Guys, all my exams are passed, I am finally free and oh, it feels so goddamn good! Thank you for your encouragements! :)
I had my last exam yesterday and of curse, I spent the most of yesterday and today writing, and about 3/4 of the chapter has been written today, so if there are some mistakes in this chapter, I'm guilty. I reviewed it, but my eyes are stinging at this hour and I may have missed some stuff
selairalynn, yes, Tanya is Tasha
Dear guest, the answer is no. I can't chill with the cliffies. How else could I keep you guys reading my story? Plus, I so love cliffhangers, not only to write, but to watch or read too.
And being beside the topic now for some seconds, has any of you seen the last episode from Vikings? That was a cliffie. And yes, I admit, I started watching it just because Danila got casted in it :)
Talking besides the subject over, now, I am sorry, other guest, it wasn't dream, but I hope that what happens next will make it up for it
Well, GojGoj, don't get mad with me, but I am planning to keep them ''stupid'' for a chapter or two longer. But the waiting will be worth it, I hope :)
Tika 86, I hope that that isn't too much of an inconvenient. And if it helps you somehow, know that I sometimes have to go back some chapters and search for things too, just to make sure I am not saying one thing in a chapter and change it in another
And HonestPassion13, I hope that what happens in this chapter could be qualified as romantic, even though no one confesses much
I feel like a mummy, love
RPOV
Oh, so he bleeds. Just like any other mortal.
And his blood is just as red as I see it starting to run on his bicep and down to his fingertips.
But this means that he could die too. If he got hurt, he can die.
No. He cannot die.
This cannot be happening. Not to him.
Not now. Not ever.
Everything froze in the room, nothing is moving, and I feel like I am going to faint.
He will… I… shit! I care too much for him to even think he could die.
He cannot die.
But maybe it's not that bad. It's only his shoulder or I don't know, his upper arm. Maybe it didn't go that deep. Maybe it just scratched him. Maybe...
I am no doctor, but…
But what the hell am I talking about?!
She shot him! I can't believe she shot him!
On her face, I see that she cannot believe she did this either. She is dazed, still holding the gun extended in front of her, fingers tightly wrapped around it, eyes widened in surprise staring at him.
A thing that he takes advantage of. He's the only one in the room daring to move, making the time flow once again.
And even with blood spreading on his T-shirt and down his arm, he moves just as fast and swiftly as always, moving just like nothing has happened to him, snatching the gun away from her and putting her to the ground in a matter of seconds.
He points the gun to her head and I hear her whimper, panic filling her voice as she curls her body, like trying to protect herself.
Next, she says something in a whiny voice, and it sounds like she is trying to exonerate herself, but what she says doesn't please him.
He responds to her, jaw tight, words spitten. I see him arming the gun and this time, I am the one whimpering at the thought of him spreading her brains on the floor.
His head turns my way and at my sight, his harsh expression softens, but the grip on the gun tightens.
Not giving her any chance to get an advantage of his distraction, he gets his attention back on her, tells her something else and moves the gun towards her leg.
When I see his finger starting to press the trigger, I shut my eyes closed and wait for it to come, wait for him to shoot her leg and maybe damage her for life.
I hear the click it makes, but there's no loud sound preceding the shot. There's no shot at all. The gun is out of bullets.
Seemingly pissed about this, he uses the handle of the gun to knock her out, with one hit into her temple.
Next, he comes in front of me and seeing that he still looks annoyed, I take a step back, frightened of his further actions.
"Comrade, I…" I don't even know what I should tell him. There are so many things to tell him.
"Not now. We need to move. Come on." and he drags me after him out of the room, not before grabbing our coats and urging me to get dressed.
We get running outside, and I am guessing we're heading towards our car, but I don't dare ask anything. I just follow along.
But along the way, I see that there's a man, the only man outside at this hour, and he's close to the car we have been using.
As he turns around and is so close to seeing us, the Russian drags me into a darkened spot on the street, gluing me to him and getting us out of the man's sight.
He keeps on looking out of the safe zone of the little hiding place we have, and as we wait for the man to turn around again so that he won't see us move further, I speak.
"Thank you," I whisper, looking up at him.
"What?"
"For what you did… You got shot for me and… you could have…" he could still… "We sh-"
"Don't flatter yourself. I didn't do it for you. I just need you alive and you weren't doing a great job by yourself."
Wow. Such a change of tone from the one he used no more than an hour ago. He is so harsh and cold. And well, wouldn't I be too if I would have gotten shot for some incompetent girl that keeps on bringing trouble in my life?
Yeah, what was I thinking? That he was so ready to sacrifice himself for me? That he did it because he cared about me? Of course not. At the end of the day, no matter how much I lie to myself, I am just a leverage for him, or a source of fun. Nothing more.
"Now, let's move."
He starts dragging me around again, rushing our pace so we won't get seen, and we go farther away from the motel on foot, and I start wondering how far he can make it in his state. I bet that you could bleed to death from any gunshot.
He stops me close to a 4x4, hands me his duster to hold, and starts doing his thing on it, his hands moving just as skillfully as always, not even giving the impression his arm would be bleeding. The only thing that gives him away is the droplets of blood that he leaves behind.
Damn me, I know I should let him do his thing in silence, but my mouth can't just stay shut.
"Wasn't Tanya your partner?"
"You mean Tasha?"
"Yeah, sure, her. Whatever her name is."
"In theory."
"She is into the same team as you and she came to kill you?"
"This doesn't matter now."
"It does." and I throw myself into a little pleading about trust and how could she do such a thing and he gets up and stops me by putting his hands on my shoulders.
"Rose. Please, shut up. I am trying to do something and you're distracting me."
"But why did she…?"
"Look, I will tell you later, okay?" why do I doubt it? "But for now we need to get away from here and I need you to let me do this, okay?"
I nod and shut my mouth, making myself busy with looking around to see if we're safe.
When he's done, he opens the driver's door and I get it that it's our cue to leave. I want to open the passenger's door, but he stops me and shows me the driving seat.
"What?"
"I need you to do it. I won't drive properly."
Oh, so he has his limits.
"Um… okay. Sure. I'll do it. I'll drive."
I take a seat and let him close the door behind me, and as soon as he gets on his seat, I rev the engine and get driving.
As we go, I open my mouth again. I still need to say something.
"I'll say this and I will shut up for goods after, I promise."
"Say it."
"Where we're going?"
"Just drive."
"Aren't we supposed to go to a hospital?"
"No. No hospital."
"But you…"
"They will look for me, knowing that I got shot. That's the first place they will look for, at the closest hospital, unless they aren't already coming for us."
"But maybe she hit an artery or God knows what else and what if you-"
"Trust me, if she would have hit an artery, I would have already bled to death." Isn't that encouraging? "Just drive. I'll tell you which way to go."
"Doesn't it hurt you? Oh, what a stupid question. Of course it hurts, you- Oh, God, comrade, you…"
I feel his palm slowly creeping on my thigh, the palm of the arm he got shot in, and it moves further down, getting above my knee, drenching my pyjama with his warm blood, and he starts drawing small, firm circles on me.
"Don't think of that. Just focus on the road, love."
Him calming me only lasts until he decides to pull his hand back and try flexing his fingers. He gets pressing on his wound, somewhere lower than his shoulder joint, and pulls a face. He must be in so much pain. And how much blood could a person lose before fainting? What would I do if he faints?
And because I am so stressed about the thought of him ending up bad, and all this adrenaline is pumping in me, I mean, I almost got shot, and I am tired as hell too, I feel the need to fill the pressing silence between us. And of course, I say something stupid. The stupidest thing I could ever come up with.
"So, you and your partner… Tasha... I mean, isn't that bad? Shouldn't the two of you, I don't know, don't get attached? It usually goes like this in movies."
I sincerely have no idea where this question came from, but it's just that I desperately need to know. That little jealous Rose that I tried to keep away so bad tonight is again surfacing and I couldn't shut her mouth.
