(LIMITLESS) INTERLUDE: DEAN’S INTROSPECTION

Dean sat quietly by the hospital bed, hands folded in his lap, listening to the faint but thankfully constant sounds of Taylor’s breathing. The machines attached to her beeped softly in the background, an admittedly nerve-wracking accompaniment to the stillness of the room. Her face, pale against the pillow, looked almost peaceful now, but he knew better than to mistake that for ease. Taylor Hebert had been through hell, and hell wasn’t finished with her yet.

In the short time he had come to know her, Dean had realized something: Taylor’s strength didn’t begin or end with her powers. It was in the way she carried herself, never shirking her responsibilities, no matter how many they were. It was in the way she met adversity head-on, even when it kept striking at her from every possible angle and facet of her life. She had endured more than most people could imagine, in such a short amount of time too, and somehow she kept getting back up.

It hardly seemed fair.

Sometimes he caught himself wondering if the universe had singled her out, throwing trial after trial her way just to see how much she could bear before she broke. If he were the kind of person to believe in reincarnation, he might have thought she’d done something truly awful in a past life to deserve it. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t. All he knew was that Taylor was unlucky, caught in currents far stronger than she should ever have had to face.

And yet… he admired her for it.

That was what unsettled him. Though it wasn't in a bad way, but in a way he hadn’t quite expected. In a way that left him turning the thought over, trying to pin it down. She wasn’t Victoria, radiant and confident, the girl who lit up a room just by walking into it. Or even Amy, shy but intense, burdened by secrets she could never share.

No, Taylor was different. 

There was confidence in her actions, yes, but not the kind born of hardship or necessity, nor was it even confidence in the traditional sense. Hers was something fierce, an almost—arrogant—unshakable belief that her perspective mattered, that she could see what others missed, and that her way was worth fighting for even when it set her against the world.

Where Victoria thrived on admiration and Amy struggled beneath expectation, Taylor existed in defiance of both. She was raw, unpolished, and unapologetically herself.

Most people recoiled from that kind of conviction. Dean found it… compelling. Dangerous, maybe, but compelling all the same. And maybe, if he was being honest, a little threatening. Because Taylor was like him. 

His mouth tightened at the thought, though he couldn’t deny it. In her, he saw the same refusal to admit weakness and the same instinct to grit her teeth and keep moving no matter how badly it hurt. That unwillingness to show vulnerability, even when it mattered and even when help might have been offered, was something he knew intimately. It weighed on him every time he smiled when he didn’t want to and every time he played the role of perfect hero while hiding the cracks underneath.

Taylor did the same thing, though in her own way, and maybe that was why he felt such a strange connection to her. He recognized himself in her, the same stubborn pride that kept them standing, but also kept them silent. The same strength that looked so admirable from the outside, yet carried a cost neither of them willingly admitted.

Apparently, Victoria had noticed too. She hadn’t said anything outright, but he’d caught the edge in her voice once or twice, and the way her eyes narrowed whenever Taylor’s name came up in conversation. Victoria, jealous. The idea was so absurd it made him chuckle under his breath. Who would’ve thought?

He glanced at Taylor’s unconscious form and shook his head lightly. “Don’t worry, Vicky,” he murmured to himself. “You’ve got nothing to be jealous about.”

Because whatever admiration he felt for Taylor, it wasn’t romance or even attraction. That wasn’t what she needed, and he knew it. What she needed at the moment, what she so desperately lacked, was what she had been denied for far too long: a friend. Someone who wouldn’t abandon her. Someone who would stand by her side without expecting her to carry everything alone.

Besides, he didn’t even know her sexual orientation. The thought brought another small smile to his face. No, this wasn’t about romance. This was about respect.

Dean leaned back in the chair and let out a quiet sigh, closing his eyes for just a moment. He was tired, but nowhere near as tired as Taylor had to be. And if she could keep going, then the least he could do was be here when she woke up.

The least he could do was be her friend.