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It was supposed to be a routine check up.
Medical examinations were strictly scheduled and mandatory aboard the Carte Blanche. With a crew that was collectively missing more than a few organs on top of having more chronic mental and physical conditions than Vespa could count on one hand, they had to be. Buddy expected nothing less than the best of her family, which meant that she expected nothing less than the best health care Vespa could provide to make sure everyone else could do their part.
It was never a chore, as much as Vespa grumbled about Steel’s lack of cooperation or Ransom’s flightiness. She was a doctor for a reason: she liked the work. Procedures and check ups always kept her hands moving and her head clear. Looking for problems when she knew she would have a solution (if not immediately then through enough hours of research) always helped to keep herself on track.
Before she knew it, she’d cycled through a check up with each member of the Aurinko crime family with only minimal complaining on anyone’s part. Even Steel let her get the measurements she needed without arguing about her bedside manner (as if she didn’t let him squeeze her hand whenever she had to get a blood sample. Idiot .)
No more crew members to poke and prod meant that it was Vespa’s time to check in with herself. As a doctor, she had an inherent awareness of her body and its plights, and she knew for a fact that the damn thing had been behaving as of late (besides the regular wear and tear that came with being in her 50s and running around doing heists all day). Still, routine was routine, and even if she got no news, that was better than bad news in a few weeks when she finally noticed something big.
So Vespa started going through her list, checking for anything out of the ordinary. No fever, blood pressure normal, weight stable, all that good stuff. Every rapid test she did with the ship’s equipment came back with ideal results. For all intents and purposes, Vespa Ilkay was in perfect health for her age.
Well, almost.
As she disposed of the blood sample she’d collected from herself, the skin of her legs started to feel...weird. It itched, but not in a way she was used to. This itch felt deeper than the surface, almost like Vespa’s muscles needed scratching. Her subcutaneous tissue pulsed while the strange itch shifted into her veins. A thought sprang into her mind like so many thoughts did everyday: Feels kinda like something’s crawling in there.
That idea froze Vespa where she stood, her fidgeting hand stopping midway through scratching at her knee. Fuck. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Growing up, she’d always been taught not to wade into the mucky waters of the swamps without covering up any exposed skin. Mosquito season was year round, and their eggs had a tendency to cling to sweat-slick legs and stay there. You’d better hope they didn’t hatch while still attached to your body, because mosquito larvae liked to dig into the nearest source of food and start eating.
Vespa wasn’t stupid enough to kick up any stagnant water while barefoot, but she couldn’t keep her thoughts from drifting to the horror stories she’d heard throughout medical wards for years. Parasites were bad news, and mosquitoes might not fit the bill on every planet, but the Aurinkos got around enough that she wasn’t discounting the fact that they’d probably been somewhere with Rangian mosquitoes, maybe even recently enough that Vespa was dealing with the aftermath of mating season.
Panic flared in her gut, but she forced herself to breathe. She was a professional, she knew how to check for all kinds of creepy crawlies that could live in someone’s body. There were tests she could run and procedures to fix any problems that would arise from those tests coming back positive. She would be fine. She would be fine.
Even as she pounded her thoughts with reassurances, her fingers dug into the muscle of her thighs as if she could physically rip out whatever lived under her epidermis. The heat of skin rubbed raw radiated from her legs and seeped into the callouses along her hands. She knew there was no point to scratching, but in the moment it felt like she’d combust if she didn’t at least try for some relief.
The small part of her thoughts that wasn’t consumed by the push and pull of that goddamn itch knew that even if she had traveled somewhere with Rangian mosquitoes, her symptoms didn’t exactly fit the bill. There was no burning sensation besides what she was creating herself, no dizziness or drop in blood pressure. Hell, her legs didn’t even hurt besides the shallow scratches she left with every scrape of her nails.
Vespa’s brain wasn’t exactly keen on listening to logic, though.
Time lost meaning, her surroundings blurring out of focus. All that existed was Vespa and the itch and the mosquitos that she knew were crawling beneath her skin and eating their way through the fat of her hypodermis. Maybe they’d made it into her bloodstream already, maybe she wouldn’t even last the next hour if she didn’t start digging through the cabinets for the right emergency injection, maybe there was no point.
Her heart pounded unusually fast in her ears, but Vespa was past being able to concern herself with anything other than this feeling. Now it wasn’t just her legs that throbbed, but her entire body. Hands flying across her skin, Vespa scratched and scratched even as she realized how pointless it all was.
She was so engrossed in the sensation that she didn’t register another person entering the medbay until a quiet noise of surprise echoed through her bones.
“Oh,” Ransom said, voice wavering for half a second before flattening out into a careful tone. “Apologies, Vespa, I wasn’t aware you would be in here doing—What exactly are you doing?”
What’s it look like, she wanted to snap, I’m peeling my skin off. She didn’t—couldn’t really, since her throat was as dry as the Martian desert right then. Vespa coughed loud and hard before finally managing a sound.
