Part (7) of Repercussions, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!
Wrote this in a bit of a frenzy, and kinda rushed the proof read (because it's getting very late lol), but didn't want to delay sharing 😆
Also, I seem to be having issues with tags again... I hand typed it here, so really hoping it alerts everyone - sorry!
Warnings: medical procedure, bone trauma, heavy emotions, longing, emotional infidelity, guilt, mild violence
WC: 3,565
Something was dripping. Irregular. But quiet. Not like rainfall where a single drop was lost in the torrent of thousands. Drip… drip… …drip…
Half the hydropack had spilled onto the floor at my feet before I finally realized my hand had tilted just enough to let the water slowly bead at the mouth of the silicone straw, gathering and swelling until its weight broke the surface tension and sent it careening to the steadily growing puddle. With a mumbled curse, I set the container down and pushed myself up from the chair, movements unsteady, jerking as the muscles kept toying with the threat of falling limp, but they held well enough for me to kick the rag from where I’d dropped it earlier to soak up the new mess, it’s fibers still drenched with the spoiled saline and medications.
The room was… almost clean. I’d mopped up the worst of the mess, shoved supplies back into cabinets, and tucked the sheet snugly about Echo’s sleeping form, but the light caught awkwardly atop the floors were residue still smudged the surface, and one of the cabinet doors no longer closed quite right, revealing how disorganized the items within now lay. And there was little hope in masking my own disarray.
I’d spent nearly the entire hour torturing myself with failed attempts to reduce my shoulder, but evolution didn’t prepare us for even basic medical advances… We evolved to survive grotesque injuries in feral lands and keep on fighting. The way the body does this varies from injuries to injury, and, from afar, is fascinating. If a limb is severed, veins and arteries constrict to limit blood loss. If the pH of our blood lowers, we somehow know to breathe faster to release more CO2. And if a bone is broken or joint dislocated, our muscles lock to keep it still lest movement cause even greater damage. By the time I’d regained enough awareness to even try to fix it, there was almost no hope to overcome that ancient response with how taut the surrounding tissue had become.
The arm lay pinned to my chest in a tight sling, hidden beneath a blanket wrapped about my shoulders. I’d absently smeared an uneven layer of bacta over my face, but it had barely begun to reduce the swelling, and I couldn’t quite keep myself from rocking ever so slightly if I stayed still for too long, gaze straying to Echo almost neurotically; studying his breathing pattern, the way his eyes occasionally twitched or how his hand would pulse around a fistful of that dark, scratchy fabric, heart jumping at even the slightest shift.
My entire body flinched at the sound of the Marauder’s main hatch opening, the sudden hissing of the mechanics deafening amidst the violent silence I’d found myself so trapped in, and I practically held my breath as I watched for any sign that the noise had woken the man lying a mere handful of meters from me… then winced as the relieved sigh that followed caused my shoulder to shift.
“…-rrant further testing.” Even from across the ship, I could hear the annoyance in Hunter’s growl at Tech’s statement.
“Just get us into hyperspace before they notice it’s missing.” He ordered lowly. There was a pause, as though narrowed glares and unspoken threats had some hope of changing the Sergeant’s mind, but, without further discussion, footsteps disappeared deeper into the Marauder.
“Hunter.” I barely whispered his name, but that was all he’d need to hear me. I should have gone to Tech… He’d know what to do; how to help me… but I couldn’t stand to see even a glimmer of that earlier disdain still sharpening his gaze… not now… not when I already felt so broken. “Just you.” I added in that same hushed plea. Barely a second passed before he started toward me, steps carefully muted.
I had to force myself up to meet him, hand hovering over the control just as he drew near and freezing the door with a single tap before it could open more than an inch. He didn’t move, the glimpse of armor visible through that narrow sliver painfully taut; waiting.
“No one finds out.” I wanted it to be an order, but my voice was far too weak for that. I could hear him draw a slow breath, and added in a rush before he could interrupt, “Echo never… finds out.” Again, he went still.
“Alright.” He sighed quietly. Only then, did I release the lock, allowing the door to slide open, and I had to look away as his face instantly twisted in shock; anger. My lips parted with some excuse or explanation I hadn’t begun to form before merely closing again, body swaying slightly, belatedly stepping back to allow him in. He followed with such carefully controlled movements, it felt like he was clearing a battlefield rather than entering the medbay of his own ship, gaze sweeping each of the corners before falling pointedly to where Echo still lay, the mattress beneath him not quite aligned with the wall.
