Post Nightfall
Within hours soldiers and builders could be seen working together, repairing the havoc caused by the sonic wave. The command center was top priority for cleanup and glass replacement, equal with Malcom's lab and the Infirmary. Most of the damage was fixed by nightfall; the day after the long night where the Commander was injured and Mira's dinosaur was driven to madness. The perimeter fence got under repair and the colony was almost ready to face its next crisis. Several bungalows lost roofing and windows. Homes and small businesses were examined and placed on the repair list, hardest hit to least, no exceptions for stature of the recipients, but somehow the Commander's fried security access pad that locked the front door to his personal residence was repaired by nightfall on the first day. Overseen no less than by a personal visit from Thomas Boylan, carrying a new chip in its secure container. Within minutes he had the old chip replaced with his replicated new one. Luckily the Commander and Lieutenant's home, located just behind the command center was spared any additional damage.
Pilgrims learned upon orientation the hierarchy of the colony. The Commander and Lieutenant lived together, no explanations. If one had to speak to the either after they had retired for the night, one had to go through channels. In an emergency one could approach their home and speak with the guard on duty. After dark when one or both were in residence, a guard was posted outside, in the vicinity of the residence. The patrol area was from the covered porch to the side of the Command Center where a side path led directly to their home. There was an hourly rotation from the guard towers so the soldiers didn't fall asleep. It ended when the leaders left residence for the day or daylight, whichever happened first. There were no exceptions to this rule; nobody was allowed direct access to the leaders during their private time.
When the Sixers broke into the laboratory that dark night while fence security was down and were confronted by Taylor and Shannon, the arrow that pierced the Commander's armor and imbedded in his upper left chest did more damage than Taylor supposed. He'd had much worse injuries in his life, what was one small hole that didn't puncture a lung. He had grabbed the shaft and pulled the offending thing out and got on with the business of fighting, shaking off a wave of dizziness he didn't have time to indulge. He remembered telling Shannon to run after the Sixer who had stolen the mysterious box and struggling with the remaining large Sixer. He'd never admit it, especially to Boylan, but he was glad the fight was over with Boylan's well placed shot, even managed a civil, "Thank you," to him and the obligatory protest he had the Sixer right where he wanted him.
After running to the gate and yelling at Mira, he returned with Shannon to the lab where the unconscious Sixer was gone, must have come to and fled. He ordered the placement of the dead Sixer in the makeshift morgue and figured Mira got what she came for and wouldn't cause more trouble that night.
Taylor's injury came next on his list of priorities, as he felt the blood stain slowly enlarging under the armor. He parted from Shannon and headed to the clinic. Pausing inside the door, he saw the tired medics and a crowd still milling about. He retraced his steps quietly so as not to be noticed. His small wound was something Wash was more than capable of fixing.
He caught up with her at just as the sky was turning from gray to yellow, marking the beginning of another day.
"What happened, Commander?" Washington immediately noticed the hole and what looked like dried blood. She clamped down on the natural urge to touch him, something seldom exhibited in public and they were standing just outside the Command Center near the still visibly damaged market. Early risers were already moving about.
"Run-in with the Sixers a few hours ago. You see Shannon?" He saw her face darken.
"He forgot to mention you got hurt," her tone held a threat for the next meeting with the local sheriff.
"I stopped by the clinic. They're still full, so I thought you could brush up on your skills. Wouldn't want you getting rusty," he joked, leading the way to their home.
"That won't be a problem as long as I'm around you," she followed him through the door. The scanner lock was fused, but luckily for them not preventing their entrance.
"Put us on the list to get this fixed today, will you, Wash," Taylor paused to look at the scanner pad. He was already stripping down as she shut the door, stopping to check the damage as well.
Wash opened a closet and pulled out her mobile medical kit. Chest bare, Nathaniel perched on the edge of the kitchen table. Before beginning, she stripped to her black T-shirt and washed her hands. "Would you hurry up, I need to meet up with Malcom soon," Taylor's impatience showing at this un-timely pause in his morning. This was not a good morning to be injured.
"Stay still," Alicia ran an anesthetizing pad over the wound, numbing the area. "It's bled out enough and looks clean," she proceeded to clean, sanitize and suture the small hole closed, as Taylor used his right hand to play with her gun belt. If her gun had been on the left side like his often was, he would have pulled it out and played with it. Alicia cut the suture off near the skin and placed an antibiotic bandaid over the wound, "You need to stop by the clinic for stronger antibiotics and pain killer." Alicia stepped back, once again repairing her Commander and lover.
