AEAY II - Chapter Two
Tawaya arrived at her ship as the sun started to dim and set.
She pressed the button to lift up her ship's ramp and she entered into the dark metal cabin of her small craft.
Re-cloaking the ship she sat down on one of the supply crates and threw her head upwards.
Closing her eyes she allowed herself a moment of reprieve; then took a deep breath.
Her work had begun.
She removed her mask and looked at the laid out medical instruments from her last impromptu surgery.
Placing the heavy metal helmet onto the floor beside the makeshift medical table she undressed her weapons, light armour, wrist gauntlets, and webbing; everything unnecessary until she was only in underwear.
Then she began going at herself, first cleaning off the dried blood and then the wet blood as best she could.
She'd bled a lot, but Yautja could replenish and regenerate themselves at a faster rate than humans. Not to say that it was instantaneous or in a style like a superhero, but it was generally a quicker process.
Though Tawaya desired to speed along this process, she was intent on getting herself together as best as possible and then going back out.
Her hunter's reason however was telling her not to.
Hunting is good but hunting takes time.
Following tracks, spoors, other indicators of activity and avoiding pack trails from the activity of local populace that were not hunted, and learned to notice specifically the activity of the populace you were hunting.
It took days, and it was a slow process during each of those days.
It required calm and it needed level headed reasoning to think through and plan, to work around the things in the environment.
What had possessed her however, wasn't really any of those things.
She was not being a hunter, and this was definitely not hunting.
It was rage, it was emotion, it was passion, and it was revenge.
And to a Yautja, revenge was a pursuit that was always bound to failure if not planned out carefully and done 'in time' as opposed to as soon as possible.
As part of her upbringing she knew this, but she wanted it now.
She wanted to be in fighting condition, even if that meant just barely.
With all this in mind, Tawaya, apprehensively, took hold of a long syringe and began injecting her bloodstream with another dose of what could only be described as a medical cocktail of steroids.
The dosage would kill a human a couple of times over, but it was the kind of thing that a Yautja was used to, and could easily handle.
Within reason of course, it wasn't advisable that a Yautja utilize chemistry too much, many a bad blood has been created from drug dependence and psychological upheaval.
The Yautja are… hair trigger stable to say the least, throw in psychotropic drugs, dependency, and psychosis, and you've got an eight foot wrecking ball of rage, cunning, and visceral strength.
Tawaya herself was always able to sparingly use medical substances only when she needed them, and she begrudgingly did so.
There was nothing she felt to fear over use or reliance on such things.
After the steroids began their alien work repairing the torn and ripped muscle and skin layers in her body cell by cell, Tawaya took hold of her thick, leather-needle like pin and thread and began re-suturing her major wounds.
She growled and grumbled uncomfortably as she went about her thread-work; she'd never been good at threading, needle point, or knitting, but when it came to her own skin she looked like a master seamstress.
Perhaps it was the stakes she was playing that spurred her to be as good as she had gotten, and she laughed that her skills on her skin had never made the jump to her crafting ability.
In between each stitch she was applying her coagulant and still cleaning away blood.
It was tiring work and the way she was sitting was awkwardly bent over.
She felt worn out.
Mid stitch she paused and had to slowly bring her head upwards.
Tawaya was breathing deeply, but no matter how even or controlled her breaths were her head still felt off.
It must have been the adrenaline petering out…
Or the amount of blood she'd lost…
No… it was everything; the day, her Jake, the wounds, the pain, the lack of blood, the chemicals, the hormones. Everything had pushed her and pushed her, and now doing the simplest task was taking an unnecessary amount of focus and effort.
Letting go of her needle with one hand and raising the other off her skin she brought both hands to her face and wiped her crest, and then lifted her dread locks to wave air underneath them to her neck.
Then it hit her like a bullet, her eyes fluttered and she felt like she was to vomit. She tried rising from her seated position but instead of standing she stumbled forwards, knocking her medical tools onto the floor and hitting the crate they were on with her shoulder as she fell.
She had gone entirely limp and the fall was the result of her losing consciousness.
