bandit
Kagamine Len hissed, slapping her hand away. The girl pursed her lips, then rocked back on her heels, tipping her head as she watched him bleeding out. Len glared at the ground, fingers clenching into fists. Hot, vivid red blood spurted out through the thin material of his white shirt.
"You're going to bleed to death if you don't accept my help," the girl stated calmly, matter-of-factly, as though she cared not whether he lived or died. Would it matter even if she didn't care? He had been about to rob her house and burn the whole place down, uncaring of whether she herself lived or died. If he hadn't been stabbed in the chest by one of his own comrades, he wouldn't even be here.
"Fuck you," he spat, red froth on his lips. Angrily, he wiped the blood away from his mouth, even that small action sapping what little energy he had left. His other hand was still clenching on to his shirt, which was soaked through with red. He numbly thought about how he never expected to die so soon. Being part of a wanted group of outlaws and robbers naturally meant a shorter life expectancy, but he was only eighteen years old – he didn't think he would die this young. "I don't need your pity, bitch."
"So you want to die?" the girl retorted, the spark of anger that was suddenly present in her words startling him. His gaze slid over to meet hers and he noticed her glaring furiously at him, her green eyes narrowed. "You might have been robbing my house and you might have intended to leave me for dead, but unlike you I have a conscience and I can't let someone bleed to death right in front of me. Let me help you," her voice softened, back to what it was like before. "I'm a doctor, and I know what I'm doing. Your wound doesn't seem to be extremely deep, but you will die if you don't get medical attention soon," she sounded firm, tugging at his clenched fist while she spoke.
Len growled, but finally complied, relaxing his fingers and wincing as the blood gushed out, hot and sticky. He was beginning to feel lightheaded – he never knew he had that much blood to lose. The girl began to tear away at his shirt, and he allowed her to remove the fabric, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling while she examined his wound. This was probably his second worst wound ever, the first…being a result of something he preferred not to think about. The girl finally let out a sigh.
"You'll live," she announced, rising from the ground and hurrying to another room in the house. Len waited, not quite wanting to look down at his own gory injury, and a few moments later the girl returned with a few bandages, wipes and a pair of scissors. "I'm going to disinfect your wound with alcohol first and clean out any debris that may have lodged itself in there. It's going to hurt," she warned, unravelling the bandages and holding them up for him to see. Len just glared at her.
"Do what you want," he hissed, "I'm dead either way." The girl nodded, seeming to take no offence at his hostility, and got to work. He shut his eyes and grit his teeth throughout the whole procedure, the burning hot pain of disinfection almost making him pass out, but eventually everything was done and the girl was cleaning up his bandages, snipping them expertly and ensuring they wouldn't come loose later. He stared down at the white strips, where a faint circle of red was already growing.
"The bandages will need to be changed every couple of hours. As the skin begins to heal, it'll have to be changed less. I'd like to stitch it up, but…honestly, the wound isn't that bad, I've seen worse. You just need to stop bleeding, and it'll recover if you don't move around so often," the girl was now saying, packing up her supplies and rising from the ground once more. Len stared up at her, and she brushed some of her hair behind her ear, staring neutrally down at him. "You may stay in my home for a while longer to recuperate, then you can be on your way to…whatever it is you do."
"Why are you helping me?" he asked, words blunt. She paused, cocking her head, seeming to spend some time thinking over the answer, and her silence irritated him. He coughed, throat dry, and she noticed – turning, she went to fetch a glass of water, and he called out to her while she bustled around the kitchen. "Don't ignore me. Why are you helping someone who wished you no good?"
She returned to him with the glass of water, kneeling so that he wouldn't have to sit up to take it. He accepted the glass with grudging gratitude, and the girl sighed, closing her eyes while he sipped from the glass. He didn't try to check if it was poisoned – if she had wanted him gone, she could have just let him bleed to death on her kitchen floor. She didn't need to offer him any assistance whatsoever.
"I am a doctor, the only doctor in this town," she finally replied. "I swore an oath to always help those in need, regardless of where they are from or what kind of background they have. I will not break that oath, not even for someone who tried to kill me," she paused. "In return, all I ask is that you do not disrespect the service I've done for you, and do anything that might risk your health in your current state. It would not be convenient for either one of us if I had to constantly patch you up, outlaw."
