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Of course, they hadn’t. No wonder Fal’ran was out here like this. Patrick took a deep breath and crossed his arms as he watched Fal’ran round the corner toward them.
“Help him.” Tar’s massive hand closing over Patrick’s shoulder made him jump.
“I will.” But he doubted the three men hovering around him would like his solution.
Fal’ran was only twenty paces away by the time he picked up his head and saw them waiting for him. Sweat poured from his temples and off the tip of his nose. It shone along his neck and his collarbones, which expanded and heaved with his breaths. His footsteps faltered and his pumping legs slowed. The shake in his knees almost changed Patrick’s mind.
But then those burnt-orange eyes locked with his and Patrick saw the furious, flaming wreckage in them.
He jerked his head along the track and firmed his voice. “Keep going.”
“What?” Bar’in hissed behind him, and Tar growled low in his chest. Even Sazahk made a sound.
But Fal’ran’s spine straightened. His handsome face screwed into a determined snarl, and he powered past them, his long legs eating up the track before him.
“What the hell, Patrick?” Bar’in grabbed Patrick’s arm. “We brought you here to help him, not torture him.”
“I am helping him.” Patrick patiently pried Bar’in’s fingers off. “Trust me.”
Bar’in’s face twisted, but before he said anything, Tar gently pulled him back. The massive man searched Patrick’s face and Patrick bore the scrutiny until Tar nodded.
“You’ve never demonstrated any untrustworthiness, so I admit I have no reason not to trust you.” Sazahk dropped his tablet down to his side. “The first week you arrived on Carta, I thought you’d try to kidnap Sebastian and that he would kill you.”
“What?” Indignation pulled Patrick’s attention away from Fal’ran. For one, he’d made it very clear he would abduct no one. For two, who said he’d lose a fight with Sebastian? He’d fought torvars before.
“But you didn’t.” Sazahk shrugged, as though he hadn’t insulted Patrick in multiple ways. “You’ve been nothing but as good as your word.”
“Thanks?” Patrick didn’t understand Sazahk on the best of days and this wasn’t the best of days. “Look, I appreciate you all coming to get me. You did the right thing.” He looked into each of their faces. “I’m going to take care of him.”
“Fine. Alright.” Bar’in let Tar pull him back a step and Patrick knew he’d convinced them.
With a few last glances at Fal’ran’s back, the three of them filed up the stairs. Patrick heard the doors of the transport swoosh closed. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. Time to be as good as his word.
He turned back to his soldier and planted his feet in a wide stance.
He knew this sort of pain.
He walked along the outside of the track toward the nose of the ship, where the outcropping of the balcony gave them more privacy. When he heard Fal’ran charging up behind him, he lifted his hand and motioned him forward without looking back. “Again!”
An animalistic growl snarled out of Fal’ran’s chest as he passed faster than the last time.
Patrick knew this sort of anger. The helpless self-loathing that built in his chest until he wanted to scream, until he wanted to destroy someone. And the only person he could destroy was himself.
“Again!”
Fal’ran stumbled this time, but didn’t stop and Patrick didn’t make him.
Sometimes, hurting was the only escape. But he’d worked too hard and wanted too much to throw it all away with self-destruction. So, he’d worked the anger and hatred out of himself. Now, he’d work it out of Fal’ran.
“Again!”
Fal’ran didn’t stumble this time, and he didn’t drift, but Patrick eyed him as he rounded the bend in the oval track. He’d worked himself until all he could feel was the pain, until he couldn’t breathe, but more importantly, until he couldn’t be angry, or scared, or ashamed.
He reached the nose of the ship, surrounded on three sides by the thick glass holding back the vastness of space, and pulled out a mask and oxygen canister from a supply closet. He stepped onto the rubber track as Fal’ran took the bend at the far end of the course.
Patrick’s heart thudded in his throat as he watched Fal’ran run. His drive, his effort, his physicality, the obstacles he’d overcome, the ones he still had ahead of him. Goddammit, Patrick wanted Fal’ran to have everything. He wanted him to succeed, to hold his head high, for people to give him the respect he would deserve.
Patrick swallowed. Fal’ran was too much for Patrick. He had so much more ahead of him than he could bring a failed human Klah’Eel along for. And Patrick would throw himself into Base Ship Givast’s jet engines before he let himself hold Fal’ran back.
