The intelligence named the moment Tessa first trusted him.
Eli knew there had been such a moment. Other people had told him about it. He had read his own account until he could repeat the sequence without opening the ledger. He knew what she had said, where they had been, which injuries had made the decision urgent. The knowledge arranged itself correctly when he called for it.
Nothing inside him answered with the experience of being there.
The intelligence pressed against that absence as accurately as a thumb finding a bruise.
You remember losing it, the voice said. You don’t remember what it was worth.
Across the station, Tessa bent over the next operator’s sheet. A strand of hair had worked loose against her cheek. She tucked it back with the side of her wrist because her fingers were dusty. Eli watched the present motion with a hunger that made it difficult to hear what she was saying.
“Eli?” Juno asked.
He turned too late.
