Ren's POV
Ren's hands were still shaking when he finally stepped back from the medical table. Four hours. Four hours of the most intense work he'd ever done, guided by his mind eye and fueled by pure adrenaline and way too much coffee.
The synthetic stomach had integrated better than he'd dared hope. The artificial organ was already beginning to sync with her nervous system, processing the IV fluids he'd carefully administered. But her arms... shit. He'd stared at the shoulder stumps for a long time, mind eye showing him exactly how he could attach prosthetics, but his workshop didn't have anything suitable for a civilian.
The military-grade arms he'd been developing were too dangerous. Too advanced. She could tear through steel walls with those, hack into any system in Lumengarde. What if she's some kind of criminal? The thought had nagged at him while he worked. What if I'm making a huge mistake?
So he'd focused on keeping her alive instead. Closed the wounds, stabilized her blood pressure, got her breathing steady. The arm situation could wait until she was stronger. Until he knew who she was and why someone had tried to kill her with military weapons.
She's actually going to live.
He'd moved her to the guest bedroom upstairs after the procedure. The room felt more human than his sterile workshop. Softer lighting, actual furniture instead of metal tables. She looked impossibly small in the big bed, white hair spread across the pillow like spilled moonlight. The IV drip he'd set up was working steadily, and her vital signs on his portable monitor showed she was stable.
For the past six hours, he'd been checking on her every thirty minutes. Monitoring her breathing, adjusting the IV flow, making sure the synthetic organ was processing fluids correctly. She'd been unconscious the whole time, face peaceful but way too pale from blood loss.
When was the last time I took care of another person?
The answer was never. Not in this timeline, anyway. The original Ren had been just as isolated, just as focused on his machines. Ren had comfortably inherited a life where human connections were rare and usually temporary.
But something about this felt... right. Important, maybe even. Like he was supposed to help her.
He was in the kitchen making his fourth cup of coffee, exhaustion starting to catch up with him, when he absently activated the wall-mounted news display. The familiar logo of Lumengarde News Network flickered to life, and the serious face of the late-night anchor filled the screen.
"—continuing our emergency coverage of the ongoing manhunt. The terrorist responsible for today's devastating attack on the Merina District facility remains at large and is considered extremely dangerous."
Ren paused, coffee cup halfway to his lips. He'd been so focused on the surgery he hadn't checked the news all day.
"To recap for those just joining us," the anchor continued, "earlier this evening, the individual authorities are calling that the most dangerous terrorist in Vaelthara's history just launched a coordinated assault on a classified government facility. The attack left twelve civilians dead and countless more injured, excluding the loses of the police force. The perpetrator used military-grade weaponry including erasor grenades and energy cannons before escaping the scene."
Erasor grenades. Ren's blood went cold.
The screen shifted to shaky phone footage of smoke and destruction. Emergency vehicles surrounded a building Ren didn't recognize, but he could see the telltale precision damage of erasor weapons. Perfect circular holes in walls. Areas where matter had simply been deleted.
"Security footage shows the suspect fleeing the scene completely unharmed after the attack. Law enforcement officials warn that this individual should be considered extremely dangerous and is likely still in the Lumengarde area. Citizens are advised to remain indoors at all times, lock all entrances, and report any suspicious activity immediately."
Unharmed and still out there.
The anchor continued, "Several civilians were caught in the crossfire during the attack. Emergency services report multiple casualties with severe injuries from the military-grade weapons used. If you see anyone in need of medical assistance, please contact emergency services immediately - do not attempt to provide aid yourself as the terrorist may still be targeting witnesses."
Jesus. Poor Luna.
The girl upstairs had clearly been one of the civilians caught in the attack. Wrong place, wrong time. The injuries he'd seen were consistent with being hit by those weapons while trying to escape the chaos, she most likely lost her arms after extending them to shield herself from the incoming attack.
The anchor was still talking, showing grainy security footage of a figure in dark clothing moving through smoke, but the image was too blurry to make out details.
"The terrorist successfully evaded security forces and is believed to be hiding somewhere in the city. Anyone with information should contact authorities immediately."