I let my own gaze drag almost absently over him as the door closed once more. Aside from a bit of dust about his shins and knees, there was little sign of anything of note, at least nothing glaring enough for me to notice as I was.
“Tech said you told him you didn’t need help.” There was a hint of accusation in his tone that he couldn’t hide, tension coiling through his voice.
“It… it happened after.” I answered, words barely there, head sinking toward my chest.
“We could have been here sooner… Why didn’t you comm?” He pressed through ground teeth, hard eyes burring into me. I didn’t look up at him, didn’t respond beyond a halfhearted shift of my lips, because what could I say? How could I tell him that I’d… what? Lost myself for over an hour? That I’d gone comatose when I was supposed to be watching over his injured brother?
When several seconds passed in that wretched silence broken only by my own lilting breaths, I risked a tiny glance toward him, and froze upon finding his eyes locked on my hip, on where Echo’s pistol just gleamed from beneath my blanket. Jaw tensing, I shifted the fabric to hide it once more, and his shoulders sank. He let out a slow sigh, air shaking ever so slightly through pursed lips before taking an almost tentative step toward me, and I felt myself wilt as his hands carefully reached up to slip over my cheeks, eyes closing amidst that barely-there caress.
“What do you need?” He asked it so quietly, smokey voice dropping into that low murmur that made me want to press myself against him and let the galaxy around us vanish, and it took a moment before I was able to collect myself enough to answer him, lips tensing in a grimace as I reached up to slide the fabric from my injured shoulder. Hunter’s nostrils flared as his jaw creaked beneath the tightly clenched muscles.
“Hm, I… I couldn’t…” I hated how my voice faltered, how my mind struggled to find the words only for my lips to forget how to form them, “couldn’t get it… back-back in…”
“Okay.” Despite the rage burning between the dance of greens and umber in his golden eyes, still he spoke with that consuming softness, his thumb whispering against my bruised cheek in a silent promise. “Okay, let’s get you sitting down.” I had to bite back whatever whimpered objection threatened to catch on a nearly sobbed breath as his hands fell away, gaze dropping once more before turning wearily toward the chair in the far corner of the room, attention focusing thoughtlessly on the rag still crumpled in the center of that tiny puddle beside it, but when his touch rested carefully against my lower back, I couldn’t keep myself from leaning slightly into him.
“Nothing broken?” He asked as he guided me down onto the thin cushion. I briefly tried to shake my head, but the movement cut short at how even that pulled at that wretched joint. “Alright… You take anything yet? Something to knock the edge off?” Again my jaw thought to move before knowing what to say, response lodging itself in my throat before giving another, smaller shake of my head. He didn't reply immediately, chest swelling with a pointedly slowed breath as he forced his attention away from me just long enough to tug the gloves from his hands.
“You need muscle relaxers, at least… right?” It wasn't a question, but still I shook my head once more, earning a tense, “Doc…” from him, but I answered with neither look nor word as he let the silence that followed build heavily around us, unable to find the will to explain… drugs… pain killers, muscle relaxes, even anti-inflammatories to a point would leave me fuzzy… and the very thought of that with Echo still spiraling in limbo between various states of awareness was… terrifying.
I didn't doubt that Hunter heard my heartbeat quicken, that he looked toward his newest brother only in response to the neurotic twitch dragging my own gaze back to the man just long enough to measure the rise and fall of his chest, the likelihood that he might soon wake.
“Hey.” The subtle rumble of his voice deepened in that quiet murmur, his body shifting closer in a way that should have made me pull back, crowding me just enough to draw my attention up the countless nicks and scuffs marring his chest plate. I could smell the tang of the oil used to clean that thick plastoid, the hint of ozone from recently fired blasters, the heavy taste of spice and sweat soaked into his blacks from hours of running, hours of fighting, that so easily sent my heart fluttering, but still I couldn't quite bring myself to meet his gaze, body kept from slouching only because of how taut the muscles stretching from my neck to midway down my back had locked.
“I’m sorry.” I was so taken aback by those words, that my eyes rose to find his before I could remember why I’d been avoiding his gaze, and something in my chest coiled with such heat, it left my breath stuttering as his hands crept over my cheeks once more, fingertips just brushing against my neck before tracing the ridge of my jaw, the sensation of his callused skin caressed that frightfully delicate flesh a far too intimate thing for the fear and exhaustion and pain yet screaming for me to seek out some dark corner to hide. “I shouldn’t have left you alone…”
My chest bucked with a tiny, stolen breath before forcing my gaze down, away, focusing on anything but the subtle crease between his brows, anything but the way the scant glow from the dimmed light behind him caught so softly on the sharp features of his face, how the tattooed shadows accentuated his rage while the natural warmth mirroring it appeared all the more gentle against that darkness, concern screaming from eyes watching me with such unflinching worry that I couldn’t help but find myself sinking even further into that earlier guilt.
