He's wracked with guilt. He tried to find her, and he failed. His failure is written all over her, a map of scars and damage that he faces every time he stops by.

The first few times--just after the rescue--she was unconscious, either asleep or passed out, and he hadn't wanted to wake her. He'd simply stood there in silence, listening to the methodical cacophony of the machines around her. She looked so small on the medical berth, so fragile.

He'd failed her.

He let himself into the medbay again, hoping and afraid that this time she won't be asleep, that this time she'll be awake.

"Vandal..?"