He avoided her gaze. "My name is Len," he answered instead. "Kagamine Len. And…" he hesitated. "I apologise for trying to rob your house," he continued stiffly. "I will not apologise for who I am or what I do, but you saved me despite me wronging you and I will remember that. You do not need to bother yourself with me," he pushed himself up from the floor, hissing in pain as the girl started, clearly concerned about his condition. "I'll be gone in two weeks after I'm recovered, and you will never see me again. We can just pretend that I don't exist – I'll stay here as quietly as possible."
"No, I'll have to check on you daily to ensure that your wound hasn't become infected, and that your bandages do not need changing," she shook her head. "And two weeks will be too short to make a full recovery. What are you going to do when you're healed?" her sharp gaze met his, full of wisdom and keen intuition. "Are you going to hunt down the other man who stabbed you before he fled my home?"
"Maybe," he answered unwillingly, not wanting to share any of his personal plans with this stranger. The girl frowned, opening her mouth, but he cut across her before she could speak up. "Miss, I really appreciate what you've done but don't overstep your boundaries. You and I, we come from different worlds. If anyone were to realise that I was staying in your home, we'd both get in trouble with the law, and you're aware of that," he pointed out dully. She clamped her lips together. "I'll stay as quiet and hidden as possible, and slip away in the dead of the night. You won't even realise that I left."
She sighed, then finally she nodded resignedly. "I understand, Kagamine Len," she lingered over his name, meeting his gaze again. The small crease on her forehead never left. "You are one of the thirteen outlaws who belong to the Black Mamba bandits. The youngest, aren't you?" she asked, curiosity in her voice. He nodded curtly – he was stuck in her home, so there was no point hiding that information from her. "Why did you join…no, never mind," she must have noticed the scowl of irritation on his face. "I have a spare room on the floor upstairs. It is already laid out since I normally leave it ready for emergency patients. Make yourself comfortable, and call me if you need any help."
"I won't need your help," he answered curtly. She did not respond to that, instead collecting up her supplies and turning to leave. "Wait, before you go," he called out, and she turned a little to face him, expression unreadable. "What is your name? I need to know what to address you as," he explained.
"Hatsune Miku," she inclined her head, long teal fringe sweeping forward to cover her eyes. He raised an eyebrow – the Hatsune name was prestigious, and usually those with the family name tended to be wealthy and influential, not small-town doctors like her. Maybe it was just simple coincidence that she was living out here, alone and vulnerable, in a place filled with war and gore.
"Miku," he echoed, testing the word out on his tongue. She nodded at the sound of her name, and suddenly he smiled, a wicked grin curving his lips. "Right. Now I know who to look for if people in this town ever realise my whereabouts. Believe me, you may have helped me, but that does not mean I will not kill you if I ever find that my safety is compromised," he threatened. Miku smiled.
"Your safety is the very last thing you need to worry about in a doctor's home," she turned away from him again, long hair swinging back and forth against her waist. "I treat all my patients justly and fairly – you, outlaw or not, will be no exception. You may rest easy," she shot him a final parting glance, that faint smile still on her lips. "I would rather worry about you more so than myself. After all, I am not the one who is badly injured, and I am not the one preparing to head out on a suicide mission to hunt down my own comrades. And you are the youngest among them all. Is that not a risk?"
"Don't preach to me," he snapped. She just shook her head and walked out of the kitchen, carrying all her supplies out with her. Len stared at the doorway through which she had disappeared, then let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping forward as he leant against the counter, suddenly exhausted beyond belief. His hand felt over the layers of white bandages, and he wondered what the doctor wanted out of the entire interaction. No one in this world was altruistic – so what did she want from him?
Kagamine Len could not be any older than her. Miku sighed, flipping through her book, but she found that she couldn't get her mind off the young, angry bandit who now resided in the room down the hallway. She did not fear for her life or safety, but she wondered what he was doing right now.