Taylor jumped off the table, gave her a quick kiss, a mumbled "Thank you," against her lips and headed to the bedroom for a clean shirt. He would have liked a shower, but the power grid was still down so he settled for clean clothing and pulled his armor back on, just in case trouble wasn't over. Now alone in the house, Washington already back on rounds, he hurried to meet with Shannon and Malcolm, the home guard leaving behind him. Losing a night's sleep was an occasional event for the command team, so another long day was part of living in the rough territory of a new frontier.
The numbing patch had worn off and Taylor was hurting. 'Suck it up,' he kept repeating to himself as the non-ending tasks poured in all day. Wash brought him food for lunch and they ate dinner together, both still immersed in finishing up the final touches for repairing the fence and damaged military equipment. Finally, the Commander was done. Bone tired, he looked over at an equally tired Wash. "Let's go to bed," he stood and escorted her to the door, turning off the lights with his right hand. He had forgotten all about Wash's admonishment for antibiotics and even though his rib stopped the arrow and hurt like hell, he was a soldier. He could handle it. They saw the guard approaching as they entered their place and shut the door as he took up his post.
A good night's sleep should have helped. Must be getting old Taylor groused as he struggled to shower and dress. Washington was already up and gone by the time he awoke, about an hour later than normal. He was tossed a fruit for breakfast as he passed through the market and almost missed it with his right hand. His entire body felt off. He attributed it to the wound and went to work, thankfully at his desk today. He didn't see Washington all day as she checked several outpost and wouldn't return until after dark. Another long day, Taylor finally gave up. He was tired, a bone dragging exhaustion that drove him home and into bed without waiting for his Lieutenant. He gave instruction to the home guard to wake him if she had trouble OTG.
He entered their bedroom with a large bed the main feature. He normally slept on the right side with his right hand free to grab a sheathed pistol hanging off the dinosaur bone headboard if needed. With his left shoulder aching, he moved to her side so she wouldn't bump it in the night as she liked to snuggle against him. He dropped off almost immediately and didn't stir until he heard Alicia mutter in the dark, "Move over, you're on my side."
"My wound hurts, sleep on my side," he managed a groggy reply and felt the bed dip as she settled against him from his side of the bed. He was glad for her warmth as he was cold and starting to shiver.
"You're burning up, Nathaniel." Alicia turned on the light and felt his forehead, "Did you go to the clinic like I asked?" Worry evident in her tone.
"I forgot, too busy," his wound was burning.
Alicia pulled back the bandage, "It's infected. You're going right now." She got up and grabbed a pair of blue jeans from the closet, threw a long sleeve top on, grabbed socks and a pair of slip on boots. He was sitting on the edge of the bed by the time she dressed and snagged a pair of rarely worn blue jeans. He had pulled on a pair of socks.
"You need help?" She indicated the jeans as she handed them to him.
"No, get me that shirt that buttons up. I can't lift my arm," he pulled on his jeans and fastened them, forgoing a belt.
Alicia looked through his side of the closet, "I can't find it."
"Try your side. You wear it more than I do," he like watching her wearing that shirt with the long tails, and nothing else around the house.
"Yep, it's here," she pulled a loose weave off white long sleeve shirt from her side of the closet and held it as he slipped his arms through the sleeves. She moved around front and buttoned all but the top button. A pair of pull on black boots and they were ready. Alicia grabbed her short black leather jacket, but Taylor didn't want the extra weight on his burning wound.
The sitting guard jumped to attention as they turned the outside light on and stepped out. He saw their casual attire, "Sir, anything wrong?"
Washington answered, "Call Dr. Shannon and have her meet us at the clinic. Tell her the Commander is injured." He nodded and reached for his radio, watching his superiors slowly make their way down the path. He saw the Commander place his right arm over the shoulder of the Lieutenant and she in turn placed hers around his waist, the second time in three days she had to help a soldier to the clinic.
They met the Shannon's outside the clinic, both parties coming from opposite directions. Both Shannon's wore worried expressions that their commander might be seriously hurt.
"Need help, Wash?" Jim offered to take Taylor as he was putting extra weight on her.
"I got him."
Jim Shannon held the door open. "Looks like he got hurt worse than I thought," he addressed Wash.
"Stop talking about me as if I'm not here," Taylor grimaced in pain.
"He's not a good patient," Wash offered in explanation as Taylor was helped to a bed.
"Of course he's not. If he was, he'd get treatment during the day like a normal person," Elizabeth couldn't resist a dig at Taylor's expense.
Washington un-buttoned Taylor's shirt and pulled it off. She and Jim helped him lie down and the doctor turned on the bio-bed. She looked at the readings and tore the bandage off in a quick motion. To his military credit, Taylor never moved or made a sound that it hurt, which the sudden sharp pain tearing across his broken skin most definitely did.