He responds to me into the same tone he used on the sideway, harsh, cold and methodical.
"First, we are in no movie. Second, this is none of your business."
Oh, so there was something going on in between them. Could this be the reason he didn't kill her? Because he cares for her? Did they share more than that one night she was talking about? Were they a thing or less? More? Still are? Is it ancient history? I so wish to have an answer to all these questions. Or do I? I don't think I want to find out more things that would hurt me.
"Sure. Sorry, I crossed the line here. Sorry." and with this, I stop speaking.
As I keep on driving, at about a minute later, he puts his hand back on my thigh, his fingers wrapping on me, making me pay attention to him.
"I am going to say something and I need you to keep calm, okay?"
"What?" I am already getting panicky. "Tell me already!"
"I think someone is following us."
"What? No!" I move my eyes on the side mirror and see a couple of cars behind us, but none of them seems suspicious. They seem to be just some other basic cars, driven at this unusual hour on this street. Nothing more.
"Yes. But it's okay."
"How can it be okay? I can't do this!" my hands already clench on the steering wheel by only thinking about what he might ask me to do. "I can't do your spy thing!" I have seen enough movies, and I even lived it once, to know this will turn into a car chase.
His fingers start playing on my knee, and if he thinks that's helping me in any way, well, it's not, in a way. He's always making me feel anxious when he's touching me because I only wish he'd do more.
"I am not sure yet," he tries to assure me, but this information doesn't make me feel better. "But I will need you to do something."
"Oh, God." this is what I feared most. Here we go with the spy thing. "Do what?"
"You'll need to see if it's indeed following us."
"How?" I don't even want to know the answer to my question.
"Do a risky thing."
"Like?"
"Pass a red light or take an abrupt turn. If it will follow, we'll know."
"I can't do that! I have never been a reckless driver. I don't know if I can do that without driving us into a pillar. Because I will."
"You can, Rose. I trust you. You'll do just fine. I'll be here the whole time if something goes wrong,"
He sounds reassuring, but I don't even trust myself. How come he is so fast to trust my abilities, which are so bad? I am so close to telling him not to put his life in my hands because I will do a crappy job. I will get both of us killed.
"I don't like this."
"I know. But we have to know for sure before it gets too close. They might have guns."
That word makes me make my mind. I am so tired of guns. I'd do anything not to see one more tonight.
"Okay, fine. I'll do it. Where do I go?"
"First, slow down."
"But they'll come too close. Didn't you say that-"
"I know. But I need them to be close enough so that they will have to change the direction just as fast if they're following us. Plus, if you speed up now, they'll know we know."
"Makes sense." it sounds dangerous, but it makes sense. And somehow it doesn't, but I don't stop to question anything. I am way too focused on the road ahead.
"Take a left at the first exit."
"Okay, I can do that."
"But don't you signal it. And don't do it until I tell you to do so."
"Alright." I trust him. I trust that he will tell me what to do and when, and it will all be okay.
I keep on driving, and I am getting closer to the first left, but he still didn't say or did anything.
Our supposed follower gets closer to us too, catching up.
"Comrade?"
"Not yet. Get closer. Don't you change direction at all."
As the distance gets smaller and smaller, I clench my palms on the steering wheel, and so does his palm on my thigh. On a usual, I should have already changed lanes and started signaling.
"Comrade…"
We're getting closer. And that red car I think he's guessing it's our follower, is just behind me!
"Not yet."
Even closer.
"Not yet, Rose."
I whimper and the only thing that's filling my brain now is that we're going to crash if I don't make a left soon.
"Not yet, love," he keeps on reminding me.
My heart is beating so hard that I feel its pulses into my temples.
"Now!" he finally says when we were so close to missing the turn.
I turn the wheel left and fast, the wheels screeching under us, but I manage to get through and reach the street without crashing.
I didn't even take into consideration the other cars around us, and I later realize, when the danger has passed, that he told me to move just in the perfect second, when I had a clear path to move and do the turn.
And I didn't have the time to look into the side mirror to see if the car behind us did the same reckless thing as we did.
But I don't have to wait for too long to find out.
Because the one who was driving that car is obviously a way better driver than me, and he's already catching up to us.
"Take the first right," he instructs me further, annoyance filling his voice at the same realizations as mine, and I do it, getting to a straight road that ends with a bridge. "Now step on it."
And I do it, without thinking about the possible consequences the high speed brings, but my mouth seems to state it anyway.
"But those cars… they're-"
"I know you can dodge them. Just focus, okay?"
"Oh, gosh. I am going to drive us out of the road," I keep on saying silently as I focus all my attention to not crash into another car.
"See? You're doing fine. But you'll need to floor it even more, love."
"Faster than this?"
"Yes. Faster. Put some more distance between us. And so, you'll reach the bridge just in time."
"But the light in front is yellow." my mouth says, but I do it anyway. "Wait. What about the bridge? Reach it just in time for what?" his words finally make sense in my brain, and if he means what I think he means, I don't like what he's implying.
"We're going to pass it." here he is, saying it!
"But it is going to lift soon!"
"I know. That's what I am aiming for."
"Comrade…" I whine at the thought of falling into the water underneath it and drowning and dying painfully. "What if-"
"No. You won't. You'll do it. I know you can. Just floor it already."
And with this impulse, I push the speed pedal all the way down, and I start praying for the best as more and more distance starts gathering between us and our follower.
I pass the now red light, attracting some angry honks and I almost get hit by a car at the end of the safe zone, that I don't know, maybe wanted to stop my idiotic next gesture and I let out a yell as the panic of what I am doing becomes more real.
But I continue to drive, climbing the now starting to tilt road, continuing to press the speed pedal all the way down.
And the next thing I know is that we have left the land.
The time seems to expand for forever when we're in the air, traversing the distance between the two split ends of the bridge, and I squeeze my eyes shut, my whole face hurting, my mouth never ceasing to say "Oh, God."
Until, some seconds later, when I feel the thud from the landing shaking my body and I know I need to get a hold of the direction we're heading into, as the dangers of dying haven't passed yet.
I straighten the direction of the car as best as I can and stop its jerking, and I need to drive right through a barrier to reach the safe road ahead of us, but after what I have just done, a barrier won't discourage me.
Looking into the side mirror, there's no one following. There's only us on this goddamn bridge.
"You can slow down now, love," he speaks again, reminding me of his presence here, and again, I listen to his words.
"I've done it! Oh, gosh, I have done it!" my whole body is burning from all the hot blood pumping in me and everything I hear around me is muffled, but gosh, I did it! We're not dead.
"Yes, Rose, you did. I told you you could do it."
Slowing down some more, I look at him and feel wonderful as I see proudness in his eyes.
"I thought I'll kill ourselves."
"You didn't. You were great."
"Thank you. But please, don't you even make me do such a thing ever again. I'll end up having a heart attack one day around you."
Fifteen fear-he-might-die filled minutes later, after all this time in which he has rested his head on the window and opened his mouth only to tell me which way to go, he finally tells me to stop.
We reached a small, private-looking neighborhood, and I pull up in front of a nice, spotlessly white painted house, just as the sun started to show the first signs of rising.
"What are we doing here?"
"There is no one home."
"How do you know?"
"Look at the lawn."
"What about it?" it's just a lawn. It has some grass and stuff.
"All the other houses around have been taken care of, except for this one. This means that the family is on holiday or something."
"What about a gardener? Wouldn't he be around?" this seems to be the kind of family that doesn't bother to do things on their own. So if the lawn looks like that, he might show up soon.
"There is definitely one, but he knows the family is gone and why bother to do the job as they are away?"
"What about cameras? Couldn't there be some? I bet there are." Damn, haven't I started to be as paranoid as him?
"I'll take care of that. You just wait for me here," he says and opens the door, stepping outside.
"But you're hurt!"
He doesn't even seem to have heard me, even though he was so close to me. He just walks towards the house and around it, moving slower than I have ever seen him walk, probably because all that blood that got on the seat drained his powers.