She knew he was a wanted man. She had heard his name being whispered in bars and pubs, and seen rough drawings of him on posters, promising great rewards if he was captured and handed over to the authorities. She must be mad to hide a criminal in her home, but she saw the young man with the desperate fury in his blue eyes and the grimace of pain on his lips, and she was so reminded of her brother in his last moments that she couldn't just leave him to die. She couldn't abandon anyone to certain death, not even with a man who couldn't care any less about her. It just wasn't…her.
She came from a family of five, with her being the only survivor. Her old town was infected by the plague, and her entire family fell prey to the dreaded disease that wiped out more than half of the town's populace. She was one of the lucky few who, for some unfathomable reason, had natural immunity to the plague, but her family was not so fortunate. She had to watch her parents and her siblings die around her, one by one, all of them begging her not to let them go – and after that, she threw herself into studying and practicing medicine, not wanting to see another person pass on if she could do anything at all to change the situation. She had no formal training with medicine, but she learnt as she went along and she was a doctor's pupil for a few years before she left her home.
Now here she was, eighteen years old, probably one of the youngest doctors in the country, with a strange knack for patching up wounds and stitching shredded skin back together. Where she lived now was criminal territory – there were few people in this region who could claim that they were on the straight and narrow. But she, as a doctor, was protected from all the criminal happenings that occurred here on a regular basis – at least, until today she was. She shuddered. If she hadn't been outside, visiting a patient, she might very well have been killed by the Black Mamba bandits.
The Black Mambas were the most fearsome gang of outlaws in the entire country. They travelled around outside the towns, rarely making contact with civilisation – when they did, it was usually either for money or booze, occasionally women for the older men. The Black Mambas consisted of thirteen men, with Kagamine Len being the youngest at eighteen years old, and all of them had notorious reputations of their own. As a group, the Black Mambas were formidable, and no lawman dared to stand up to them alone. They usually had more or less free reign of the country, looting, ransacking and pillaging whenever they wanted. People whispered when they talked about them, afraid that saying their names aloud would cause the wind to carry their voice to the bandits, and draw their ire.
Miku slowly rose from her bed and tiptoed down the hallway, to where Len was sleeping. She knew he was asleep – for all his anger and bravado, his body was exhausted and he needed the rest. He had been sleeping fitfully for the past two nights, and the wound didn't seem to be showing any signs of getting better. She had to keep replacing his bandages since they continued getting soaked through with blood, but Len absolutely refused to have his injury sewn up so she decided to wait and see. If by tomorrow night, he was still bleeding this way, she would insist on stitching up the wound.
She carefully opened the door to his room and saw the bandit lying on the bed, mumbling quietly as he tossed and turned, clearly uncomfortable. Miku sighed, then crossed over towards him, unsure of how to help – she could deal with physical illness, but with nightmares she was of little use. The outlaw was noticeably pale, his skin having a light sheen to it, and she pressed a hand against his forehead, concerned for him – it was burning hot, and she snatched her hand back, realising he had developed a fever. She immediately went to get a small towel and, wetting it with cool water, she brought the damp towel and a small bowl of water back to his room to try and bring his fever down.
Who would ever have thought that this young man, saying unintelligible things in his sleep with a deep frown on his face, would have been callous enough to try and kill her? Perhaps he had not intended to kill her directly, but he had wanted to burn her house down and he probably would have if he didn't get stabbed by his partner on the way out of the house. She had come back just in time to see the betrayal, and saw how Len dropped the lighter, clearly as shocked as she had been when she discovered two robbers in her home. The other man ran out with whatever possessions they had stolen – she realised it was her jewellery box, which contained her family heirlooms, but at least she was safe – and left Len on the floor to die. Miku had been rather torn about helping him, but his face then…
She was horribly upset about the missing jewellery, since they were all she had left of her family – even at her poorest she had never pawned the heirlooms, despite them being worth a vast fortune. But she reminded herself that at least she was safe, and Len was alive. That was the most important. She wiped the towel across his forehead, studying his long, curled eyelashes and the way his flaxen hair, normally smooth and silky, now stuck to his damp skin. He was extremely handsome, which made it even harder to believe that this boy was one of the Black Mambas, yet here he was.
