5 | Refurbishing
"Dawes?"
He knocks and opens the door simultaneously, keeping his eyes down, in case she isn't decent. But when he raises his eyes at the silence, the room is empty. The bed unmade and there is no sign of her.
A rush of panic runs through him as he stands there, trying to think what might have happened, where she might be. Then the door opens, and she appears behind him, sitting in a wheelchair, with Margi at her back. She's wearing a hospital robe, and slippers, her hair wet and messy, a towel hanging around her neck. She stops abruptly and smiles at him, surprise and joy in her eyes, both now bare from bandages. He smiles down at her, pushing back the temptation to throw his hands around her, and through her freshly washed hair.
"Aha, a visitor, lovely. You think you might let us through into the room? I do have other patients to attend to." Margi's words are quick but good-natured. He moves awkwardly out of the way and lets them through, following with his eyes as Margi wheels Molly to the bed and helps her climb in. Margi then lifts the wet towel from her neck and goes to hang it over the fabric division.
"Well, if you don't need anything else, Molly, I'll be off."
Molly nods her head, and mouths a 'Thank you' towards her. Margi turns towards the door, the chair pushed in front of her, but comes face to face with Charles, rooted in his place between the door and the bed. "You glued then, James? I do believe you've come further than that already before. Come on, let us through. There you go," she nudges him slightly out of the way, murmuring something incomprehensible under her breath.
.
"Hi" Molly finally whispers, when the room is quiet.
"Hi," he answers lightly, almost whispering himself, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment and surprise at Margi's directness. "How are you feeling?" he asks carefully, and she nods at him, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, her eyes curiously moving to the bag in his hand.
"I've brought you something," he says, holding the bag up towards her. She reaches up, surprise in her eyes, but the distance between them is too great, she cannot reach the bag. He carefully steps closer, until the bag reaches her hand, but then continues to set it next to her on the bed, afraid it may be too heavy for her.
Once the bag is beside her, her head dips in, she curiously pulls out the articles hidden inside it – combat pants, t-shirts, a lightweight jacket – the basic clothing for a soldier on tour. She peeks inside the bag to find some underwear and socks, a light flush rises in her eyes.
"I thought you might like some clothes," he says, trying to fill the silence and make her feel at ease. Her eyes twinkle at him and a smile spreads across her face, her head nodding slightly.
"Thank you," she whispers to him. She then begins to climb off the bed but grimaces in pain as she reaches the ground, stabilizing herself against the bed. He instinctively starts towards her, stopping himself before he gets too close.
"What is it, Molly? Tell me what you need".
She takes a few breaths and points to the screen, and then to the bag. He realizes, she wanted privacy to get dressed. "I'll wait outside," he half asks half declares carefully, wishing not everything would so complicated all the time.
"No, no," she says hurriedly before he can move, "I think I'll need help. Can you help me?" she whispers to him, her eyes huge with distress, her cheeks flushed. He nods instinctively, without thinking about what it means, but he remains where he is, not daring to move.
She waves a finger at him, signaling for him to come closer. He feels like he's floating on air towards her, finally stopping in front of her, less than a foot between them. She put her hands on his arms and balances herself against him. 'A little bit like dancing' he thinks and a smile flutters on his lips.
"Can you close your eyes?" she asks quietly, and he looks at her for a moment, reading the anticipation in her eyes as she bites her lip.
He closes his eyes and waits for her to tell him what to do. She reaches for the bag and takes the trousers, holding them, by the rim, against his hands, waiting for him to replaces her hands with his. His trained fingers slide into the fabric, pulling it open for her like you do for a small child. And just the same, he feels her balancing against his shoulders. Only he is too tall, and she lightly presses down on his shoulders for him to crouch down before her. "Lower" she requests, unable to lift her leg so high, due to the pain in her abdomen. "Lower" she laughs bashfully, his hands almost on the ground. But then he feels her weight as she slowly lifts her leg and places it into the sleeve of the pants. And then again as she succeeds in repeating it with the other leg.