“None of your business, Ransom, now scram.” She hated the way the words shook out of her, body still in motion.
His neutral expression flickered, an inch of emotion creeping across his eyes. Occupied as she was, Vespa couldn’t exactly read whatever was going through his head, but she had a feeling she wasn’t gonna like it.
A silence fell over them. The only sound to be heard was the snk of her nails catching her skin. Ransom didn’t make any moves to leave, but he also didn’t come any closer to her. As loathe as she was to show any kind of weakness around him, Vespa couldn’t stop herself from scratching.
Eventually, she got tired of waiting for him to make his move and growled, “I mean it, Ransom, get out.”
“I’m...not entirely sure that’s a good idea.”
“I didn’t ask what you thought, I told you to beat it. I’m not gonna repeat myself again.” She tried to let the unspoken threat coat her tone, but whatever venom existed in her words was undermined by the desperate roaming of her hands across her body.
He finally started moving, but not towards the door, like Vespa had hoped he would. He shuffled a little closer to her with one hand held out uncertainly and the other tucked away over a knife no doubt. She didn’t have the mental energy to be worried about how easy she would be to take out right now, so consumed by the itch. She just wanted him to leave so she could rip herself apart in peace.
“Is there anything I could do? I’m not sure what the problem is, but there must be—”
“God damn it, Ransom, I’ve got it under control.” It was a lie, but one she’d told enough times that it came out smooth. Control didn’t exactly like letting Vespa stick a leash on it, what with her reality spiraling if she so much as got up in the middle of the night to take a piss. But she was good at trying to trick herself into thinking she could take it for a walk, at least before it pulled her into oncoming traffic.
“I...I don't think—”
“I said I’ve got it under control !” The last word came out with a forceful shout, forceful enough that she saw the hand undoubtedly on a knife flex a bit at the sound. Good, that meant she wasn’t so pathetic that he didn’t take her seriously as a threat.
But even as he pulled his other hand to his side and took a step back, he still didn’t make any moves to leave the room. Instead, he began shuffling through the cabinets like he owned the place. Vespa saw red.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Looking for antiseptic,” came his clipped reply. “I assume you’re familiar? Your cuts all appear to be shallow, but an ounce of prevention is worth an executive’s fortune in cure, as our captain likes to say.”
Vespa glanced down at her body and actually looked at it for the first time since she’d started scratching. Sure enough, even with her nails being practically nonexistent, they’d managed to catch enough on the surface that shallow lines of blood dotted any exposed skin. The realization surprised her hands into stillness
And then she realized that sometime between Ransom entering the med bay and her anger at his refusal to leave, the itch had disappeared.
Without pausing to celebrate in case the universe took that as a challenge, she moved for the first time in what could’ve been hours and shoved him out of the way. Vespa grabbed the tube of antiseptic she kept in the leftmost drawer with a growl.
Ransom blinked at her like a startled rabbit for a second, but didn’t say anything before turning and walking towards the door.
Before the sigh of relief made it past her throat, she noticed that he wasn’t leaving, just moving to get to the cabinet where she kept bandages. He pulled out a roll and handed it to her silently. Vespa didn’t take it.
“What do you want?” She asked instead, ignoring his outstretched hand.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, why are you still here? Why did you show up in the first place if you thought I wouldn’t be in here?” Do I need to tell you how suspicious you look right now? With her mind no longer focused on the mosquitoes she knew weren’t real, her thoughts were free to run through all the potential ways he could kill her. Well, fat chance he was catching her off guard like that again.
Ransom sighed, as if her questions exhausted him.
“I nicked myself shaving and couldn’t find my own box of bandages. I was hoping you would have some available, but I know you’d wrapped up our examinations hours ago and so I didn’t expect to see you still here.”
She peered at him, and sure enough, there was a small cut on his chin that she hadn’t noticed before.
“Still doesn’t explain why you didn’t leave when I told you to.”
“You looked as if…” a hand came out to gesture loosely in the air. He looked like he was trying to find the words floating in the empty space between them. “As if you needed help.”
“Yeah, right,” she snorted. “Like I’m supposed to believe you stayed out of the goodness of your heart.” Vespa rolled her eyes. “Cut the crap, Ransom.”
The thief’s shoulders were tense, his expression tight when he said, “Must everything I do be suspicious? Is it not possible that I don’t enjoy watching someone hurt themself aggressively enough to cause bleeding, no matter how many times that person has threatened to stab me?”
“Yes—No—I don’t know!” She slammed her hand, still holding the tube of antiseptic, down on the counter. “You can’t blame a girl for thinking you had some kind of ulterior motive when that seems to be all you have, Ransom .”
He finally dropped his own hand, placing the bandages carefully on the counter. The tension in the air felt as physical as any other sensation that had wormed its way across Vespa’s skin that night.