Five minutes later, he gets out the front door and heads towards me, who I have, surprisingly, sat in the car and waited for him.
When he gets close enough, I see that he's having a towel on his shoulder, still pressing on it.
I want to get out of the car, but he stops me.
"Would you get the car behind the house before coming inside? It's would be too obvious if we'd leave it here. There's a little forest there you could hide it into."
"Sure."
"Good. I'll leave the door unlocked. The keys are on the little table at the entrance."
And with these last instructions, I rev the engine and he heads back towards the house.
When I get inside the house too, barging in like it would be my own, it's very silent in here. I wonder where he is. The house is pretty big. But I am guessing he might be into one of the bedrooms. Which surely must be upstairs.
I get up on the stairs slowly, not wanting to break my neck into the darkness that covers the entire house. thinking it would attract the attention of the neighbors if they would see any light turned on.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I see the only lit up light in this house. It's at the end of the hallway, into a little bathroom with no windows.
And he is in there, trying to take his T-shirt off, and as I approach, I see on his face how much it hurts him to do that, or annoys him, I can't tell.
I look into the bathroom and grab the first thing that has a blade, a nail scissors laying around. That will do too.
"Here. Let me do that."
He stops and lets me cut the bloody material off him. As I do that, I speak my mind.
"We should call an ambulance."
"No. Definitely not."
"No?" he's still keeping on to that? "You are going to die! Or I don't know, something bad! You got shot and you've been bleeding for the past twenty minutes."
"And what will we tell them, Rose? That I got shot why? And why are we here, in this house, breaking in? We're not calling anyone."
"Then, let's take this chance, please, and got look for some doctor. Someone should take a look at you, comrade. Please."
He hands me the towel and hardly, he takes a seat down, right there, on the floor, telling me the same answer I got each time I tried to convince him. No.
"But you are bleeding for crying out loud!" I say as I do as he showed me, applying pressure on his wound and I can't help it anymore. I did until now. I start crying so badly as I feel the wet plushy material in my hands. "You're bleeding. You're… you're hurt..."
"Hey. Roza, look at me." he cups my cheek and lifts my eyes away from that blood. "I am not going to die. But I would need your help."
"Sure, sure. I'll do anything."
"I need you to help me get the bullet out."
"What?" is he out of his mind? "No. I can't. I don't know how to do it."
"I can guide you."
"No, I really don't want to. I will only make it worse. I will hurt you."
"You won't. Look. I would do it myself, but it would be hard for me to see and move properly." I keep on shaking my head no. "Please, Rose. Help me get it out. Nothing bad will happen. It didn't reach too deep. You won't have any problem getting it out."
"I can't. Do you even hear yourself what you're asking me to do? I can't."
"You can, love. Trust me, you can."
"But I…"
"Look. First, go search for these things for me and we'll see from there, okay?"
"I… I, oh fine. I'll go. What should I get?"
He tells me what to look for and before I go out into my little quest in the darkness, I take one more look at him sitting on that floor, still bleeding, a little less than earlier but still bleeding, and looking so, so pale and tired. And he insists on not going to a hospital?
"Will you be okay?"
"Yes. Yes, I will, love. Just give me back that towel before you go."
And I know I need to go. Or else, if I don't bring him what he needs, he could-
No. He won't.
I first rush out to the car and get the first aid kit in there, then head back inside and look through almost all the drawers in the house for some strong beverage, some more bandages, a blunt knife, a lighter, and oddly enough, some sugar. I won't question him. I bet he knows best how to deal with stuff like this and if sugar helps somehow, I would bring him a ton of it. Oh. And I almost forgot. He needs a spoon too.
As I pass next to the doorway again, heading back into the kitchen, this thought passes through my mind.
This is a perfect chance to get away.
But how can I? How can I flee and leave him like that? To die? To bleed to death and be in pain and-
I owe him so much. I cannot leave. I owe him this because he kept me alive so, so many times and because of me he is like this. I need to make him better. He got shot for me.
And I swear, I am not developing Stockholm syndrome. I just know I should stay. Or maybe I am developing it. Isn't this what a sick person would say?
To hell with it. I don't care. I won't ever leave. I care way too much to do such a thing.
Clearing these stupid thoughts out of my head as I get the spoon, I rush back into the bathroom, hoping it didn't take me too much, hoping I didn't waste any of his precious time.
I find him still there, on the floor, half lying, but this time, his eyes are closed.
Oh my God! His eyes are closed!
Please tell me this doesn't mean what I think it means! He is not allowed to close his eyes. I might lose him like this! And I can't afford to lose him.
I drop everything on the floor and crouch in front of him, my hands getting a hold of his cheeks and I am patting them as lightly as I can in this panicky situation.
"Comrade? Hey. Hey, you, listen to me. Don't you dare-" I stop my threat when I see him open his eyes.
Oh, good God, thank you! My heart feels now less heavy.
"Hey." he smiles so faintly, blinking hardly as he tries to keep his eyes open. "You're back, love."
He tries to bring his hand up and reach it for my face, but I take it between mines before it reaches its destination and I hold it tight.
"Yes, I am. Yes. I wouldn't leave. I wouldn't… never…."
DPOV
She is crying and panicking and shaking as she is trying to make up a full sentence and her hands got a hold of that towel after they dropped mine and she is trying to get rid of the blood on me.
"Hey. Rose. Hey. Look at me."
I take her hands in mine when I see she doesn't hear me.
"Stop."
"I can't. You'll die," she says almost hysterical and tries to wipe some more of the blood, or to press on my shoulder, I can't tell what her intentions are.
"I won't Roza. I won't. Now, stop." I get a better hold on her hands and pull them off me.
"But I… You… I can't... I can't stop," she says through sobs.
"Yes, you can. Stop. Let's just breathe for a second, okay? You need to calm down, love."
"Calm down? Calm down? Don't you tell me to calm down! Telling me to calm down will definitely not make me calm down! I don't think that being calm will fix any of this! It won't."
I want to chuckle, I don't know why, but I do. But I don't do it. But her being calm would help both of us.
"It's okay," I try to calm her, but she freaks out even more rather than calming.
"You have been shot goddamnit! It's not okay. And how is being calm going to-"
"I know, love, I know. But it's okay. It will be okay. All you have to do is to breathe for now, okay? Can you do this now?"
"I am breathing, comrade."
"Yeah, but it's not helping. Look at me," I urge her to stop looking at my arm. "Do you remember what I told you about fear?"
"I do."
"What did I say?"
She starts wiping her tears, leaving smudges of blood on her cheeks.
"Not let it overpower me."
"And?"
"And breathe."
"Right. Then breathe. Slowly, and deeply, love."
As she still keeps on shaking, she does what I asked her to do, and I do that too, trying to make the dizziness in my head go away.
"Are you good now?"
"I am. I think. But I don't matter now. You… you do and… And there is so much blood and you… gosh…" She looks at her bloody hands and her face gets even paler in an instant.
I cup her cheeks and move her eyes up.
"Don't think about that."
"But-"
"Shush, love, and listen to me." She nods and does that, biting so hard on her lip that her teeth might actually get through her flesh. "I need you to get that sugar you have brought and take a spoon or two, okay?"
"Why?"
"Because I don't want you to faint any time soon."
She starts laughing nervously as her trembling hands get a hold of the little jar and the spoon.
"Aren't you still afraid I might go into a sugar coma?" Oh, so she jokes. It's good.
"Not now, love." I am more afraid of her having a major panic attack instead.
"Okay. Now what?" she asks swallowing the second spoon of sugar and getting better than earlier. her cheeks regaining their pink color.
"Where's the alcohol?"
As she's handing me the bottle, she starts laughing again.
"Sorry. Vodka's the only strong one they had around. Oh, gosh, I am sorry I am laughing like an idiot, but-"
"It's fine. I know." she is so stressed. It's a nervous thing.
I tell her to hand me the first aid kit and I get out almost everything she'll need, then look at her, a question in my eyes.
Understanding what I want, she nods.
