Above All Else, Part 2 (HR)
The rise and fall of his chest were irregular. When Hae-Ri thought about it, she couldn't remember hearing him get up even once the whole time since she woke up hours ago. She stepped closer and stood by the side table, close to his head. From this close, she could hear the ragged, uneven rhythm of his breathing, too quick for a person in complete rest. Hae-Ri started getting a little worried, and tried to think of the best way to make sure that everything was alright. What would she have done if she didn't know her captor was actually Dal-Geon? She didn't want to reveal the fact that she knew yet, still undecided whether to give him more time or just call him out on it. Most of all, she wasn't prepared to deal with everything, wasn't prepared to get the answers she wanted so badly, fearing it might make her feel a lot worse to actually know, terrified of hearing the words that would make her shatter.
"Ajusshi?", she spoke up hesitantly, not sure what she would have said if this happened 24 hours ago.
Her voice was raspy and hoarse, and though it made speaking uncomfortable, at least she didn't have to control her tone, which would have definitely been high and shaky if she hadn't lost her voice from all the crying she did. Knowing all too well that she shouldn't expect him to answer, she thought he might turn around or sit up, or give some other nonverbal response.
"... Ajusshi?", she gave it another try. Again, there was no response. He didn't show any sign of hearing her at all. she paused for a long moment.
"The bed is a little unstable, can you take a look at it?", She said after a while, raising her voice a little more this time, trying a straight forward request.
Knowing Dal-Geon, he was too kind to just ignore anyone if he was asked to help, but still, there was no response. Was he really asleep? Maybe he was breathing heavily because of a dream? Or perhaps a nightmare? She thought it was unlikely when she remembered the night before last, when he woke up even though she was completely silent, for no apparent reason. He seemed to be a light sleeper, so how come he didn't wake up when she was talking to him, so close to his ear?
For a moment, she thought of giving up and just leave him be, but the little voice in her head kept nagging, and anxiety took front stage. Her instincts told her something wasn't right, and even if everything was actually fine, it couldn't hurt to make sure.
She stepped closer to him, closing the distance between them. He was facing the back of the sofa, his face was completely covered by the hood and mask, which couldn't help with his already laborious breathing.
"Ya," she reached a shaking, hesitant hand to his shoulder, and poked him with a finger. The contact sent an electrifying shock from the tip of her finger and straight to her heart, which instantly picked up pace. Again, he didn't respond.
"Ya!", she reached her hand again, this time grabbing his shoulder and giving him a good shake. He did twitch a little, but stubbornly remained with his back to her, face buried in the cushion.
She thought he felt unexpectedly warm under the rather thick fabric of his shirt, so thick that she shouldn't have felt his warmth at all. Did he run a fever? She reached a hand to his hood, meaning to slip her hand under and place it on his forehand to feel his temperature. Much as she should have expected, that was his red line, even while unresponsive. The cobra hand didn't fail, and shot up to grab hers before she was able to make contact. She had no idea how he even knew that she was trying to touch him with his eyes closed, one half of his face buried in the cushion, and the other covered by the hood. His hand was ice cold, and his grip wasn't as tight as before. She thought she felt his fingers tremble around hers.
"I won't touch the mask, I promise," she found herself pleading, hoping that it would put him at ease, that he would trust her words, but he didn't let go.
"I think you might have a fever," she tried to reason with him, feeling a lump forming in her throat, which made it even harder to talk. His grip around her fingers tightened just a tiny bit, then somewhat loosened after a while, and she used the opportunity to push her hand forward, when his grip tightened again.
"I swear I won't touch it," she promised him again. There was no reason for her to target his mask anymore, she already knew what she would find under it, and though she didn't know all the details, she was pretty sure she knew the motive behind everything that went down since they met a few days ago. There were no more questions she had for her captor, but a whole lot of them for Dal-Geon.
Never letting go, he loosened his grip a bit and allowed her hand to slip forward, releasing her fingers, circling her wrist instead. He wasn't giving her a free pass, he obviously didn't trust her, even though she promised. Nevertheless, she knew it wasn't the time to dwell on that, and finally, under his restraining hand, reached under his hood.
