He shuffled back to the medical room, desperately needing to lie down.
"I can help, you know," Louisa said as he was about to get onto his bed. Instead he wandered over to her bunk and sat down gingerly.
"What do you mean?" he asked, surprised to find her awake. He placed his hand on her leg, but she shuffled up the bed and sat up, leaning against the headboard.
"I overheard. If your funds are running low, I can help. It feels like the least I can do for keeping me alive."
Six shook his head and reached for her hand. "Thank you, Lou. But we'll figure it out."
Lou took a deep breath and pulled her hand from his. "Will you be able to keep protecting me?"
"What the hell, Lou. Of course. And please. Stop trying to pull away from me. It's bugging the crap out of me, and to be honest, my side hurts like a bitch. So please. Go easy on me."
Immediately, she stopped tugging. "Fine. Go ahead," she said in a tone that told him that his balls were at risk if he made a misstep.
He caressed the inside of her wrist with his thumb, feeling the way her pulse raced in the vein beneath her skin. "I told the guys that this was not a job anymore. Because somewhere between learning that you know what a Dieffenbachia fortunensis is and watching you shoot a bullet into the guy who would have willingly killed me, I fell in love with you, Lou."
Her whole body snapped to attention at that, and she stood. "You can't possibly mean that, Six. I mean, you don't even-"
"Whatever argument you are about to give me, stop. You asked me whether I intend to keep protecting you. The answer is yes, for the foreseeable future and beyond that." He slid his hands around her waist and drew her close.
She placed her hands tentatively on his shoulders and shook her head gently. "You and me … we … Oh, lord."
Six laughed and pressed his forehead to her chest, relieved when her fingers wound their way into his hair. As always, she needed time to think. She might read faster than anyone he'd ever known, but her decisions took forever, and for a guy who really needed reassurance that he hadn't just puked his feelings onto her feet for nothing, waiting for her to figure out what she wanted to say was torturous.
"You really meant all of that?" she whispered into his hair before placing a kiss on the top of his head.
"Yeah, Lou," he said, pulling away to look up at her. "I love you."
She stared at him, those dark brown eyes of hers shimmering with tears. "Even though I might have Huntington's?" she asked. "It could affect everything. Life span. Having kids."
He'd considered that too. "There are no guarantees in anything. You might, you might not. And while you might have just scared the crap out of me by mentioning kids, Lou, there are lots of ways to have them that might avoid passing the disease on."
"Preimplantation genetic diagnosis and those kinds of things are one way. But it feels like a lot to take on."
Six sighed and shifted his hands to her hips. "You went straight to the biology of it. The disease, the way to have kids. There is more to life and love than just biology, Lou," he said, grateful they could have this conversation in private. "What about the chemistry of it? What do you feel?"
Louisa took a deep breath, her eyes fluttering shut on her exhalation. For the first time since he'd walked into the room, she smiled, the permanent look of worry on her face fading. Her eyes flashed open. "I think that-"
"No. Don't think." Six took her hand and placed it over his heart, pressing it flat to his skin. "Thinking is what comes easy to you. I want to know what you feel, Lou. Not how you can rationalize this, or how some biological reaction makes your heart speed up the way it does. I want to know how you feel when I look you in your eyes and tell you I love you. Does your heart feel it like mine does?"
She covered his hand with her own. "Yes, I feel it, Six. I feel it down to my toes." Her cheeks flushed with pink as she said those simple words. She leaned forward and buried her face in his hair. Six waited as her brain likely thought through every facet of the words she'd just said to him. Just being with her was enough. It was slow, and real, and the opposite of his life, which up until now had been fast, and impromptu, and sometimes shallow.
Eventually she stood straight and looked at him. "Did you know that penguins undergo what is called a catastrophic molt?"
Six laughed-he couldn't help it-and it pulled on his stitches, making him groan.