Page 16 of Cyborg's Tether
Tears pricked at her eyes. She wanted so badly to believe him, to let herself trust in his words, but years of self-reliance were not so easily overcome. “I... I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered, hating the tremor in her voice.
He squeezed her hand gently. “We don’t have to rush. We can take this at a pace comfortable for both of us.”
His words were like a balm to her frayed nerves. SHe took a deep breath, centering herself. “One step at a time,” she said, nodding. “I think I can manage that.”
A small smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Good. Shall we return to our investigation?”
She nodded, thankful for the return to familiar territory. As they dove back into their work, she wondered how a cyborg had been the one to get through her hardened walls when no human had succeeded in doing that for a very long time.
Chapter 6—Xavier
XAVIER STOOD BEFOREthe diagnostic interface, the familiar hum of the facility filling the air as data streamed across the holographic display. His cybernetic eye tracked every variable and anomaly. He should have been focused entirely on the task at hand, but his mind kept circling back to the growing tension in the lab, especially the frustration radiating from Amaya.
“Another neural instability,” she muttered, studying the readouts. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. “This just doesn’t make sense. Every solution we try leads us back to the same dead end.”
Xavier watched her, noting the way her fingers paused, hovering over the console. She had been running simulations and tests for hours, trying to isolate the problem. He could see the weight of the investigation pressing down on her, though she was trying hard not to let it show.
“We’ve made progress,” he said quietly, stepping closer to her station. “We’re narrowing the scope.”
“Maybe but narrowing it down doesn’t feel like enough right now. We need real answers, and it’s like we’re chasing shadows.”
He understood her frustration. The sabotage was sophisticated—far more than either of them had anticipated. Despite their efforts, every lead seemed to twist and vanish before they could fully grasp it.
“We need a break,” he said. “Step away for a moment.”
Amaya hesitated, glancing at him. “You’re right, but...”
He raised an eyebrow. “But?”
She sighed. “I hate walking away when we’re so close. It feels like giving up.”
His lips quirked into a faint smile. “Taking a break isn’t surrender. We’ve been at this for hours.”
Amaya stared at him for a moment, then relented. “Fine, but just for a little while.”
The hum of the facility seemed quieter as they stepped away from the lab. Xavier led Amaya to the observation deck, hoping the fresh air and wide expanse of stars would help ease some of the tension that had been building for hours. The constant pressure of their work had weighed heavily on both of them, and frustration burdened both of them as they stepped into the cooler, open space.
She leaned against the railing, her gaze drifting upward to the stars that stretched across the sky. “I forget how beautiful it is out here,” she said softly, her voice almost lost in the vastness around them.
Xavier remained silent, standing beside her as she stared at the constellations. The quiet moments like these were oddly peaceful. It was a sharp contrast to the chaos they had been sifting through for days.
“Do you ever think about it?” asked Amaya suddenly, breaking the silence. She didn’t turn to face him, still focused on the sky. “About what it was like before your cyber-conversion?”
Xavier’s cybernetic eye flickered as he processed her words and composed his thoughts. The question wasn’t unfamiliar, but it still settled in the pit of his stomach with a certain weight. He glanced at her, taking in the way her shoulders seemed to tense while waiting for his answer. “Sometimes, but not as much as you might think.”
She finally looked at him, curiosity and something softer in her gaze. “Why not?”
He exhaled, the faintest hint of a sigh in his breath. “Because much of it is...fragmented. Lost, really. The conversion process affected my memory—large gaps I can’t seem to recover. I haven’t regained much of it, and I don’t expect to.”
Her expression softened, her brow furrowing slightly. “It’s a known side effect, but it must be difficult not being able to remember who you were.”
He tilted his head slightly, considering her words. “I can recall pieces. Faces, moments, and feelings. I have a strong sense of self if not how that self developed, because nothing is concrete. It’s like trying to hold water in your hands—it slips through no matter how hard you try to keep it.”
She was quiet for a moment, searching his face. “Do you regret it? Not being able to remember?”
He turned his gaze back to the stars. He had asked himself that question before, but the answer always felt distant, like the memories themselves. “I can’t say for sure if I regret it, because I don’t fully remember what I’ve lost. But...”
He paused, struggling to articulate his next words. His gaze shifted back to her, and he said meaningfully, “I don’t think I miss it. Not anymore.”