Her heart was racing as she moved his hair, damp with sweat, away from his forehead, and pressed her palm to the heated skin, unable to control the part of her that was ecstatic to be touching him again. Dal-Geon softly sighed. As she suspected, he indeed ran a fever, and a pretty high one at that, she believed. Against her chilly fingers, it felt like he was burning up.
"Ya, you do have a fever," she announced, distressed. What was she to do? She had no idea what might be causing the fever, and they were in the middle of nowhere. Even if she had a phone, she wouldn't know who to call. Was there even reception in this place? She doubted it. Where and how was she supposed to find a doctor? The thought that a mere fever had such destructive potential away from civilization and access to modern medicine made her uneasy, on the verge of panic. She just got him back, was she to lose him again to a damn fever, this time for real? This scenario was in no way acceptable. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Thinking about the worst-case scenario was helpful in no way, it wasn't productive. She had to focus and think of what she could do under these circumstances, and not of what might happen if what she could do wasn't enough.
She easily freed her wrist from his shaky grip, as he was obviously already too exhausted to keep his arm up, and went on to try and make him turn to his back. He resisted at first, but after a few persistent tries she finally had the upper hand, and managed to make him roll over onto his back by forcefully pulling his shoulder. He refused to look her way, and kept his head well to the right, facing the cushion. She reached her hand to his neck, trying to feel his temperature again. Just as her fingers made contact with his burning skin, his hand shot up again to grab hers, yanking her away from him. He turned to look at her, opening his eyes for the first time, and they were glistening and feverish, vulnerable. Her heart gave a squeeze, stopped, then picked up pace double the speed. She was struggling to control her breathing, and found herself looking away from his gaze, flustered.
Get it together, she ordered herself. She blinked hard, took a deep breath, and reached her free hand to grab the arm that was restraining hers. She didn't expect the result.
Dal-Geon withered silently in what looked like agonizing pain. He immediately pulled his arm out of her grip and rolled away from her, tucking his arm between his torso and the sofa cushion, as if to shelter it. She put her hand back on his shoulder and pushed down, trying to force him to his back again.
"Roll over," she ordered, and grabbed him firmly, pulling back.
"Come on," she begged for his cooperation.
Seeing as he was unwilling to bring himself to move, she grabbed his shoulder with one hand, grabbed a handful of his shirt bellow the ribs with the other, and pulled. Though his resistance made him heavier, she managed to get him on his back. Finally, probably realizing that it was a losing battle in which he was the weaker party, he gave up and went limp.
She went down on her knees, settled on her heels, and gently wrapped a hand around his left wrist, holding it straight as she pushed his sleeve back, revealing a bandage that covered his forearm from wrist to elbow. She noticed he traded the bandage he had around his palm for a large band aid. It must be healing well, she thought approvingly, though it didn't seem to be the case for his injured arm.
She untapped the edge of the bandage and started to unwrap it when suddenly he pulled his arm out of her hands. He was just about to roll away again, but she was quicker. She locked him in place, planting her hand on his solid chest and pushed down, putting her weight into it.
"Stop it, please," she was right on the border between scolding and begging,
"let me take a look."
When she felt the tension leave his body as he allowed his muscles to relax and submit to her, she let go of him and went back to unwrapping the bandage. It was obvious that something was wrong almost immediately, as she felt the abnormally heated skin from under the layers of bandage. When she finally removed all of it and peeled the gauze off his wound, the sight was shocking for several reasons. One of which she instantly pushed out of her head, unable to face the truth of it at the moment.
There was a gash stretching from above his wrist and almost to his elbow, most of it already closed up and was healing nicely. Approximately halfway to his elbow was what could only be described as an angry looking pit. It wasn't just a cut, it was a hole, and though it wasn't too wide, it was a deep one. It didn't close up or scabbed over, it was completely open, the edges red and furious, and though it didn't bleed, plasma was oozing out of it. The entire area around it was red and swollen and stiff.
