stops her before she can. But Dom knows exactly where to begin and how to guide her.
He begins with her legs, where the joints fuse with her skin—where the Adrium becomes a part of her body, latching onto her flesh and suffusing the connection with tendrils of life.
“Never give it too much. Never push it to be more than is necessary,” he cautions in a low voice that seems to echo through her mind. “Just the right balance.” He demonstrates a slow flow of her healing ability, encouraging it through the lines of connection, giving her legs a renewed energy. It trickles through the veins, connecting at the top and disappearing into the expanse that is now her lower body, leaving a trail of electricity that buzzes gently in her head, like the hum she’s heard so often before from Dom.
He follows the line of adrium up the rest of its connectors through her body. It weaves into small deposits along her spine, where she can feel the slight itch of what was once an incision. Then the power spirals up to her skull, where the shaved remnants of her hair surround the sealed cap. The reinforced synaptic connections to her brain are far more complex than Sai anticipated. They’re delicate, thin strands weaving through her sulci and are reinforced intrinsically with the strength of the alien metal. She can feel the sweat beading her brow as she learns from his deft examples.
Dom’s presence in her head has a subtle difference she can’t place. It’s something she’s never noticed in him before, a sort of void that winks in and out, like it’s trying not to be seen. As soon as she thinks it, though, he draws her attention away, pushing her gently to allow the power to flow through and heal, strengthen, and complete the tender links between adrium and synaptic connections. Something else tugs at her, something darker, like the determination that wells up when she’s feeling overwhelmed. Except this has a seductive pull that sends ominous chills down her spine. She backs off, unsure.
“Can I handle it?” She can feel him nod, though her eyes are closed.
“You can handle most anything, Sai.” He guides her awareness through all of it again. Encouraging her, teaching her. “Help it heal, help it fuse, but do not feed it.”
“Feed it?” She can hear the tremor in her voice.
“That darkness, that subtle beckoning you feel?”
She nods.
Dom pauses, a slight hesitance evident where his fingers press on her own. “Adrium is a parasite. It feeds off electricity—in this case, the electricity in your body. If you’re not careful, if you’re not wary, it will slowly take you over. Always remember that.”
Sai shudders as he says the words, suddenly feeling like maybe it’d be better not to have these legs. “Just how dangerous is it?” She opens her eyes as his hands fall from hers.
He shrugs. “It’s a parasite. It leeches off its host. You don’t share your whole presence, your whole being with it, so you should be okay. But it’s hungry, and it wants to survive. Sometimes your instincts might not be your own.”
Dom looks sad for a moment, but then the blank expression reappears and he steps away from the bed. “I have to go.”
But Sai doesn’t want him to, not yet, not with the parasite in her, not before they’ve sorted themselves out. “Where are you going?”
He glances at her, the colors in his eyes whirring for a few moments. “I have to go to Central. There are things I need to take care of.”
“You seem...different.” Because he does, and not just from her accident. There’s something off about him now.
Dom shrugs. “Not different, just not damaged.”
“You won’t rainbow anymore?” Sai asks, relieved at the prospect.
“Not like that.” He half-smiles and heads to the door, then pauses without looking back. “Do you think, maybe one day, you’ll forgive me?”
The tone in his voice wrenches at her, and tears well in her eyes. He’s waiting, poised at the door for an