When she eventually awoke, she was surrounded by her discarded bloody cloths and the broken glass of crushed ampules.
Tawaya was too sore, she ached, and her body was telling her a firm 'no'.
She wasn't going anywhere.
After regaining consciousness, she tried to get up; she moved her hands under her torso and went to push down, getting her chest and head up and off the ground.
But she couldn't.
Her anger and the rest of her emotions gave way to pain.
She hurt, all over; muscles were pulled, muscles were cut, her chest was stabbed, blood had been lost, pride had been lost…
Her Little Jake had been lost.
The only movement she managed to do was she was able to push herself onto one side.
After doing so she brought up her wrist. The only things she hadn't removed from her person, other than her undergarment, were her bracelets.
Some were leather, some were woven, and some were wrapped with hair from great beasts she'd personally hunted. But the one that stood out the most against her spotted skin was the one she'd received from Jake.
It was a flat black, but was adorned with letter characters and shapes that had vibrant dyes.
It looked beautiful to her, though she didn't know how or where Jake had gotten it. And she didn't know what its words meant.
But it reminded her of Jake, and that was all she needed.
She brought it close to her face and after looking it over closely she closed her eyes and held her wrist against her forehead.
There was a reverence towards it now, it was from Little Jake yes, but… there was something more to it than just that. She was at a loss as to properly articulate it; there was an additional emotion or sentiment.
Though she couldn't place it, Tawaya wasn't a poet.
She adored listening to any Yautja poet or Chief recite lyrics, epics, ballads, and old written works.
But she learned in her youth she had no talent for it, which was the altercation that lead to her taking her brothers eye… if she remembered correctly.
All such things aside, Tawaya cleared her mind and quietly lay with her wrist close to her eyes.
Looking at her 'piece' of Jake, in pain, and entirely missing him.
-1-
The rhythmic beeping of the VS monitor punctuated the chorus created by the respiration machine in the small ICU room that Jake had been moved to.
He'd regained consciousness once after the surgery while they were moving him, but was far too sedated to do anything.
The second time he woke up it was early in the morning, and before the hospital had allowed his family to see him.
It was good that they weren't present; in the delirium of waking up he had pulled his respiration tube out.
In his vain tugging and gagging he ended up tearing quite a bit of his throat and when he finally removed it, the total strain had ended up splitting some of his sutures.
The staff then had to move him out the ICU, sedate, and then check over the work they just finished to make sure he wasn't going to start bleeding internally again.
It took several hours, and it pushed the admittance of Jake's family back quite a while, but it was necessary.
After ensuring that he hadn't split or damaged any of the internal patches or stitches, the hospital staff determined that he didn't require the respiration tube, and that keeping him sedated any longer would not be beneficial.
Then, when they were finished he'd been cleaned up again, and was returned to the ICU, unaware of any of this though was his family, who had been stressfully waiting outside the ward in the empty lounge.
Diana had gotten some sleep in the waiting room, the same with Clair. Both had also begrudgingly eaten at the hospital cafeteria. This wasn't because of the quality of the food; it was mostly because of the stress of the situation.
They didn't want to do anything other than wait at the ICU doors.
The two women were so focused on everything else they didn't even notice the taste of what they had eaten; they only knew that they needed the energy.
Walter however had ferried back to the hotel, gotten his wife and daughter clean clothes and brought some things they might need.
He hadn't eaten since the previous day; he also hadn't slept since then either.
But Walter was used to days without sleep, or real meals, and stress.
He was well acquainted with stress.
Though this stress that took a greater toll than anything he'd gone through in his professional life.
Walter was presently on his way back in their rental car to the hospital when Jake finally woke up for longer than a few minutes.
Despite tearing his throat he was able to talk, but barely.
At the moment he woke up, one of the nurses was in the room.
His voice was dry, and raspy, he sounded like he had suddenly earned a voice akin to a sixty year old smoker.
Blinking the dry crust from his eyes he began to look around slowly until he settled on the nurse.
"Clair… is Clair okay…"
The words were barely audible, and there was a large amount of rough mumbling before and after the four discernible words.
