Evelyn's fingers gripped the blindfold, trembling.

For a moment—one breathless, eternal moment—she didn't move. Just sat there on the edge of the operating table, holding the fabric that had been her constant companion for months without end.

"It's okay," I said softly. "Take your time."

She shook her head slightly. "I'm not… I'm not scared of what I'll see. I'm scared that I'll still feel it. That urge. That ringing in my head that tells me to attack you."

"You won't," Alexis said with certainty. "The pathways have been corrected. The connection between visual processing and threat response has been severed. When you look at Rey, your brain will process him normally. As a person. Not as a threat."

"But what if—"

"Evelyn," I interrupted gently. "Look at me."

She laughed, a slightly hysterical sound. "That's exactly what I'm trying to do."

"Then do it," I said. "Trust yourself. Trust Alexis. Trust that this worked."

She took a deep, shuddering breath. Then another.

And then, slowly—so slowly it felt like time had stopped—she pulled the blindfold away.

For a second, she kept her eyes closed. The fabric fell from her hands, landing on the floor with barely a whisper of sound.

Then her eyelids fluttered open.

Her eyes—gray-blue, the color of a stormy sky—blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights. She squinted, adjusting to brightness she probably hadn't experienced in years. Her gaze swept across the room, taking in the white walls, the medical equipment, the surgical instruments still laid out on Alexis's tray.

And then she looked at me.

Really looked at me.

I watched her eyes focus, watched as she truly saw me for the first time. Not sensed my presence. Not heard my voice and imagined what I looked like. But actually, physically saw me standing in front of her.

Her breath caught.

"Rey," she whispered, and her voice broke on my name.

I waited, my own breath held, searching her face for any sign of that attack response. Any hint of the protocol triggering, of her brain screaming danger, of her body preparing to lunge at me with violence she couldn't control.

But there was nothing.

No tension in her shoulders. No tightening of her jaw. No involuntary flinch or reach for a weapon.

Just tears.

They spilled down her cheeks in silent streams as she stared at me, her gray-blue eyes wide and disbelieving.

"It worked," she breathed. "It actually worked."

"How do you feel?" Alexis asked, her professional demeanor cracking slightly as emotion leaked through. "Any urges? Any compulsion to—"

"Nothing," Evelyn said, her eyes never leaving mine. "I don't feel anything except…" She pressed a hand to her chest. "Except relief. And joy. And I can actually see you."

A sob escaped her, and she covered her mouth with her hand, more tears following the first.

I moved closer, slowly, giving her time to react if the protocol was somehow delayed. But she didn't flinch. Didn't tense. Just kept crying as she looked at me.

"You're real," she said, her voice muffled by her hand. "I mean, I knew you were real, but now you're… you're actually there. I can see your face. Your eyes. The way you're standing. The expression you're making."

"What expression am I making?" I asked softly.

She laughed through her tears. "You look worried. And relieved. And like you're trying really hard not to cry yourself."

"I'm not crying," I said, even though my vision was definitely getting blurry.

"Liar," she said, but there was no heat behind it. Just warmth.

Alexis cleared her throat quietly. I'd almost forgotten she was there, so focused on Evelyn's reaction.

"The procedure was a complete success," Alexis said, and I could hear the satisfaction in her voice beneath the clinical tone. "No adverse effects. No residual protocol influence. Your brain is processing visual information normally."

Evelyn finally tore her gaze away from me to look at Alexis. "Thank you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for giving me this. For taking the risk. For—" Her voice broke again. "For everything."

Alexis's expression softened, that rare genuine smile appearing. "You're welcome. Though I should clarify that Rey took most of the risk. His surgery provided the data that made yours possible."

"Then thank you both," Evelyn said, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "I don't… I don't have words for what this means to me."

"You don't need words," Alexis said gently. Then she glanced between us, that knowing look appearing in her eyes. "I should check on Camille and Sienna. Let them know the procedure was successful. And I need to properly sterilize the equipment."

"Alexis—" I started.

"Take your time," she interrupted, already moving toward the door. "Evelyn should rest for a bit anyway before moving around too much. I'll be back in about twenty minutes to do a final check of the incision site."

She left before either of us could respond, the door clicking shut behind her with quiet finality.

The silence that followed was different from before. Charged with something I couldn't quite name.

Evelyn was still staring at me, her tears slowing but not quite stopping. Her hands had moved to grip the edge of the operating table again, like she needed something solid to hold onto.

