Chapter 9: The Babysitter's Club

Feiyaz woke up with a groan, her head swimming as she came to consciousness groggily. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was and why everything hurt. Memories of the last few days, including her rebellious exit from the hospital this morning, came slowly trickling back. The clock on her wall and the darkness through the window told her it was well into the evening, which meant she'd been out for quite some time.

She shifted in the bed and immediately regretted it as pain flared through her body. Maybe it had been a little too soon to leave the hospital, but damn she had needed to get out of there. Three days of pitiful looks, sympathetic comments, and well-meaning advice on how to handle what she'd been through. It was enough to drive a person crazy.

Reaching blindly for her nightstand, she tried to grab the medicine bottle she had left there as she crawled into bed earlier that day. When she felt nothing, she turned her head to see the nightstand void of anything except the lamp.

She frowned, confused. She was certain she had left it right there…

It was then she heard the sound of the television coming from her living room, causing her to frown even harder.

She definitely hadn't left that on.

Sitting up with a groan, Feiyaz swore under her breath as she moved slowly. She was able to get her feet under her after a few seconds and shuffled her way over to the door, swinging it open.

She wasn't sure what she expected to find. Maybe her stoner neighbor waiting for his fifty bucks. Maybe even some robbers that had stopped to watch the game.

What she didn't expect were two Navy SEALs with enough snacks to survive a storm camped out in her living room.

"What the hell?" she muttered without thought. It was enough to catch the attention of her intruders, and they turned to look at her.

"Well, hey there, Prison Break," Sonny said in his usual tone as if it was normal for them to be hanging out at her place.

Trent stood quickly at the sight of her pale face. The action caused her to flinch involuntarily, and he had to remind himself to go slow. "How are you feeling?" the medic asked gently, taking note of the way she kept her weight off one leg and held an arm close to her body.

"I'm fine," was the immediate reply as she watched him warily. "How'd you guys get in here?" Her voice was rough with disuse and fatigue, though she tried to convey a sense of confidence.

"We're SEALs, duh," Sonny replied nonchalantly as he popped a chip in his mouth. "Picked the lock when you didn't answer. We thought you might have died."

Both Trent and Feiyaz rolled their eyes at the comment. She leaned heavily on the doorframe to support herself as the weight of her limbs began to zap her strength. "Well, I'm clearly not dead, so you guys can go now."

Trent made to move towards her as she visibly weakened, and she immediately took a step back with wide, nervous eyes. He took the hint and paused, hands held out at his sides innocently. "You should really be in bed," he said, the unspoken at the hospital in his tone pretty clear.

"Just need my pain meds and I'll go right back to it."

With a sigh, Trent perched himself onto the arm of the chair he'd been sitting in earlier. "You're supposed to take one every twelve hours and you're well over your limit for the day. You'll have to stick to Tylenol until it's safe to take another Oxy in the morning."

Her face quirked in confusion until the pieces clicked. "You took my pills, what the hell?"

"You should be at the hospital on a morphine drip, Feiyaz," he said sternly, now in full no-nonsense medic mode. He used the same tone with uncooperative SEALs on the battlefield. "You're probably still in a lot of pain with your injuries, and it'd be too easy to give in and take more than you should."

"I'm an adult," she said with a scoff. "I think I can manage my own medications."

Sonny chimed in from his position on the couch, one eye still casually on the basketball game. "Like you did this morning?"

She opened her mouth to spit out a retort but Trent cut her off. "You're lucky you didn't have any side effects from taking the extra pills. Narcotics are a very slippery slope with substantial injuries like yours. It's why they keep you in the hospital where they can control the amounts precisely. So as team medic, I'm taking command of your pain meds until you've recovered a bit more."

"I'm not on Bravo, so you're not actually my team medic." She raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"You got blown up with Bravo," Sonny said matter-of-factly. "That makes you an honorary member for life, congratulations."

Feiyaz sighed as deeply as her healing ribs would let her. "Whatever," she muttered and shuffled over to the kitchen in defeat. Opening the fridge, she did a double take at all of the food that had definitely not been in there this morning.

"Want something to eat?" Sonny asked over his shoulder from the couch. "I can make you a Texas special that'll have you right as rain in no time."