“You shouldn’t feel like you can’t leave me alone.” There was no doubting the apology in that weak growl, lips straining for a scowl I couldn’t quite manage. He didn’t say anything, but his hands shifted just enough to ease my head back, silently begging me to look at him; demanding it. I didn’t mean to… but the want to find those eyes once more, to feel that ancient thrill in seeing his powerful form towering over me; to know that I was the reason behind his fury and harbor no doubt toward the safety it promised… that want broke me absent even a breath of hesitation to remember why I should fight it, body yielding beneath his touch as though it was a dance we’d delighted in a thousand times before.
He didn’t speak. In that short eternity, he merely held me, his torso swelling beneath too-deep breaths as the muscles atop his jaw balled, teeth ground to silence threats and promises and pleas forbidden between us even as everything left unspoken only sought to further fan what flames danced beneath every inch of skin warmed by his touch.
I don’t know what broke it, but that tension snapped with a deep chill, jaw shaking slightly as I pulled back just enough to severe that contact as my brows drew sharply together with something far closer to remorse than the guilt that should have filled me. He was still for just a moment more before finally stepping to my side.
“Do you want something to bite down on?” He asked, voice hushed as though the reason behind the offer might loom less frightfully about us if he spoke quietly enough. I glanced down briefly before gathering a handful of the cloth draped around me and catching it firmly between my teeth, eyes closing tightly, head turning with some useless hope to distance myself from the coming pain.
“Slow breaths, Doc.” He murmured, and some part of me wanted to snap at him, unable to dismiss how quickly my diaphragm jerked; unable to dismiss how hopeless any attempt to steady them would be. “Come on, meshla… slow.” I knew he heard the way my heart leapt at his deep murmur, knew he could smell the sudden rush of adrenaline and heat, but I couldn’t begin to berate him for it as my every glimmer of attention suddenly locked on how carefully he eased my arm from the sling, one hand cradling my elbow while the other supported my wrist.
“In.” It wasn’t an order, this time. Nor was it a request. It was a distraction; one I couldn’t help but cling to in a plea for anything I might focus on rather than the way he gently shifted the limb between us, angling my forearm straight up. “Out.” My teeth ground into the cloth, mouth painfully dry as my heart raced, air leaving in a tense rush. “In.” A tiny whimper caught in my throat as he twisted my arm just enough for a burst of pain to tear through the joint, testing it before letting his thumb drag soothingly against the back of my hand. “Easy, cyare, just focus on me. Out.” Something danced up my spine at the deep timber lacing those hushed words, preening at the way his voice seemed to linger in the air between us as he leaned ever so slightly closer to me. “In.” I think I felt the heat of his breath whisper over my ear and send gooseflesh down my neck, and nearly let my eyes open if only to confirm how little distance separated us.
“Out.” Before the word fell silent, his hands tightened, locking my elbow still as he rotated my forearm across my chest. I barely had time to gasp before the limb caught slightly, but he didn’t hesitate in pushing passed it, snapping the head of my arm back into the socket with another sickening, wet pop, wrenching a barked cry from me, muffled by that mouthful of cloth as my body shot forward. It had been too fast to process the way my nerves had screamed in those final seconds, the utter panic as muscles coiled and ice filled my veins, but the relief that followed was absolute, more overwhelming than the hurt; the sudden absence of that crippling agony after hours of suffering an oddly loud thing; disorientating and confusing, and I didn’t even notice he was holding me until finally managing to drag a lung-full of air through my gaping jaw, forehead buried against his shoulder as I trembled in the aftermath.
“Good… good; just breathe, cyare; you did good.” He kept his hand locked beneath my elbow, gently supporting the still aching joint even as he slid the other up my neck to let his fingers tangle into my hair, my forearm caught carefully between us. I could feel how easily my body swayed with his every leisurely breath, and found myself absently trying to match it. It was a gentle thing; not forced… I wanted to, some distant thought surprised at how even it was… how calm… but I remembered the rage in his eyes as he realized what happened, remembered my dread.