"Kill them…kill them all…" the boy was moaning now in his sleep, and Miku winced, wondering what he was dreaming about. Even at rest he was full of rage and violence. Such an existence had to be a tiring, distrustful one. No wonder he was so suspicious of her when she tried to help him and clean his wound. "Mama!" he suddenly cried out, his eyes flying open, and he jolted upright on the bed, his breaths sharp and hurried. His wild eyes met hers, and they stared at each other for a moment.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice back to its usual hostile tone – though he sounded a little slurred, probably due to having only recently woken up and his newfound fever. "I thought I said to just leave me alone until I get better. Could you stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?"
"You have a fever," she retorted. He pursed his lips sullenly, the sheen of sweat and the sour stench of illness still clinging on to his skin. "I was helping to bring your temperature down. And maybe I did not want you perspiring all over my pillows," she added, tired of his snappishness and the way he always tried to turn away her assistance. He made no response – instead, he just lay back down on the bed, and when she continued wiping his forehead, he said nothing. He just closed his eyes.
She wanted to ask about what she heard him saying in his sleep, but she knew that if she even dared to open her mouth he would force her to leave the room, and she couldn't in good conscience leave him there while he was ill. The fever, combined with his injury, was most likely not a good sign – the wound might be infected; she would have to monitor his condition. So instead of that, she tried to make small talk, wondering if she might discover more about his past. "Is there any reason why you chose to become an outlaw? It's clearly not the safest thing to do, and it's best not to continue with it."
He snorted. "Not a safe thing to do? What an understatement," his blue eyes opened lazily, fixing her with a stare. His eyes were like ice, cold and beautiful, but painful to touch. He was so distant, so removed from her, although at the same time he was right there, lying on her bed. "Of course I had my reasons. But if you intend to trick me into revealing more about myself, then you need to try harder. I won't so easily trust that you won't betray me to the authorities. If my own comrade can stab me in the chest, then why would I trust you, a stranger, with my life story?"
"Perhaps because I saved you when you were dying?" she suggested, raising an eyebrow. The blond outlaw rolled his eyes and shut them again, turning his head slightly so that he was facing away from her – though he didn't turn so much that it would be hard for her to continue wiping his forehead.
"I never asked to be saved by you," he retorted sullenly. "You did so despite my stubbornness about wanting to be left alone. Maybe I wished to die, and you deprived me of such an option," she had the feeling that if his eyes were open, they'd be glaring balefully at her right now. "And that alone isn't going to be enough to make me trust you. You'll need to try a lot harder than that, doctor."
"All right, very well," she paused. "Then the brand on the back of your shoulder…" she felt him stiffen at the mention of the brand, and knew it was a touchy subject. She pressed on anyway. "Does that brand have anything to do with your decision to join the Black Mambas, then? I recognise that brand…that mark. I've seen it before, I think, when I was in another town way past the hills –"
"Don't ask too many questions, because that could very well get you killed," his cold voice made her flinch, and she actually stopped wiping his skin with the towel, shocked by the abrupt change in his tone. He had never sounded friendly, but this time he seemed actively hostile – the same way he was when she first found him in her kitchen, bleeding to death. "I don't ask you about your history or life story, so I ask that you respect my privacy too. Leave me be, and I'll leave you well alone."
She bit her lip. "As a doctor, I need to know about my patients so that I know the best way to treat them," she answered softly, wringing the towel out and dipping it in the bowl of cool water again. Len opened his eyes, rolled them visibly at her, then turned away, indicating that he did not want her in the room any longer. She hesitated, then quietly she picked up her tray with the towel and the bowl, and rose from the chair to leave the room. It was clear that even if she stubbornly sat there and tried to continue the conversation, it would go nowhere. Len was clearly done talking to her.
But she wondered if she could get him to open up. She could feel there was a lot of pain within him – not just the physical injury that he was currently recuperating from, but plenty of emotional hurt as well. It must be why he was so defensive, so ready to lash out at those who were only trying to help him. If only she could see his emotional pain as clearly as she saw the white bandages he wore.
