Althea turned away, wracked with grief, huddled on the ground, shaking. She didn’t want to look at Kyso, didn’t want to see what she had done – done to the one that she had chosen.

She'd told him the Consortia was no more, that his worlds were gone. He had given up, stood out in the open to take the blast.

She felt her head throb anew, gingerly pressed the wound she had suffered in the shaft. It was bleeding again, blood trickling down her forehead. She had to stop the flow, found a sealant in the pile on the ground, sprayed her head, winced as it stung.

Blood – her blood… could save life – and not just her own.

Althea stared at the red stain on her fingers. Despite the depletion in NANs, she still likely had the fraction needed to protect her from the radiation poisoning – filtering, repairing cells damaged by the disruptions – for as long as she needed.

The blast he must have been hit by… The amount he would need would be overwhelming. How many NANs, how much blood would he need? A seven, two? To keep him alive for a few days, potentially enough time to destroy the Macro, find a working portal, make it back home. Could it even be possible?!

No.

The resulting blood loss could kill her, her medical knowledge insisted. Even if she did survive, the act would eliminate the protection she had from the ambient radiation.

Althea cradled her face in her hands, damning herself.

She felt a touch on her leg, near her foot, then another. Wiping her eyes clear, she looked back – to notice Kyso’s head had turned, burned eyes staring blindly at her, bloody mouth moving. He was mouthing her name.

Despite her aversion to the horrific sight of him, the smell of him, she leaned close enough to hear his whispers.

“My dear girl… you didn’t do this,” he struggled to tell her. “You’re only my audience.”

She gingerly touched his hand, afraid of causing him more pain. His fingers were cold, crusty with burned flesh and dried blood. He had no grip, but his fingers trembled at her touch.

“It was me,” he confessed, voice ragged as the breath drifted, his life drifted, out. She shook her head, not wanting it to be true. No, she wanted to tell him. Kyso coughed, blood spattering red over his lips.

“There’s just not enough… not enough left for me,” he insisted. She didn’t understand, shook her head.

Another coughing fit wracked him so violently that she was spattered with blood as she tried to hold him down, calm his convulsion. The convulsions were going to get worse, unless – until he fell into a coma. He should have by now, but stubbornly clung to consciousness for some reason. His hand grasped hers, clinging tightly.

“I can’t–” His voice suddenly much stronger, almost healthy, but still filled with agony. “This is bad, isn’t it?” He relaxed his grip, hand falling back down to the snow.

Althea stared at him in shock.

“I mustn’t have much time,” he mused.

“No you don’t!” she replied angrily. Her eyes blurred again with tears.

“I can’t do anything for you,” she told him bitterly. “The radiation, the burns, they are going to kill you… Why? Why did you do it? You would have survived. You could have gone on. You could have come with me.”

She watched him as he slowly turned his head back and forth.

“To what,” he whispered. “Worlds like this – pathetic shadows of what was? I was a Consortian, girl! I’m aware my own desires. There’s no hope I’ll see it again, you confirmed it.”

“There are still worlds left,” she protested, tears flowing again, “better than this!”

He smiled at that – Smiled?!

“That’s a nice lie,” he told her. “Your performance was skillful, but none to subtle. Your deflections, fictions, charm – decent, but not what I would call professional.”

He finished in a coughing fit, fresh blood spattering his face, chest. Althea stared at him, unable to reply. He’d seen through her… all along?