The Ward immediately fell back into its old rhythm as soon as Enver returned. The weekend brought waves of hot headed cyborgs ripping one another apart, drunk and broken. Then during the weekdays the rash of industrial workers with various injuries ranging from welding burns, broken bones, or worse: the occasional sliced slab of flesh from getting too close to an exhaust fan.

No matter the amount of blood and stitches, it did nothing to deter Imogen’s glances at Enver. When she’d arrived here she’d seen that stone-faced expression as nothing more than an asshole with no emotions. Now, this was the hardened façade of a veteran who had endured unimaginable horrors and now spent his life trying to repent for the ghosts still haunting him.

Enver finished listening to the chest of a young girl with rhumitis with his stethoscope and moved on to his next patient. As he checked them over his eyes met hers.

Imogen’s face flushed, she had lost herself staring at Enver.

The corner of his lips rose in amusement. Unlike the first weeks of being there in the Ward his eyes held a new softness when they met hers.

“How bad am I, doc?” An older man asked, a factory worker who had collapsed. “Can I go back now?”

“No, you need some rest, pops.” Enver gripped the man’s shoulder. “Let me find some antibiotics, you’ve got a nasty respiratory infection. You’re lucky you didn’t pass out and fall into the slag for the ore refinement today.”

“Infection.” He sighed, rubbing his chest. A croupy cough rolled from him, making Imogen cringe. “Figures. Last time it had me down for a week, almost lost me my spot on the line.”

“You should have stayed down three times that long, then maybe it wouldn’t have come back.” He turned his attention to Imogen. “Stay with him, I’ll be back with a front-loader of antibiotics to get him back on his feet. He’ll need to rest up for a few hours before we let him go home. Where you will definitely stay until you’re better.” Enver glared at the patient then peered over his shoulder. “That old man just doesn’t know when to quit.”

“Neither do you.” She nudged his cracked ribs to remind him he wasn’t doing himself any favors by holding down drunken cyborgs and flailing patients instead of resting until his injuries healed.

“Guilty.” He slid pass and she took her position to prep the patient for the injection.

Grime and sweat covered the old man from head to toe. He smelled rank, stinging her nostrils as she approached. It took triple the effort to clean and disinfect the wrinkled skin hidden beneath it all.

He eyed her, his thoughts weighing on his face as he wheezed.

“Are you the Imogen-girl everyone’s got their feathers ruffled over?”

She halted, staring at the old man’s cataract laden eyes.

“That’s you, right?”

“Y-yea. I’ve been here in the Ward as a nurse for a while now.” Swallowing, she couldn’t shake the twisting sensation in her stomach. “I suppose my name would be getting passed around some.”

“That’s not it…” He began coughing and hacking, phlegm slapping into the tissue cupped in his hand. “There was a man coming to the factories…”

“A man?” Her heart jumped into her throat. “What man? Roland? Was it a Cynker?”

“Hell no.” He struggled to breathe, coughing and gasping until he caught his breath again. “He dressed like a higher up of some sort, fancy clothes and all that. Said he’d come to take you back home.”

Enver returned before she could ask any questions and Imogen slid in her place without a word, her mind spinning. He gave the old man the booster, a mixture of antibiotics, saline for hydration, and a cocktail of vital nutrients. Factory workers were always in poor condition and Enver did what he could to give them something more than just a quick fix.

The old man’s eyes grew heavier with each notch of the syringe.

Turning to her, Enver’s eyes fell on her hand clutching her shirt and pale complexion. “What’s the matter?”

“He said…” She shook her head, gathering focus. “Is he ok, he fell asleep so suddenly.”

“Oh,” Enver sighed, raising the syringe. “He’s been in here before but he won’t ever stay and rest. This time I added a sedative to keep the stubborn bastard resting for at least a little while.”

“R-right.” She started for the door, but cold sleek fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“What did he say to shake you up?” His face tensed, his eyes cutting through her.

“It was nothing,” She shook her head again. “I’m reading too much into it. It had to be a misunderstanding.”

He let go, the corners of his lips turning downward. “He’ll be awake in a few hours. Things are slow, why don’t you go hunting for gears or whatever you collect for your creations upstairs.”

“Good idea,” she spun and kissed him before jolting down the hall.

Imogen needed information. To get it she’d have to visit one of the downtrodden watering holes of Cyn City. Half their cases came from these places, but she hoped her skirts and the added bulk of the old duster coat she found in Enver’s room would keep her from drawing too much attention. Her face obscured by her goggles and hat, her blonde hair tucked into hiding. Walking into one of the better known bars, Cynful Sparks, she weaved through the sweaty throng of bodies to the bar.

