.
It took them nearly an hour to accomplish what should have been a ten-minute walk back to their rental unit. Vasquez sighed in relief as Hudson nodded to an upcoming door, unit 1038, and said, "This is us."
They paused outside the door for a moment, sweaty and breathing heavily as Hudson fished through the gym bag he had brought to the hospital, which now held her spare clothes, an array of medications, and evidently, their room key, somewhere at the bottom.
When he finally located the key card and got the door open, Vasquez vaguely noted the small size of the room as Hudson helped her take the final steps over to the single bed and she collapsed onto the mattress, exhausted.
The pain blocker she had received was still doing a pretty good job of numbing the site of the incision and she was thankful for that. However, every now and again, she felt twinges of discomfort notifying her of the gravity of the change that had just occurred to her body. She hadn't yet been able to bring herself to look down at the leg for an extended period of time. Even catching a glimpse of the bandages below the now useless joint of her knee delivered a wave of uncomfortable feelings, like touching a live current and feeling the jolt pass through every remaining part of her body. It reminded her that she still had a long way to go, not just in terms of her physical recovery, but also in the mental aspects of adjusting to the change.
Hudson handed her a cold glass of water from the apartment's small kitchen and she downed it. When he took back the glass, Vasquez closed her eyes and laid her head down on the pillow and she felt him lean in and touch his lips to her damp hairline.
"You did really good, Vaz," he said. "Just relax now."
"Was a joint effort," she mumbled, still exhaling large breaths.
When her eyelids fluttered open once again, she cocked her head, noticing all the items that adorned the wall above the bed. "Whoa, look at all this."
She sat up a bit, her eyes scanning over the photographs of her teammates and their old posters. Ferro's bent aviator glasses taped over the chest of the busty pinup from Spunkmeyer's locker, but left humorously askew, maybe on purpose. The drawings in black marker that she knew to be Newt's, impressive for her age, unambiguous representations of her and Newt and Hudson—including one that clearly depicted herself and Hudson holding hands, a single auspicious heart drawn above them. And on the shelf beside the bed, the photographs from Drake's locker, the USCM cap and the necklace that had belonged to her lost friend.
Her hand went to Drake's necklace, brushing past it lightly so that the bones softly rattled against one another.
"If it makes you sad to look at those things, I can put them away," Hudson offered.
"No," Vasquez replied quickly, "I like it." Her eyes scanned the shelf beside the bed, searching.
"It's here," said Hudson, guessing correctly that it was the folded-up note that she was looking for, years of memories between her Drake concealed within the small paper square.
Hudson picked it up and placed it on the shelf where she could reach it more easily and she grasped it with tips of her fingers, standing it up on its edge, her thumb running back and forth over the soft paper.
"I didn't open it, in case you were wondering," Hudson added.
Vasquez gave him a grateful nod. "I hadn't seen it in a couple years, so I thought it had gone missing," she said. "But then on our last mission, getting out of that building, I went to grab my spare knife and… there it was." Her hand automatically went to her side, reliving the experience of finding it there. "Drake must have slipped it into my pocket that morning on the dropship."
"It was in the locker room," stated Hudson and Vasquez looked up at him in surprise.
"I remember the two of you standing by the lockers," he explained. "Drake had his hands on your shoulders, you guys were talking… and when you turned away, I saw him slip it in your pocket."
"Really?"
Hudson nodded and his face seemed to flush a bit. "I guess it stood out to me because I thought he was tryna, you know, get back together with you or somethin'."
Vasquez stared down at the note, remembering the last thing Drake had ever written on the page: Hope this new mission can be a fresh start.
"Anyway," said Hudson, decidedly putting an end to their conversation. "Come on, let's get to bed."
She nodded, then looked down at the small bed with a frown. "How the hell are we both gonna sleep here?"
.
It was only 8pm or so, but she was feeling exhausted; her medications seemed to keep her in an almost permanent state of drowsiness. Hudson also looked drained, and she knew he had only gotten a few hours of actual sleep in the several days that she had been in the hospital.
She hung onto the back of his neck as she reached for her crutch and made it to a standing position, then he walked her to the bathroom, only assisting her when she asked for his help.
They both brushed their teeth at the sink, Hudson standing sturdily behind her for support, purposely brushing loudly next to her ear, clearly trying to get a rise out of her.