She was as gentle as she possibly could as she placed her fingers on the reddened skin around the wound, and it was hardened and burning hot, even hotter than his forehead. Dal-Geon sighed again. She put just a little bit of pressure with her thumbs, and not surprisingly, pus started to come out as Dal-Geon sucked in a breath. The wound was thoroughly infected, and by the looks of it, it was more than likely the cause of his fever.
It was the fourth day since they met, which meant it's been almost four days since he got this injury, walked around with an untreated infected wound, straining himself, doing pushups and whatnot. She wanted to smack him on the head for being so irresponsible, and yet couldn't ignore the guilt that she was feeling. He did that to himself for her, to cover up for her. In a way, this was her fault. She quickly chased the thought away. If he hadn't lied and betrayed her, she wouldn't even be in Kiria in the first place, and none of this would have happened.
"It's infected," she announced, her raspy voice the only thing hiding how extremely worried and frustrated she was.
"Maybe we should get a doctor…" she continued in a low voice, trailing off, mostly talking to herself as she had no idea how on earth were they supposed to do that. Responding for the first time, Dal-Geon shook his head in a firm "no".
"But…" he held up his free hand, putting an end to the discussion.
If he wasn't willing, there was nothing she could do by herself, with no phone and no idea where they were. Resigned, she got up and went to the bathroom in order to look for the first aid kit that she vaguely remembered seeing him use last night, praying that there was something in it that could be of help. She did have emergency medical training, but none of that was of any use if she didn't have anything to work with.
She reached the bathroom and allowed the shock to take over as she leaned forward heavily, grabbing the sink so hard that her knuckles turned white. Though it was deformed by the ugly cut, it was impossible to miss that tattoo. She would recognize it anywhere. Its shape was burned in her brain. A Black Sun tattoo.
She remembered the explanation they got from chief Gang about it, how it used for other members to recognize each other, and that often under it was a tracking chip. This infected hole in his arm was not just any random wound, it looked very much like it was made to allow something to be dug out.
Why the hell did he have that tattoo? What has he been doing for the last year since he disappeared? It was impossible that he joined hands with Samael's henchmen, he would have never done that. And besides, how did he manage to get it? It wasn't such an easy task, they wouldn't allow just anyone in. This private army recruited only professionals with top skills and extensive experience, people that spent the majority of their adulthood as lethal soldiers serving in elite units. And though Dal-Geon was definitely gifted in martial arts and skilled in everything physical, and though he did serve in the Korean army for the required amount of time, he was not a professional soldier.
There were so many possibilities that this tattoo brought to life, and she didn't have enough information to confirm or refute any of them. Was he a double agent of some sort? If so, who was he doubling for? Did someone hire him to do that, or was he there of his own accord? Or, though the Dal-Geon that she knew back then would have never succumbed to it, did Edward Park somehow manage to recruit him?
Dal-Geon was pronounced dead, and a murderer on top of that. Even though he was alive, there was little that he could do under these circumstances. Even supporting himself would have become almost impossible. Did Edward use that fact to bring him to his lines? Was Dal-Geon so desperate and hopeless that he would join hands with his enemy?
She was very much aware that she was in no position to judge him. Though she was absolutely furious with him, she couldn't even begin to imagine how hard it was for him to live as a dead man that was framed for murder. Unable to clear his name, knowing that only pain, injustice and even death would follow if he revealed that he was alive... How could anyone judge any choice that was made by a person under these impossible circumstances? Considering his situation, suddenly it didn't seem so impossible that Dal-Geon was now one of Edward's men. She wouldn't be surprised if Edward orchestrated the whole thing just to trap Dal-Geon in his web.
If so, why did Dal-Geon damage the tattoo, and possibly removed the tracking chip? Did he do it the same day that he rescued her, or was it before that? Back then, she didn't see anything up close, just that he cut himself twice and spilt his blood in and around the car she was travelling in. She didn't pay much attention to his injury. Did he go rouge before they met, or did he go rouge because they met? She started to doubt that their encounter was a coincidence. Something wasn't sitting right, but she knew she had nothing to do but wait for him to give her the answers. She could speculate all her life, but if he didn't talk, it would remain a speculation forever. Only he could give her the truth.