"Fine. I'll do it. But-"
"I'll be guiding you all the way."
"Good."
"Good. Now I'll tell you how to put on the tourniquet on me."
And next, as I am drowning more than half of the bottle, she washes her hands, puts on some gloves and as she gets a hold of the knife, he panics again.
"I can't work with these! I can't pick up anything. I can't feel anything properly. I can't get a grip on this. I will mess everything up."
"It's fine. You can take them off."
"But I will infect your wound or, or-"
If she would know that these right here are five stars sanitary conditions compared to what my body has seen all these past years.
"That won't happen. Just wash your hands with some alcohol and you will be fine."
She does that and I instruct her to sanitize the knife too, with alcohol and some flames.
With a deep breath kept into her lungs, she gets the knife closer to the wound, slowly, her hands trembling like crazy.
"Hey," I whisper, but she gets scared big time and whelps.
"Wh- what did I do? Did I hurt you? I am so sorry. I didn't mean to."
"No, you didn't hurt me, Rose. You didn't even touch me."
"Then why did you spoke like that all of a sudden?"
I chuckle. "I barely spoke, in fact."
"Well, don't do that anymore. I am already scared enough. I don't want to hurt you and make things worse."
"But you are not. Not at all. You didn't even touch me," I have to remind her. "But before starting, I want to tell you something. Look at me. Be calm. Nothing bad will happen, okay? I know you can do this." I cup her cheek and walk my thumb on it. "Stop fearing so much."
"I…" she smiles so lovely. "Thanks for trusting me so much. I will… I'll try to do a good job."
"I bet you will."
She starts crying again the moment the knife touches my skin and I start breathing a little heavier as I again start to feel all that earlier pain radiating through all my body now.
I don't want to, but I still growl as she digs the knife deeper into my skin and starts pulling the bullet out, and I even need to bite on a corner of the towel for some seconds, as the alcohol didn't have the time to numb me enough.
"I am so sorry."
"You are doing an amazing job, love. You don't have to apologize."
The more she moves the knife, the number I am starting to feel. Everything starts feeling numb and easy. I feel like I'm floating. Long live the alcohol invading my senses.
RPOV
I swear I tried not to cry anymore so that I would have a clear vision of what I am doing, but I can't. I know I am hurting him, his whole tensed in pain body is giving me the confirmation.
"I am so sorry. I hope I am doing this right. I don't want to hurt you even more. You don't need the additional pain. I'm sorry."
When I get the bullet out, some blood starts getting out of the wound, even though I have put that damned tourniquet on him, getting on my clothes too, and I rush to get another towel on him, letting it absorb his hot blood leaving his body. I wonder how much of it he has left. I hope enough to keep him alive.
Being so close, my nostrils are full of it, of that damned coppery smell, that brings back so many memories.
It is making me sick as hell, I already feel lightheaded and this is doing me no good. My heart is beating so fast I can feel it pulsing in my whole body. But I know that I can't afford to faint right now. Maybe later. He needs me to be conscious.
I press harder on it, praying it will stop. He can't bleed to death. I won't allow it.
"Comrade, what do I do now?"
"You are doing a great job, Rose," he barely speaks.
"I am obviously not! Look at this!" I say and get the towel off, revealing his wound. And there are just some droplets getting out of it now.
"See? The bleeding stopped. That's... great, love. Most of it is done. Now all you have to do is to clean it and then sew it."
"Sew it?" I have to do that too? Then I'll need to finish soon or I won't be able to do this for long. To be rational, I mean. Conscious.
"Yes. Can you do that?"
"Yes. Sure. I will do it."
"I know you'll do a great job, love."
He has no idea how this thing helps me. The fact that he has been constantly speaking to me and encouraging me, has done so much for me. Him trusting me so much, means so much for me, and even makes me believe I don't suck that bad at this.
I get the needle and the string from the first aid kit and here we go. Let's start sewing him up.
DPOV
She frowns deeply each time she pierces my skin with the needle, this thing seeming to hurt her more than it does my numb flesh.
She's so caring and so affected by this it makes me feel bad for pushing her to do it. But I don't think I could have been aware enough to do it myself and I am grateful she's doing it.
Her trembling hands move so lightly, and the only sounds she makes are little sobs that escape her beautiful lips and oh, how much I would like to kiss them now.
But there's something on her face that's spoiling her beauty, which I don't get to figure out because she sighs deeply and wipes some more tears with the back of her hand.
"I am done," she says almost in disbelief.
She cuts the thread, undoes the gauze and gets up, heading towards the sink, a clean towel in her hands.
She comes again over me, sitting closer to me this time, and all I can feel is her hair tickling on my face as she's doing something else to my upper arm, but I swear I don't care about it anymore. I am too preoccupied with figuring what's that thing on her face.
Oh. Blood. My blood.
When she wants to get up again, I stop her, idiotically lifting my bad hand and I feel a shot of pain as my fingers wrap on her hand.
"Don't do that," she warns me, but I just keep on pulling her back down, and she complies. "What's the matter?"
"Give me that."
I take the towel from her and drag her closer, and she does come closer, without any more questions.
I bring a clean, wet corner of the material up to her face and wipe the smudges of blood and tears from her face, and she lets me do it, her palm resting on my chest burning my skin pleasurably the whole time.
And the more I watch her, all those thoughts I tried so hard to keep away all these days creep back in my head, stronger than ever. My will is weaker than ever, thanks to the alcohol.
I will kiss her. What bad could happen?
I pull her a little closer and she doesn't protest.
I catch a tear just before it leaves her eye and I wipe it away.
"Don't cry. It's over. You did great, Roza."
"I…" her eyes widen a little and she pulls away. "No. I still need to clean and cover it." and she gets up again, coming back with some gauze and stuff.
She gives all her attention to cleaning better the spot and putting some cold ointment on it, then rounds a lot of bandages on me, making me chuckle at a stupid thought.
"What happened?"
"I feel like a mummy, love."
She laughs too as she gets some strands of hair out of my sight.
"I'm done here. Let's get you to lay down, comrade. Let's put you in your sarcophagus. What about that?"
"Yes. That sounds perfect." I feel the desperate need to sleep. I'm so tired.
As I try to get up to my feet, I realize that I am more than tired as hell. My body is feeling sore and weak in so many ways.
"Here, let me help you."
And even though I don't want to burden her with this too, I have to. I lean some of my weight on her little, but still resistant body, and let her help me get to bed.
RPOV
With a thud, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.
"Are you good? Do you need anything? Some pillow? Something to get more comfortable?"
"No. You did enough already. I am fine. Thank you, love. You did a great job."
"You don't have to thank me. I just…" I shrug. "I couldn't let you die," I barely whisper, but he wasn't really listening. He is quite tipsy and the loss of blood didn't do him any good either. He seems off for quite a while now and he needs to sleep.
But before that, I realize how bloody the both of us are. My pyjamas and his trainers have absorbed everything that he bled.
"Comrade?"
"What, love?"
"I think we should get your pants off."
I see more than utter surprise fill his expression for a split of a second.
"They're bloody. They'll stain the bed," I hurry to add before things get weird.
"Right."
I help him get back up to his feet and I hope that he can get those pants off by himself because I don't think I could do that for him without dying of embarrassment.
And to answer my prayers, he does, using his good hand.
In the second his pants drop to the ground, my eyes see what was hiding underneath, and even in this dim light, I can see the toned muscles of his thighs, muscles that start from underneath the black boxers he's wearing, and inevitably, my eyes see something else too, and I feel my cheeks blush as I remember that night and him so hard and aroused and pulsing and so virile and… oh, good God. I can't think of such things now. I shouldn't think of such things at all.
He moves, not giving any attention to the redness on my face, and lays in bed. Thank God for the too little light in here.
I move and put the cover over him as his eyes already closed, and I want to go away and faint in peace in exhaustion, but I decide I will wait until I am sure he fell asleep. Just to make sure he's resting and not needing anything else.