"Quit it, culero!" she snapped at him and he laughed at her reaction, took the foamy toothbrush out of his mouth and landed a quick kiss, getting wet toothpaste suds over her cheek.
"Ugh, Hudson!" she protested, wiping her cheek as he laughed at her reflection in the mirror. Deciding to wage war, Vasquez took the toothbrush out of her own mouth and tried to touch it to his face. But when he stealthily dodged her advances, she changed up her tactics and instead, spat her mouthful of toothpaste at him in retaliation.
Hudson stood in shock for a moment as the toothpaste splatter dribbled down his face. Then he burst out into surprised laughter, leaving them both in stitches.
.
With their teeth brushed and faces freshly washed and toothpaste-free, Hudson walked Vasquez back to the bed and got a clean tank top and briefs from her part of the closet and handed them to her. As Vasquez changed, momentarily topless in front of him, Hudson seemed careful not to react, clearly trying to be considerate of her.
As she pulled off her sweatpants and they dropped to the floor, it felt like she was holding her breath as she looked down at the rigid bandage at the base of her missing limb—still a shock to see, every time.
She shuffled into position on the bed and Hudson leaned over her, lining up her medication bottles and a glass of water on the shelf where she could reach.
"I'll keep this one closest, it's the main painkiller. Don't be afraid to take it if you need it, okay?" he said, motioning to the bottle closest to her. He frowned at the lineup, then opted to open the lid and take out a small handful of pills, leaving them in a little pile at the base of the bottle before returning the lid.
"I'm not a child," she objected. "I can open a bottle of pills."
"Just tryna make it easy in case you need 'em in the night," he offered innocently, tucking her in under the covers. Hudson then knelt on the ground beside the single bed, spreading out some articles of clothing to create a makeshift bed for himself.
"You're seriously not going to sleep on here with me?" she asked him. "I can make room." She tried to shuffle over a bit to demonstrate.
"There's no way I'm going to fit on that thing with you," he said eyeing up the tiny bed. "Plus, I'm scared I'd move in the night and hurt you. Nah, I'm fine right here." Hudson took her discarded sweatpants and folded them so that they made a sort of pillow and placed it on the floor beside the bed, patting it loudly for effect. "See? Nice and comfy."
He turned out the light to the room and laid down on the floor, fully clothed, draping the hoodie she had been wearing earlier over himself as a blanket. "Tomorrow I'll go to the rental office and see what I can do about the bed."
In the darkness, she felt his hand come up and find her arm, following it down so he could slip his hand in hers. "Promise me you'll wake me up if you're feeling bad?"
Vasquez grunted.
"Vaz?" he said with a bit of warning in his voice. "Promise?"
The way he said it reminded her of the request she had made to her sister when they were planning their escape from Juárez. 'Promise that if anything bad happens, you'll take my passport and the money and make a break for it. Promise me, nena.' Her sister's hand in hers; a pact that couldn't be broken.
Now it was Hudson holding her hand, trying to keep her safe.
"Yeah, I promise."
He made a noise of satisfaction and his hand let go and returned to his side.
As her vision adjusted to the darkness, Vasquez could see Hudson rearranging the sweater to cover more of himself. He looked uncomfortable. Every so often she would see his eyes opening, the blue irises appearing dark in contrast to the whites of his eyes, still clear and wide, staring up at her. There was something about the way he was curled up on the floor that reminded her of a big, gawky puppy, lying protectively by her bedside.
"Hudson, I can't sleep with you looking at me like that," she said, the words coming out more harshly than she had intended.
"Right. Sorry," Hudson said in dismay and after a minute he gave a sigh as he turned around with his back to her, giving her space.
Vasquez felt regretful. She knew he was doing all this to help her, sacrificing his time and sleep and his own comfort just to be there for her.
Moving carefully out of the bed, Vasquez eased herself down onto the floor beside Hudson.
He turned around in surprise. "What are you doing? Vasquez! Come on, let's get you back into bed."
"Why?" she challenged, pulling the duvet and pillow down from the bed. She slid the pillow towards him so they could share it, covering them both with the blanket.
"You're recovering from a major surgery; you're not sleeping on the floor!"
