I don't even want to talk about how the little shit landed a hit on me.
I'd never wanted to kill him half as much as I did right then, though. The hell was that for?! He was the one who barged into my room.
You're alright..
When I tore off after him - Judas, an inconsequential object easily swept aside - he was already ducking into the elevator. Or, well, it was more he fell into the elevator. His foot was in the way of the doors; I lunged just as he pulled it back and they went to close.
At the last second, I was able to thrust out my arm through gap. The elevator made a buzzing noise and quickly parted the doors again. There was a growl forming in my throat as I stepped in to loom over him.
...But I couldn't hold onto my rage at the sight.
Shivering, tense, back arched away from the elevator wall, his face was contorted into the most horrific expression of pain I'd ever seen. I knelt beside him, trying to ignore how my stomach tightened. My fingers caught his.
"Breathe."
His chest didn't move.
"Breathe!"
This time he obeyed. In went a gasp, and out flew a scream. I'll admit that it startled me; I was momentarily thankful that we were alone.
He turned into a writhing mess, slumping over and scrabbling at his back with his nails. I still had his right hand captured, and I used it to pull him upright. Another cry of torture shook the elevator.
My god, what did you do?
It was then that I finally noticed him clutching something; a cane. That was what he must have smacked me with. I supposed it was a fitting irony.
With more caution than I care to go into, I gingerly lifted him into my arms. A choked whimper left his mouth; his face was awash with tears. The elevator came to a stop. I blinked rather stupidly as the doors revealed the crew-deck of the starbase - you had to have clearance to even press the button for this floor.
How in the...
There was a sinking feeling pooling in the bottom of my lungs. I glanced; on the floor of the elevator was a thin, white rectangle, with black laser-lettering of 'F.L. Abel' etched into the side facing us. I shifted him slightly to bend and retrieve it.
First lieutenant. My mind went quiet. He was a first lieutenant.
You did not wake up as a first lieutenant. Maybe a second lieutenant; or the unrecognized errand boy who gets coffee for everyone. Hell, there was a greater chance of you surviving out in space buck-naked than earning a rank of first lieutenant for sleeping for six months.
I looked down at him with new eyes.
...just how long have you..
On the back of the card was the number '13'. Raising an eyebrow at the '30' above the door in front of me, I followed the hallway. The weight in my grasp flinched with each step.
Sure enough, passing the swipe card through the lock of room thirteen made it open.
That sinking feeling dropped into an abyss.
Truth be told, I wasn't sure what to think - about any of this. No grand epiphanies were forming as I lowered him onto the bed, prying the offending metal stick from his grip and tossing it away. He settled some, eyebrows growing less pinched and lips relaxing softly. I pressed one knee on the mattress, sitting on my leg.
"..When did you wake up?"
His features morphed into a dull anger; "Like you give a damn," he forced, voice strained.
The accusation made my temper flare. "I wouldn't fucking ask if I didn't want to know, moron."
"Get out."
"Tell me when you woke up, asshole."
I actually regretted saying that, when his eyes snapped open to bore into me. There was a deadly mix of emotion in them - betrayal, sorrow, murderous intent, and a touch of passion. They blazed. He began yelling in my face.
"You'd fucking know when I 'woke up' if you'd fucking been there! I meant nothingto you! If I'd died or if I lived, it was all the same to your fucked-up little game! A bitch you could trash whenever you felt like it! Get the fuck out, you bastard!"
"Shut-"
"I hate you!"