Len absentmindedly traced his finger over the brand she brought up just now, thinking about the mark and what it meant to him. The reason why he joined the Black Mambas was right there, imprinted upon his skin. Why did she have to mention the brand? When had she even seen it on his shoulder?
He shook his head, scowling. That girl's uncanny knack for noticing things would get her killed one day. Not that he particularly wanted her to die. Most of the time when she came into the room, leaving him food and checking on his wound…he usually pretended that he was asleep since he didn't want to talk to her, but he could hardly rest easy in a stranger's house. No, he knew it every time she entered the room, her light footsteps familiar to him by now. She was slender and willowy, floating through the room like a midsummer night's dream, and he could hear her breathing.
Sitting up on the bed, he looked down at the bandages again and winced – there was a pinkish tinge to them, but it was getting better. He wasn't quite as lightheaded as he usually was either, which he took to be a good sign. He glanced at the bedside table, where Miku had left some food from earlier in the morning. Honestly, he was surprised that she hadn't commented on the untouched food, but then again he hadn't been eating a lot, the past few days. He wasn't feeling well, and sometimes he wasn't entirely sure when he was awake and when he wasn't. But he knew he was awake right now.
Whenever his mother appeared to him he knew he had to be dreaming. His mother had passed away twelve years ago – though as a child, he hoped she might return, he was too old now to hold on to such delusions. Reaching out to the small loaf of bread and the glass of water the doctor left on the table, he pinched off some of the bread and popped it in his mouth, wincing as he swallowed – his throat felt parched. He hadn't even realised how thirsty he was. Grateful for the water, he took a long, deep gulp, draining most of the water at one go. Then he wondered if he was well enough to stand and walk around. He hadn't left the room during the past two days, feeling too drained to explore.
A female doctor…who would have thought that such a person existed? Most doctors were male. She was the first doctor he had ever seen who was…well, a girl. And so young, at that. She didn't look any older than him, though he had never asked her for her age. On one hand, he was slightly incredulous about her abilities – what would a woman know about men's wounds and injuries? But she seemed to know what she was doing, and he personally knew that he was in no condition to travel anyway.
He rose from the bed, pressing his hand flat against the wall for support. Suddenly standing made him a little dizzy, but he blinked furiously and waited for his senses to settle, and after a moment or two he felt well enough to walk. So he took his hand off the wall, carefully shuffling across the room towards the door, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he could get there without any assistance. Perhaps he was not as ill as he thought. Opening the door, he checked outside before deciding that it should be safe to wander around – Miku was nowhere in sight.
He went down the stairs, grasping tightly on to the banister the whole time, and only let go when his feet were safely on the ground once more. He looked around the small house – he did not get a very good look the first time, since they had only been there to steal the person's valuables, and he didn't bother to take note of what kind of home this was. It was bare, the furnishings kept to a minimum – the parlour was clean and tidy, but had few decorations. Clearly it was not used to entertain visitors very often…he wondered if the doctor had friends in town, or if she remained by herself mostly.
"Len? You shouldn't be up," Miku's voice rang out behind him, and he glanced around, lips twisting into a scowl at the sound of his name. The doctor was coming out of the kitchen, wiping her hands dry on a handkerchief. She stared at him, eyes slightly narrowed. "You are not fully recovered from your wound, and you are running a fever to boot. Go back up and rest," she continued, the way she said it making it sound like an order. He gritted his teeth, stepping forward towards her, and she stared right back at him, completely unafraid. "You know that it's for your own good," she added.
He stopped right in front of her, looking down at the petite girl with the long teal hair and knowing green eyes – she was slim and dainty, and he could kill her so easily if he wasn't so sick. Not that he wanted to kill her anyway, since she had saved him, but sometimes he wished he could wrap his hands around her neck and throttle her. She had no idea how frustrating she was. "No one orders me around," he growled, "not even if you're a doctor. I will never listen to another person's commands again," the words came out vehemently, with more emotion behind them than he had intended.
