Time passed slowly.
The steady rhythm of hospital equipment filled the room.
Monitors beeped.
Machines hummed.
The ventilator quietly performed its work.
Everything felt peaceful.
Almost too peaceful.
A locator caption on the wall monitor displayed a single word: LATER.
Kirran remained unconscious.
Bruises covered his face.
Bandages covered several cuts.
Beside the bed sat Suzanne Killian.
Holding her son’s hand.
Waiting.
Praying.
Watching.
On the opposite side of the room, Raymond leaned against the wall.
Gear stood nearby with his arms crossed.
Neither looked particularly happy.
Suzanne finally broke the silence.
“How could this happen?” The question hung in the air.
Heavy.
Painful.
Raymond looked down.
“I don’t know.
I…” The words died before he could finish them.
Because the truth was simple.
He blamed himself.
And everyone in the room knew it.
Suzanne turned toward him.
Her expression wasn’t angry.
Not entirely.
It was worse.
It was disappointed.
“Your only job is to take care of my son.” Raymond flinched.
“And you can’t even do that.” The words hit harder than any punch.
Because part of him believed them.
The room remained quiet.
Until Suzanne turned toward Gear.
The mechanic immediately knew he was next.
“And you, Gerald.” Gear visibly winced.
Raymond almost smiled.
Almost.
“I know you were only trying to help your brother.” Suzanne’s voice softened slightly.
But only slightly.
“Even so, you can’t just bend to everything he wants.” Gear looked away.
Because she wasn’t entirely wrong.
“He could’ve gotten himself killed because you gave him the tools to put himself in harm’s way.” No response.
Because there wasn’t one.
Not really.
“Mach can’t be expected to take care of Kirran all by himself.” Suzanne glanced toward the portable pack.
The damaged Vent looked smaller than usual somehow.
More fragile.
“He’s just a Vent.” Mach lowered his eyes.
The statement wasn’t cruel.
But it still hurt.
Then— A voice interrupted the room.
Weak.
Hoarse.
But unmistakable.
“Don’t get mad at them, Mom.” Everyone froze.
Suzanne’s head snapped toward the bed.
Gear nearly stumbled forward.
Raymond’s eyes widened.
And Mach immediately brightened.
Kirran slowly opened his eyes.
Everything felt blurry.
Heavy.
Distant.
But he was awake.
Suzanne immediately stood.
Relief flooded her face.
Mach looked as though he might burst from excitement.
“Kirran!” The Vent’s icon practically vibrated.
Kirran managed a small smile.
Then winced.
That had been a mistake.
Everything hurt.
Absolutely everything.
“It hurts to smile.” “That is unfortunate.” “Thanks, Mach.” “I do what I can.” Despite everything— The joke made everyone feel better.
Even Suzanne.
Kirran looked around the room.
At Gear.
At Raymond.
At his mother.
At Mach.
Then lowered his head.
“It’s all my fault.” The words came quietly.
But everyone heard them.
Suzanne immediately shook her head.
“It’s not your fault, dear.” “It’s completely fine.” “Just don’t scare me like that.” Kirran smiled weakly.
“I’ll try not to.” Then his expression hardened.
“But I feel like I have to do something.” Suzanne’s face fell.
Immediately.
Because she already knew where this was going.
“I understand.” Suzanne sat back down.
“But I don’t want you going out again.” The room fell silent.
Kirran looked away.
Thinking.
Choosing his words carefully.
Because this mattered.
“Mom.” His voice remained calm.
Respectful.
But determined.
“You know I love you.” Suzanne nodded.
“But I have to go out again.” The words landed like a hammer.
The room became silent.
Again.
“Now that I know Zyla and Jarrick are frauds…” Kirran’s hands tightened against the blanket.
“…I won’t let it stand.” Suzanne stared at him.
Trying to understand.
Trying to see what he saw.
“Why?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“It’s not your responsibility.” Kirran looked toward the window.
Toward the city outside.
Toward something only he could see.
And quietly answered: “I think it is.”