Progress came slow, but it came. Dahlia let go of Quinn and leaned back to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with her. She was intelligible now, which was good, but it didn’t make what she was saying any easier to understand—not a particularly uncommon thing either. Looked under her eyepatch? What could there possibly be to see or feel that wasn’t just…emptiness? 

She saw the strands of hair in Quinn’s hands and a worried sound escaped her. She rubbed Quinn’s head gently, relieved that there wasn’t any blood to feel. For Quinn, there hadn’t been any [i]pain[/i] to feel, either. Her silent passenger must have reached up to numb the roots. There was nothing else though, no other sensations or alien thoughts. [color=black]She[/color] was often quiet whenever Dahlia was near. Listening, content, basking. 

“[color=skyblue]Tell you what?[/color]” 

The hand massaging her head snaked down to her cheek to thumb the tears away. In the dark, Dahlia’s synthetic eyes glowed with pale blue concern. 

“[color=skyblue]What didn’t they tell you, Quinn?[/color]”