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By the time Gideon finally indicated she was done tending his injuries--the injuries Mallus had inflicted on him while possessing Sara--Ray felt restless and antsy, about ready to jump out of his skin. Everyone else had wandered away by then, and he’d been bored.
It felt good to get back to his room and finally change out of his bloodied clothes. Otherwise, he felt—odd. He was alive, he could exult in that, and also he now had more memories that he really didn’t want to dwell on, and yet they would not be going away anytime soon, he knew all too well. It felt surreal to even be back in his comfortably familiar and brightly lit room.
That was one of the effects of how rapid Gideon’s medical treatments were—things didn’t seem real. The injuries—he had memories of overwhelming pain—were gone, like they’d never been there. Like he could just forget about all that now and move on. And yet, they’d been healed so abruptly that that didn’t seem real either—he could still feel the echo of that sharp pain in his thigh, and the severe ache in his chest that had cut off his breathing. At the thought, his breath hitched, and he deliberately and slowly filled his lungs.
Right now, he mostly did not want to be in the same room as Sara. It didn’t make sense—he knew she was herself again and would not hurt him, but the fact that Mallus had used her, had attacked him as her—the vicious and cold look in her eyes as she’d repeatedly hit him—all that shook him. He knew he had to hide that—Sara had enough guilt, she didn’t need this too. Ray figured he could do that—he’d always been good at smiling through fear or pain—but he was a bit too tired and rattled to do it just at this moment.
The knock on his door startled him, and his first thought was that Sara wanted to talk with him. Well, fuck. He immediately prepared himself to be as cheerful as he could, pushing aside the fear sharply, standing up straighter, ignoring his abruptly racing heart. He’d often found that walking straight at what terrified him was the most effective way to cope, even if it did spike his heart rate even more.
He opened his door with a falsely bright grin only to find—Zari, instead. He felt his fear drop away. She looked uncomfortable, as though the ship was too cold for her, her arms nervously wrapped around herself. Even her face looked sad and distant, her eyes not quite meeting his.
After Mallus had shown Zari her dead brother—of course that’d be painful. Ray felt a wave of empathy.
“Zari!” His smile became more gentle. “Are we gathering?”
“Oh—no. At least, not yet.” She looked up at him, unsure and pinched.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, smile now completely replaced by concern.
“No. It’s just.” Zari looked up at him, eyes pleading. “I came here because—well, it was me and Amaya who found you, in the lab, and—“ she shook her head. “You don’t have to. I just—I want to give you a hug.”
Ray felt the surprise on his face. She was still talking. “When you were hurt—I wanted to then, but couldn’t, it would have hurt you more. Seeing you like that—“ she stopped, and her face twisted in pain as she looked away.
He gulped. It felt very odd to see Z upset because of him. Ray thought how bad off he must have looked, what that must have been like for her to see, and he felt the urge to reassure her. “Z—it’s OK, I’m fine now—thanks to you.”
This did nothing to take that pained look off of her face. “Would you let me--?”
“Oh, right. I mean, sure, if you want.” He gave her a puzzled smile.
She smiled a little at that and then her wiry arms were around him, careful and kind and strong. He heard her breath catch and realized she was starting to cry. Bewildered, he returned the embrace, trying to ease the anguish he’d seen in her, that he could feel now in how shaky she was. But he was the one who was feeling helped—safe, cared for. It was soothing to his jangled nerves. And it was easier to breathe, like this.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered roughly into his shoulder. “I’m—I’m just done with my people being hurt.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. He just held her tighter and continued to breathe evenly and deeply, trying to let the peace of her kindness in.
After a long while that Ray did not keep track of, he felt her arms loosen and he stepped back a bit.
They both said “Thank you” and “Thanks” over top each other, and then laughed.
“Thank you,” she said again. “I needed to do that.”
“I think I needed that too,” he admitted quietly. “I feel—better now.”
She hadn’t let go of his arm, and the smile on her normally reserved or even dour face was genuine and brilliant. “Good.”
“Wait—you said ‘my people’? You mean—I’m included in that—?” He asked with a small smile, almost teasing, almost making light of his own question to hide from her—or himself—how much he was feeling her words.
“Yeah,” she said, with conviction. “You are.” Her manner was uncharacteristically serious, and then she gave him a glare. “You should know that by now.”
He laughed self-consciously and looked down, feeling gratitude fill his chest, replacing an aching hollowness there.
“Ray,” she grumbled, and then pulled him into another hug.
He closed his eyes and felt tears begin to come, Z’s stubbornly persistent friendship further melting an old, old fear.