Vasquez took back the folded sweatpants and placed them under her leg as a cushion, then, ignoring Hudson's objections, she laid down beside him.
"Please Vaz, don't do this." But his protests grew weaker as she nestled in closer to him.
"Shhh, it's okay, Hudson. This feels better."
Vasquez nuzzled her face into the side of Hudson's neck, and he seemed to melt beside her, his stiff upper body softening, his arms wrapping around and enveloping her, pulling her closer, their combined body heat already radiating under the covers.
"Ah, man," Hudson sighed sadly, perhaps feeling he had failed. "You really okay here? Are you comfortable?"
Truthfully, she really did feel better lying next to him. After everything they had been through, she felt thankful he was alive and that they were together now, holding one another. Grateful for those warm arms and his good, caring heart, the scent of his skin—now with a hint of toothpaste. She breathed it in and felt instantly calm and sleepy.
"I feel so comfortable with you," she said drowsily.
At what point, she wondered tiredly, had Hudson—her pal, squad partner and lighthearted rival—become the one she longed to sleep next to?
And, for how much longer?
For as long as possible, her mind answered itself quickly, and she paused to consider the thought. If she were given the option to sleep next to Hudson every night, from that day forward, that was exactly what she would choose.
It was a strange thought, but somehow it felt right. It filled her with a serene sense of warmth; hope, maybe.
She held onto the notion, trying to stay awake, trying to take that moment to truly appreciate the feeling of her arm over Hudson's warm chest and how comfortable it felt to hug him.
But just as quickly, she felt her muscles relax and her mind grow blank as she drifted into a peaceful sleep.
.
Vasquez woke to cooking noises and the smell of food coming from the kitchen.
The lighting in the room was set to morning sun, a bright warm glow, and she squinted as she sat up, her leg throbbing a bit.
It was then that she realized she was no longer lying directly on the hard floor. Beneath her, it was soft. At some point while she slept, Hudson had moved the mattress down to the floor and placed her on it. The movement hadn't even woken her.
Hudson looked up from what he was doing, and he smiled.
"Morning!" he said cheerfully. "You really slept!" I got groceries and I'm making breakfast." He looked up at her uncertainly. "Uh, you eat everything, right? I've never cooked for you before."
"Everything but celery and oysters," she replied.
"You know I was gonna throw a few oysters into the eggs, but then I thought, 'nah'," he joked. "Good thing, huh?"
She laughed, watching him for a moment from her bed on the floor. He had showered and shaved, a few wet strands of hair hanging over his forehead. His face appeared bright, the skin of his cheeks looking freshly scrubbed and a bit rosy, the marks on his face from their ordeal on LV-426 finally starting to fade. He wore a grin as he tended to the eggs in the frying pan.
He looked up, catching her gaze, "What?"
"Nothing," she replied.
"Oh, hey, so I went to the rental office this morning to ask about options for the bed. And oh man, this chick was holding up the line, making a scene about trying to find someone, yellin' at the staff to give her the person's unit number!" He poured a glass of orange juice and brought it over to her. "Finally, security showed up, but it fucking took forever, I thought for sure you would wake while I was gone."
"You don't have to worry about me, I can manage on my own," she said as she leaned up on the bed and tried to reach for her medications. Frustratingly, they were just out of arm's reach and Hudson shook his head in amusement as she instantly disproved her own words.
Hudson gathered her medicine supply and brought it down to the floor where she could reach it, helping to fish out the exact assortment of pills she was supposed to take every morning, holding them out for her until she had taken all of them.
"Anyway," he continued, "When I eventually talked to someone there, they said our friends at the Company capped the bill—cheap bastards—so they couldn't make any changes without charging us like crazy… but whatever, I have a plan B in mind."
"Uh oh," replied Vasquez dryly. "Why do I always have a bad feeling whenever you resort to a plan B?"
He looked a bit disappointed in her lack of faith in him and he protested, his face growing animated as he began explaining his idea, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. But when her leg suddenly twinged in pain, Hudson abruptly stopped talking and his expression changed again, evidently reading the pain on her face.
"They said the blocker might be wearing off around this time," he reminded her, and she nodded.
.
