In Death 30 - Fantasy in Death

and she more dangerous. In his mind, in his plan. She’s more of a leader, and you prefer the solo, the research. He could use you, and when he’d used you enough, or when he just couldn’t resist, he’d have set you up, too.”
    “If I’d gone in with her. If I’d just—”
    “She’d be dead without you,” Roarke said. “He meant to kill her, Benny, and if you hadn’t been there, if you hadn’t stayed with her every second when you found her, he’d have finished her. You saved her life.”
    Roarke pulled a chair over, sat beside Benny. “What will you do now, with U-Play?”
    “I don’t care about that.”
    “She will. She helped build it as you did, as Bart did.”
    “If we hadn’t, Bart would be alive. She wouldn’t be here.”
    “No. Var’s responsible,” Eve corrected. “Not a company, not a game, not technology. A man. He put her here.”
    “I know that.” His tone weary, Benny rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I know it, but . . . You could buy it,” he said to Roarke. “We have good people, and—”
    “I could, but I won’t. Bart wouldn’t want that, and neither would she.”
    “She’d hate it. But she’s hurt so bad. Even if . . . when, even when she comes out of it, she’ll have so much to go through.”
    “But not alone,” Roarke murmured.
    “No, not alone.” With his eyes on Cill’s face again, Benny stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “I keep sitting here, thinking about all the times I had a chance to tell her I love her. I’ve loved her since we were kids, but I never have the guts to tell her or show her. I was afraid I’d screw up what we had. And now—”
    “You’ll stop wasting time,” Roarke finished.
    “You don’t understand.”
    “Don’t I?” Roarke looked at Eve. “I know love, and what it does to you, for you. I know that it can bloom out of friendship, or that friendship can open out of love. Both are precious. And when you have both, there’s little that can’t be done.”
    “You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Eve told him. “And start doing what can be done.”
    Anger flashed over Benny’s face, then died. “You’re right. I’m not helping her by thinking about what I can’t do, what I don’t want. Fuck Var. We’re not going to let him win. Dammit, Cill, we can’t let him win. Fifty years? Think of all we can do in fifty years. We’ve barely started.”
    He started to bring her hand to his cheek, stopped. “Her fingers moved.” His voice trembled as he squeezed her hand tighter. “Her fingers moved.” He shoved out of his chair to touch her face. “Cill. Cill. Come on, Cilly, please .”
    “Keep talking to her,” Eve ordered when Cill’s lashes fluttered.
    “Wake up. Please, Cilly, wake up and look at me. Can’t you just look at me? I need you to wake up. I need you so much, Cill.” He touched his lips to her cheek, then gently, gently brushed them over her lips. “Wake up, Cill.”
    “Benny.” The word was raw and weak, her eyes dull and unfocused—but open. “Benny.”
    Roarke rose, nodded at Eve. “I’ll have them page the doctor.”
    “Hey, Cill.” Benny’s tears dripped onto her face. “Hey.”
    “Benny. I had a terrible dream. Can you stay with me?”
    “Right here.” He shoved down the bed guard, sat beside her. “Right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
    Eve backed out of the room, stepped aside as one of the nurses hurried in. She walked to Roarke. “We’ll give them some time. Peabody and I will come back tomorrow and get her statement.” She glanced back. “She’s in for a long, painful haul.”
    “She’ll make it. They will.”
    “Yeah, I think so.”
    Friendship to love—maybe it would work for them.
    Then there was the other choice. Love to friendship, she thought as they took the elevator down. She supposed she and Roarke had taken that route.
    It seemed to be working out just fine.