“It wasn’t his fault.” It sounded almost like a sob; like I was begging him to believe me as my chest hitched slightly at the tension just creeping through his frame. “He couldn’t remember where he was… what happened… he didn’t remember me…” I hid the words against his neck, ignoring the ache in my shoulder that I might press myself harder against him, and he readily lowered himself onto a knee as I half tumbled from the chair. “It wasn’t his fault…”
“I know.” Hunter sighed, forcing himself to let out a slow breath.
“He can’t find out.” I pressed, willing it to be an order though it was far too desperate. He was quiet just long enough for anxiety to send my fingers clawing into the crevice between his shoulder bell and backplate.
“I know.” There was such reluctance in his voice as those words dragged past his lips, his body slouching ever so slightly around me, and I was almost taken aback at the depth of relief that swept through me for a terror I hadn’t yet begun to understand.
His embrace felt far more gentle after that; precious, but I didn’t find myself struck by some crippling emptiness when he eased himself away, body settling more kindly atop the chair as my eyes met his.
“We’re set to rendezvous with The Resolute in a few hours.” He explained quietly. “I’m going to bring my cot in here, and I want you to try to get some rest.” My lips had barely parted to drew breath before he continued, silencing whatever objection or excuse I might have tried to cling to with a murmur far too gentle to fight. “I’ll stay here – watch over Echo… and you.” Something ancient and feral sent such warmth through my chest at the promise in that deep rumble that I feared he might catch the subtle flush blooming up my neck, and I couldn’t feign ignorance to how desperately I wanted just that; how desperately I needed it; needed him as exhaustion weighed down my every breath even as the reminder of just how near Echo’s sleeping form lay rekindled a fear I would never forgive myself for… but with Hunter standing over me…
I gave a small nod and thrilled in the way the edges of his eyes lit in a smile too faint to touch his lips.
“Alright; just wait here.” He murmured as he slowly pushed himself up. I was too tired to try to hide the wince as he helped me ease my arm back into the sling, but the annoying ache was barely noticeable against the earlier agony of grinding bone, and I quickly found myself leaning heavily against the backrest, half-lidded eyes following his every step as he silently retreated from the medbay.
Later, I might berate myself for every shiver he’d sent through me with that smokey voice and gentle, callused hands; I’d writhe at the certainty that he’d heard each flutter of my heart and smelled that eager adrenaline, and I’d hate myself amidst the knowledge that Crosshair was only barely out of earshot; that just hours prior, I’d let him believe his jealously to be entirely baseless amidst the chaos of Jester’s actions when the truth was so much more damning… but those emotions were far too complex and far too encompassing to even acknowledge beneath the euphoria of the mere promise of sleep.
Still, I couldn’t help but tense with guilt at the distant rasp of Crosshair’s voice from just beyond the doorway.
“Well?”
“Not now, Crosshair.” I didn’t need to see him to know how sharply Crosshair’s lips wrenched into a scowl at Hunter’s dismissal, impatient growl curling through his chest.
“You didn’t tell her, did you?” I froze, my own weariness forgotten at the accusation, body tensing as I strained to listen.
“Dammit, not now.” Hunter’s voice dropped nearly too low for me to hear, a deafening threat sown through the order, but such threats rarely worked on his brothers, Crosshair least of all.
“Either you tell her, or I will.” He snarled, and my chest ached at the sudden pounding of my heart as I heard the rush of footsteps and the hollow thud that followed, the sound rippling through the very hull of the ship.
I hadn’t realized I was moving until the door hissed open, until their eyes darted to me with such conflicting swaths of emotion that I nearly overlooked how forcefully Hunter had his brother pressed against the metal wall amidst the dread in his gaze; how Crosshair’s sharp eyes narrowed with a concern so startling, he barely even tried to hide it beneath that too-familiar anger.
“Tell me what?” My words seemed to disappear in the silence that followed, my own dread growing the longer their hesitation robbed them of speech. “Tell me what?!”
Next Chapter
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Yandegire Trio - Be Mine‽ Noa Kuronuma A recovering Yandere with cannibalistic tendancies. She longs to spend her days cooking at a five star restaurant someday, but for now is trapped in her tiny rural hometown. Still traumatized from her last murderous heartbreak. Mitsuko Nomi (Mimi) Directly responsible for Noa’s murder of her younger sister, though you’d never know it by looking at her. She looks and acts much younger than she is. For some reason she has an incredibly unhealthy fixation with Noa. Akane Hashira A Yangire who absolutely cannot stand the color red. She had a key role in her big sister’s suicide, something that certainly shaped her murderous tendencies. She may be a potential love interest for Noa, though for now that’d a surprise. ;)
