For prompt 5: "Let me see"
Alex leaned against the cold wall and tried to stop himself from sliding to the floor. He distracted himself by watching Yassen as the assassin manually locked the vault door to the panic room and disabled the electronic keypad in case an override code existed. A small security feed showed three guards arriving at the door and the assassin had barely stepped back before the hammering started.
They didn't have to worry though; the door was several inches of solid steel and would hold up against most. Yassen's former employer had made sure of this when she installed the room. It hadn't saved the woman from a bullet to the head once Yassen discovered just which 'annoying kid' had infiltrated her castle – Yes, a real castle, and not one of the old, crumbling ones either. No no, this crazy woman had built a modern replica of the Château d'Azay-le-Rideau in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert in Northern Texas.
If Alex hadn't been in a world of pain, he would have made some quip about Yassen offing his employers becoming a bad habit. As it was, he kept his jaws locked to stop a whimper from escaping.
He finally let himself slide down the wall. His pride wasn't worth spending unnecessary energy to keep standing now they were finally somewhere safe. At least for now.
Yassen turned around, ignoring the thumping outside, and gave Alex a considering look.
Normally, Yassen's face had exactly two settings beside the professionally blank expression he wore around his employers: smiling or mildly displeased. And the latter he usually reserved for when he discovered Alex in the field.
Today, Alex felt bold enough to call Yassen's expression concerned. Others might have described it as resigned, but Alex was well-versed in Yassen speak by now.
"Let me see," Yassen said and crouched down in front of him.
Alex reluctantly removed his hand from his side. Blood had soaked through the white shirt of his borrowed uniform. Hands shaking, he tried to lift the edge of the shirt to get a better look and hissed in pain as the fabric stuck to the knife wound. Yassen moved in to help, and Alex flinched in reflex, covering his wound once again, warily tracking the assassin's movements as the man stepped back and raised his hands in a placating motion.
Surprisingly, Alex found no annoyance in the man's gaze, only patience, as if Alex reacting like a startled rabbit when someone offered their help was perfectly reasonable.
"Sorry," Alex said. "It's …"
He wasn't sure what excuse he could give. 'Sorry, I don't trust you though you just saved my life. Again.' Or maybe, 'People never help me without wanting something in return, and I don't want to be in your debt.'
Yeah, those would go over well.
Yassen made no move to get closer, even after he lowered his hands. After a few moments, Alex was able to relax. His hands became sticky as blood continued to seep out in time with his fluttering heartbeat.
"It would be best to take a look at the injury now, so we can treat it properly while we wait," Yassen said patiently.
Meaning, he wanted to know if Alex was already beyond helping, and he didn't trust Alex to be able to give a good enough assessment in his current state.
Alex bristled, but grudgingly let the assassin take a look. Yassen moved with practised efficiency that spoke of years of experience, his hands steady and quick as they prodded the skin in a way Alex could never hope for had their situation been reversed. It hurt, a lot, though still a lot less than if Alex had tried to look himself.
Yassen hummed and used his trousers to wipe some of the blood off his fingers. "Barely a scratch."
"Liar." Alex was too exhausted for the word to hold any real heat. He didn't protest when Yassen ripped a sleeve of his shirt and guided Alex to keep proper pressure on the wound.
"You'll be fine," Yassen promised. His gaze was steady, and Alex really wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe he wouldn't bleed out during the next few hours while they rested and planned their escape. Believe that Yassen could take out the remaining guards on his own when the only weapon they had left was Yassen's backup knife. That he wouldn't do the only sane thing in this situation and leave Alex behind to save himself.
If anyone could get them both out alive, it would be Yassen.
"Okay," Alex agreed. And he meant it.
Themes: Non-graphic description of a wound and blood