Her stomach rolled at the thought of eating. "No thanks," she mumbled as she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge instead and began the slow trek back to her bedroom, where at least she could be in pain alone.

"You need to eat something," came Trent's firm voice, and she waved a hand at him absentmindedly.

"Yes, dad. I'll eat later."

"Yaz." His tone made her stop in the doorway to the bedroom with a sigh, and she turned her head a little to look at him. "You gotta eat to keep up your strength or you'll only feel worse."

The genuine expression of concern on Trent's face was the only thing that prevented Feiyaz from rolling her eyes at the persistence. "Fine, but I'm going to shower first and let the Tylenol kick in." She turned back into the bedroom and made to close the door behind her before Trent spoke again.

"Don't take more than three." He rose his brows at her expectantly and that earned another eye roll as the door shut.

Sonny let out a low whistle from his seat on the couch. "Man, must be a Navy thing to be a bad patient."

"Says the worst patient of all," Trent replied with a glare and headed to the kitchen to see what kind of healthy meal he could come up with.

In the quiet of her room, Feiyaz leaned against the door and sighed. She had left the hospital to escape the constant nagging from the medical professionals. How had she ended up with two SEALs as babysitters? She could only hope they'd leave her to her own devices soon enough so that she could wallow in self-pity alone.

She slowly made her way to the dresser to grab some clean clothes. Just the thought of her first real shower in two weeks brightened her mood a bit. She settled on a new pair of sweatpants and an oversized long-sleeve shirt that she thought wouldn't be too hard to get on and headed toward the bathroom. Setting her clothes on top of the counter, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and grimaced. The bruises had faded to an awful yellow color that didn't mix well with the gray tone to her skin, and despite her lengthy nap today, there were dark circles under her eyes. Her face had thinned thanks to her recent dip in nutrition, leaving her looking gaunt. No wonder Trent had been so adamant she eat something.

She opened the medicine cabinet to avoid her reflection and to grab the Tylenol bottle, dumping out only the recommended dosage to avoid a lecture from Trent. She swallowed them dry and moved to the shower to turn it on, cranking the water as hot as it would go.

Getting undressed proved to be a bigger challenge than planned. The torn ligament in her shoulder screamed in protest as she wrestled off her shirt, leaving her panting in exertion and pain. When she finally made it under the steady stream of hot water, she sighed in relief.

It didn't last long though, as the quiet solitude of the shower meant she had time to think. Memories crept to the front of her mind and she tried to shake them away to no avail. Grabbing for her shampoo bottle, she tried to distract herself by washing her hair. It worked for a while, as she was mostly limited to one arm and her ribs disagreed with any kind of stretched movement. She cussed up a storm as she tried to rinse the suds from her long tresses with her hampered abilities. When she finally finished, she looked at the conditioner skeptically and decided it wasn't worth the effort.

With her bandages thoroughly soaked, Feiyaz began carefully peeling them off her skin, dropping them to the shower floor one by one. Grabbing the body wash, she lathered the sponge generously and began to carefully wash her body.

She avoided the lacerations, caused by knives and ringed hands. She was gentle with her broken ribs and the bruises so deep they had bled. She studiously avoided looking at the missing fingernails on her left hand. She made it to the surgical incision low on her belly and paused with a gulp, her memories rushing back in a tidal wave.

"...internal bleeding in the lower abdomen due to blunt force trauma from the assault…"

"...some chance that scar tissue will affect your fertility…"

The sponge fell from her hand and hit the floor with a loud splat.

Feiyaz placed her hands flat against the tile wall to brace herself as her breathing became erratic and shallow. Her head swam and her vision blurred, though she wasn't sure if it was due to tears or lack of oxygen. Turning around and putting her back to the wall, she slid to the floor ungraciously. Ignoring the pain in her ribs, she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her eyes closed as she focused on her breathing, trying to get herself under control.

She felt herself mentally falling into the black emptiness where she had hidden during much of her time in the desert. It was safe here, she didn't have to feel or remember.

It was quiet.

Trent sighed as he checked his watch for the sixth time in the last little bit. She'd been gone for almost an hour, and he was getting nervous.