Ren turned off the display, mind racing. Luna had definitely been caught up in the attack. She'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, probably trying to escape when the terrorist started using those weapons. The poor girl had been just another innocent victim.
No wonder she was so badly hurt. She was running for her life.
The terrorist was still out there somewhere, probably long gone from the area by now. But Luna had paid the price for being near that building when it all went down.
At least she's safe now.
A soft sound from upstairs interrupted his thoughts. Not quite a moan, yet not quite a word either, but definitely movement.
She's waking up.
Ren set down his coffee and headed for the stairs. He felt terrible for her - surviving that kind of attack was traumatic enough without losing limbs in the process.
He climbed the rest of the way and paused outside the guest room door. "Hello?" he called softly. "Are you awake in there?"
A sharp intake of breath from inside. Then what sounded like someone trying to move and failing.
"It's okay," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "You're safe now. You're in my house. You were seriously hurt, but I saved you."
Silence. Then a sound that made his chest tighten—a soft, broken sob.
Oh.
"I'm coming in," Ren said gently. "Just to check on you... Please don't be scared."
The door opened with a quiet click, and Ren saw her struggling to sit up against the headboard. Her face was streaked with tears, and she kept trying to push herself up with arms that weren't there. Every failed attempt seemed to hit her fresh—the realization that she couldn't move her arms, couldn't do the simplest things.
Jesus. She's just a kid.
Not literally. She was probably around his age, maybe younger. But the devastation in her pale blue eyes made her seem fragile in a way that had nothing to do with her physical injuries.
"Hey," Ren said softly, approaching the bed slowly with his hands visible. "It's alright. You're safe here."
She looked up at him with confusion and fear. "Where... where am I? What day is it?" Her voice was hoarse and weak.
"You're in my house. It's..." Ren checked his watch. "Early Thursday morning. You've been unconscious for about six hours."
"Thursday?" Luna looked panicked. "What happened to Wednesday? I don't remember... there was an explosion, and pain, and..." She tried to gesture and failed again, which brought fresh tears.
"You were caught in a terrorist attack," Ren said, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. "In the government district. Someone used military weapons on a government building. You were one of the civilian casualties."
"What happened to my arms?" she whispered, like she was just fully realizing it. "Where are my arms?"
Because you don't have any. But saying that seemed unnecessarily brutal.
"They're gone," Ren said as gently as he could. "Whatever weapon hit you, it removed them completely. I'm sorry."
Luna stared at him like the words didn't make sense. Then she looked down at her shoulders, at the bandages where her arms used to be, and her breathing started getting faster.
"They're gone? They're really gone?" Her voice was rising toward panic. "How am I supposed to... I can't... oh god, I can't do anything!"
"Hey, hey," Ren said, leaning forward but not sure if he should touch her. "You're alive. That's what matters. And it's not permanent—there are options, prosthetics—"
"Prosthetics?" Luna's laugh was borderline hysterical. "Do you know how much those cost? I can't even afford proper medical care, and you're talking about prosthetics!"
Right. Normal people don't have access to advanced medical tech.
"We'll figure something out," Ren said. "But right now, you need to focus on healing. Are you in pain? Thirsty? The IV should be helping, but..."
"IV?" Luna seemed to notice the needle in her arm for the first time. "What is this? What did you do to me?"
"I gave you fluids. You lost a lot of blood. And..." This was the part that was going to sound insane. "I had to replace part of your digestive system. It was damaged."
Luna stared at him blankly. "You what?"
"Your stomach was destroyed by the weapon that hit you. I'm a biomedical engineer—I had a synthetic replacement that was compatible. I had to install it or you would have died."
The silence stretched for a long moment. When Luna spoke again, her voice was very small.
"You put a machine inside me?"
"A biological machine, yes. It functions exactly like your original stomach. You won't even notice the difference once you heal."
"I don't understand." Luna was shaking now, overwhelmed. "That kind of technology... it doesn't exist. Not even for rich people. Who are you?"
Good question. How much should he tell her?