They ate breakfast there on the floor, as the only other seating in the unit—two bar-height chairs at the counter—did not lend themselves well to her current state of mobility. She had only made it through half of the fried egg sandwich Hudson had prepared when, like clockwork, the drowsiness from the medications hit her, and Hudson took away her plate and her glass so she could lie down to sleep.
Vasquez only vaguely heard the sounds of him cleaning up the kitchen as she dozed, a bit delirious as the drugs mixed in her system and she felt the effects altering her state of mind.
When she finally opened her eyes hours later, Hudson was hovering over her, looking worried. "Huh?" she questioned groggily.
"You were talking in Spanish," he said.
"What was I saying?"
"How should I know?" he answered with a shrug and turned back to what he was doing, building something on the floor next to her.
"What's that?" she asked, and he moved out of the way so she could see what looked to be a large coffee table, almost completed.
"To go with the sofa we don't have?" she asked in confusion.
"No, smart-ass," he chided, "It's my plan B. Just wait."
Hudson finished tightening the last screws to the legs, pushed it up to the existing bed frame, and Vasquez could see that the height of the table almost perfectly matched that of the bed. Then, he went out in the hall and dragged in a double mattress he had picked up, pushed it past her and hoisted it on top of the new structure, perpendicular to where the other mattress had gone.
He sat down on the new bed, tentative at first. The end of the mattress sagged slightly as it dropped off the table, but to his credit, the new configuration looked surprisingly sturdy. "Seee?" He bounced around a bit on the bed and grinned at her, clearly proud of himself.
"Yeah, it works," she offered. "Think you got lucky though."
"Lucky?!" he exclaimed in mock disbelief.
In a second he had gotten up from the bed and it looked like he was about to pounce on her, his fists up, pretending to pick a fight.
She threw off the covers and playfully put her fists up too, but then he quickly descended onto the mattress behind her, his arms closing around hers, his face paused above her neck, snarling as if he was about to bite.
Vasquez laughed and tried to pull away as the snarl turned into a kiss. "You obviously don't know an incredible feat of engineering when you see one." As he spoke, his lips brushed against the back of her neck and a pleasant, electric chill circulated through her body, inciting goosebumps.
He pulled back a bit to look at her. "You'll just have to try it out for yourself. You ready?"
Vasquez nodded, and he scooped her up from the mattress and into his arms and carried her to their new bed, placing her down on it softly. Then he crawled on top of her. He straddled her carefully, ensuring all his weight was on the bed and none fell on her.
The position had her immediately wanting him.
"You feel that? Solid as a rock!" he said patting the bed around them proudly. "Okay, but seriously, we should really do your physio exercises now that you're awake."
Vasquez ran her hands slowly up his thighs, her pace quickening. "I know some exercises we could do that would be a lot more fun."
"Whoa, Vaz," he reacted with a grin. "As badly as I want that right now, they were pretty specific about their instructions, remember?" His smile faded. "I know it sucks, but you have to give yourself time to heal first."
She huffed in disappointment and took her hands off him, turning away in frustration.
Hudson leaned over her, moving in closer, his fingers lightly stroking her hair in consolation. "Come on, quit pouting."
"I'm not pouting!" she said, annoyed at the implication.
"You're totally pouting! I mean, not that I can blame you." He puffed out his chest a bit, raising both arms and flexing his biceps. "You want summa this, it's only natural!"
Vasquez scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You know what? I'm over it. I can wait."
He gaped in mock outrage. "What's that supposed to mean?! Oh, you are in for it now!" Then his face was next to hers trying to nuzzle his way in, like a burrowing animal, like she was his prey, little grunting and munching noises as he pretended to snack on her neck.
She couldn't help but fall into his trap, the rapid breath, the soft bit of hair under his bottom lip tickling, inducing delightful shivers and involuntary sounds she had never even heard herself make. Her smile grew wide as she squirmed underneath him, her fingers weaving through his hair and soon she was laughing so hard that the muscles of her stomach ached.
"Drake!" she laughed.
Vasquez realized the mistake instantly and put a hand over her mouth. She shut her eyes, completely embarrassed. Hudson had stopped and she felt him draw back, poised above her.
"Fuck. I'm sorry Hudson, I... I don't know why I just said that."
"It's okay," he said easily.
"It's not." She shook her head, a deep feeling of discomfort coming over her. "I wasn't thinking of anyone but you, so I don't know why I..."