After assuring and touching Jake's shoulder, the nurse changed his IV and quietly left the room.
Checking with the ICU's supervising doctor the nurse then exited the ward and informed the waiting Clair and Diana that he was awake, and that only one of them could enter the room to see him.
Diana looked to Clair and the young girl meekly left her mother's side and followed the nurse to his room.
The nurse was tall and thin with lightly tanned skin and blond highlights throughout her dark brown hair. She was Hispanic, but she wasn't like the citizens of the island, she looked different but of course Clair couldn't place it.
She wasn't as worldly as her parents.
Or even Jake.
Truth was she was putting most of her persona on for show.
And right now she was just a scared girl, worried about her brother…
The nurses' accent was very strong, and her speech was slow as she carefully formed her words.
"At first just one at a time…" She paused as Clair and the nurse began walking through the ICU doors.
"Then after a little while, if he responds well, and he's still…" she stopped struggling for the right word in English.
"Stable, si, if he is still stable and okay. Then rest of you may see."
Before they disappeared through the open double doors Clair waved to her mother and stifled a sob before walking with the nurse down the hallway and into the unit.
The same doctor from the previous night had just arrived and nodded to the nurse as they got closer to Jake's room.
The nurse quietly walked off as the doctor greeted Clair.
"Good afternoon… I hope you are feeling better since last night."
Clair wiped her nose, "Yeah… I could barely sleep but… yes…"
She stopped herself and just nodded slightly.
The doctor nodded, "It may be a bit of a shock to see him, but he was calling for you specifically."
She took a breath and lightly touched the side of Clair's arm.
"When you talk to him, it doesn't matter so much what you say but how."
Clair nodded and looked intensely at the door to his room.
"Stay positive, upbeat; avoid negative language or being loud. It will help him a lot."
The doctor took a breath as she reluctantly continued, "He pulled his breathing tube out himself earlier this morning so his voice may be a little raw or rough sounding. Now he can't have anything acidic or carbonated."
The doctor finally turned the handle to the door and slowly opened it, lowering her voice as she did so.
"On the side table there I've left a cup of ice chips, you can if you want, help him with those. They're good to bring down the swelling and the soreness."
Clair nodded again, holding back her tears and breath.
Then she entered the room, quietly and slowly like a mouse, Clair took a few steps in; eyes transfixed on the bed in the centre of the small room.
Lying under some thin light blue covers was her brother.
He had bruises on his face and his lips were chapped and rough.
Other than the reddish spots of irritation or of bruises his skin was pale, almost entirely devoid of colour.
His black and purple hair had been pushed out of his face and was brushed to either side of his cheeks, but out of habit, the bangs had fallen back over his eyes.
At the moment his eyes were closed and his chest moved slowly up and down. He was breathing on his own but it was a horrible sound; a wheezing, straining sound emanated loudly from him.
It filled the room and immediately made Clair uncomfortable.
As she got closer she could see his features.
His face was partially turned towards the other side of the room; sunlight was coming in through two large windows but the shutters evenly broke up the light and left dark bars of shadow across his face.
Dr. Arroyo quietly spoke before closing the door behind Clair. "I'll leave you…"
Clair cleared her throat and tried her best to stay calm.
'Positive… positive and quiet…' she thought.
Finally she had enough courage.
"Jake?"
She said.
He stirred under the light. His cheeks winced and his eyes moved under their lids. He recognised the sound, it was familiar but he hadn't really 'heard' it.
"Jake?" she tried again a little louder than before, but still softly.
His eyes opened and his head slowly turned.
He looked tired, and more than that he looked sick.
'More than usual' Clair thought.
She would have laughed if she wasn't so overcome with seeing him awake.
He looked up and finally his eyes lazily came to Clair.
It took a moment to focus but eventually he recognised her and his eyes, though dilated and coming down from being heavily medicated, lit up with joy at the sight of his sister.
He tried to raise a hand and he moved his chin upwards to swallow as he attempted to talk.
"C-Cla." He dryly coughed, "Clar"
He tried swallowing again as his breathing laboriously grew louder for a few breaths.
"Clair…"
His face had lit up through sedated and slowed glee.