"I'm Ren. I'm a self-driven engineer. I have a private workshop and I was just working recently on medical applications for synthetic organs. You were extremely lucky, you needed one, I had one available."
"Just like that?" Luna's eyes were wide with disbelief and fear. "You just... experimented on me?"
"I saved your life," Ren said, a little defensive. "You were dying. I had to try."
Luna was quiet for a moment, processing. "I'm thirsty," she said finally, deciding to drop it there as there was no point in continuing in arguing with her savior.
"Here." Ren reached for the water glass on the nightstand.
But when he held it toward her, Luna just stared at it helplessly. She couldn't lift her arms to take it. Couldn't even lean forward properly.
"I..." she started, then stopped. Fresh tears began running down her cheeks. "I can't even drink water by myself."
The despair in her voice hit Ren like a physical blow. "Sorry. Let me help."
He moved closer and held the glass to her lips. She drank gratefully, but some water spilled down her chin because she couldn't control the angle. Without thinking, Ren reached for a tissue to dab it away.
Luna flinched back from his touch. "Don't."
"Sorry," Ren said quickly, pulling his hand back. "I just... you had water on your chin."
They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. The reality of the situation was sinking in for both of them—she was going to need help with everything. Eating, drinking, basic hygiene. And they were complete strangers.
"What's your name?" Ren asked, trying to break the tension.
Luna hesitated. "Luna."
It felt like she was holding something back, but he didn't push.
"Okay, Luna. Like I said, I'm Ren. And I promise, you're safe here. No one's going to hurt you."
"How do I know that?" Luna asked, and there was something sharp in her voice despite her obvious vulnerability. "You could be anyone. This could be... I don't know what this could be."
Fair point. From her perspective, she'd woken up in a stranger's house missing her arms and with mystery technology inside her.
"You're right to be cautious," Ren said. "But think about it logically. If I meant you harm, why would I have spent hours saving your life? Why give you expensive medical treatment?"
Luna considered this. "Maybe you want something from me? Maybe... that?"
"That? Oh please, like what? You said yourself you can't afford medical care. What could you possibly give me that would be worth the time and resources I've already spent?"
She didn't have an answer for that, which seemed to calm her slightly.
"I don't understand why you'd help me," she said. "People don't just... help strangers. Not anymore."
That's depressing, Ren thought. What kind of life has she lived where kindness seems impossible? Although it seemed the past Ren also went through something similar...
"Some people do," he said. "Maybe not often, but some do."
Luna studied his face like she was trying to read his intentions. Whatever she saw there must have been reassuring, because some of the tension left her shoulders.
"I'm really tired," she said. "And everything hurts. My shoulders, my chest, even my head."
"That's normal after trauma and so much blood loss. Your body is working hard to heal. Do you want some pain medication?"
"You have pain medication?"
"Basic stuff. Nothing prescription, but it might help."
Luna nodded. "Please."
Ren got up to get the medication from his medical kit, but paused at the door. "Will you be okay for a minute? I need to get the pills and some food for you. You haven't eaten in almost a day."
"I'll be fine," Luna said, but she looked small and lost in the big bed.
When Ren returned with pain medication and a bowl of broth he'd heated up, Luna was staring at the ceiling with tears running down her face.
"Hey," he said softly. "What's wrong?"
"I was trying to wipe my face," she whispered. "I forgot I can't move my arms, yet... I still feel them as if they were there, and I tried to wipe my face, and..."
She couldn't finish the sentence, but she didn't need to. The simple reality of her situation kept hitting her in waves.
"Here," Ren said, setting down the food and gently dabbing her cheeks with a tissue. She tensed but didn't pull away this time.
"This is humiliating," Luna said.
"It's temporary," Ren said. "You're going to adapt. Humans are incredibly resilient."
"Easy for you to say."
Fair point.
"You're right," Ren said. "I can't imagine what you're going through. But I can try to help make it easier while you heal."
He helped her take the pain medication, then carefully fed her spoonfuls of broth. It was awkward for both of them—intimate in a way that felt strange between strangers. But Luna was clearly starving, and the warm food seemed to make her feel more human.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked when the bowl was half empty.