“I cannot make you trust me,” he started, “however, I ask that you don’t dismiss everything I say outright.”
The motion of his hand caught her eye, her body tensing at the sight until it was clear that he was just rubbing at his wrist. Almost looked like a nervous habit, though Vespa couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Ransom fidget with anything but his glasses.
She wasn’t exactly trying to be subtle with the careful way she watched him with hackles raised, and she could tell when her gaze made him realize he’d been moving without thought because he immediately pulled his hand away and resumed a picture of poised control.
Too late though, the damage had been done. A spot of makeup coated his fingertips from where they’d rested on his wrist, blended to match his skin. Underneath, Vespa saw the blotchy glint of burn scars that had gotten a little too much attention from errant fingers before Ransom not-so-subtly stuck his hand behind his back.
Huh.
Her eyes rose to meet his, and she was almost shocked to see her suspicion and fear reflected back at her before his expression closed off into one of haughty condescension.
Every motion deliberate and smooth, Ransom finally turned and started to exit the room, but the slight hunch of his shoulders betrayed him.
Before he walked through the doorway, Vespa caught his wrist. She barely thought about it before clearing the weighted distance between them. Despite the furious mortification she felt, there was something she thought she should say. Just this one time.
She wasn’t stupid enough to start examining his body for evidence, but she wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with the circumstances that could lead to electrical burns like that, or why someone would rub them raw enough to be noticeable.
When her hand touched his bare skin, a flinch rocketed through his arm that did funny things to Vespa’s stomach. She wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with the shape of that flinch either.
“Thief. I don’t like you, I don’t trust you, and I don’t think it’s a good idea that you’re on this crew.”
Ransom rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away, his other hand still resting where she knew he had a knife.
“Yes, Vespa, you’ve made that very clear. Now may I please leave like you so desperately wanted me to do a few minutes ago?”
“Shut up, I’m trying to say something,” she growled. “Where was I? Right, I think you’re suspicious as all hell and you haven’t done nearly enough to prove me wrong yet.” Deep breath, Vee. Just get it out. “But thanks. For snapping me out of it.”
“Wh—Beg pardon?”
“I already told you I’m not gonna repeat myself.” She released her hold on him and flicked her hand out. “Now get lost. I’ll clean up these scratches and go the hell to sleep. You should too, if you don’t want me shoving sleeping pills down your throat myself.”
With an expression like a startled bird, Ransom opened and closed his mouth before deciding against whatever he was going to say and walking smoothly into the hall. Sometime in the night, the day cycle lights had been replaced by their counterparts, and the thief was silhouetted by a soft red glow as he turned back towards Vespa one final time and said, “Have a good night.”
She watched his posture straighten as he walked away.
Vespa waited for the door to close behind him before letting herself wash the crusted blood from her hands and pop open the tube of antiseptic. With practiced movements that only wavered slightly, she coated as many cuts as she could find. The fever pitch her skin had reached had faded by then, but the coolness of the ointment still felt like the satisfying end of a big job, and Vespa let the tension slowly leach out of her body
Now that she was past the danger, she considered the situation. Usually when she hallucinated something, there were ways she could disprove it. Even if it meant suffering the embarrassment of asking one of the crew to check it out for her, she’d still be able to put the broken pieces of reality together eventually. Sometimes it was as simple as opening the camera on her comms and watching it take pictures of empty air. Vespa had never felt something inside her like that. New symptoms were always annoying, but more than that it made her...afraid. Parasites today, what would tomorrow bring? How long could Vespa pull her weight on this crew when her grasp on the world felt like it was on a countdown?
And Ransom…she didn’t want to think about Ransom. She despised the idea of having anyone on the crew witnessing her having an episode, but Ransom? Fucking Ransom? Vespa would have to be careful now, what with him knowing just how easy it would be to take advantage of her when her mind played tricks on her. The bastard didn’t sit right with her, worming his way into Buddy’s family just to tear up their insides and leave a corpse behind.
(A small part of her—so small she barely realized it existed—tried to tell Vespa that she didn’t need to worry about Ransom taking advantage of her like that. After all, he hadn’t made any moves when she’d been all but powerless to stop him. He’d even tried to help, as frustrating as that attempt had been).
(Vespa gave that part of her a swift kick in the ribs to shut it up. She wasn’t about to let her guard down over some two-bit conman of a thief, no matter how much her stomach twisted remembering that familiar look in his eyes.)
The few cuts that were big enough to require bandages didn’t cause too much trouble as she wrapped everything up. Buddy would wonder what happened, and Vespa would probably tell her the truth, but her beautiful partner was no doubt sleeping soundly right now, so she wouldn’t have to have that conversation until morning at least.
She washed her sticky hands one final time for good measure and looked around at the medical supplies from today’s check ups that she still hadn’t put away. Something else to wait until morning.
With a shaky breath, Vespa flicked the light off and closed the door of the medbay behind her.