Taken Care Of

We weren't all going to die, apparently. That sick feeling that comes with almost certain death was subsiding, it was a feeling I was very used to. The thing I hated most about that heavy fear, was not the idea of a long sleep (sometimes that seemed like a welcome end), but the weakness, the helplessness, the paralysis.

I had covered it quickly, letting anger eclipse it as I shouted Moses down. My God Damn plane! Then the Winslow woman put an arm on my back, trying to calm me down. She did soft well, for someone I knew to be as hard as granite. But she gentled me away from the happy couple, revelling in the life they would go on to live together – the one I probably wouldn't cut short.

"Sit down,"
"Get your hands off me!" She was trying to force me onto some steps, and I was trying to bat her hands away. "Oh for God's sake-" She started muttering on and on about men and pride, and bleeding to death, so quickly I could barely keep up, finally I gave in and sat down.

"What are you doing?"
"You're injured,"
"You said it was nothing."
"It was nothing, when we were faced with the possibility of a Red Mercury bomb going off. Now it might be something. So shut up and let me look at it." I shut up and let her look at it. It was almost nothing, it just needed cleaning and bandaging, and a few stitches. Victoria called Boggs over with a First Aid Kit he had found from somewhere, and that drew Moses's girlfriend's attention, she dragged him over with her. "Is everything okay?" I was about to snap a retort back when she pulled back my shirt at the neck. These people were taking liberties.

"Oh! That looks sore!"
"Sore but not dangerous, he'll be okay once it's clean."
"Can I help?"
"No thank you dear, I'm just going to clean and stitch it, shouldn't take a minute." There were alcohol wipes in the kit, they burned, but it was a good, cleansing, pain. When she produced a needle, the civilian made a squeaky noise. "Do you want to hold my hand?" She was talking to me, I had to look at her to double check, but she really was. "No."
"Are you sure? That's going to hurt."
"I've had worse." I turned away, waiting for the pain. As soon as it came, I acknowledged it, then released it, letting it flow away. My meditation was broken by a hand, slipping into mine. Perhaps a broken finger would teach her not to pet a wounded lion? But I never acted on the thought, rather choosing to ignore the impertinence.

"All done," Sarah released my hand, patting my arm in a gesture that managed not to be patronising. "Up you get and let me look at it in the light, my eyesight isn't what it used to be."
"Bullshit! I've seen you take shots even I might not have made."
"Well, thank you." It wasn't a compliment, I was calling her a liar. But she looked genuinely pleased. Apparently the job was sufficient, she put a bandage over it, keeping her stitches in place.

"Thank you."
"Of course. You know you're a decent operative, it would be a shame to lose you." I inclined my head at the compliment, and she smiled, stepping away to talk with Boggs. Sarah was still by my side, "It's nice, isn't it, being taken care of?"
"I wouldn't know."

"I guess I'm lucky in that way, I've always had people around who'll take care of me. Like Frank, Frank takes care of me; I don't know what I'd do without him." Her eyes were full of tears, I could hear them in her voice. "One day, someone's going to take of Frank Moses," She looked at me, with fearful eyes, "But I hope, for your sake, that won't happen for a very long time." Sarah smiled, putting a hand on my shoulder, ignoring the sanctity of my bubble yet again. "Thanks."