She blinked, clearly surprised by the anger in his words, and he gave her a burning glare before he turned and stalked off towards the parlour, languishing on her white settee. Miku clearly thought against telling him to go upstairs again, and instead went to join him in the parlour, settling herself on the armchair next to the settee. Len glared quietly at her, but neither one of them said a word, and for a while there was nothing but tense silence between the doctor and the outlaw. Miku did not budge.
He wondered how long it would take before one of them finally said a word – he was determined not to say anything, and let the silence overwhelm her if need be. But for a long time, not a single word slipped past her lips either, and finally Len just rose from the settee and went back upstairs, trying his best to ignore the doctor. For some reason, he felt like she had won some kind of nonverbal argument, but he tried not to let that feeling affect him too much. After all, she was only a girl.
It had been three weeks, and Len had yet to leave the doctor's house. His injury was getting better – he no longer had to wear the thick layers of bandages after Miku decided that some gauze would do. There was a scar, but that wasn't surprising – it wasn't an immediately life-threatening injury, but it had been a pretty deep stab nevertheless. It was beginning to heal though, which was a good sign.
His fever finally subsided a week ago, another positive sign. He knew he was going to recover soon, but he felt strangely reluctant to leave Miku's home. For three weeks he had experienced security, privacy, and…a sense of freedom, despite being locked in the doctor's residence. Out on the plains, he never could tell how much longer he would live, and there was no such thing as privacy, not when he lived and breathed with twelve other outlaws. They depended on each other for survival – he couldn't wander off into the wilderness by himself, not even if he was craving some personal space.
Here though, he was safe and secure enough to lock himself in his room for hours on end, content to watch the clouds floating past in the azure sky, or to just think about his past and the events which made him who he was today. Miku did not try to enter his room whenever he locked his door, so maybe she knew that he was craving some personal time – he didn't know whether she really was that aware of him, and he told himself he didn't care, either way. The doctor spent most of her days out of the house anyway once it was clear that his condition was now stable, and she only returned in the evenings, when it was time for her to prepare dinner. It had become a routine of sorts. Len hated it.
He missed the freedom of the plains, though this place offered him more comfort and security. At least, he knew he ought to miss the plains – he was a wild bandit, an outlaw, and he had no place whatsoever in civilised society. He had never been a part of the townspeople, and he didn't want to pretend that he could be just like them, but at the same time this new routine was comforting to him and…it helped to keep the nightmares away. That was the only reason why he was still staying here, despite it being more than two weeks already. There really was no other reason to stay on.
"You are quiet tonight. Not that you usually aren't quiet," Miku observed, washing the dishes, "but you are more quiet than usual. Are you feeling all right?" she asked, dipping the next plate in her small pail of water. Every morning and evening Miku would go to the water tanks to fetch water for her daily activities, and Len would have offered to take some water – he was a man, he was stronger than her and could carry more pails – if only he wasn't wanted by the authorities. It was beginning to make him feel strange, being stuck indoors most of the time. The dusty plains beckoned to him.
But at the same time, he couldn't say that he outright hated being indoors. Or maybe it was just whatever the doctor was feeding him, addling his brain. Because the past few days he couldn't help but notice how pretty she was. He wasn't interested in women, unlike the other Black Mambas, especially not given his traumatic childhood, but the doctor was beginning to catch his eye in a way that made him faintly uncomfortable. Perhaps he ought to leave as soon as he possibly could.
"I'm fine," he answered curtly. The doctor nodded and said nothing else, but Len glanced at her as she continued to peacefully wash the dishes, and wondered if she really had left the matter alone and was no longer thinking about his condition. She cared too much for a complete stranger like him, and moreover he had almost killed her. Why was she so altruistic? He didn't believe that even doctors would be that…selfless. Everyone wanted something from someone else. That was life.
"Why are you a doctor? Why do you save people?" the words came unthinkingly out from his mouth. The girl looked up, startled, and he felt his eyes widening as his mind caught up with his tongue. "No, forget that I asked anything," he added, turning away from her and staring resolutely at the wall, his arms folded across his chest. He was still in the kitchen, and he had half a mind to leave, but he didn't know what else he could do. Sit in the parlour? Go back to his room? He was not yet tired.