After that, I am definitely going to get some other spoons of sugar. It's a wonder I am still functioning properly and not laying somewhere fainted.
I sit on the edge of the bed and keep my eyes pinned on him like he would be a ticking bomb, and five minutes later, he is still alive, half asleep. Because his eyes keep on wanting to stay open, for whatever reason, and pinned on me.
And as I don't have anything else to do, my eyes, as they have accommodated to the darkness in here, explore the bare, uncovered upper part of his body.
I see a scar on him, close to his elbow, and I mindlessly bring my hand up to trace that line with my fingers, his eyes following me the whole time.
"Who made this?"
"Someone not important."
"How many others do you have?"
"Who stops to count them?"
I would. I swear I want to learn each indent and imperfection on his skin. To see how they feel, each scar and cut and little depressions.
With those words, he finally closes his eyes and for the next five minutes, they remain closed.
Okay. He's asleep. I can leave now.
But after I get up, he stops me before leaving and pulls me to him, back in bed, taking me by surprise.
I sit as in not to touch him, and lean a little closer to him, whispering.
"What happened?"
He just watches me, blinking twice.
"I don't remember what I wanted to say," he says amused.
I chuckle. "It's okay. Just get some rest, okay?"
I want to get away again, but I stop as his hand lifts and the outer side of his fingers brushes down on my cheek.
"You're so beautiful, Roza."
I stop mid breath and my eyes widen as I blush again like crazy, the blood in me starting to heaten and as my lips turn into a kinda silly smile, I look down, pinning my eyes on his bandage.
He laughs lightly and brings his hand under my chin, lifting my head and getting some hair out of my face, his thumb caressing my features.
"Especially when you shy away like this. You look so beautiful when you blush too."
"Comrade… I think you had a little too much to drink." and maybe he forgot that he was close to dying a few minutes ago and now he got into flirting.
"Yes. Maybe," he says as he passes his fingers through my hair, moving in slow motion. "But when I'll be sober," he pulls me a little closer to him and I lean in until I feel his lips so close to my cheek, and I feel them moving on my skin as he continues to speak. "You'll be just as beautiful, Roza," he finishes giving me a little peck and sighing deeply. "Thank you, love, for doing this. You were so brave today." and with this, he finally gives in and falls asleep, his hand falling off from the back of my head.
I repay his words with a little kiss on the forehead and I get up and out of the room, letting him rest, but not before pulling the curtains, so that the sun rising would not bother him.
I have been tired as hell until a second ago, but now I have a lot of energy in me and I don't know what to do with it. Okay, I know why. Only hearing those words from him has had the same effect on me like ten cups of coffee.
And I can't stop smiling like an idiot as his words ring in my head. He thinks I am beautiful.
Or it could be the haze he was into speaking. Or the alcohol?
Oh, who cares? He told me that. And I liked so much hearing it. I'll never forget him telling me this.
As I walk away from the room and see the way in which the bathroom looks, I know how I will consume my energy.
After the bathroom looks as spotless and as bloodless as it was before I exercised my medical skills, or should I say butchering skills on his arm, I don't know what else to do.
From all the moving around and scrubbing and wiping, and from the other things I put it through today, my body feels sore everywhere and I find that it would be best if I would lay in bed and maybe get sleep too. At last, I could get some rest after this hectic day.
I make my way back into the room, moving as silently as I can, and I crawl in bed next to him, keeping a safe distance so I won't hurt him, and lay on my side facing him, just so I'll be able to keep an eye on him in case something happens.
But he felt me moving. Because his body moves too, coming closer to mine, and through the blanket, I feel his calves making contact with mine.
I thought that this would be all, but no.
"Rose?" he says so softly.
"Yes?"
His fingers cover the space between us and slide up on my neck, reaching under my chin, and he tilts my head to make me look him in the eyes.
"You shouldn't move your hand," I remind him.
"Oh, it's nothing," he says as his thumb is walking past my bottom lip, making me gulp hard and without a good reason, I bring my upper body closer towards him.
He does the same and I can see better how sleepy his eyes are. I bet he's still in that alcohol, blood loss induced haze I left him a while ago.
With his fingers now playing with my hair, I tilt my head some more to watch what he's going to do next, but nothing happens for now.
"Where have you been?"
Oh, so he has been awake ever since I left?
"Just took care of the mess we've made around here. If the owners would have seen that when they come back, someone would have had a heart attack."
He laughs softly and deeply, moving my body too.
"Oh, Roza. You're so funny at times."
He thinks I am funny too? Wow. Maybe I should have gotten him shot a long time ago to get such words from him.
"Comrade?"
"What?"
"I'm sorry you got shot. I-"
"Don't you think about that." he moves a little closer and brings his lips on my forehead, kissing me lightly, a gesture I have never seen coming.
Neither I did his next words.
"I'd do it again, without a second thought."
I want to protest a little, to tell him that he shouldn't put himself in danger for me, to ask him why he said those harsh words on the street and now he's talking so kindly to me, but I realize he already dozed off, so I shut my mouth. He needs the rest.
I do too.
And even though I shouldn't be doing this, I nestle a little closer into him, let him wrap his arm around my waist, and I close my eyes. We'll have tonight. Or today. Whatever. When we wake up we can go back to whatever complicated thing we have. But I'll enjoy this moment in his arms, in this house of all the possibilities.
When I wake up, again, to check if he's okay, it's a little more light in the room, even trough the pulled curtains, but I feel like the sun would be inside the room. I feel like I have caught on fire. I am so goddamn hot and I have no idea why.
As soon as I get conscious enough, I find out why. His body is wrapped around mine, his skin against mine, and this is not helping at all. The heat we are sharing is a little too much for me. I'm all sweaty.
I move a little, trying to get away from it, and he moves too, turning on his back, and as he moves, he growls lightly. That must have been from his arm. I think it hurts like hell.
But I finally get to feel the cold air in the room on my skin and it feels amazing.
So, if it wasn't me the source of that heat, it might be him, right?
I bring my hand up and walk it along the edge of the cover, which has somehow ended up on my body too, reaching the first patch of his skin I find, on his shoulder blade, covered in a thin sheen of sweat too. I move further up, exploring, reaching his neck, and I get to feel just how hot he is. He is burning.
Gosh, he is running a fever! My sleepy brain finally processes what's happening and I snap up to my butt.
This is so not good. This is bad. So, so bad.
He turns his face towards me, my reaction waking him up.
"What happened?" He asks sleepily, licking his lips. "Are you okay, love?"
I look back into his hazy and sunken eyes, and my heart clenches with worry at the thought of what this fever brings.
I finally gather enough courage to place my palm on his forehead and get the last confirmation, if I even really needed one, that he is burning hot.
"I am fine. But you're not."
"What do you mean? Of course I am fine. I'm fine. It's just a little flesh wound. I'll be okay. I am already feeling better," he says and wants to get up too, but I stop him, making him lay back down.
"No, that's not true. You're hot."
I see a cheeky smile spreading on his lips.
"Thank you. You are not bad yourself, love."
"I um… N- no. No. I mean… I was talking about your temperature. You're burning up."
"Shhh," he says patting my thigh. "Let me pretend you complimented me once more today."
Is he trying to be funny or is he already delirious? Yeah, the temperature must be too high and he can't handle it.
"Comrade, stop messing around. You are running a fever. A big one. You should get to a hospital. Whatever happened, it is getting worse."
"No, I am not. That's nothing," he tries to sound reassuring, but I can feel the weakness in his voice, even though he tries to hide it.
"Come on. We should go to a hospital. Please."
"Rose. I am fine," He says turning to his side and coming closer to me in the process and I feel his heat radiating on my lower body. "It's nothing," he tries again to convince me.
"Comrade, come on. Don't you play the brave. Even you're allowed to get sick from times to times. And maybe today it is time. Let's get you to the hospital."
"But I am not feeling bad," he keeps on insisting. To hell he isn't. He's bullshiting his way around this.
"Fine. Then prove it to me."
I'll use on him the logic he so many times used on me.
