Chapter 20: The Quietest Thing

Vesper's POV

I had a hand on his chest in the red water, and my knees on the bridge deck beside his chair.

I felt both.

The water was warm around my shins, and the chair arm was hard against my ribs.

Caspian was somewhere in the middle of it, slipping.

"Wrist," he said. He was trying to smile. "Wrist only, Hargreave."

"Not anymore."

"It's the rule."

"You broke it first."

The water climbed to his ribs.

I understood then that my hand on his arm and my palm on his chest were not enough.

The quiet I carried was real, and it was holding him.

But it only touched him in one small place.

He needed all of it.

He needed every inch I had.

I opened my eyes on the bridge.

The crew stood in a ring around the chair, not one of them speaking.

Caspian lay back in it with his head hanging.

The seam on his arm blazed so white that I could not look straight at it.

The engineer was kneeling at his other side with a hand on his throat.

"His pulse is doubling," she said. "Vesper, he's seizing."

"Quiet Room," I said.

The pilot looked at me.

"Now," I said. "Both of you. Carry him."

The Quiet Room was the soundproof steel box where I had first laid my wrist against his.

The chief and the pilot got him through the door and onto the cot.

The engineer stood in the hatch.

"How long do you need?" she asked.

"Until it's over."

"Ma'am."

"And nobody comes in."

She nodded once, and she shut the door, and I turned the lock.

The room was dim and bare and silent.

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