The hallway was eerily quiet. The last time Caretaker checked, it was close to 3 am, so it did kinda make sense why it was so quiet. But she didn't have the brain space to put two and two together over the blinding headaches and ringing in her ears.
Caretaker doesn't even remember slumping down against the wall, the only memory she seems to have of the last two minutes was simply walking out of her cramped work room. The one that Whumpee is now laying in, stable, thanks to her. And taking in the sterile yet fresh air of the medbay, at least she was finally breathing in oxygen that didn't smell like blood and sweat. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as if they were a pillow, resting her forehead on top of them.
And suddenly something cracked, and silent tears started to fall.
She was quiet like she usually was, only taking in shuddering breaths every now and then before exhaling shakily. And this tended to happen after days like these, as the team's medic, she takes on all responsibility for the medical care. So, when a team mate is found badly wounded they're rushed to her. Of course she does have some help and assistance, not even mentioning the rest of the team that all rush in to help, but at the end of the day she has to do her job herself and that often means sending everyone else away while she continues the stressful task of saving a life: alone.
But not only is it just a life, but a life she cares about. It's the life of a friend, of essentially family. And it's the scariest thing she's ever done and continue to do.
At some point the tears dry up and Caretaker is left staring numbly at absolutely nothing, the only real alertness left in her is in her ears, listening for signs of trouble from the monitors through the opened door. So it makes her jump a little when she hears someone speak.
"Do you know that it's 5 am?" Oldest says, standing directly in front of her, how long has Oldest been standing there? "And-that you're.. covered in blood?"
No, actually, she didn't know either of these things. Now that Oldest mentioned it, Caretaker could feel the dried sticky spots on her cheeks and the gloves of what feels like dried paint on her hands and forearms. The clumps of something vile under her nails.
Caretaker didn't know what to say, honestly she still felt as though she was staring into a numb void, so she just looked pathetically up at the now blinding overhead lights. Were they really that bright before? Oldest crouched down.
With one knee on the ground and the other supporting one of Oldest's elbows, she took a damp cloth and started to clean Caretaker's face.
Oldest was gentle, with each swipe or dab it seemed to lure her closer to falling asleep, with the back of her head resting on the wall Caretaker could probably fall asleep right now. The cloth was soft and a perfect temperature, it cleaned her face in no time and suddenly Oldest was standing up again and grabbing Caretaker by her arm and pulling her up. Gruff enough to get her standing but soft enough to not send her tired feet shuffling.
Oldest turned her face to Caretaker, and without letting go of her, she kindly said, "I'm taking you to bed, and before you say anything, I will watch over Whumpee while you rest. Okay?"
Caretaker nodded barley mumbling an, "okay." Before Oldest started to lead her to her room, holding her bloody hand.
