"It stings some, but I've had worse. You've seen those scars yourself."
As she's speaking, she's undoing her shirt, pulling it down and away so he can see the full extent of it. Judging by the amount of blood it's already been shedding, she didn't come see him immediately, though she's been keeping pressure on it after the fight. The bruises, she'll keep all of that to herself.
"Hawkeye, whatever you do - I need the bandages as tight as you can make them."
There's an edge to her voice when she says it, an urgency. If he won't do this, she'll rip her own bedsheet to shreds and do it herself, tight enough to risk the circulation. She can't have them in her.
He stills just slightly. But not enough to slow his roll as he brings over all he'll need, including a curved needle and some fine thread. All the tools get dunked in a small tray of alcohol, and he spares a thought to Pasteur and the conditions he operated under. Hands get disinfected when he's ready to work.
"Is that because of the you-know-whats?" he asks, already knowing the answer.
"Even if you hadn't asked, I'd stitch it up for my own sanity. Lay down, hand aside, I'm going to irrigate it. This is going to sting worse than it already does."
She nods before he goes on. He understands. She can't do it again, can't deal with the feeling, not as long as she doesn't know if what's in her head is truly dead. It hasn't so much as twitched in months, but if somehow, somehow, if they got in her and woke it up. Then she'd have so many problems she couldn't name them.
Lying down, she can do, and when he comes back, she'll bring her hand away. Fever's lucky, she knows - this stayed mostly away from the seam of the joint, though it's definitely several inches long. Something that would need stitches even if they weren't under pressure to avoid certain problems. To her credit, she just closes her eyes when he irrigates the wound, breathing slowly before opening them.
"...Thank you. Sorry I woke you."
Not actually sorry, but it's what people say in times like this.
"Eh, don't be. You and half the armed forces we had in Korea all had the honour of seeing me unshaven and uncombed."
For a moment Hawk's running through his options for painkillers, but she doesn't even wince at the irrigation, so... someone will need it more, and he'll apologise for it afterwards. He's a steady presence, and when it's finally time to put his money where his mouth is, he disinfects very carefully, just the way he always does.
"You don't know what a novelty it is to not be digging out a bullet," he jokes, beginning to stitch the wound back together, "I oughta thank you for making me remember how to stitch something that goes sideways."
The sensation of the needle and thread through her skin isn't pleasant, but this has happened before. Will again. She's given sutures to herself, when there have been small things that yet go deep and still didn't warrant magic spent on them. There's a knowhow, somewhere in her, and it's enough to say his boasts about his hands weren't boasts at all. She breathes, and tries to relax, staring at the ceiling.
"I'm trying to remember, but I don't think my world has a Korea."
Of course, that's coming from the woman with holes in her brain.
"How long did they have you out there? With the bullets?" Whatever those are.
"I would be surprised if it did. Korea's a place on earth. Lovely place with lovely people, if you don't mind all the shelling."
He chatters while he works, but his hands remain steady, manipulating the needle with his tweezers.
"Closing in on two years. I got drafted, which is a polite way to say doctor-napped. The army said we'll pay you for your time, give you room and board, and shoot you if you ever try to leave. All in all it's a terrible arrangement, I wouldn't recommend it to my worst enemy. Which is a shame, because he was there too."
Conscripted into service. Somehow that doesn't surprise her, with what of the man she knows - him and the idea of the military seem at pure odds in her head, and she can't fathom how they managed to reconcile apart from the threat of death.
"Did you ever get to make him suffer, this enemy of yours?"
"One time me and my buddy added about an inch of height to his boots. Lost five dollars on how many doorframes Frank smacked his head on- I bet ten, my buddy Trap bet fifteen. Final total count was twenty seven, because Trap's a dirty cheat who kept luring him through doorways."
The next stitch will be harder to make since she's giggling, but he has no one to blame but himself. She's trying to be a good patient and breath through the pain.
"And he never caught on? What an idiot!"
Steady, steady. Don't laugh too much and reopen the wound.
"When he finally cottoned on, we told him we'd lowered all the doorframes in camp. When we fixed his boots back to normal, he ducked under every door for a month."
If she's giggling then she's breathing steady and he's doing his job.
"Terrible human being, worse doctor. He nearly took off our CO's thumb because he thought it was a kidney."
She's trying so, so hard not to just laugh openly for the risk to her shoulder, but it's hard. Even though it hurts, it's still hard to keep it under control enough.
"I'd ask if you found him at the butcher's shop, but that's disrespectful to butchers. They know their anatomy."
It feels good that he hasn't lost his touch in soothing other parts of the wound, too. The physical harm and the emotional part.
"His anatomy knowledge was so terrible that it's a genuine wonder he had children with his wife. Only ever saw him reading medical journals to cross-reference how much he could charge. Almost done, just a few more," he really wasn't overly confident about his skills, he's nearly done already.
