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Amos’ eyes quietly tracked Naomi’s small form as she left the med bay, her mag boots clacking along the metal grating of the Roci’s floor, until she was hidden by the door sliding shut. He sighed and sank back into the chair. His entire body ached, and the way his head throbbed reminded him of the uncomfortable moment just before a full on headache set in. A part of him wasn’t sure if the interaction he’d just had with Naomi was real. Maybe it was just self-preservation that had summoned her likeness, and he and Alex were still drifting unconscious somewhere on their ship, slowly dying without even knowing why.
Alex.
He looked over at the other chair, whose occupant’s unnatural silence unnerved him more than the body-wide ache did. Alex looked worse off somehow. The brace that Naomi had used to stabilize his neck held him so still that there was a panicked second where Amos’ foggy head was sure that Alex was already dead. But then he saw the faint rise and fall of Alex’s chest, and only then could Amos breathe again.
Time passed. Amos wasn’t sure how long. He watched Alex sleep, reassuring himself with the sight of the Martian’s steady breathing. There were sounds outside, but they sounded distant and strangely muted. Amos couldn’t even muster up the energy to feel alarmed. Naomi was out there. She would take care of whatever it was. He had talked to her.
He tried to focus, but his mind was already drifting. So he just stared at Alex, telling himself over and over again that they were both alive and that Naomi hadn’t been a figment of his imagination until his vision grew hazy. The medicine dragged him under.
When he woke again, he still hurt, but his mind was clearer. He gingerly moved to assess the damage to his body but stopped the moment a burst of white light exploded in his head. His groan elicited a weak, croaky chuckle from his right.
“Already been there, partner. Wouldn’t recommend it,” Alex quipped in a weak voice.
Amos didn’t answer. He was too busy pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. Maybe if he pressed hard enough, a burst blood vessel or two would distract him from the steady, painful drumming between his ears. He heard Alex clear his throat and swallow loudly. “You okay, Amos?”
“I feel like I got hit by...shit, I don’t even know. What happened?”
“Naomi said the speed limit changed. She doesn’t know why yet,” Alex answered. He shifted uncomfortably as best he could in his bed. The neck brace didn’t allow him much movement so he peered at Amos through the corner of his eye.
Naomi. Amos’ mind raced as the memories came rushing back. “You talked to Naomi? You saw her?”
Alex gave him a weary look. “Yeah. She’s somewhere up top, I think. I don’t know. Been going in and out for a while.”
Amos had been in space long enough to understand their situation. Rapid deceleration. One minute you were steadily moving, all’s well in the world, steady as she goes. Until you weren’t. Or in their case, slowing too quickly. Unfortunately, the fragile human body wasn’t equipped to handle that kind of sudden, violent change. Amos probed at his abdomen hoping that none of his organs had decided to bleed out. He looked at the autodoc monitor to see how serious his condition was. Luckily, autodoc wasn’t reporting anything to be alarmed about. He’d probably have one hell of a headache for a while.
He noticed that Alex had fallen silent and looked up to see that the other man had his eyes closed. His brow was furrowed with discomfort. Amos carefully got to his feet and relied more heavily on the mag boots to steady him than he would have liked to admit. Ignoring his body’s protests, he made his way over to the other chair.
“Hey. You in there?” Amos didn’t wait for an answer before he looked at the autodoc unit that encompassed Alex’s arm. He rested one hand on the back of Alex’s wrist and brushed the warm skin with the pad of his thumb. Alex stirred at the contact and met his gaze with tired, watery eyes. Amos looked over the autodoc report and let out a low whistle. There were a lot of trouble areas highlighted in bright blooms of red on the representation of Alex’s body on the small screen. “You’re looking rough, brother.”
“You don’t look so hot yourself,” Alex replied. “How are you even standing?”
Amos gave a small shrug in the Belter way he’d seen Naomi do hundreds of times. His tone was light. “Sturdier bones, Martian. You should try it sometime.”
Alex was too tired and injured to take his bait. He closed his eyes instead. “Yeah, maybe I should.”
The sight of him worn and subdued stoked something in Amos’ chest. They’d argued about it in the past, but Amos wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to see Alex as anyone other than someone that he needed to protect. It wasn’t that he thought Alex was weak. Hell, he’d proven time and again that he was anything but with how often he came swooping in to save the crew’s ass with the Roci . It was just...Amos hated to see him get hurt.
“You’re creeping me out, Earther,” Alex muttered with one eye cracked open just enough to look at him.
“Sorry,” Amos said and then couldn’t help but to add, “You just look dumb. Like a giraffe. Or a horse or something.”
Alex scowled. “Now how the hell would you know what a giraffe looks like?”
Amos shrugged again. “I’ve read history books. Long neck. Whining sounds. You remind me of them is all.”
“I will literally pay you scrip to stop talking,” Alex shot back but without any real heat behind his words, settling into the safe, familiar territory of their banter. If nothing else, it served to reassure Amos that Alex wasn’t going to up and die on him. After a beat, Alex groaned. “Let me lay here and die in peace, you asshole.”
“You’re not dying,” Amos didn’t even entertain the thought. His hand tightened around Alex’s wrist, which made Alex blink and look from his face, to Amos’ hand, and then back up again. He didn’t move his hand away, though. Clearing his throat, Amos went on. “You need to live so we can find Cap.”
“Oh. And then I can die?”
“Well, I guess so, but Roci would still need a pilot. Can’t you hang on until we find another one at least?” Amos felt strangely triumphant at the look he received for this comment. It felt like a normal day, as if they were on the bridge exchanging good-natured barbs instead of possibly bleeding out internally in the med bay.
Alex’s voice took on a wry note. His eyes fluttered shut. “Alright, fine. Now can I get some sleep without you yammering on?”
Amos snorted and began to leave, but then Alex turned his hand and caught Amos’ in it, tangling their fingers together loosely. In a voice that was still a bit too weak and pained for Amos’ liking, Alex requested quietly. “Stay.”
“...Okay.”
By the time Amos had pulled up a nearby stool and sat down, Alex had already drifted off again. Not sure what else to do, Amos just took his hand again and rubbed his thumb soothingly over Alex’s knuckles. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the hiss of the door sliding open. Naomi froze in the doorway as their eyes locked.
He saw her take in the scene. Despite it still feeling as if he were looking at a stranger, he could still read her expressions as clear as ever. There was a flash of surprise, followed by amusement, longing, and then a simple look of acceptance. Belters lived their lives running into or from one calamity or another. Not much surprised them anymore. Amos held her gaze, unsure if he owed her an explanation or not. Things weren’t square between them. Not yet.
Naomi seemed to sense this. She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it. Wordlessly, she placed the tray of food and water she’d brought on a nearby counter. Then, her peace offering delivered, she left him to watch over Alex undisturbed.