#sickMaia
"Beat but I'm not broken
Guide me through with your hand
Lead with your words spoken
Show me how to listen
Let your light shine through me
Take this hate I can't release
Help me make the blind see
Misery loves its company."
(Misery Loves Its Company- The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus)
The female whimpered in her sleep. It had been five meals since she'd arrived, and he still wasn't used to the constant noise she made. Since he'd put her on the cot that first night, he hadn't gotten much sleep, but had instead been gifted with a new way to pass the time: watching her sleep.
While he wasn't used to the constant noise, he was familiar with the noises she usually made as she slept, and this one was new. It warranted closer investigation.
The female was shivering. Her waifish body shook more violently with every breath she took. He let himself touch her for the first time since that first night, attempting to wake her, but finding himself stunned by how warm her skin was despite her chilled behavior. She leaned into his touch in her sleep, and he sucked in a breath.
Illness.
It had tainted her sweet scent, and he'd been too preoccupied to notice, too busy trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Too busy trying to understand what Stryker had planned now that the original plan of her swift demise had been foiled. Was this what Stryker had been waiting on?
He didn't get sick, they'd tried several times, injecting him with vile smelling liquids and talking about things like 'AIDS' and 'The Plague'. He'd hardly shown symptoms before his body killed the intruders, but that had been enough for him to learn the stench of human disease.
Hers didn't quite smell like disease, but it was enough for an idea to dawn on him. While he didn't really feel the temperature in the room, she wasn't him, she didn't have the immunities he seemed to have. She was cold, had to have been for the entire time. She'd only been fed once a day too, but he knew that their captors ate three meals every day. A feeling akin to guilt gnawed at him.
He knew gnawing hunger, he knew cold, and he hadn't noticed that her tolerance for the two were far lower than his own. She'd become sick from the combination of the two. That explained why she'd begun sleeping more and more, and also why her last waking period had been considerably quieter than the others. He had stupidly assumed she was tired of hearing herself talk. That didn't seem to be the case at all. She hadn't felt well.
He looked around the room for something to help her with, though what he thought in the sparse room might be of use, he really didn't know. There was only the cot, a shower head, and a toilet, both mounted to the wall. Her using the toilet had been an amusing event the first several days, but they'd almost come to an agreement for one another's privacy. He turned away when she used the facilities, and she did the same for him, though he really didn't understand the issue she had with bodily functions. She regarded the meat they fed him with the same disdain.
Maia started coughing violently, drawing his focus back to helping her. With nothing but himself, he did the only thing he could think of short of begging their captors for help. That was just likely to get her killed. No, the only thing he could do was hope he was enough.
He'd stayed away from her for the most part, giving her more space then was probably necessary, so doing more than touching her arm was a bit of a shock as he eased himself down next to her on the cot. He pulled her to his chest and just did what felt natural, instinct guiding him to tuck her head under his chin and to wrap his arms securely around her back.
The relief in her was instantaneous. She relaxed into him, her breath steadying, the movement of the hairs on his chest keeping him intimately aware of each breath that left her body. After several hours, she shifted slightly, getting impossibly closer to his warmth, flattening her hands against his chest and turning her face deeper into the chasm between them.
When she was startled awake by their morning meal being shoved through the slot in the door, the female stared at him, their faces just inches apart. He hadn't seen her look so caught off guard since when he'd almost caught her with his claws getting to the first meal they'd shared.
He was caught off guard when she squeaked, and pushed back from him, "Holy shit!"
It had yet to cease to amuse him to hear curse words leave her mouth. She seemed too delicate for the words she used, but then again, she was too delicate. He had to get her to do more than pick at the green on the tray. She was scowling slightly at him as he grabbed the meat from the tray and, with a snick of his claws, cut away a thin slice, which he then tossed at the door they had kept electrified once they'd realized he wasn't going to mutilate the pretty female.
It took a few tries, but he finally handed her the final product. Maia blinked slowly, "Did you…just electrocute meat until it was cooked?" He nodded slightly in reply, and the corners of her lips turned up in the expression he favored, "Well, damn, Wild Man. Personal space heater? Chef? I must have lost my damned mind."
She ate the offered meat anyway, and he watched every bite, an odd sense of satisfaction building in his chest. When she pointed out his staring, he just glared at her.
Her strength had obviously not recovered yet though, and a short time later, she was visibly falling asleep again, not to mention rubbing her arms to keep warm. Without asking her permission by pantomime or waiting until she read his mind, he picked her up again and returned to the cot, curling around her.
Maia lay there stiffly without a word for a while before she relaxed, and looked up into his face. She seemed to be studying him, so he just stared back. "What are you?" She asked, voice hardly a whisper.
His first instinct was to recoil from her, but she twined her arms around him, halting his movement simply by stunning him. Since the handshake, she hadn't initiated contact with him, but now they were doing something more than just sharing warmth. She tucked her cold feet against his legs, "I think I'd kill for a pair of socks and a blanket." She sniffled, "Hell, I'd even kill for a box of tissues at this point." There was a long pause, but he could tell she was still awake, "Thank you, Wild Man. I'd be dead without you, wouldn't I?"
She probably would have.
It took a couple of days, her using him as a tissue at one point they'd both rather not dwell on ever again, but she got better. The day after she seemed fully recovered, and a blanket followed their food tray. The day after, soap and a change of clothes for the both of them.