"You have a piece of metal imbedded in the bone, what happened?" Jim had purposely forgotten to fill his wife in on the small detail of Commander Taylor being on the receiving end of a crossbow. It could have easily been himself and he didn't like to bring attention to the dangerous part of his job.
"They were fighting with Sixers," Wash offered, glaring at Jim as if it were he who had injured her lover and not a large, smelly intruder.
Jim smiled back at her.
Dr. Shannon looked at the sutures, "You did a good job, Wash, but I'm going to have to open him up and remove the metal. I'll use skin glue. It won't leave a scar." She ran her eyes over his muscular torso, looking at the mass amount of scars running in all directions and some going below the waistband of his jeans, "It's like you're not going to miss this one little scar. If it's sutured, it will leave a small scar."
She and her husband watched as the Commander and Washington shared a look between each other, then with a grin, Taylor spoke, "I'd just as soon have the scar." They saw Alicia's hand covering her mouth to hide her smile, still holding Taylor's gaze.
"You guys are sick," Jim Shannon figured out they must have some perverse reason for wanting another mark on his marred frame.
"To each his own," Elizabeth was sure she didn't want the details. "Do you want me to knock you out or will a local do?"
"Local, I'm not staying," he scowled at the doctor when she started to protest.
"Just do what he says, or he'll cause a scene and wake everyone here up," Wash looked around the room which still housed injured from the wave.
"Alright, but I'm not taking responsibility if you crash again," the doctor quickly opened the wound and removed the small object causing all the problems. Her patient laid still and if he felt pain, his stoic face showed nothing. She knew Jim wouldn't have gone through something like that with a local without voicing pain and disparaging comments on her medical skills.
"Are you sure?" One last chance to glue and he turned it down. "This is going to scar worse now," she deftly sewed up the swollen edges. A large shot of antibiotics and she motioned her husband to help Taylor sit up. Washington, once again assisted with his shirt and he let her do the buttons, a sign to her that he was weak and tired. "I also included a sleeping dose and pain meds in the shot. It should kick in about the time we get you home." Elizabeth looked at Jim and he nodded, not willing to leave them to make it home alone.
Before Wash could assist Taylor, Jim pushed her out of the way, "I'll help him home. You make sure the guard doesn't shoot me."
The women followed ready to assist if needed. They could hear the Commander arguing with Shannon that his help wasn't needed and with a warning from Wash to shut up, they made their way onto the patio as Mark Reynolds appeared, willing to assist.
"You're not on guard duty tonight, Reynolds," Washington wondered where the other guard was.
"I heard on the radio the Commander was injured so switched places. Do you need help Mr. Shannon?" The Commander was starting to place more weight on his friend.
"I think the sleeping aid is kicking in. Let's get him to bed." Washington ran her hand over the scanner unlocking the front door, and with Mark and Jim on each side, led him to the bedroom with Wash leading the way. The Shannon's had never been inside the home, but were not surprised at the amount of weapons and dinosaur skulls spread here and there.
"Other side," Washington pointed to the far side of the bed. "He doesn't want me banging his sore side," she offered an explanation, though un-needed.
They helped him sit and Washington quickly unbuttoned the shirt again and drew it off. Nathaniel lay back on the bed with their help and closed his eyes. Mark and Jim each grabbed a boot. "Need help with the jeans?" Jim asked Wash.
"No, thanks for getting him home," she ushered all to the front door. "And thanks for meeting us. I feel better with you tending him," she directed to Elizabeth.
"Any time. If you need anything, just call," they waived at her and Reynolds and left, arm in arm.
Washington turned to Reynolds. "Have Terry relieve you, and get some sleep. You just volunteered for my early morning rounds. I'm staying with the Commander in the morning, so he doesn't do something else stupid," she shook her head. Not many people she would be so frank with about their commander.
"Yes, Ma'am," Reynolds keyed his radio as the door shut and the light went out.
Wash re-entered the bedroom. Taylor hadn't moved from where he stretched out. The sleeping and pain concoction had done its job. Alicia fondly took in his younger, less stressed face relaxed in a deep sleep as she tugged the crumpled comforter from under his legs and over the top of him after removing his socks. She didn't want to risk waking him while trying to wrestle the jeans off. She stripped down to her panties and snagged his discarded white shirt, enjoying the masculine scent it emitted from his short stint in it. Sliping it on, she dimmed the light and snuggled once again to his unmoving form, happy to note he wasn't so hot. Just as sleep was claiming her, she felt Taylor reach out for something her name on his lips. She snuggled close and caught his hand, "I'm here." He settled down, never waking. She let go of his hand and rested her hand on his chest, moving her open palm back and forth a few times. This was a nightly occurrence. In his sleep he would call her name and his subconscious would moved his hands, searching until he found her. Now all broken things under repair, they slept.
The End