"How?"
"Take your temperature."
"Sure." He wants to get out of bed, but I stop him. "And how am I supposed to show you if you don't let me go?" He asks amused.
"I will go. If you don't rest, you won't heal and until you prove to me you're fine, you are sick for me, and sick people aren't allowed to leave the bed. So wait for me until I go find a thermometer."
He puffs just like he always does when he is smiling and shaking his head.
"Fine, do as you wish, love."
It is obvious even from the way he speaks that he is not fine. Why the hell is he so stubborn and insists he isn't?
"Good. Wait for me."
I get out of bed and head to the bathroom, getting goosebumps all over my body in the process.
It doesn't take me much to find the thermometer into one cup, inside the mirror's cupboard, as I am mostly driven by my need to go back to the warmness that the bed provides.
Victoriously, I get back to the bedroom and sit on his side of the bed, into the space that he freed by getting up to his butt, and I hand the thermometer to him.
"There you go. Prove to me." He takes it and does what he needs to do and soon, it beeps. "So? What does it say?"
"It says you have nothing to worry about. I have just 37.7 degrees."
Hearing him lie me to my face, I bring my hand up and punch him wherever I find closest.
I stumbled over his shoulder, his good one thank God, but still, he lets out a short breath.
"Oh my, I am so sorry. I am an idiot. I shouldn't have done that."
And I shouldn't have given him the thermometer.
He smiles. "It's fine. I guess I deserved it."
"Good. At least you know why I did it. And so help me God, if you lie to me again, the next time I hit you, I am making sure it hits your face. Now be good and tell me what that damned thermometer says. And it would better be the right value or I am getting mad with you. Or better. Just give it to me. I will read it myself."
I extend my hand towards the thermometer, and him, pulling it away from me, sighs defeated.
"Fine. I'll tell you. It says. 39.5 degrees."
"What?! And you're telling me you're feeling fine. Really? Are you kidding me right now? You so deserve that punch to your face now."
"But I-"
"No buts. I don't want to hear another thing from you. We are going to the hospital now. In this very second."
"No," he says determined. "We are not going anywhere." He drops the playfulness in his voice and his features get more alert than earlier.
"But-"
"We can't. If you want both of us to end up dead, then yes, let's go to the hospital."
I growl. "This is not fair. You're not feeling fine. What if-" what if he dies anyway, no matter the efforts we put into it? What if seeing a doctor is his only hope?
"Fine. If you insist, I am not well. But I will be."
"How do you even know that? I might have messed you wound so bad!"
"You didn't."
"But you have a fever. And every wannabe doctor knows what that means. It could be infected."
"It is not."
"How can you be so sure? Did you take your PhD in medicine too in spy school? You cannot know that."
"I do. You know, this is not the first time I go through this." yeah, I can only imagine. "So trust me, it is just a thing that helps the healing. It will pass."
"Uf, you're so stubborn."
He chuckles lightly. "And how does it feel like?"
His comment makes me smile too, but I try to keep on to my upset tone as I respond.
"So annoying."
But no matter what, I must give in. What else could I do anyway? Carry him there?
"Fine. So be it. But we're not leaving anywhere today. I am not letting you."
He chuckles and his fingers start playing with mine on the bed.
"I never knew you could be so determined, Rose." he gets back to his amused tone. Who would have thought that this fever would get him be so easy. "So bossy. I like it." he gets flirty again, I guess, but I am not in the mood of playing.
"I mean it. You're not leaving this bed today. You need to rest now. So don't you dare move."
"Or else?"
"Or else nothing. You are not leaving this bed, period. I mean it."
"Is that an indecent proposal, love?" he just keeps on going!
"Hey!" I try to keep on a serious tone, but I know I am not doing a great job because I am way too busy trying to hide my starting to burn cheeks. "Stop that."
But he doesn't.
His hand gets a better hold of mine and he pulls me closer to him, him leaning closer too, our faces centimeters away.
"By any chance, aren't you leaving it either?"
Hell, he might be delirious after all, not just flirty. Because, come on. He is burning up and he's doing and saying this?
"Comrade…" it's all I dare whisper as it's already hard for me to breathe.
"Oh, Roza…" he sighs as his fingers trace the line of my jaw, then he pulls away so slowly, like he was considering not to do it.
"You're sure you're fine?" I want to make sure because nothing he does or says or the state he is in seems right. Not that I wouldn't like some parts of it, but still.
"You don't have to get so worried about me. It's just a little fever."
"No, it is not just a little fever. It is a big one. And are you sure there's nothing else wrong? Nothing hurting you? Not the wound?" I get my hand on his bandage and search for something wrong, but there's nothing. It is not even stained.
"No. Nothing feels bad with it."
"Are you sure? There must be something wrong. You are running a fever goddamnit!"
He sighs. "Fine. If it makes you feel better, I am going to lie down and rest until it gets better, okay?"
"Yeah. Do that, please."
As soon as he lies down, I get up.
"Where are you going?"
"To make you some tea. Find you a pill, something." I just know I need to do something more.
"But you don't have to-"
"Yes I do. You'll need plenty of liquids. And I am surely bringing you some pills too. If I can find them. Where do you think they're keeping them?"
"No pills. I'll be fine."
"To hell you're not!"
"Fine, as you wish. Go search for pills."
"And you're not getting away from the tea either."
"I didn't expect any other way. You're in charge after all," I feel some mocking in his voice, but I don't care.
"Good. Because I am going to search for them and you're not allowed to say no to them."
I make my way to the kitchen, walking around like a little zombie around the house and making sure to avoid all the windows.
It takes me a little to make the tea into this unknown kitchen, but I finally make it and I find some analgesics too, so I am ready to get back to the bedroom.
When I enter, all I hear is him snorting lightly. So he fell back asleep. He can deny it all the way he wants it, but he is sick and tired as hell. That fever got the best of him.
I postpone the tea time and without nothing else to do, I get back in bed with him.
I am so going to stay here and watch him so that he won't die or something. I am too worried to sleep.
The second I lay next to him, he scoots closer to me and wraps himself around me, placing his head on my shoulder and I gasp lightly as I didn't expect him to do that. On an instant, I feel my body starting to heat back up but I don't care. I don't pull away.
"I don't think you should be close to me," he says still half asleep. But wasn't him the one who got closer to me in the first place?
"Why not?"
"Because you might get sick too."
"You don't have any viruses, comrade."
"Are you sure?" He asks amused and I get it that he was messing with me from the first second.
"Oh, so what now? You think you have a virus? You now admit you are sicker than you previously said?"
He laughs lightly. "Fine, yes. You are right. I feel a little bad. Does that make you happy?"
"Not really." I start drawing lines on his sweaty bare back, making my way between his shoulder blades. "I wish you wouldn't feel bad at all. I have brought you a pill, tho. It will help." I want to pull away to give it to him, but he doesn't let go of me.
"Not now." he lifts his head enough to kiss my jaw with his so dry lips, his unexpected action, again, making my body get even hotter in response, then he places his head almost on my chest, taking a better position on and around me. "You're comfy, love," he says really pleased and I can't help but chuckle.
This feels like I am in a dream. Him acting this way… I don't know. It only makes me question myself more about what I feel about him and whether it is wrong or not.
But of course, I can't tell him this.
"You're being already delirious from the fever, comrade?"
"No." he takes in a deep breath and I feel the air leaving his nostrils brushing right over my breast. "Maybe. I don't know. But I am just stating the truth. These, he says pressing his cheek into my boob a little. "Are really comfortable." And I can't help it but chuckle again.
Do I feel weird? Yes. But do I like it too? Of course I do. I like him this way. Playful. Friendly. Not harsh.
"Oh, comrade." Now I get it how he must have felt when I was drunk and acting just the same.
"And… You smell amazing, Roza," he says brushing his nose onto the material of my dress.
"I um… thank you?" even though I know for sure I haven't done a shower in a while and I have been sweaty for a while, but maybe the fever is alternating his sense of smell too.