"No, I can answer that," the girl spoke, her voice suddenly much closer to him than before. He whipped around, shocked, and saw that she was standing only a few steps away from him now, the dishes still resting in the pail of water. She was drying her hands on a towel, watching him intently. Her green eyes were always so penetrating, so wondering, as though she was determined to suss out all his secrets just by staring at him. "I save people because I watched my entire family die from the plague. I didn't want anyone else to suffer the way I did, so I was determined to learn medicine."
"Then maybe you should have let me die," he cut in dully, avoiding her gaze. The wound on his torso throbbed, a reminder of what had happened in this kitchen just three weeks ago. "There is no one waiting for me, no one who would mourn me if I died. I have no family, and even my name was not given to me by my parents. I don't know who my father was. There is nothing left for me but the plains and the Black Mambas, and now I don't know if I want to join them. Dying…" his lips curved into a bitter smile, "sounds like a far more pleasant option under such circumstances, don't you think?"
"I would mourn if you were to perish now," her words were quiet. "After I spent so much time and effort, trying to nurse you back to health…if you were to give that all up, it'd be utter disrespect to my work and my profession. So please do not treat your life so lightly," she reached out, touching his arm gently. Her fingers were thin and slightly calloused, and fair against his slightly darker skin. Len had never been able to tan, though he did become very red if he spent too long under the sun. It was one thing which the Black Mambas had always ridiculed him for, calling him a pampered young lord whenever he complained about the sun. It wasn't his fault that the sunlight burnt him.
"Then you're the only one who would care," he answered, meeting her gaze. She said nothing, but she continued to stare up at him intently, waiting for him to talk. He sighed, suddenly exhausted. "The brand you noticed on my shoulder before – it's the mark of a slave. I was born on a plantation, and my mother died when I was a child. I was torn away from her dead body and brought into the owner's house, where the women used me for my appearance. I'm sure I don't need to explain what I mean," he added, noticing the look of distress on her face. "I ran away the first opportunity I got, and I joined the outlaws because who would try to track their pet slave across the open plains? They want me back, but they would not mourn my demise – my owners are only interested in what else I can offer them," his smile was thin. "Do you understand, doctor? I am not wanted; I'm not even considered a person. This brand marks me the same way cattle and livestock are branded."
"I would mourn," she whispered, repeating what she said to him earlier. Her eyes searched his. "The few times you were willing to speak to me – I know that you are more than what you pretend to be. You are not simply a bandit without any conscience, nor are you mere cattle," she spoke so vehemently that he was momentarily startled into silence. "You are my patient, someone with feelings as deep and nuanced as any other person in this town, and I will not have you thinking about yourself as though you were worth anything less. Don't let the past define your future, or who you are," she urged.
His smile further thinned. "I don't let the past affect me at all, doctor," he explained. "It only comes to me in nightmares, short bursts of devilish dreams that remind me of the horrors of my past," he pried her fingers away from his arm, dropping her hand as he stared down at her, trying to distance himself from the doctor. Deep down, he was afraid – for a moment he had opened up to her, and now he felt so exposed and vulnerable that his first instinct was to just run and hide. "I might have just told you something about my past, but please do not take that to mean that we are bosom buddies now. It changes nothing about our relationship. As you said, we are simply doctor and patient."
"I did not want it to change. But you did," she retorted, clasping her hands together. He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, preparing to interject, but she continued, not giving him the chance to interrupt. "You told me your story of your own accord. You said it to me – I asked nothing, but you told it to me nevertheless. Please don't expect me to pretend that nothing at all changed between us."
Len groaned, closing his blue eyes, and Miku just continued to watch him, her heart thudding in her chest. She had never thought she would ever get to this stage with the bandit. The past few weeks had been fraught with tension and unspoken words, but she also noticed that he was spending more and more time in the parlour when she was home, and he liked to watch her when she was making dinner in the kitchen. She pretended that she couldn't feel the piercing stare trained on her back.
"I don't want to get any closer to you," his next words came out in an uncharacteristic whisper. "I'm a bandit. I don't belong in town with you. And if I stay here any longer – if I get any more attached to you – it's only going to hurt you. You can't be seen with a felon. And I belong in the plains. We come from two different worlds, doctor, and neither one of us can cross into the other," he murmured.
