Starship: Rogue

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cold. She was so cold.

Her whole body shook, and she couldn't stop it. The cold had seeped into her bones. And then there was a small voice asking, "Rowan? Are you okay?" and she managed to pry her eyes open long enough to see Cailee, curled against her body, her small fists pressed against Rowan's stomach.

Then, nothing. Nothing but cold and darkness.

Finally, she opened her eyes, and this time it wasn't a struggle. She wasn't cold anymore. She registered that with the smallest bit of apprehension. Someone was holding her hand, she realized, and she turned her head to that side.

Stark sat in an uncomfortable-looking chair beside her bed, his head tilted back, his eyes closed. Rowan gave his hand a squeeze, and he started away, blinking rapidly. He looked around quickly, and then his gaze landed on her. "Rowan," he said softly. "You're awake."

Rowan tried to say something back, but her throat wouldn't cooperate. It felt like she'd swallowed sandpaper. "Water?" Stark asked her, and she nodded. He reached for a cup that sat on the table next to her bed and slid a straw into it. "Here," he said, reaching behind her and helping her to sit up. Once she was upright, he brought the cup up to her lips and let her drink until her throat no longer felt like the Sahara desert.

"Now," Stark said, and his tone had changed from kind and attentive to pissed off as fuck. Oh, shit. "You can tell me what the fuck possessed you to go into an enemy's compound without backup, without informing your partner or your superiors, and without an extraction plan."

Rowan bowed her head. She deserved that. She did. It was a probie mistake, and she'd known better, but she'd done it anyway. She'd known it had two possible outcomes: death or capture. And yet she'd just gone straight ahead, without hesitation.

So, the question remained: what the hell had she been thinking?

She closed her eyes, her mind struggling to find an answer in her scattered memories. "I can't remember," she said honestly, her voice a scared whisper.

Stark groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Jesus," he muttered. "If you can't remember, then your reason must not have been very good, was it?"

And, to both of their surprise, Rowan burst into tears. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, over and over. "I'm sorry." She didn't think there was anything else she could say. She'd fucked up. Big time.

Stark reached out and gathered her in his arms, and she huddled against him, sobbing her heart out. Stark began slowly to rock her from side to side, like she was a baby again, and she succumbed to the motion, until her sobs faded. But still, her tears kept coming.

Stark gently smoothed her hair. "It's not that bad," he told her soothingly. "We managed to get you out, and no one got hurt. Even better, you got us valuable intel that we really needed. Now we know what kind of weapons they're using and we've destroyed one of their bases. It all worked out for the best."

Rowan felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. "It's not that," she said, so softly she didn't think Stark would hear, but he froze for the briefest second and she knew he had. "I... I've been pretending that I remembered everything about what happened in there, but the truth is, I don't know what I told them. I'm terrified I let something slip that they could use against us. I... didn't hold up the way you taught me to. I think... I think I broke."

Stark stiffened and pulled back an inch. "What?" he asked, dangerously low. She felt his heartbeat speed up, pressed up against him as she was. "Rowan, are you sure?"

Rowan sniffled, then felt like a complete wimp. "That's just it," she said brokenly. "I don't know. I just don't remember."

"That's typical of a concussion," Carter said from nearby, and both Rowan and Stark jumped. Neither of them had heard her approach. "Loss of memory, lack of clarity about events, what feels like time lost? And you had a fractured skull. Did you know that?"