"But love?"
"Yes?"
"Where are your cute pyjamas?" he asks, his shins brushing on my bare ones.
"Oh. They got... a little dirty."
"And what you're wearing now?"
For starters, I am wearing so much more than he is.
"A maternity dress. It's the only thing that fit me from this woman's closet. She's so skinny."
His hand slowly slides across my abdomen, like searching for something that definitely isn't there.
Next, he tilts his head to look at me.
"Why are you so afraid of me?"
"I… I am not."
"I am not going to do anything to you, you know this, right?" His fingers moved up and they're now playing on my cheek.
"I know."
"You're sure you do?"
"Yes."
"Then relax, love, please." and I realize that I was so tensed up next to him, my body not knowing how to react to his presence. To this closeness. Even though I think I could get used to it.
He sighs deeply.
"Maybe I should…" he wants to pull away, but I don't know why, I stop him by wrapping my arm on him too.
"It's okay. Stay." I enjoy this closeness too much now.
We sit in silence for some minutes, minutes in which I don't stop walking my fingers on his back, minutes in which I have completely accustomed myself with his body next to mine, minutes in which I have come to love it. But I don't know at what cost. Because not only my body is getting accustomed to him.
Soon enough, he falls back asleep. And I decide to do that too myself, because even though it might be hard, I know I need the rest. This day or night or whatever, has been too much for me.
I just hope that as time passes, he will get better.
The next time I wake up, is because I am moving. Well, I am not really moving, but I am being moved. Shaken, to be more precise.
By him, who is still wrapped around me, a little tighter now, and we're both lying on our sides, facing each other and well, he is shaking.
The dress I am wearing is soaked in his and my sweat and I am so damn hot but I know he must be so damn cold, as he has chills now.
I bring my hand up to check on his temperature and after I get his hair off his forehead, I feel his skin just as hot as earlier. Maybe hotter. I can't tell the difference. But all I know is that things didn't get better.
"Comrade?" I whisper. "Comrade, how are you feeling?" stupid question. Like I wouldn't already know.
He tilts his head and gets it out of the crook of my neck.
"что?" he asks just like he would be in a haze, his eyes transmitting me that he is not really present here.
So I try once more.
"I asked you how you're feeling. I think we should go to see a doctor or-"
"No. I am fine." He holds me a little tighter, into his attempt not to tremble that bad.
"Well, you're obviously not. You're having chills."
"It's nothing. I am just a little cold, that's all, Roza. It's a little cold in here, that's why." yeah, and I am that stupid to believe that.
He brings his head back down and buries it back into the crook of my neck. And he sits there, still shaking, his breathing a little heavier than earlier.
I hate feeling him be like this. And he is so goddamn stubborn! I know that no matter what I do or say, he won't change his mind.
I walk my hand through his sweaty hair and do nothing more than that. I don't know what I could do anymore. Maybe just shove a pill down his throat. That would be something helpful. His fever doesn't seem to get better at all.
But he speaks. "Ближе."
"What? What did you say?"
"Ближе," he murmurs.
"What does that mean?" What is he trying to tell me? Could that be the name of a doctor he knows? I hope it is.
Next, he tries to pull me closer to him and all I can think of is that he was telling me to get closer.
But one thing passes through my mind.
"Just wait a second, okay?"
I pull out of his embrace and he lets out a small moan I guess and that makes me wonder what else it is hurting him, and I think it might be everything, that he must be hurting all over from the way he is burning.
I rush out of the bed and head to the closet and roam my hands around all the shelves looking for a blanket.
I find a couple and thankful for it, I snatch three of them and put them over him.
Before I slip back in bed, I take the pill and the now cold tea and practically oblige him to take it. This is my last option, and hardly, into the haze he is into, he swallows it.
When I lay back down, he sighs when I wipe some of the sweat on his face, and he doesn't even care about that.
He gets his arm around me again, placing his palm spread on me and slipping it under my already lifted dress, getting it to my lower back, sending shivers along my spine and he pulls me close to him, merging our bodies, my flesh pressed against his burning one through the wet material of my dress, the only thing keeping our nakedness apart.
I wrap myself around him too, taking him into my embrace, which is the least I can do, to give him some of my heat, and I pull the covers on us until only our heads are left on the outside, but he is still shaking.
This fever got the best of him and I know that it is not going to kill him, at least this is what I am praying for, but I can't stop myself from starting to cry, some tears starting to silently stroll down my cheeks at the thought of the worst thing happening.
I wish there would be something more I could do. I don't want him to die. I wouldn't know what else to do without him. I'd be lost without him and not only because he kept me alive for so many times, but because-
He cannot die. He can't. He won't. Please, God.
And maybe we start shaking a little harder from the way I am trying to suppress my sobs and I hold him tighter, running my fingers through the hair at the base of his head.
"Oh, comrade." I walk my fingers along his pale features. "You really scare me," I whisper my worry and kiss his forehead, then I rest my lips there. "I don't want you to leave me. I don't want you to die. Please, be alright. Please, get better. Please…" I pray to him, I pray to God, to whoever might make him feel better.
He starts speaking, or more to babble to me half in Russian, half in English, I guess, or maybe even more than two languages because I don't understand a thing.
"Wha- what did you say?" I try my best to make my voice sound less whiny.
"You worry so much about me?"
I nod, or mostly move ourselves up and down a little.
"How could I not? You… you..."
When I start crying harder, so it gets his embrace around me as he pulls me a little down, so that our faces get to the same level.
"Oh, love." he puts his forehead over mine. "I'll be fine. I'll be fine, Roza." He moves his hand up and down on my back, soothing me. "It will pass."
"You promise?" I whine.
"I promise. I promise. Just don't cry. I hate it when you do it because of me."
DPOV
The room has been silent for a while, but the sound of footsteps makes me become aware.
I open my eyes and see Rose's small figure making its way inside the room, her feet touching the floor so lightly, probably thinking I am still asleep.
How could I have been asleep and miss such a view? If only there was more light inside the room...
But what I am seeing is enough too. She's wearing a past-knee long white dress, too big for her body, which leaves only half of her calves in sight, her hair is not clasped and it is nicely spread across her back, and from what I am seeing, she is carrying a tray with something on it.
She distracts me from admiring her move around the room when her foot makes a painful contact with one of the closets and she hisses lightly.
She stops and her head turns my way, but I don't close my eyes, knowing that she can't see me staring back at her from this distance. I don't move either, not to give her a reason to think she woke me up. I want to see what she'll do next with that thing she's carrying.
And soon enough, I see. She puts the tray on that little closet she hit her foot into, and moving just as lightly as earlier, she heads towards the bed, and I get my cue to close my eyes, as not to get caught "spying" on her.
I feel her as she reaches the bed and moves the blankets next to me so gently, then the bed gets sinking a little as she climbs into it.
I resist the curiosity driving me to open my eyes and see what she's doing, and this gesture of mine gets rewarded.
She sighs a whispered "Oh, comrade." and her palm gets touching my cheek, her thumb walking up and down on my skin for some seconds.
"You have no idea how badly you scared me," she continues to confess whispering and I force myself to keep my breath as steady as possible as I feel her leaning closer to me, her dress getting to brush on my arm before her warm flesh follows, her lips too, getting closer to my forehead and then she's pressing them on me, not in a kiss, but mostly like in a checking of my temperature I guess.
"Thank God," she whispers and walks her fingers along my cheek as her lips rest on my forehead. "Thank God you're alright," she says kissing me now. "Thank you for not leaving me."
With a relieved sigh, she rests her forehead on mine and seconds later, I feel a little droplet making its way down my cheek and to hell with pretending I am asleep. I can't let her cry. Not again.
"Hey." I open my eyes and I can't help but feel my heart warm whole when I see the way she looks at me.
"Hey," she smiles pulling away a little and looking down as she's wiping her eyes with her free hand, her other palm never leaving my face. "How are you?"
"Good. Very good. How long have I been out?"