She walked closer to him and tears began to flow down her cheeks, she extended her hands and took hold of his arm.
Pushing the covers down off his shoulders she was able to tightly grasp his hand, his face began to convey relief.
'She was okay'
Clair knew what he was thinking, and she couldn't help but nod her head at her brother.
"You… ok?"
He managed to get out.
Clair leaned closer to his bed and brought his thin, light, hand to her face.
Pressing the cool flesh against her warm cheek she shut her eyes and loudly sobbed before nodding and agreeing.
"Yes… I'm okay Jake…"
She rubbed her eye with her free hand and continued, "You are too, you know? You're okay now…"
Jake's eyes were so heavy, he couldn't hold them open anymore and they involuntarily closed.
"You're okay… your little sister's here now…"
She slowly lowered his hand back to where it was at his side, and carefully replaced the covers. Tucking him in with a care and loving grace a doctor or a nurse couldn't provide their patients.
Then she leaned to his cheek and kissed it.
She wanted to hug him, she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him closely.
She wanted to tell him she was stupid and missed him, and that she was scared, and thought he was going to die…
And she wanted to confess that she felt she had always been a shitty little sister to him, even when he was right, even when he was doing what he was supposed to, all the times he covered for her, looked out for her, got her and her friends stuff,
Clair felt like she had so much to say to him, but she didn't even know where to begin; 'sorry', and 'thank you for everything' just didn't seem like enough.
It's funny how all these small things seem to spring into a persons' mind when faced with something traumatising or close to loss.
-2-
For the rest of the day, Jake drifted in and out of wakefulness.
Sometimes he'd be able to stay awake for close to an hour, but for the majority of it he would pass out for about ten minutes or so, and then be awake for about the same amount of time.
Clair was able to stay with him for almost two hours, during which time she helped him get some water, carefully rubbing the ice chips along his mouth and lips.
"S-sorry about this…"
He would say, coughing a very weak laugh.
"It's okay Jake… I don't mind… but this is about all I'm willing to do."
She smiled and laughed sharply, the laugh hollowed out with an emotional groan.
Then he would just close his eyes and be out like a light.
The first time it happened it scared her, but then after rushing to get a nurse and she explained to her that it was normal, Clair became okay with the intermittent consciousness.
Okay… How can someone be okay with that?
She could 'handle it' is probably a better way to say it.
Sitting in the chair beside his bed she would just talk. At first it was awkward, trying to talk to someone who was injured and asleep, but eventually she got the hang of it.
It didn't matter what she was talking about, so long that it was soft, quiet, and positive, she told herself.
As she spoke Clair started to remember all sorts of things that the two of them did when they were younger… and closer.
How'd she push him away so much? She thought.
'He did change though…' she nodded as her cheeks twitched and her eyes moistened, 'he did a lot of pushing us all away too…'
She told him everything that had been going on for her lately, like they were old friends again; she talked about the classes she was looking forwards at school, some of the things she and her girlfriends did over the summer, she talked about her clubs, teams, even some of the few books she'd read during the last semester.
It was a beautiful moment between them, because not only had Clair gotten her older brother back, but the pretension was gone, the forced closeness wasn't present, it was honest, it was real, her brother had saved her life.
And now she could, in a small way, help save his…
Eventually though Clair's' story telling had to come to an end as nurse came to break the horrible news that she would have to leave the room.
Clair nodded reluctantly, and stood from the Ikea-like chair.
Touching her brother's arm through the covers she quietly said her goodbye,
"I'll be back soon, okay? Dad and Mom will be in too, you know, to see you…"
She shut her eyes strongly, "You just…" she took a breath and continued, "You keep getting better…"
Before her eyes could start streaming she turned and walked towards the nurse waiting by the open door.
She was okay to leave right now, but if she stayed any longer she knew it would have been too hard.
'He was okay' she thought, 'he's okay…'
Relieved, and tiredly, Clair walked with her nurse escort down the hallway and back into the waiting room, greeted happily by Walter and Diana.
She couldn't help but nod and smile through the tears as she told them he was okay.