A busty bartender gave her a curious eye-squinted once-over before shouting above the migraine inducing music, “What’re ya havin’?”

“I- I need information.” The bartender rolled her eyes.

“You an’ everybody in this place.” She leaned in so only Imogen could hear her. “But that’s gonna cost you more than a few drinks.”

“How much?” She demanded, hands clutching the money Enver had given her as back pay for work in the Ward, she gripped it tight in her jacket pocket. “I need to know who is asking around about a girl named Imogen.”

She smiled. A pretty girl under the layers of make-up and tacky ensemble. “Keep your money, hon. No one knows who he is, only that he’s been sent on a mission from some group called ‘the elders’. Sounds like some kind of fucking cult if you ask me. It’s too much trouble to deal people like that unless you’re desperate. And I’m a lot of things, but I ain’t that hungry yet.”

“Can you just tell me… Is his name Hiram?”

The bartender’s eyes widened, and she burst in laughter. “You got some spunk to you. If he’s a tall, dark haired, washed up dude dressed like it’s 2036, that’s your man in question, for sure.” She slid a shot to Imogen.

“What’s that for?”

“A small token of gratitude for trading intel.” Again, her voice lowered, leaning into Imogen’s ear. “You must be Enver’s new nurse, Imogen, right?”

With a scowl, Imogen downed the shot and left the bartender cackling. Had she just given Hiram the lead he’d been searching for? If he’d been sent with the favor of the elders her would have deep pockets to pay for any information he needed out of Cyn City’s citizens.

Tugging the duster tighter over her shoulders, she marched out of the bar and made her way towards the Ward, fighting to not break into a run. Nervousness tightening her joints.

Why would he come back into her world now of all times?

She had finally found herself, started a life that meant something more than existing, where she had begun to feel the tingling anticipation of feeling something deeply for a man who needed to be loved.

Chills rattled up her spine.

She halted, spinning on her heel.

Was she being followed?

Her eyes scrolled left, then right, and back again. The crowds grew as the end of the day approached, factory workers switching shifts, the Deluge emptying of cyborgs, and the night life starting to come alive.

Legs trembling, she forced herself to move.

Left foot. Right foot. Keep moving back to the Ward.

If anywhere was still safe, it would be at Enver’s side. Even if Hiram found her there in her new home, she wouldn’t return to the life that abandoned her. She would never become a breeder, no matter how much the elders told her it was an honorable thing to do for her people.

As she pushed through the front doors of the Ward she could breathe again. She yanked off the hat and duster, glad to be rid of their heat and weight. Peaking at the old man’s cot she found it empty. She had taken too long and missed her chance to ask him what he knew.

“He said a man named Hiram has been milking information from anyone he can get to talk about where you are.” The tension in Enver’s body couldn’t be hidden under even his usual black garb.

Tears built in her eyes. She dropped the coat and hat and rushed into Enver’s arms. He groaned, her body slamming right into his still injured ribs. Hot tears soaked into his shirt as she released choking sobs.

“What on earth happened?” His words were laced with panic as he ran his fingers through her short hair.

Her lip trembled as she shook her head.

“Did you see him again?”

“N-no.” She hugged him tighter.

“You want to talk about it?”

There was a long silence. Her muscles stiff. He was stuck, until she let go of him or made a choice.

“How about we go upstairs?” He whispered.

Her arms released as relief washed over her from his gentleness. “Y-yea, upstairs.”

Scared and angry and frustrated and sad, Imogen wrestled with all the warring emotions in her heart. She had been rejected, insulted, and had a knife pointed in her face by Hiram. The boy she had loved was nothing more than a washed up slum rat who had nothing better to do than blame her for his problems. Meanwhile, here in the deadlands she’d found something she was good at, something that made her important and a part of her community. And someone worthy of her love. Enver made her complete, herself, and always valued her worth as a human being not just a wife and birth-giver.

Picking the hat and duster off the ground, she dragged her feet towards the stairs.

Enver rubbed the back of his neck, eyebrows high with worry.

This would be yet another obstacle for them to face. Neither of them came without a heaping steaming pile of baggage, but it also brought them closer. Imogen found it easier to face the lasting bitterness of her shattered past with him at her side, and only hoped he felt the same.

“I-is that my duster?” He trailed behind her as she climbed the stairs.

“Yea.” She sniffled, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Sorry, I should have asked.”

“That’s not it.” He snorted, “I thought I lost it or one of the patients stole it years ago. Where on earth did you find it?”

At the next floor she automatically turned toward his room. “It was between the bed and wall.”

“What made you think to go there?” He took it from her hands, her eyes still fighting to hold back tears.