"Give it a rest, Doctor Strange," Sonny said before taking a drink from his beer bottle. "She's probably just shaving her legs or whatever else the womenfolk do in there. Or she got out and went back to sleep."

Another worried glance at his watch and Trent rose from his feet. "Or she's passed out and having a medical emergency." He grabbed the smoothie he'd made her from the kitchen counter and approached the bedroom door, knocking lightly. "Yaz? You out of the shower?" No answer.

He turned the doorknob, thankful to find she hadn't locked it during her escape. He looked around the bedroom, finding it empty, and took note of the shower still running. Moving to the nightstand, he put the smoothie down and headed to the bathroom door to knock again. "Yazi? You okay in there?"

Silence greeted him and his level of concern grew, causing him to open the door just a crack in hopes she simply couldn't hear him. "Feiyaz? I'm coming in if you don't answer me." Still nothing, so he swung the door open and prayed he wasn't about to walk into a situation.

She was conscious, so he took that as a win. But the blank expression on her face as she sat on the shower floor staring into nothing was also concerning. "Yaz, you with me?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle her. She didn't acknowledge him, didn't seem to notice he'd entered the room. He considered leaving her to her thoughts but then realized her teeth were chattering slightly.

With a frown, Trent entered the bathroom and grabbed a towel from the hook. He approached the shower slowly, still calling her name in an attempt to snap her out of her daze. It didn't work, and he reached into the shower to turn off the water that had long since turned cold.

He crouched down carefully to her level, trying to keep his eyes away from delicate areas but not failing to notice the damage still evident on her body. "Feiyaz!" he said more firmly as he draped the towel across her knees.

Whether it was the stronger tone or the physical contact, she blinked and turned her gaze to him. There was nothing behind her eyes, only a defeated emptiness that nearly took his breath away. She remained silent but didn't pull away from him. This was a far different cry from the stubborn woman he'd encountered just an hour ago who had flinched anytime he made a move.

"C'mon, let's get you warmed up and into some clothes, yeah?" He carefully grabbed her uninjured arm and urged her to stand, which she did with his help and no argument. She was clearly in some kind of dissociated headspace that he wasn't exactly trained to handle, but he could make guesses based on his own experiences with PTSD. Securing the towel around her, he guided her to sit on the lid of the toilet and knelt down to her level once again. "You okay? You seem really out of it."

She blinked a few times, her stare seemingly going past him to the wall behind. "Tired," she said finally in a quiet voice.

"Your blood sugar is probably crashing, hold on." He retrieved the smoothie from the nightstand, handing the cup to her. "Fruits, veggies, and some protein. Everything your body needs. Drink." Feiyaz complied without comment, taking small sips from the straw. "Awesome, that's great," he said encouragingly, his trademark patience coming through. "How about some clothes? Think you can handle that?" She nodded obediently, continuing to work on her smoothie but making no move to get dressed. "Here," he grabbed the clean undies from the counter and slipped them around her ankles, sliding them up to her knees before moving back to give her space. "Think you can finish that?" Seemingly catching on to the concept, she placed the cup on the counter and maneuvered the garment into place under the towel.

Trent averted his eyes, zeroing in on a rough-looking wound on her arm. This was a more comfortable area for him. "While I've got access, can I get some new bandages on those wounds of yours?"

She nodded again, eyes glazed over with exhaustion and whatever dissociation trip she seemed to be on. At least she was in an agreeable enough mood to let him check her over. The skittish, standoffish Feiyaz from earlier would have been a whole different story.

Trent went out into the living room to grab his med pack and some additional items Sonny had gotten from the store at his request. He threw a quick comment to the Texan, who seemed unconcerned as he continued to watch basketball. He made it back to the bathroom to find she had, predictably, not moved from her spot.

Pulling out a tube of standard antibiotic cream and some bandages, he laid the items within arm's reach on the countertop and once again crouched down to her level. The cut on her arm was deep, requiring several stitches to close it up, but was looking okay all things considered. He made quick work of wrapping the wound with a light gauze so that it could still breathe and set out inspecting the skin visible to him for similar injuries. Despite his poking and prodding of the tender areas, she never reacted to his actions or even seemed to realize what he was doing.