"Almost done, honey," he notices the wince, because of course he does.
"You think that's bad- he was a married man, and he was sleeping with the head of our nursing staff. And sure- almost everyone fooled around with people they shouldn't, that's war for you, but you should've heard the way he strung her along. Oh Margaret, of course I'll divorce my wife and be with you, I just need a few hundred thousand dollars more a year and for the kids to be eighteen and for the war to be over and for Pluto to enter Scorpio and- you get the idea."
"She must have really loved him, to keep buying into it."
It's tragic, really. And yes, this Margaret isn't blameless, if there was no understanding in place, but a firm no when she expressed her interest was Frank's to give. Particularly if he was going to set terms and conditions and impossible standards. Love. It must drive people to utter madness.
"You should have caused twenty seven more head injuries."
"Must have. It's a shame- Margaret's one of the finest nurses I've ever worked with. I used to pull her pigtails back home from time to time, but she was unbelievable in a crisis. Dedicated, compassionate- if she was here right now she'd have the bugs standing at attention whenever she went by."
Speaking of, with another couple of snips, Hawk's finished up the stitches.
"There. See me in a couple of weeks about getting these out. With any luck, you'll barely see the scar."
Sitting up carefully, she frowns, her brow furrowing. Okay. So she's going to feel like she's been hit with a sword for however long, but this should keep the bugs from deciding they had an entry point. Getting her shirt back where it was? Her hand feels the edges of where the fabric had split, given way under the sword.
"...Shame. I liked this shirt." Just grumbling now, thinking about the damage she'll have to fix later. Basic clothing repair is easy, but still, it's easier to complain about that than the fretting about the actual problem around them.
"I liked you in that shirt. And out of that shirt. Come to think of it, it might not be the shirt I liked."
One last step in the road to wellness, he pulls down the cotton mask that the author totally didn't forget to mention and gives her a little kiss on the forehead.
"All better. Now, do you want to tell me why you disturbed my beauty sleep or will I just have to be cranky at you?"
She thinks she prefers this sort of healing over magical now, actually.
The smile fades from her face as he asks the question that she knows was always in the air, trying to figure out how to phrase it in the most neutral fashion. But frankly, she can't.
"I was attacked by someone that the you-know-what had gotten to. He came after me out of nowhere. I'm lucky I managed to fend him off."
"You didn't step on a bug or something?" he asks as he packs his tools away, "because that doesn't match the symptomology. They're protective of the bugs and their hosts, but they haven't been violent, at least where I've seen."
"I don't know what rites he would have preferred. But I took his sword to keep it safe. And I know his name."
A little exhale.
"Dimitri Alexander."
When she says the name, there's a subtle weight to it. She doesn't know rites, how to properly and somberly mourn the dead, or truly pretend at it - she's tried, felt it sit all wrong. But a name is a symbol, is something to remember and say he was here. A name can be recorded in ink, survive generations, a whole story in a collection of letters.
He's coming back, of course. The hand attached to the good shoulder reaches up to her throat, gently rubbing it. If she hadn't fought, he would have strangled her where she stood. This wasn't some dark desire twisted and festering that had slipped past all her defenses. This had been survival, pure and simple. And yet, she doesn't want to meet Hawkeye's gaze about it.
"The uh- the blonde kid. Kinda formal, likes bad puns," his voice is very, very tight.
Of course he's not going to yell at Fever about it or anything. It was self defense. Kid was probably up to the eyeballs in bugs and not himself, there's nothing else she could've or should've done. Even if he'd only been knocked out, they couldn't get the bugs out of him, not under these conditions. The first rule is-
Hawk sits next to her on the bed, knees on his elbows, and puts his head in his hands, broad fingers kneading across his forehead. He'll be back, that's more than he can say about any of the others.
"We have to get off this boat. We have to. I can't stand it."
She says nothing to his description of Dimitri, merely nods. There is nothing she can say to make this better - no way she can explain to someone devoted to medicine, to healing, that this is the only mercy there is. The only mercy she can deliver to others.
You could demonstrate it.
Something foul, acidic as bile is in the back of her throat, burns the whole way down, and her hand rakes through her hair before her head drops forward. Fever can discern it, through the swirling, howling chaos, the impulse to close both hands around Hawkeye's throat and scream. That, she sinks into the burning pain in her shoulder and exhales without a sound. No. No. No matter how much it would get her mind temporarily off what happened.
But really, death by her hands is a better fate for him. Better he be killed than to have to breathe the same air as her, walk the same decks. He's a good man. He doesn't deserve this.
When they get off this boat, it might even be kinder to the town as a whole to leave her behind. Forget about her, free everyone from her presence, let the hive eventually find its way under her skin until they eat away what's left of her brain, until she loses the last bit of herself. Hollowed out, a living carcass. Maybe they'll eat up her heart as well; that mephitic, necrotic thing did no one any good.
