When Nico approached the door to his clinic, a chill crept up his spine and he realized this wasn't going to be an ordinary day. A smear of blood, dark and glistening, marred the keypad, staining the exact numbers he used to unlock the entrance. His code. A code he'd never shared with anyone in the village.

He glanced over his shoulder. The dusty streets were deserted, a familiar scene that suddenly felt alien, menacing. The small, prefabricated buildings, their metal siding dull and lifeless in the early light of dawn, cast long, angular shadows that stretched out like grasping fingers. The miners' village always felt still at this hour, but today the quiet felt heavier, unnerving.

The miners were already deep within the bowels of the earth in their daily search for gravitas, the highly sought ore so essential to space travel and colonization. Their lives were a symphony of clanging metal and grinding gears, echoing miles beneath his feet. But up on the surface, only the dusty wind disturbed the silence, whistling through the cracks like a haunting wail. Whoever broke into his clinic didn't even bother to cover their tracks.

He slung his bag off his shoulder, his hand closing around the familiar case of his scalpel. He gripped it tightly, feeling the cold steel press against his palm. Whoever they were, they weren't cautious. Maybe desperate. Maybe worse. Taking a deep breath, he punched in his code, his fingers pressing against the red-stained keys. Tension coiled in his chest as the door hissed open. Nico stepped inside.

The familiar aroma of antiseptic filled his lungs as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The small, utilitarian reception area was empty, but the stains of blood on the cabinet stood out against the otherwise sterile setting. Bandages and disinfectants were scattered across the floor like fallen leaves. Nico's eyes flicked to the examination room door, slightly ajar. A sliver of light spilled out into the shadowy reception. His pulse quickened. Nothing but unsettling silence came from inside.

He tightened his grip on the scalpel, his steps soft yet sharp on the tiled floor as he approached, his senses on high alert.

The lights were partially on in the room where Nico spent most of his days, but it, too, was eerily still. They cast harsh shadows over the empty examination table, the neatly arranged instruments, the charts on the wall. But in the center of the room a sturdy metal box stood, about a foot and a half high, smeared with handprints and streaks of blood -a story of urgency, struggle. A knot of dread tightened in his gut. What the hell happened here?

His gaze darted around the room, searching for clues: the tables, the cabinets, the medical equipment, and then... his desk. His heart skipped a beat. Tossed over his terminal, a splash of teal against the sterile white, was a bomber jacket he knew all too well.

Memories hit him like a wave, emotions he'd spent years trying to bury crashing back into him.

"Okay, I surrender!" A playful, familiar voice broke the silence. "Just don't go digging around in my guts with this thing."

Nico froze. That voice.

It shouldn't be her.

His hand trembled, fingers curling tighter around the scalpel as he slowly turned, heart hammering in his chest.

There she stood, hands on her hips, that infuriating smirk twisting her lips.

Kira.

Her bobbed brown hair was wild, her face streaked with dust, and her white tank top stained with dried blood. Her cargo pants were torn and dirty, and a blood-soaked bandage hung loosely around her forearm, haphazardly tied. She looked... stunning. Just like she always had.

For a moment, his mind struggled to process it. After years of trying to forget her, she was standing right in front of him, like a ghost stepping out of his memories-tangible, real, and as maddeningly carefree as ever.

"You didn't use to be such an early bird, Nico," she quipped, a spark of mischief dancing in her hazel eyes. "Should've brought coffee."

"Kira..." was all he could manage, his throat constricted by a mix of emotions he couldn't quite untangle.

"You can lower your weapon, Doc," she said, nodding towards the scalpel still clutched in his hand. "I'm unarmed," she added, lifting her hands in a mock surrender.

Nico felt a wave of heat on his cheeks. He tossed the scalpel onto his desk. Kira Vance. Here. In his clinic. After all this time... Part of him wanted to close the distance between them, shake her for answers. The other part wanted to shut her out, turn away, protect himself from the ache her presence reignited.

"What... what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, searching her face.

"Can't I drop in on an old... friend?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Drop in an old friend? Nico swallowed his irritation. The nerve on her! She thinks she can just break into his clinic and act like she's just dropping by for a cup of synth-caf? "Well, my friend, this doesn't exactly look like a social call." He nodded sharply toward her poorly wrapped bandage.

Kira glanced down at it, flashing an embarrassed grin. "Yeah... there is that."

"I get why you entered the clinic, Kira. I meant what the hell are you doing here on Gravis?" His voice carried more weight now, his gaze unwavering.

