3. Shana

3

SHANA

" H e'll be okay," Kyle says, but he's frowning very deeply.

"You're sure?" I ask, watching his eyes which dart from side-to-side as he speaks while a nervous tick dances below his left eye.

He looks around, apparently making sure we're alone. It's only Dan, Kosh, and I in the small room off of what's serving as our med bay.

"Honestly? No," he says. "He might lose the leg. I don't have…"

I wait for him to find his words. I understand the stress he is under. He's not a doctor and is doing his best.

"You have done well," Kosh says in his deep rumbling voice. He places one huge hand on Kyle's shoulder. Kyle looks up at him and seems to feel some relief with Kosh's reassurance. "This is less than an ideal circumstance. Do your best healer, that is all any of us can ask."

A shadow of a smile darts over Kyle's face as he nods.

"I don't have the meds I need," he says. "It's an infection we have to worry about."

"What about the hooch that they've been brewing? The way that stuff burns going down I can't imagine it wouldn't kill pretty much any bacteria."

Kyle rubs his chin thoughtfully for a moment before answering.

"It might work," he says. "Going to hurt like hell though."

"Pain is Tajss gift to let us know that we still live. It makes us stronger," Kosh says.

"You tell him that," Kyle says. "But I'll try it. Anything to keep the wound clear. It was really dirty when I got to him and I have no idea what bacteria are native to this planet."

"Do your best," I say.

Kyle nods then leaves, leaving Dan, Kosh, and me. The silence is incredibly uncomfortable. I've been avoiding being alone with Kosh since I missed my period. Which is awkward enough, but Dan is on the trail of what's going on making this even worse. Dan looks between Kosh and me then narrows his eyes with suspicion.

Damn it, Dan. Let it go.

Kosh takes a step closer towards me, but it's his eyes that give it all away. The longing on his face is so clear it might as well be a flashing neon sign. Dan looks between the two of us, then his brow raises as his eyes widen.

"Oh," he says. It's a soft exclamation, but he's put together the biggest part of the puzzle and there is not going to be any denying it. "Right. I should go. Duties, you know?"

He flashes a quick, warm-hearted smile, and then exits the room. And just like that, I'm not only exposed, but I'm alone with Kosh. The one thing I didn't want to do until I'd figured out what to do with my problem.

"Shana," Kosh says.

The emotions in his voice are so thick they are like the layers of a tiered cake oozing cream. What a stupid comparison that is. Why does my brain turn to mush when I'm with him? I feel like a giddy child hyped up on too much sugar.

"Kosh," I mumble.

The words come out as mush. My mouth is too dry, and my tongue is thick, refusing to do its job. I blink, trying to hold back tears. I want to take him in my arms. Hold him, tell him everything, but if I do… no. I can't. He won't accept me if I do. It will change everything. And that is what I fear most. I hadn't realized it until now, but standing in front of him and longing for his touch, it crystallizes and becomes clear.

Even if he accepts it, even if he's okay with it, he'll look at me differently. It's happened before and I have no reason to believe it won't be the same with him. I know I'm judging him and not giving him a chance but…

I can't. I just… can't.

Even imagining him looking at me like that is breaking my heart. My throat clenches and I can't catch my breath. I shake my head, tears weling in my eyes. Kosh raises his hands, reaching towards me, but I recoil involuntarily.

The hurt on his face only makes me feel worse. I can't hold back the tears. They break free, rolling down my cheeks and I sob.

"I am sorry," he says, shrugging. His wings rise and fall with his shoulders making a leathery rustling sound and his tail makes a rapid rat-a-tat-tat on the floor.

"No," I say, holding up a hand between us. "Me. It's me. I'm sorry. I need to… I have to…"

I can't get the words out, but I push past him, going for the door.

"Shana," he calls after me and I stop, one hand on the door, head bowed and tears falling to the steel floor. They pool together, glistening in the overhead lights and making pretty rainbows. Another stupid observation, a distraction, anything to avoid looking at the truth, huh? "I do not understand."

His words are a sledgehammer that shatters my heart. The pain in my chest is fast, sudden, and sharp enough that part of me wonders if I'm having a heart attack. The edges of my vision darken as the room spins. I slap my hand to the wall to hold myself upright. I both hear and feel him moving closer, his desire to help emanating like heat waves over the sand.

I lock my knees to keep from falling to the floor and then he is there. His body is close, cool, and welcoming. His touch is tentative, though, lacking the confidence and certainty he's always displayed before.

Every part of me wants to melt into him. Collapse into his strength, let him hold me until this passes. But no matter how much I want to, I can't. The unwilling truth forms a barrier that I cannot break through.

"I'm sorry," I say, slapping my hand against the panel.

The door opens and I stumble through without looking back.