Subtly, out of his view, she moves the shoulder that's been stitched. It hurts, like fresh fire. She won't hide behind devotion, like those who pray at Loviatar's altar to bless their pain. It's not even a punishment. It's just...correct. Again. She can feel her heart throb in her chest as the jolt fades away.
Instead of letting it infect her tone, she tries for steadiness and steel, something resolute and sturdy for him to lean against.
"I know. That's why I say that we will. We're going to get off it, and then you never have to step foot off of solid ground ever again if it so please you."
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 09:10 am (UTC)As she's speaking, she's undoing her shirt, pulling it down and away so he can see the full extent of it. Judging by the amount of blood it's already been shedding, she didn't come see him immediately, though she's been keeping pressure on it after the fight. The bruises, she'll keep all of that to herself.
"Hawkeye, whatever you do - I need the bandages as tight as you can make them."
There's an edge to her voice when she says it, an urgency. If he won't do this, she'll rip her own bedsheet to shreds and do it herself, tight enough to risk the circulation. She can't have them in her.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 09:36 am (UTC)"Is that because of the you-know-whats?" he asks, already knowing the answer.
"Even if you hadn't asked, I'd stitch it up for my own sanity. Lay down, hand aside, I'm going to irrigate it. This is going to sting worse than it already does."
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 10:32 am (UTC)Lying down, she can do, and when he comes back, she'll bring her hand away. Fever's lucky, she knows - this stayed mostly away from the seam of the joint, though it's definitely several inches long. Something that would need stitches even if they weren't under pressure to avoid certain problems. To her credit, she just closes her eyes when he irrigates the wound, breathing slowly before opening them.
"...Thank you. Sorry I woke you."
Not actually sorry, but it's what people say in times like this.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 10:42 am (UTC)For a moment Hawk's running through his options for painkillers, but she doesn't even wince at the irrigation, so... someone will need it more, and he'll apologise for it afterwards. He's a steady presence, and when it's finally time to put his money where his mouth is, he disinfects very carefully, just the way he always does.
"You don't know what a novelty it is to not be digging out a bullet," he jokes, beginning to stitch the wound back together, "I oughta thank you for making me remember how to stitch something that goes sideways."
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 11:03 am (UTC)"I'm trying to remember, but I don't think my world has a Korea."
Of course, that's coming from the woman with holes in her brain.
"How long did they have you out there? With the bullets?" Whatever those are.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 11:24 am (UTC)He chatters while he works, but his hands remain steady, manipulating the needle with his tweezers.
"Closing in on two years. I got drafted, which is a polite way to say doctor-napped. The army said we'll pay you for your time, give you room and board, and shoot you if you ever try to leave. All in all it's a terrible arrangement, I wouldn't recommend it to my worst enemy. Which is a shame, because he was there too."
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 11:35 am (UTC)"Did you ever get to make him suffer, this enemy of yours?"
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 11:44 am (UTC)"One time me and my buddy added about an inch of height to his boots. Lost five dollars on how many doorframes Frank smacked his head on- I bet ten, my buddy Trap bet fifteen. Final total count was twenty seven, because Trap's a dirty cheat who kept luring him through doorways."
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 11:51 am (UTC)"And he never caught on? What an idiot!"
Steady, steady. Don't laugh too much and reopen the wound.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 11:58 am (UTC)If she's giggling then she's breathing steady and he's doing his job.
"Terrible human being, worse doctor. He nearly took off our CO's thumb because he thought it was a kidney."
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 12:12 pm (UTC)"I'd ask if you found him at the butcher's shop, but that's disrespectful to butchers. They know their anatomy."
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 12:17 pm (UTC)"His anatomy knowledge was so terrible that it's a genuine wonder he had children with his wife. Only ever saw him reading medical journals to cross-reference how much he could charge. Almost done, just a few more," he really wasn't overly confident about his skills, he's nearly done already.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 10:20 pm (UTC)She exhales slowly, a tiny wince the only betrayal of the discomfort of it all.
"Poor woman, married to such a man."
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 10:26 pm (UTC)"You think that's bad- he was a married man, and he was sleeping with the head of our nursing staff. And sure- almost everyone fooled around with people they shouldn't, that's war for you, but you should've heard the way he strung her along. Oh Margaret, of course I'll divorce my wife and be with you, I just need a few hundred thousand dollars more a year and for the kids to be eighteen and for the war to be over and for Pluto to enter Scorpio and- you get the idea."
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 11:14 pm (UTC)It's tragic, really. And yes, this Margaret isn't blameless, if there was no understanding in place, but a firm no when she expressed her interest was Frank's to give. Particularly if he was going to set terms and conditions and impossible standards. Love. It must drive people to utter madness.