“Well…” A smiled broke across her face. How does he do it? I can be a complete sobbing mess and he makes me smile and laugh as if it were so easy. Hiram could never do that, not like Enver has done time and time again.

“Well?” He stopped her with a hand on her arm and turned her around, pinning her between him and his bedroom door.

“Sometimes my eyes wander…” The tears stopped falling, and she couldn’t fight the giggling building. “When, you know…”

“When?” He smiled, his lips so close to hers she could barely see them. He was teasing her, wanting to make her say it. “You’ve only been on my bed a few times and I didn’t think I was boring enough to allow wandering eyes to find a duster shoved in a crack.”

He laughed, and the sound came out free and filled the hallway with an ease that soothed her nerves. He kissed her forehead and lead her inside his room.

Wiping the tears away, sniffling in desperation, she sat on his bed, skirts bundled up in her hands.

Enver tossed the duster on top of his dresser and it slid between the wall and backside. He groaned and Imogen lost her hold on her emotions. Laughter erupting from her, the kind of cathartic manic laughter that can only come on the heels of a good cry. She laughed in celebration of everything this new life offered her and to release the final holds her old life still had on her heart.

“I didn’t think it was that funny.” He reached for it but his gave up, his long arms not enough to span the distance it had fallen. “My ribs are killing me, I’ll get it later.”

“Now I know how it got lost in the first place.” Taking in a deep breath, Imogen gave herself to speak the words she’d held in for so long. “I really did love Hiram.”

His smile fell away. “I know, I saw that before. That day you ran after him, I thought I was going to lose you and it scared the fuck out of me.”

“I’m sorry, so sorry.” Tears danced on her eyelashes again. “I thought he was one person, someone worth risking everything for, but I now, he’s something else completely. Maybe he always was.”

“It’s hard to say if people change or if they just show who they really are.” Enver’s voice was soft, sincere. He sat in the chair next to his small desk and rolled closer.

She shook her head, lips trembling. The words were trapped in her throat, all the things she’d said and done, all the secrets he already knew but she had never told him. He’d kept her safe here, cared for her, let her into his heart and never once asked her about her past. Clasping her hands together, her thumbs spun around one another. Her thoughts were muddled with the weight of her emotions.

Cybernetic hands reached out, cupping and shielding her fingers.

An unsteady sigh fell from her mouth and she steeled herself to look him in the eye.

“We fooled around, just like all the kids did on the compound. A kiss here or there, a moment stolen in the barn. It was discouraged, but no one made too much of a fuss. I guess they figured kids would always do things like that. One of the reasons we were supposed to be married by contract, to make sure the person we mated with was the best suited for carrying on the lineage instead of something as whimsical as love. I was meant to marry well. There were plenty of offers. My father was even taking meetings with four different men, one an elder himself whose wife had passed. When they found out…” Her words caught her throat. Burning tears fell splattering against cold metal. “When they found out I was pregnant...”

Enver’s fingers tightened. His eyes grew dark, he already knew what they had done, how the doctors had taken the baby from her body before she was even showing. How they had killed the life inside her with no compassion for her cries.

“Did you see him again?”

“I was told he was dead!” The built up rage poured through, no longer leaving room for her grief. Instead fury rose up and overflowed, her tears turning hot. “My own mother let them take me be a breeder. But I ran. They caught me and dragged me back, beating me over and over. But I kept running until I got to Verity. Until I got to you.”

Her teeth clenched, silencing her burst.

Cool fingers brought her blue eyes back to him. “But it’s that fighting spirit I love. You could have let that pain eat you alive. You could have given in and collapsed under all that fucked up horror. But you didn’t. You ran, and you fought, and you make amazing things, beautiful things, and you heal people. Fuck them for not seeing who you are, who you were capable of becoming.”

She leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her. Choking sobs poured from her heart. He held her as the pain oozed out of her, coating the floor and slipping away until she was purged of its inky stain.

The people who were supposed to love her had willingly thrown her out like trash, and Enver had endured the same. The military had made him do things he would never forgive himself for and then told him to shove off into the crowd. They were the disposable ones the world had cast out. It made sense they lived in the deadlands, a place where nothing grew, where the unwanted gathered to wither and die.

“Enver, I don’t want to go back.” Her fists clenched his shirt, her head shaking. “I won’t go back! Don’t let them take me back there!”

A shudder wracked through Enver’s body, “They can’t have you. Your mine.”

His arms tightened around her, she could barely breath from the pressure. Never had she felt so wanted, so protected as she did in his embrace. They had come so far together in the short time of being together and she vowed to herself that nothing would come between them.

His lips kissed the top of her head and he inhaled her scent.

Her tears slowed, her eyes puffy and heart racing, but at peace in his arms.