continued from HERE || @warjournaling
--- Claire was tired.
In some ways she thought that she’d been tired since the day she’d helped a certain fearless man with his injuries on a couch that had gotten stained in blood. An apartment she no longer had. She’d told her mother it was fate, that she kept running into these people, kept helping them no matter what.
Too bad nobody ever said that just because it was your fate didn’t mean you weren’t bone tired. That the rest of your life didn’t get in the way. She’d just gotten off a midnight shift at the hospital, had just stopped in for a coffee to go when things went to hell.
There was worse company to have with her, there was better too, she could think of someone, someone who’s blood wouldn’t have been running down their leg. She tried to stand, shifting small bits of rubble out of the way, ignored the bite of glass. Took his hand.
“ take it as a compliment. I don’t scare as easy these days. If there’s worse than this I don’t want to see it, let’s get out of here. We’re lucky that shrapnel didn’t get a main artery but I still have to take a look at you, see how bad the damage is. “
She eyed him and then their surroundings, tried to navigate the least painful way out for him.
“ C’mon, I’ll help you, let’s get out of here. ”