His chest rose, suddenly, and there a flurry of stifled
cheers and gasps from the observation room. She ignored
them and bent closer to him, pressing her hand gently to the
left side of his chest.
She could feel his human heart beating there.
His eyelids trembled once, twice, and then opened,
glassy and unfocused, looking up at the ceiling above. She
took a deep breath, and then moved into his line of vision,
her face above his. His eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, found
hers, but she saw no recognition there.
“Up,” she said, wishing that they were alone and not
standing here in a room full of interested mad scientists to
whom he was nothing more than a cutting-edge medical
experiment.
The room fell eerily quiet.
“Up,” she said again. Her voice broke a little.
He looked down at her hand, resting over his heart. His
left fingers twitched, and then slowly, excruciatingly, he
drew them up along the bed and onto his chest until they
met hers.
When he spoke, his voice was raw, and his speech
slurred, but it didn’t matter, because he said the only word
she needed to hear.
“Taz.”
ann
(Ann)
#1