8
Night eased into day and Peter left for his coffin. Doc had some business to attend to in other parts of the Agency so that Jack found himself alone at Nena’s bedside. He sat on a stool beside her with his hands settled in his lap. Her still form was pale, far paler than he remembered.
His eyes flickered down to his hands. A look of reluctant determination slipped onto his face, and he slowly drew off his glove. His transparent fingers and palm were revealed. He reached out for her hand that lay over her chest, but his fingers hesitated an inch above her own.
He took a deep, shuddering breath and set his hand atop hers. His fingers pressed against hers in a human contact that gave him a thrill that words couldn’t describe. He eagerly wrapped his hand around her cool fingers.