"You should have caused twenty seven more head injuries."
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 11:23 pm (UTC)Speaking of, with another couple of snips, Hawk's finished up the stitches.
"There. See me in a couple of weeks about getting these out. With any luck, you'll barely see the scar."
no subject
Date: 2024-04-29 11:51 pm (UTC)Sitting up carefully, she frowns, her brow furrowing. Okay. So she's going to feel like she's been hit with a sword for however long, but this should keep the bugs from deciding they had an entry point. Getting her shirt back where it was? Her hand feels the edges of where the fabric had split, given way under the sword.
"...Shame. I liked this shirt." Just grumbling now, thinking about the damage she'll have to fix later. Basic clothing repair is easy, but still, it's easier to complain about that than the fretting about the actual problem around them.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-30 03:49 am (UTC)One last step in the road to wellness, he pulls down the cotton mask that the author totally didn't forget to mention and gives her a little kiss on the forehead.
"All better. Now, do you want to tell me why you disturbed my beauty sleep or will I just have to be cranky at you?"
no subject
Date: 2024-04-30 04:34 am (UTC)The smile fades from her face as he asks the question that she knows was always in the air, trying to figure out how to phrase it in the most neutral fashion. But frankly, she can't.
"I was attacked by someone that the you-know-what had gotten to. He came after me out of nowhere. I'm lucky I managed to fend him off."
no subject
Date: 2024-05-01 03:00 am (UTC)... There's no pleasant way to ask this.
"Is he... going to be a problem?"
no subject
Date: 2024-05-01 05:42 am (UTC)She'll spare him the details. Even by her standards, that wasn't glorious. That was anguish, and pain, and mercy.
"I don't think the bugs were causing that violence, though. I think more...he was fighting them. And that such was the consequence."
The way he looked when he asked for more is still in her head.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-01 11:39 am (UTC)Then it just sort of drops and dangles there. She'd mentioned that killing is a part of the job, hadn't she?
"Poor guy. Did you... know him? Enough to- is there any sort of... rites we could do for him?"
no subject
Date: 2024-05-01 08:27 pm (UTC)A little exhale.
"Dimitri Alexander."
When she says the name, there's a subtle weight to it. She doesn't know rites, how to properly and somberly mourn the dead, or truly pretend at it - she's tried, felt it sit all wrong. But a name is a symbol, is something to remember and say he was here. A name can be recorded in ink, survive generations, a whole story in a collection of letters.
He's coming back, of course. The hand attached to the good shoulder reaches up to her throat, gently rubbing it. If she hadn't fought, he would have strangled her where she stood. This wasn't some dark desire twisted and festering that had slipped past all her defenses. This had been survival, pure and simple. And yet, she doesn't want to meet Hawkeye's gaze about it.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-03 05:59 am (UTC)"The uh- the blonde kid. Kinda formal, likes bad puns," his voice is very, very tight.
Of course he's not going to yell at Fever about it or anything. It was self defense. Kid was probably up to the eyeballs in bugs and not himself, there's nothing else she could've or should've done. Even if he'd only been knocked out, they couldn't get the bugs out of him, not under these conditions. The first rule is-
Hawk sits next to her on the bed, knees on his elbows, and puts his head in his hands, broad fingers kneading across his forehead. He'll be back, that's more than he can say about any of the others.
"We have to get off this boat. We have to. I can't stand it."
cw: murder introspection, self-harm
Date: 2024-05-03 06:57 am (UTC)You could demonstrate it.
Something foul, acidic as bile is in the back of her throat, burns the whole way down, and her hand rakes through her hair before her head drops forward. Fever can discern it, through the swirling, howling chaos, the impulse to close both hands around Hawkeye's throat and scream. That, she sinks into the burning pain in her shoulder and exhales without a sound. No. No. No matter how much it would get her mind temporarily off what happened.
But really, death by her hands is a better fate for him. Better he be killed than to have to breathe the same air as her, walk the same decks. He's a good man. He doesn't deserve this.
When they get off this boat, it might even be kinder to the town as a whole to leave her behind. Forget about her, free everyone from her presence, let the hive eventually find its way under her skin until they eat away what's left of her brain, until she loses the last bit of herself. Hollowed out, a living carcass. Maybe they'll eat up her heart as well; that mephitic, necrotic thing did no one any good.
Subtly, out of his view, she moves the shoulder that's been stitched. It hurts, like fresh fire. She won't hide behind devotion, like those who pray at Loviatar's altar to bless their pain. It's not even a punishment. It's just...correct. Again. She can feel her heart throb in her chest as the jolt fades away.
Instead of letting it infect her tone, she tries for steadiness and steel, something resolute and sturdy for him to lean against.
"I know. That's why I say that we will. We're going to get off it, and then you never have to step foot off of solid ground ever again if it so please you."
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