"A couple of hours. Maybe a little more. I didn't count. But it's six o'clock now."
"In the evening?"
"Yes."
So we've been here for more than twelve hours. I have been out for about just as much, and I am still feeling so tired.
"And what were you doing all this time?"
She pulls away a little more and puts her hair behind her ears.
"I slept. I have just got up," she lies to me, but I let it pass. I haven't been awake or aware for many times, but each time I was, she was awake too. I bet that she didn't sleep too much.
"I um…. do you think you feel well enough now to let me change your bandage?"
"Why bother? I'm fine."
"Please?"
"Does it matter so much to you?"
She nods. "I want to see it."
"Fine."
She smiles and gets up from the bed fast.
"Wait for me. I'll be back soon."
As she is away, looking for stuff in the bathroom, I push myself to move my body and get up a little. You might think that after so much sleep, I would have more energy, that my body would feel at least a little better than before, but nothing seems to have ameliorated. And if it doesn't soon, I don't know what will happen. We don't afford to stay around here for too long.
She comes back carrying an entire medical artillery and lays it all on the sheet that I'm keeping on me. After my fever subsided, all those blankets she put on me were too much.
She turns on the lamp on the nightstand closest to us and golden light shines oh her beautiful features, and I get my chance to see more of her, more than her darkened features.
I see better the dress she's wearing, and it has little, pale flowers drawn on it. It's a maternity one, from what I remember, and I smile like an idiot at the thought I had when she told me about it, the thought that passed through my hazy mind as I was walking my palm on her abdomen, imagining how it would be if she'd be having my children. Of how it would be to see a little human with her smile, with her big brown eyes.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, love. I just... " I was just thinking of how good of a mother she would be. So caring and loving. "Nothing."
Shrugging, she doesn't manifest more interest in it, just goes back to getting my bandages off.
Studying her features some more, I see how puffy her face is and how tired she is, in spite of her saying that she has been sleeping the whole time. I know she didn't because I can see it in her eyes the results of how much time she spent crying and worrying for me. Of how much she has been hurting.
From the first second she sees some droplets of blood on the white cloth wrapped on my upper arm, her features get again pale and her hands get a little more trembling.
When she unravels my wound for good, she tilts her head and sighs.
"Comrade. I don't know… It doesn't look-"
"Hey. You did a good job." and I take a look at it too, and it looks way better than any other wounds I had. She indeed did a great job. "It's just a little blood covering it. Look." I take the wet cloth she brought and wash away the blood, and underneath, you can see the stitches, but no bad signs. "It's not that inflamed, just a little. It doesn't look infected. I feel no numbness in my arm. There's nothing for you to worry about."
"You sure you're fine? Don't lie to me, please. You have been playing the brave way too many times in the past twelve hours."
I chuckle at her little upsetness.
"Yeah, I am perfectly fine. With you taking so much care of me, it would be hard not to get better. But if I think about it, I guess I would have liked one more day of sickness, just so that you'd be bossy a little more with me," I try to make a playful comment, but it doesn't get interpreted as I wished. But at least, her tone gets a little bossy, along with worry.
"Don't say that. I worried for you so much. Your fever was horrible and…" I see her eyes again filling with tears. "You shouldn't wish for another. Don't joke about that. I thought that you would..."
She bites on her lip, looks down and lets a tear fall, and seeing in which way this affects her, it breaks my heart. I was such an idiot to say that. What was I thinking?
RPOV
He gets up and comes closer to me, his hand getting up to move my hair out of my face and to tilt it upward from under my chin, his eyes looking back at me, so warm and I might dare say lovingly, but I don't know… maybe I am presuming too far.
"You're right. I'm sorry. I was an idiot to say that."
"I… It's okay. I'm glad that you're okay now."
"Thanks to you, love."
"I think you give me too much credit. I just butchered your arm and gave you a pill."
"That's your opinion. Not mine." his fingers pass through my hair. "Both of us know you did so much more than that." he comes just a little closer, making me way too conscious of the closeness between us, of the air we're both breathing. And now he has no alcohol or fever to drive him to do this. "Thank you for it. For everything." as his hand moves at the back of my head and turns my head a little, he bends closer and his lips brush on my cheek so lightly, making me freeze. And I remain like that until he pulls away.
Not having the certainty to where that gesture should have been heading, I just say the second thing that passes my mind, just after the one of asking him why he stopped, why he pulled away.
"I um… should cover that back up, right?"
He pulls away for goods, then props his back back on the bedpost. "Yes. Sure."
He watches me the whole time I apply some more ointment and put on new bandages, making me very aware of each gesture, and at some point, one of his hands decides to play on the skin of my leg, his fingers swirling across my bare knee, sometimes daring to climb just a little upward under the hem of my dress, but never too much, always getting back to the safe place of my knee.
When I finish, I remember why I came back inside the room in the first place.
"I made you something to eat."
"I don't-"
"No. You need to eat. I don't care if you don't feel like it. I made you some soup. It's easy to eat. Try and take some bites of it at least."
He smiles. "Sure, boss. Anything you wish."
With a smile on my face from his comment, I get up and bring the tray I so carefully carried up here through the darkness of the house and get back to the bed.
I put the tray on his thighs.
"I hope you'll like it. I didn't find-"
"Don't you worry. This is good. Is perfect," he says taking the bowl up from the tray, and when he reaches for the spoon, with his hurt hand, I stop him. He shouldn't move it that much. Those crappy stitched I have made could rip anytime. "And how would I eat, love, if you're not letting me move it?" he gets amused.
"I um… what do I know? I… I could do it."
"Feed me?"
I nod. "If you don't mind."
"Well, you're not willing to let me move my hand and you insist on me eating. So, what choice do I have, boss?"
"Oh, come on. Stop calling me like that," I say taking the tray out of the way and sit down close to him, then let him hand me the warm bowl.
And I start feeding him, and I see how hungry he was, despite his protest.
"Love?"
"What?"
"Why are you shaking like that?"
Yeah, I thought he would observe my trembling hands.
"I'm afraid I'll spill this hot thing on you," I lie.
I can't tell him the real reason. If fact, it is because I am sitting so close to him, and he's dangerously naked under this sheet that's keeping us apart, and I can see the curve of his thighs and hips and oh, God. I should really stop looking at him in that way.
I push away my idiotic thoughts and continued to feed him until he finishes the contents of the bowl.
"And now, go back to sleep," I say as I gather all the things I brought, making space on the bed for him to lie back down.
"I think I have slept enough."
"I don't think so."
His lips turn into a playful smile. "Am I not allowed to leave the bed yet?"
"Nope. I think you still need to rest." I can still see on his face how tired he is.
"With a condition."
"What?"
"Tell me, have you eaten anything until now?"
"Of course I did."
"What?"
"Um…"
"Does it rhyme with nothing?" I nod. I couldn't eat. I didn't feel the need to. "Promise me you'll eat something."
"I promise."
And with this, I make my way back downstairs, to accomplish my promise and let him rest some more.
DPOV
I don't think I have been able to sleep for too long, but I can't rest anymore. My body feels the need to get moving, and I guess I am feeling well enough to finally get out of this bed.
And again, Rose is not here. So I decide to go search for her.
But before this, I remember how naked I am and the first thing that passes through my mind as I remember this, is of how our bodies were entangled no more than a few hours ago. Of how good it felt to hold her so close. Of her letting me do it. Of her responding. Of her telling me how much she cares. Of me wanting to do the same.
Would you stop already?
Sure. Right. And I should put on some clothes. Have a shower too. Maybe not in this order.
I head for the first closet I see and to my luck, the man living here has clothes that fit me. The next stop is the shower.
Five minutes later, I am heading downstairs into the silence of the house, the only faint sounds disturbing the perfect stillness being some clinks, which I guess, come from the kitchen, so I head that way.
When I get to the doorway, I see a bunch of candles lit up, some flames from the stove too, and in the center of the room, illuminated by those, I see the Rose I have always wondered how it looks like.
I see her… dancing.