"Work." She shrugged. "You know-pick something up here, drop it off somewhere else. The life of a spacefaring entrepreneur. "

"Uh-huh." Nico crossed his arms. "And where did you get that wound?"

"This?" She gestured to the injury with a careless wave. "Scratched it on a tree branch."

Nico's eyes narrowed. "There aren't any trees on Gravis IV... unless you're here to deliver landscaping."

"Actually-" she started.

"Alright, that's enough," Nico cut her off, his tone sharpening as his doctor's instinct kicked in. "Sit down. Let me take a look at this."

She sat down beside him, her posture casual but tense. The scent of her hit him immediately-a familiar mix of engine grease with a hint of citrus and something uniquely her-stirring something deep inside him. He pushed it away and slipped on a pair of sterile gloves, forcing himself into doctor mode. He began carefully peeling away the blood-soaked bandage. Beneath it, a self-sealing dermal patch clung to her skin, meant to accelerate tissue regeneration, but clearly applied in haste.

"Did you close the wound before putting this on?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"In my right arm? Yeah... I stitched it with my feet," she replied, rolling her eyes.

Nico's lips twitched, suppressing a grin. "If you don't close it properly, it won't heal right. At least tell me you cleaned it."

"Of course I cleaned it," Kira snapped, her tone a mix of impatience and mild offense. "I'm not warp-lagged!"

Nico took a deep breath and inspected the patch. "I'll need to take this off to clean and close the wound. It's going to hurt."

"I can handle a little- Ow!" Kira flinched as he carefully peeled the patch off, exposing the raw flesh beneath.

The cut was jagged, deep enough to have caused trouble, and blood was still oozing slowly from the edges. Tiny red droplets beaded along the wound, and the skin around it was raw, angry. Nico clicked on a sterilization wand and hovered it over the wound, the light humming softly as it cleaned the area with a faint antiseptic scent. He followed up with a micro-suturing tool, sealing the torn skin with laser precision, the edges of the cut knitting together instantly under the soft blue light.

Kira watched him work, her jaw clenched, eyes fixed on his hands. For all her toughness, she let him tend to her without protest.

"This will heal up nicely now," he said, applying a fresh dermal mesh patch over the wound.

"Thanks, Nico," she said, her voice softer, a hint of gratitude replacing the usual gruffness. She gave him a small, genuine smile. "Sorry for the mess. I was going to clean everything up when-"

"What's in the box, Kira?" Nico asked, his tone sharp, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face.

Her eyes widened, just for a moment, before she regained her composure. "Stuff..." she said casually, standing and walking toward the box. "You know, clothes, laundry, spare parts... that kind of thing. I'll get it out of your way."

She bent to lift the box, but there was a flicker of effort as she hoisted it. Nico knew Kira was stronger than she looked, and seeing her strain raised more questions.

"You can put your laundry over there," he said, nodding toward the door to his private office. His voice was tight-he didn't offer to help, his frustration simmering. He was already tired of her evasiveness. "How long are you staying?"

"A couple of days," she said over her shoulder, carrying the box into his office. "Maybe less."

"Do you have a place to stay?" he asked, watching her with a sharp, unwavering stare.

She turned, brushing dust off her hands. "No need to take me in your place. I can bunk on the Skydancer. I'm used to it, and-"

"I was going to offer you the clinic," Nico interrupted, still eyeing her warily. "The sofa in my office. It might save you some trips to the spaceport."

Kira hesitated, her confident exterior faltering for a second. "I don't know..." She looked at him, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "I don't want to be a-"

The doorbell chimed. The soft hum of conversation filtered through the walls-patients were arriving.

"Right..." Kira said, biting her lip. "You go do your doctor thing, and I'll be in my suite." She jerked a thumb toward his office. "I'll be out of sight, like I'm not even here."

"That'd be a first," Nico muttered, giving her a pointed look.

Kira shot him an exaggerated scowl before slipping into his office, closing the door behind her.

Nico let out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair. Had that conversation actually happened? It seemed almost surreal, and yet... it felt like no time had passed at all.

The doorbell chimed again. He grabbed a cloth and a bottle of disinfectant, quickly wiping the blood from the reception cabinet, erasing the traces of Kira's arrival. After restoring the scattered supplies to their proper places, he checked the room, making sure nothing was out of place.

Steadying himself, he walked over and opened the door to the clinic. He had patients to see. Lives to mend. His own wounds could wait.

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for reading this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it.

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