“ hugs, hux. same difference. he doesn’t seem to mind. ” the pilot is infuriating, cason has to admit. but since when has dameron not been a right pain in the ass? even now, smirking as he is, relaxed in his chair like this is a simple conversation between friends. he wonders what the hell the man is thinking, and wishes he had more strength. maybe to punt him out of the door, if he could. “ because every time i correct you, you just say it anyway. ” he grits his teeth as he answers, only to look up toward marcella as she approaches him.
he stands with her aid, finding himself weak still, and loathing every second of it as they walk. it’s as if his limbs don’t belong to him, pathetic and trembling as they are. he has more strength than this, he has to. it doesn’t matter if he took a blaster bolt to the chest. they reached the tank with no issues, though he’s aware of how the other had wheeled down with them and was now settled near the entrance to the medbay, watching them. so he’s smart in some way, choosing to watch over them to make sure they don’t do anything.
not that there’s anything he himself can do, but he’s certain marcella could do some damage if she so wished.
as she strayed to the console, he rests a hand on the thick cylinder in front of him, tilting his head as he looks it over himself. a smirk curls over his features as he hears her, and he’s far too happy to have her on his side, at his side. he looks up and over when she’s finished, already having shed the first layer – his shirt – and now working on the bandages. it’d do no good to have the bandages on while he was in there.
he unwinds the bandaging from himself, looking up as marcella joins him and helps him remove the rest of the clothing and items. this is simple procedure, he sees nothing wrong with it as he strips down and steps inside the chamber once she’s done helping him. “ well, i doubt any of them have experience in anything medical other than stims and bandages. ” even then, the bandages had been sloppy.
he takes the breathing apparatus, eyeing it in distaste before putting it on. as well as allowing himself to be wired up. there’s even a glance up at the tank as it comes down around him, sighing and looking back down toward his chest as the bacta begins to fill slowly at his feet. hux’s chest is marred by the blaster, and even after being in the tank in the first place, the flesh is gnarled and knotted, burned in the middle of his chest. there’s a trickle of blood from the edges of the wound, and he resists the urge to touch it. it will scar permanently, he’s certain, much like the ones along his side and spine where force lightning had crawled over his body.
hux glances up, watching as dameron wheels himself over and starts to talk, but it’s muffled behind the pane of transparisteel, yet he’s talking to marcella, gesturing with his hands, and looking at the readout screen. at least there, the redhead can see his own vitals for a moment, how his heart has an odd rhythm, how labored his breathing is from the walk to the medbay. by the time the bacta encompasses him entirely and he’s floating in the thick liquid, he’s already beginning to fall asleep.
Having her General suspended in the bacta, Marcella insisted on staying in the medbay to be certain that they didn’t do anything to him. A few off color remarks from the pilot had been enough to make her want to do something drastic, but she sat in a chair near the tank and listened to the sounds while keeping notes on a clipboard.
While she didn’t mind Dameron being there, he grated on her with some of the things he said. Was he always like this? No, she wasn’t in a romantic relationship with the General. No, she wasn’t interested in hearing about BB-8. No, she certainly didn’t want to hear about his relationship with Kylo Ren or... Ben as they called him now. That didn’t mean she didn’t thank him when he brought her a half portion for lunch.
Marcella didn’t eat much to begin with but for once, she finished the entire thing without so much as a complaint. As the hours rolled by, she spent her time taking notes and speaking to Dameron whenever he was actually in the room. A part of her wondered if he were babysitting her or if he were genuinely interested in talking. She suspected it could be one or both. But she didn’t know for sure.
Once the General’s time was up, it was well into the early hours of the morning but Marcie had so much caf in that time, she couldn’t tell the difference.
He was taken out of the bacta and laid on a bed outside in the same room. She looked him over and recorded what she found but, seeing as he looked healed to a degree, Marcie was certain that most of it was alright. But that heartbeat... She sat next to the bed and quietly waited for him to wake up, holding a scalpel tightly in her free hand in case anyone tried to come near and harm him.
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