When he finished a few minutes later, Trent reached for the sweatpants still on the counter. "Anything I missed on the lower half?" She shook her head, sipping away mindlessly at the smoothie that she once again had to put down to maneuver the pants up her legs.

The shirt was much more of a problem. It was the first real reaction he'd seen from her as her injured shoulder put up a bit of a fight when they tried to get her arms through the sleeves.

Finally clothed, Feiyaz leaned back on the toilet and took a few deep breaths, her stare still a million miles away. Trent picked up the smoothie again and handed it back to her. "Keep drinking. I promise it'll help." He stood up, hanging the large towel back on the hook and grabbing a small one from the vanity for her hair. Reaching over her gingerly, he scrunched the dark strands in the cloth to wring out some of the water.

"How's the shoulder?" he asked softly, arranging the towel on the uninjured one to lay her wet hair on.

"Hurts," she replied around the straw in her mouth.

"Did they give you a sling to wear?" She nodded. "Make sure you put that on when you get up in the morning. It'll help keep the pressure from the weight of your arm off the muscles." She didn't move to acknowledge him but he knew she was listening. "Let's take a look at your surgical site and then we'll get you into bed, yeah?"

There was a brief reaction on her face at the suggestion - hesitancy, shame, grief, he couldn't quite place it. Still, she complied with his request by leaning back against the toilet tank and lifting her shirt a bit to expose the neat line of stitches across her pelvis.

The hardening of her face as he set to work bandaging the wound told him this might have been what set off her dissociated mood. He wanted to ask questions, try to get her to talk in her less combative state. But he also didn't want to risk her sliding backward even deeper into herself, so he kept his mouth shut and worked quickly.

Pleased with the appearance of the incision, he taped a bandage on it and stood up. He cleaned the trash off the counter and packed his medical bag, then turned to her. "Think you can make it to the bed?"

Feiyaz took a deep breath and nodded, pushing herself to a standing position and carefully making her way into the room with Trent following closely just in case. Sitting heavily on the bed, she put the empty smoothie cup on the nightstand and carefully swung her legs up onto the bed.

"Can I get you anything?" Trent asked, moving the bottle of water she'd acquired earlier closer to her reach.

"No thanks," she replied quietly, and the team medic took it as a good sign that she was actually speaking.

With a nod, he headed towards the door. "I'll be out on the couch all night, so just shout if you need something or if the pain gets too bad that you can't sleep."

Her brow furrowed with the new information. "You don't need to-" She stopped abruptly at his meaningful stare that told her there was no point in arguing. "Thank you."

"Try to get some sleep," he said with a warm smile and closed the door behind him. He stopped and sighed tiredly before setting his medic bag on the floor and heading back to the couch.

"Get her all patched up?" Sonny asked, pulling his eyes away from the television.

"Yeah, for now," Trent replied as he leaned his head back against the cushion behind him. "It's different though, from patching up one of the guys."

"Well yeah, she's a proper lady." When he didn't receive a glare or chuckle in response, Sonny sobered. "Guess she's not really like us."

"She wasn't trained for this shit, Son. Not like we were. Seeing the damage… I can only imagine how bad it was in the moment. We're lucky it was Metal in that room with her. Nothing against Brock, but I think it would have fucked him up to have to watch something like that." The team had been able to piece together most of the story between a very brief recap from Metal that lacked any details and additional tidbits of information from the medical staff and Blackburn.

"Woulda fucked me up for sure," Sonny said quietly. "I'd never wish a brother to suffer, but at least we know what we're getting into."

They sat in silence for several minutes, both lost in their dark thoughts.

"Go home," the medic said finally. "Sleep in your own bed. I'll take tonight here."

"You sure? I don't mind staying."

Trent sighed, looking at the closed bedroom door. "I can't leave her just yet. I wanna be here in case something happens."

"Alrighty," Sonny replied as he rose from the couch. "I'll come back tomorrow before lunch sometime, we can swap out. Text me if you need me." They exchanged a clasp of hands and Sonny was gone, leaving Trent to look after his patient through the night.