"Up," she says, once she's ready, both legs in place and on the ground. He slowly pulls the fabric up her legs, trying as much as he can, with his eyes still closed, not to break the trust she's giving in him and allow his fingers to stroke her skin.
When the pants are at waist height, her hands meet his, taking the fabric from him, she does up the zipper and fastens the Velcro strap. He stands back up in front of her, slowly opening his eyes.
"Wait. One more" she says, motioning her hand to cover his eyes. But he closes them before she reaches up. She delicately brings his hands to the sides her hospital gown, slowly raising her hands, the pull of her limbs causing a rush of pain. She grunts and huffs at it, easing the tension of her stretched arms. "Up" she grunts out, fighting against the pain.
As he begins to pull at the fabric, it catches against her bent elbows, causing another rush of pain, and stalling the process. He tries to stop, tugging down at the fabric, confusing the direction and the process. She tries to wriggle against the gown, but its length just gets more entangled, causing more pain, a groan leaves her lips.
"Wait, wait, stop" he tries and calm her down, "Molly, stop," his eye still closed, "let me".
He opens his eyes, finding her to be extremely close to him, caught between his arms and the bed, entangled in the thin fabric. He looks directly into her eyes, silently promising her he's not looking at her body, as his hands release the fabric around her waist, guiding one elbow out and then another.
She shivers as the air touches her bare skin under the raised gown. He circles his hands around her, tugging the gown up her back, and over her head, she bends her head down and back, raising it free, her arms holding the gown in place at her front, keeping her semi-covered.
He smiles a small smile at their success, his eyes never leaving hers, as he sends a hand to the pile of shirts on the bed beside her. He then repeats the process in reverse, first easing her head through the neck opening, and then her hands one by one, the other still holding the gown at her front.
Finally, dressed, she lets the gown fall on the bed, panting lightly at their effort, she then pulls herself to sit on the bed, her hands on his arms again. She takes one of his hands in hers, bringing it close to her face, lightly pressing her forehead against it, her eyes closed as she calms her breathing. "Thank you" she whispers again, her eyes still closed, her head down.
Though she really is grateful, she finds it a bit ridiculous, how many times she's used the word now, never in her life has she been so polite. A small giggle escapes her lips, and she raises her head to find him curious at her amusement. "I need to find new things to say to you," she tries to explain, letting go of his hand.
When he takes a step back to look at her, it's his turn to blush. He had sneaked one of his t-shirts in between the things he'd brought her; the idea of her having something of his, even without knowing, brought him comfort and excitement. Now she sat in front of him, her hands open at her sides, proudly showing him her outfit, not knowing it was his T-shirt she was wearing. He can't help but notice again, she's thinner than she was before, his long shirt hanging around her waist even looser than it used to. But she doesn't seem to care, she seems comfortable in the large size, and he feels a warm tug at the sight of her delight.
"I hope it fits, I had to kind of guess all your sizes when I went to get them. The private there looked at me like I was some sort of pervert, asking for female clothing." They both chuckle together at the thought.
"Your reputation is ruined forever" she banters back, not knowing her words touch a cord inside him, he keeps a smile on his face, only a small sliver of worry running behind his eyes.
"You up for one more surprise?" he asks to change the subject.
"Wait," she says softly, "that was a bit more than I was prepared for," her small voice getting hoarse at the end of the sentence "give me just a moment, okay?" she says as she lays back on the bed, her head on the pillow.
"All the time you need, Dawes." She still looks small against the bed, though her clothes and skin are not as white as before. "You want me to go?"
"No, stay." She points at the chair, "Just, give me a minute," she closes her eyes as he pulls the chair closer, taking a seat. She quickly dozes off, her breath light and raspy, one arm sticking out the bed frame in his direction. He sits there looking at her, listening to her breathing, grateful for the chance to be with her again, no matter how slow it must be, he can wait for her. He carefully raises his hand to hers, taking it lightly in his, brushing his thumb against her healing knuckles.