"Perhaps you only feel this way because I saved you," she hesitantly reached out to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, trying to determine what were his boundaries when it came to her touch. His eyes snapped open and he watched her hand warily, but he made no move to push her away. "Give it some time, and…and maybe soon, you'll be well enough to leave, and you will not feel so confused," she advised him. The bandit took in a deep breath, something like dismay on his face.
"And what if I do not wish to leave?" he asked, voice trembling. Suddenly, he seemed so vulnerable. It was a side of him she had never seen before – the raw pain she felt from him weeks ago was now pouring into his words, the intensity of his emotions almost shocking her. "What would you do then, doctor? You may have healed my wounds, but the trauma in here," he tapped the side of his head, "that won't ever go away. I know it can't. The mind does not so easily forget," he laughed shakily. "Yet when I am with you, the nightmares…they fade. And I wake up feeling better about myself as a person. Sometimes I forget about the brand on my shoulder entirely," he winced. "Would you then chase me away, doctor, if staying here…if your presence helps to keep me sane?"
She had no idea what he wanted from her. He was the one who told her he had to leave – yet in the very next sentence he was asking her to let him stay. What did he want from her? She couldn't really think, not when he was staring at her so beseechingly, not when she knew that she was witnessing a side to him the bandit had probably never revealed to anyone else. "And why is that?" she asked carefully.
"I don't know!" he snapped. "There's just something about this routine, about the security offered in your home, about you…I don't know," he quietened. "But what I do know is that my nightmares have all but stopped, and that has never happened before. I always dream of my mother's dead body, being thrown out into the ditch for the wild dogs," he shuddered. "I would not wish such an experience upon anyone, not even my worst enemy. But it's fading because of you…Miku."
It was one of the rare few times he actually called her by her name, instead of simply 'doctor'. She was a little surprised by that. "Well…" she hesitated. "But I thought you wanted to seek revenge against the man who stabbed you," she brought up, knowing that had been part of his plans. Len frowned, looking conflicted, and she hastened to smooth over the issue. "It is all right if you do not wish to do so too. You are not yet fully well, and you should hold off all your plans until you're better."
"Yes, perhaps," he didn't seem entirely convinced, but thankfully he did not say anything more. "I will…I will take some time to think about what I want. I know I want the nightmares to stop, but at the same time I do not wish to risk being discovered, nor do I want you to get into trouble with the law because of me," his gaze captured hers, and she couldn't look away. He had the bluest eyes she had ever seen, and they were lovely. For once they weren't cold and distant – he simply looked confused, maybe even lost. "Whatever I told you tonight, you must not breathe to another soul."
"I will not," she promised. "Cross my heart and hope to die," she pressed a hand over her chest, hoping that the sincerity in her words would move him. He relaxed slightly, then nodded in her general direction and turned to leave the kitchen. She was left feeling as though she had just run across the wide open plains, her heart beating so quickly that she almost couldn't breathe. She didn't know why she felt this way, but she had to admit that the intensity in Len's eyes was breath-taking.
It would be foolish to get involved with a patient. She was a doctor, and he was a bandit – they had nothing in common. But she couldn't just abandon him, not when she had heard his story and knew that he had nothing left to live for. She didn't want to just nurse him back to health – she wanted him to be whole and sane, and she knew from his account that he was far from mentally stable. The grief he buried deep within him was whittling away at his person, and the nightmares were a clear sign of that…
How could she help him? She healed the body, not the mind. But if Len claimed that her presence helped to keep the nightmares away…would it be a bad idea then, to let him stay here a while longer?
A/N: I know I normally alternate chapters so this chapter should have been another Miku pairing instead of LenKu, but I haven't written LenKu in a long time and I was really feeling the itch. Not that there's a lot of romance in this story anyway. I wanted it to be super romantic in the beginning, but Len's personality just doesn't work with the whole romantic, emotional kind of thing. I think it'd take at least a few months before he actually starts displaying any kind of affection towards Miku, although he is so obviously attracted to and dependent on her, but...oh well.