"It was just a slip," Hudson said in understanding. He still wore an easy smile on his face, but his eyes didn't lie: she could read his disappointment.
"It's these fuckin' meds, they mess with my mind," she said quietly.
"I know," he said. "Please. Don't worry about it, okay? Come on, let's go through your physio exercises." He smiled, but his mind looked busy.
.
Vasquez woke in the night to an intense burning pain in her leg.
It felt like it was on fire, but it was the lower part of the leg that burned—the part that was gone—she could somehow still feel it, searing with heat as if the injury had just happened.
She threw the covers off to see that the lower half of the limb was indeed still missing, but it didn't lessen the painful sensation.
Hudson was asleep with his back towards her, the low rumble of his breathing audible. She remembered her promise to him from the night before.
"Hudson?" she said, gently nudging his shoulder.
He seemed to wake instantly at her touch, startled, "Hmm? What is it Vaz?"
"It's bad," she struggled through gritted teeth. "It feels like it's on fire… I know it's gone, but I can feel it burning!"
Hudson's eyes were wide, fully awake now. "Remember what they told us about the uh...uh…"—he struggled for the term, snapping his fingers on one hand to jog his memory— "phantom limb pain!"
"Yeah, I remember, how do I stop it?!" She felt almost desperate now. She threw her head back down to the pillow, her arms over her face, writhing in discomfort.
"Um..." Hudson turned to the shelf above the bed, and she could hear the bottles of her medications clinking together before he turned back to face her, holding a vial and a syringe, a look of fear on his face.
"I was hoping we wouldn't have to use this one," he said, filling the syringe from the vial. When he compressed the plunger a bit to get the air out, just like how the nurse had shown them at the hospital, she could see that his hands were shaking.
As he grasped her bandaged leg, he took a deep breath and his hands seemed to steady a bit. Following the directions he had been given, he injected the syringe into the underside of her knee.
She felt the sting and the immediate heat of the medication entering her veins. And then the burning pain began to fade. She laid back into the pillow, feeling drowsy, and beside her, she heard Hudson exhale in relief.
Vasquez tried to thank him, but her words came out as mumbled gibberish. She tried to say something else, but again, she couldn't make the words form.
"Shhh. It's alright. Just sleep," Hudson soothed her, stroking her forehead.
.
When she woke again, it was to a different feeling. Not intense pain like she felt before, but just as overwhelming.
She reached her arm out, but Hudson wasn't in the bed beside her.
The feeling was all-consuming: a deep, dark gravity in the pit of her stomach. Depression and sadness, as if any possibility of happiness had been sucked from the world as she knew it.
And along with it came an offensive, violating nausea.
She raised her head and the room spun. She tried to reach for her crutches, but her coordination was off, and she ended up knocking them over and they clattered to the ground, out of reach.
From across the dark room, she saw movement as Hudson, who looked like he had fallen asleep sitting at the kitchen counter with a stiff drink, stirred and sat up abruptly in confusion.
"Vaz?"
"I'm fuckin'... gonna be sick," Vasquez said with a hand pressed over her mouth.
Hudson moved swiftly to her side to help her up, but as she stood, the blood rushed to her head, her surroundings a spinning blur and her leg wobbled beneath her and gave way.
Luckily, he was there to catch her. Again, he lifted her into his arms, making easy work of the few strides to the bathroom that seemed an impossible feat for her.
He set her down gently on the cold tile, maneuvered a towel between her bare skin and the floor, placed his warmest hoodie around her shoulders, rubbing her back as she heaved.
When the contents of her stomach were entirely empty, Vasquez leaned back against the wall in a daze. Hudson soaked a towel in warm water and gently wiped her face and the sweat from her forehead. She was shivering now, and he held her tightly, cradling her there on the bathroom floor.
Hudson carried her back to bed and as he pulled the blankets around her, she felt drained and dizzy. She could barely hold up the glass of water he gave her, so he held it to her lips, prompting her to drink. Then, she laid her head down on the pillow, still shivering as she felt him crawl under the covers with her, pressing his bare chest to her back, so she could share his body heat.
It felt different than it had the night before when she fell asleep next to him. This time, Vasquez felt empty inside, completely devoid of the hope and warmth she had previously felt.
Now, the only thing that remained was despair.
.