"Because you needed help."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
Luna was quiet for a moment. "I don't know how to repay you for this."
"You don't need to repay me."
"Everyone wants something."
There it is again, Ren thought. That assumption that kindness always comes with a price.
"Can't I just help because I want to?" he said with a sigh. "Sometimes people just help because it's the right thing to do."
Luna looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language. "You really believe that?"
"Yeah, I do."
"You must have lived a very different life than mine."
Probably true. But Ren was curious what kind of life would make someone so suspicious of help.
"Where are you from?" he asked.
"The lower districts," Luna said after a pause. "Sector 7. You wouldn't know it."
Ren did know it, actually. Sector 7 was one of the poorest areas in Lumengarde, where government services were minimal and crime was high. It explained a lot about her wariness.
"How did you end up in the government district?" he asked. "That's pretty far from Sector 7."
Luna's expression shuttered. "I was... looking for work. Cleaning jobs, that kind of thing. I heard there might be opportunities in the government buildings."
It sounded like a lie, but Ren didn't push. She'd been through enough trauma for one night.
"Well," he said, "you don't need to worry about work right now. You need to focus on healing."
"I can't stay here," Luna said. "I can't impose on you like this."
"Where else would you go? You need medical supervision for at least a week, probably longer. The synthetic organ needs to fully integrate, and we need to monitor for complications and thats not even talking about giving you later some prosthetics."
"I can't afford—"
"I'm not asking you to pay for anything."
Luna stared at him. "Why?"
Because you were dying and I could save you. Because you seem genuinely grateful instead of entitled. Because something about you makes me want to help.
"Because it's the right thing to do, silly" Ren said simply as he gently flicked her forehead.
Luna's eyes filled with tears again, but they seemed different this time. Much less desperate, and more overwhelmed by the unexpected kindness.
"I don't understand you," she said softly.
"That's okay. You don't have to understand me. You just have to let me help you."
She nodded slowly. "Okay. But just until I'm stronger. Then I'll figure something out."
"We'll figure something out," Ren corrected. "Together."
Luna finished the rest of the broth, and Ren could see exhaustion winning over anxiety. Her eyelids were getting heavy.
"Could you..." she started, then stopped, looking embarrassed.
"What?"
"Could you stay? Just until I fall asleep? I don't want to be alone right now. Everything feels too quiet and I keep thinking about..."
She didn't finish, but Ren could guess. The attack. The explosion. Waking up without arms.
"Of course," he said.
Luna settled back against the pillows, and Ren helped adjust the blankets around her. She was already drifting off when she spoke again.
"Ren?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For saving me. I know you didn't have to."
"You don't need to thank me."
"Yes, I do. I've never..." She yawned. "I've never had someone take care of me like this."
She was asleep before he could respond. Ren sat in the chair beside the bed, watching her breathe steadily. Her face was peaceful now, free of the pain and fear that had dominated while she was awake.
What have I gotten myself into?
He still had no idea exactly how she'd ended up in that alley, but the terrorist attack explained her injuries. She'd been in the wrong place when that monster started shooting, and she'd paid a terrible price for it.
But looking at her now—vulnerable, trusting him enough to ask him to stay—he was just grateful he'd been able to save her life.
She called me by my first name, he realized. Not sir or Mr. Aperion. Just Ren.
When was the last time someone had done that? Marcus, maybe, but even Marcus was conscious of the family name and what it represented.
Luna had no idea who his family was. To her, he was just some guy with medical equipment and engineering skills who'd happened to find her dying in an alley. Someone who'd helped her because he could, not because of politics or connections or what she might do for him.
I like that.
Ren settled deeper into the chair. She'd asked him to stay until she fell asleep, but he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Over the next few weeks, she was going to need help with everything. And despite the complications that might bring, despite the questions he couldn't answer, Ren found himself looking forward to it.
Whatever her story is, whatever brought her to that alley, she's my responsibility now.
And for the first time in either timeline, that felt like something worth doing.