“No!” He shoved his chair back and rose, letting the peas fall with a smushy sound to the floor. “I have disgraced myself since this mission began, but there are still things I will not do!”

She had been ready for some protest, but this vehement denial of her offer shook her. She looked down at her hands and made them lie flat on the tabletop. “Is it me?” she asked finally.

“You?” He backed up a step and stared at her. “Is it you?!” he repeated.

“Am I…so…” She closed her eyes. “Ugly…”

“No!”

He could not have sounded more aghast. It helped.

She looked up at him again. “Then why not?” she asked. “Why not, if you need me and I say it’s all right?”

“Because it is not all right,” he retorted, his voice rising. “And saying it will never make it so. Mere days ago, you sat just where you are sitting now and told me you knew what I would have you do and you could not do it!”

“I—”

“No!” he said curtly. “I have done enough to hurt you. I will not inflict this Heat on you as well. It is enough, Daria. It is goddamn well enough!” He swung around and struck out blindly, leaving a crater in her wall where his fist found a target.

It was the first time she had ever heard him really swear in her language. She looked back down at the table for a second or two, listening to his ragged breath as he pulled himself back under control. Finally, she got up and crossed over to the sink. She wet a clean dishtowel and brought it back to him.

He flinched when she took his hand and then stood immobile and unspeaking as she dabbed at his knuckles.

“I apologize,” he said quietly, “for breaking your wall.”

“I always wanted to hang a picture there, anyway,” she said, shrugging.

“I frightened you.”

“Big deal. I’m always frightened.” She tried to smile and then had to bite her cheeks hard to keep from crying. It was several minutes more before she could trust herself to speak. “But I’m not scared of you, Tagen. And believe me, I’ve tried to be.”

He didn’t smile. Not even a little bit. She could feel his eyes burning down on her as she focused all her attention on his hand.

She said, “You came here to do a job, Tagen. And you’ve been trying so hard to get it done. And you’ve been slipping a little more every single day. Because of the weather. And that’s…that’s a stupid reason, Tagen. That’s the worst reason in the world I can think of to let someone like E’Var get away.”

“Yes.” There was loathing in his voice. He looked away at the hole in her wall and was silent.

“You can’t help what’s happened to you,” she continued.

“Enough,” he said.

“But I can,” she said firmly.

“No!” He pulled his hand from her grip and backed away from her again. “You swore once to be a friend to me. If ever you meant it, then stop this.”

She could feel herself wanting to give in, just let it drop and move on. Then she made herself look at him, and she saw all over again what the weather was doing to him. She saw him shaking, she saw the dark rings of exhaustion sinking his eyes, she saw the paleness of him beneath the flush of anger and sweat. “You’re dying,” she said softly.

“I cannot die from this!” he shouted, and staggered. He caught himself on the dining table and stayed there, breathing hard and not meeting her eyes.

“Yes, you can,” she said. “Maybe not on your planet, but you can here. And I think I know why. Because I think on your planet, if it ever got this bad, I think there’s someplace you can just go, and there would be people there who would…help you.”

He said nothing and continued to glare down at the table, but she could tell that he was listening. More, she could tell that she was right.

“I could help you,” she said.

He ignored her.

Daria mustered up her courage and touched him again, resting her trembling fingertips on his shoulder. It was like touching a furnace, hot and hard and utterly inanimate. But he wasn’t shoving her away, so Daria moved her hand to his back, testing the breadth of him. The thought struck her that this was where her hand would be as she lay beneath him, this was where and how she would touch him. She felt something then, and it was not fear at all. “I want to help you.”

He shuddered, so fully and violently that she thought for a split-second he was going into convulsions. Then he raised his head, his golden eyes blazing beneath the limp spikes of his hair, and her words froze in her throat. There was nothing in his gaze but hunger, nothing but a single, searing need. “Get,” he said, very quietly, “away from me.”

She stayed where she was.

His nostrils flared and for just an instant, that furious hunger grew brighter, and then he wrenched his gaze away and pushed himself upright, backing out of her reach. “I will not do this,” he said. “I must go home with some honor. I will not force you to oblige me.”

“I don’t see you twisting my arm,” she said.

He bared his teeth at her, snarling with a sound like an animal, and then turned away from her. “I have done nothing but twist your arm since I invaded your house! Nothing! But this, this I will not do!”

He began to walk away, half-falling into the doorjamb as he tried to leave the kitchen.

“Tagen, I’m trying to be your friend.” Daria started to follow him, then stopped and picked up the peas. She put them back in the freezer and then had to run to catch up to him as he staggered down the hall. “Doesn’t my opinion matter?”

“No!” he snapped over his shoulder.

“No?”

“You know nothing of Heat. You know nothing of what you are agreeing to!”

“I know you’re suffering,” she countered. She got ahead of him and slapped her hand down on the stair rail, blocking his retreat. She met his furious gaze without fear, her voice calm as she told him, told both of them, some of the truth in her heart. “Tagen, if you were human and if I wasn’t so fucked up, I’d have gone to bed with you already.”

He recoiled, looking dazedly back to the television as though it could tell him if he’d heard her correctly. “You’re mistaken,” he said, wiping sweat from his eyes.

“Oh no. No, I’m not. You’re attractive. You’re strong and noble—”

“Noble,” he echoed, looking pained.

“And you’ve been incredibly patient with me when I have been at my very least lovable,” she admitted. “I’ve felt like I’ve been drowning for so long…and then you walked into my house and dragged me out of the water kicking and screaming. Even though your motives weren’t entirely selfless, it was still heroic and I’m still grateful.”

“And because you are grateful—” he began, his hands clenching into fists.

“Oh stop it, I’m not sacrificing anything,” she interrupted. “Tagen…some part of me wants to help you this way. And all of me wants to see you stop hurting. I know you’ve thought about it.”

He took a hard, jagged step away from her, his eyes going wide before caution narrowed them. He was silent a long time, grimness settling into every part of him. “You know,” he said at last.

“You look at me,” she said. “Every time the people on TV tumble into bed, I feel you looking at me.” A prickle of irritation came to her, a defense against the embarrassment of having to admit this, and she added, “You were doing that even before you ran out of your medicine.”

He dropped his eyes. His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. “What I think,” he said quietly, “and what I will do are two very different things. You have been a friend to me, despite your fear. I will not exploit that.”

“You have a very strange notion of what exploitation is,” she retorted. “You are perfectly okay with busting in my spare room window and injecting me with alien drugs so I can show you what channel Law & Order comes on. You’re fine with forcing me to feed you and clothe you and bring you bags of frozen peas. You have no qualms whatsoever about drafting me into looking for your escaped convict. But when I stand here and tell you it’s okay to come to bed with me, that’s exploitation. I can only do one thing to really, really help you, and you won’t let me!”