danger, toward the next thrill, the next mountain, the next impossible challenge. Never staying still long enough to face what scares me most.”
“Which is?”
“The same thing that terrifies you. Failure. Loss of control. Being stuck in place while everything crumbles around you.” She swallowed hard. “We’re not so different, you and me. You try to fix everything, I try to outrun everything. Both of us thinking if we just work hard enough, plan enough, move fast enough, we can cheat fate.”
He was watching her now, really watching her, the hollow look in his eyes receding as he raised his hands to her hips.
“But sometimes,” she continued, “the bravest thing we can do is stop. Stop fixing, stop running. Just... be in the mess. Feel the fear. Accept that you can’t control everything.”
A shudder ran through him, and for a moment, she thought he might pull away again. Instead, his arms came around her, pulling her against his chest with desperate force.
“I don’t know how to not be the one who fixes things,” he admitted, his voice muffled against her sweater. “It’s who I am. Who I’ve always been.”
“No, it’s what you do. Not who you are.” She reached up with one hand to touch his face, turning it toward her. “You are Elliot Wilde. You’re brilliant and annoying and stupidly brave and infuriatingly methodical. You’re the man who held me while I cried, who didn’t try to fix my grief but just... helped me carry it. So now let me help you.”
He lifted his head and eyes searched hers, looking for something—reassurance, maybe, or permission to break.
“You don’t have to have all the answers or a plan for everything,” she told him. “But I do need you here, facing this with me. Please don’t withdraw into yourself and leave me alone.”
The wall he’d built finally crumbled. His shoulders sagged, his head dropping forward until his forehead rested against her shoulder. He made no sound, but she felt the tremors running through him, felt the wetness on his cheeks.
She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, one hand cradling the back of his neck. She’d never been the one doing the holding before, but with Elliot, it felt right. Natural.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered, echoing the words he’d said to her at Takahe. “I’ve got you.”
They stayed like that, huddled together against the cold lab wall, as the minutes stretched into what might have been an hour. No one approached them; even the others in the lab seemed to sense that this was a private moment, a fragile thing that needed space to unfold.
Gradually, his breathing steadied. The tremors subsided. His body relaxed against hers, the tension draining away by degrees.
“Better?” she asked softly.
He nodded against her shoulder, then straightened slowly, wiping a hand across his face. “Sorry about that,” he said, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice.
“Don’t you dare apologize.” She kept one hand on his arm, not ready to break the connection between them. “You’ve earned the right to fall apart a little.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Only a little?”
“Well, we are still trapped in an Antarctic research station with a deadly pathogen and a paramilitary group, so maybe save the complete breakdown for when we’re home.”
“Home,” he echoed, the word carrying a weight of longing and doubt.
“Yes, home. Because wearegetting out of here, Elliot.” She held his gaze, willing him to believe it. “I don’t know how yet, but we will. And not because you have some brilliant plan or because I can outrun death. But because we’re in this together, and I’d bet on the two of us in any fight.”
The look he gave her then—part wonder, part hope, part lingering doubt—made her heart twist in her chest. She’d spent so long running from connections, from the very kind of vulnerability she’d just witnessed in him. But sitting here, stradling his lap, watching the tears dry on his dirty face, she found herself wondering if perhaps she’d been running in the wrong direction all along.
He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away moisture she hadn’t realized was there. “When did you get so wise?”
“I’ve always been wise. You just never listened because I usually deliver my wisdom while hanging upside down from a cliff or something equally ridiculous.”
