Mika gave a dramatic sigh, going over and flopping back onto the bed with exaggerated resignation.
"At the end of the day, I'm just a guinea pig." He said, grinning up at the ceiling. "And guinea pigs don't get to choose the experiment."
"So...let's get this over with, Fauna."
Fauna's heart swelled with affection and gratitude.
She hurried to prepare the intravenous lines, attaching familiar wires and monitors once more—needles sliding smoothly into the veins of his forearm, sensors adhering to his chest and temples.
As she worked, her mind drifted briefly to the very first time she had done this.
She had cried the entire time—tears streaming down her face, hands shaking so badly she couldn't hold the needle steady.
She had been terrified of hurting him, even a little.
Mika, barely a child then, had gently taken her trembling hand in his and guided the needle in himself, smiling the whole time.
"It's okay, Fauna. I trust you."
But over the years, that fear had faded.