"Can I…" she started, then stopped. "Is it okay if I just… look at you? For a minute?"

"You can look at me for as long as you want," I said.

So she did.

Her eyes traced over my face with an intensity that would have been uncomfortable if I didn't understand what it meant. She was memorizing details. Learning what I actually looked like instead of relying on imagination and inference.

"Your eyes are darker than I remember them being," she said quietly. "And you have a tiny scar on your forehead now. From your surgery."

I touched the suture line self-consciously. "Still healing."

"It suits you," she said. "Makes you look… I don't know. More real. More human." She paused. "Your hair is longer than I expected too. And you're taller. Or maybe I just imagined you shorter. It's strange—I've known you for so long, but this is the first time I'm actually seeing you in months."

"Is it different?" I asked. "From what you imagined?"

She tilted her head, considering. "Yes and no. The way you carry yourself is pretty much how I remembe. But there are little things. The way you stand with slightly more weight on your left foot. The way your eyes move when you're thinking. The exact shade of your skin." Her voice softened. "You're more than I imagined. Not different. Just… more."

I felt something tighten in my chest. "Evelyn—"

"I spent so long being angry," she said, cutting me off. "Angry at the people who did this to me. Angry at myself for being weak enough to be captured. Angry at the blindfold and what it represented. But underneath all that anger, I was terrified."

"Terrified of what?"

"That I'd never see you," she said simply. "That I'd spend the rest of my life with you, loving you, but never actually knowing what you looked like. Never being able to just… look at you and see you look back. Do you know how isolating that is? To be in a relationship with someone you literally can't look at?"

"I can imagine," I said quietly.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "You can't. Not really. You could look at me anytime you wanted. See my expressions, my reactions, everything. I had to rely on sound and touch and inference. And it was…" She took a shuddering breath. "It was lonely. Even when I was with you, there was this wall between us that I couldn't cross."

Tears were streaming down her face again, but she was smiling now. "And now that wall is gone. I can look at you. I can see when you're happy or sad or worried. I can watch you exist in the same space as me instead of just sensing it."

I moved closer, close enough that I could reach out and touch her if I wanted. "What are you thinking right now?"

She looked at me, really looked at me, and said, "I'm thinking that you're even more handsome than I remembered. And I'm thinking that I've waited years for this moment. And I'm thinking that I want to kiss you properly, while looking at you, without a blindfold between us."

My breath caught. "Evelyn—"

"Can I?" she asked, her voice small. Vulnerable in a way I'd rarely heard from her. "Can I kiss you? While seeing you?"

"You don't need to ask permission," I said, my voice rougher than I intended.

"Yes, I do," she said. "Because this is different. This is the first time I'll be able to see your face when I kiss you. See your expression. See if you close your eyes or keep them open. See all the little details I've been missing."

I closed the distance between us, standing directly in front of her. Close enough that she had to tilt her head up slightly to maintain eye contact.

"Then yes," I said. "You can kiss me."

She reached up with both hands, cupping my face the way she'd done a couple times before. But this time, her eyes stayed open, watching as her hands made contact with my skin. Watching as her thumb traced along my jawline.

"You're really here," she whispered again, like she still couldn't quite believe it.

"I'm really here," I confirmed.

She leaned forward slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. I could see the exact moment she committed to it, see the shift in her expression from wonder to intent.

And then she kissed me.

It wasn't like the kisses we'd shared before—the ones where she had to work from memory and inference, finding my lips through touch and proximity. This was different. This was her choosing exactly where and how to kiss me, guided by sight instead of sensation alone.

Her eyes stayed open for the first few seconds, watching, learning. Then they fluttered closed as she deepened the kiss, her hands sliding from my face to the back of my neck.

I kissed her back, gentle at first, then with more intensity as months of restraint and patience finally broke through. My hands found her waist, steadying her on the edge of the operating table.

When we finally pulled apart, both breathing harder, she opened her eyes immediately. Like she was afraid that if she kept them closed too long, this would all disappear.

"Hi," she said, a smile breaking across her tear-stained face.

"Hi," I replied.

She laughed, the sound bright and clear and completely free. "I can see you. I can actually see you."

"You can see me," I confirmed, smiling back at her.

And for the first time since I saved her in Europe, when Evelyn looked at me, all she saw was the man she loved.

Not a threat. Not a target. Not a source of danger her brain screamed at her to eliminate.

Just me.

Just Rey.​​

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