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“Goodbye, Yuri! You’re welcome anytime!” Loid shouted after her brother’s retreating back.
Standing next to her husband, Yor rested her shoulder against the doorframe. She loved her brother, she really did, but sometimes he had the most unfortunate timings. They had barely been able to scrape together the fake wedding photos and family albums by the time he had announced himself over for dinner.
She shook her head. Six unannounced dinners was a little ridiculous, even for Yuri. She really did hope that one day he’d give up his mission to prove her marriage a shame. Even if he was correct. Her poor nerves couldn’t take it anymore.
As if to prove himself right, Yuri turned his shoulders to look back, very likely to check if they were, once again, actually a loving couple. Then several things happened at once, as they tend to do.
Bond worfed.
Loid stepped closer.
A warm hand rested on her hip.
On cue, all the blood in her veins halted. Her skin became as unfeeling as rubber, and before she could help it, a foot shot up and slammed into Loid’s chest.
Crack!
She froze.
Yuri finally faced them, startled.
Loid smiled and waved, the crinkles near his eyes relaxed.
Yuri waved back, eyebrows scrunched, and continued down the road.
At some point, one of them closed the doors. The world’s prying eyes lost interest momentarily.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!” Yor reached out towards him, but her hands retreated just midway, unsure of where they should go or if it was even allowed. They had never explicitly discussed touching, but at the moment, her brain would not accept any other evidence that he was still here. That he was ok.
Besides, what right did she have?
But... friends cared about each other’s well-being, didn’t they? Weren’t they friends?
That’s what she kept telling herself.
Loid leaned back, hand over his mid left chest. Was that a flinch?
“It’s fine, Yor,” Loid soothed. “I’ve handled worse.”
Yor frowned. His voice was too soothing, his smile too genuine. Now, no one ever deemed her a people person. However, Loid hardly counted as “people.”
“We don’t need a psychiatrist. We need a real doctor!” Wait. Wait wait wait.
“I am a real doctor!” he wheezed.
Wait wait wait WAIT.
Suddenly the world made sense, and the heavens opened up with their heavenly glow of… heavenly beauty and ungodly cognizance.
“We need to get to the hospital,” she declared, standing up. When did they end up on the hallway floor? What an image they made, two adults arguing on the ground like children. Nevermind that, she dismissed.
Loid sputtered gracefully the way only he could. “We can’t go to the hospital.”
She grabbed her coat from the rack and tossed him his, along with his hat. “Why not? You have broken ribs.”
He gingerly slipped his arms through the coat. Taking pity on him, Yor pulled on the sleeve for him. “I don’t have broken ribs! You didn’t even kick that hard!”
Ha! That was funny. No really, it was. She married a clown. Although maybe it was the shock coursing through his blood. She rubbed the sweat off her palms and onto her skirt.
“I’ve handled much worse!”
Doubt it.
“They’ll heal on their own!”
Too late, they were out the door.
Hailing a taxi wasn’t as hard as she thought it was, and once she had obtained the promise of definitely ignoring every traffic rule, especially the one called the speed limit, Yor shoved all money she had in her purse to the front seat. They arrived in record time, where she more or less threw Loid onto the startled flock of nurses.
Once he was safely behind the large metal doors of the emergency room, she settled on one of the lobby seats, blood pressure well above normal. She hated excitement. Hate, hate, hated it. Assassinations were boring. Her office job was boring. Her poor nerves!
She read every magazine the room had to offer. She sat on every seat, stared at every title, and analyzed every entrance and exit point. Still, the wait dragged. At every burst of the doors, her head shot up.
Finally, it was her turn, and the moment she determined that, yes, the doctor with the dirty white coat and scrubs was making his way towards her and only her, Yor sprinted to meet them.
“Is he ok how bad is it how many ribs oh my gosh were there any internal bleeding there was internal bleeding wasn’t there this is all my fault how long will he have to stay here is he-”
“Mrs. Forger,” the doctor gently interrupted, “perhaps we can talk and answer your questions somewhere more private?”
She nodded dumbly and allowed him to lead her down the maze of halls and doors and into a small, comfortable room.
Dr. MacConkey assured her that, yes, her husband was fine. He fractured two ribs but luckily didn’t puncture any lungs. Yor released the breath she held.
“I did want to ask you something though, Mrs. Forger. You see, here are his x-rays, and…”
Honestly, she didn’t really hear the rest.
The image showed a clear, stark white skeleton against a musty black backdrop. There, two clearly broken ribs, surrounded by scattered points of irregularly bent ribs and abnormally bulging bones. She lost count at twenty-two.
Unconsciously, she touched her own ribcage. She knew what healed bone looked like. She knew the imagings and the imperfections and the hidden scars. The body was a living memoir of their lives, with every decision and every event diligently etched and marred onto the calcified tablet. Loid’s matched her own.
“Mrs. Forger?”
“Hi, yes yes! I’m sorry, it’s just-- I don’t know what to think.”
Dr. MacConkey’s eyes softened. “That is perfectly understandable. I do have to ask again, if that’s ok. Do you know what caused all of these previous fractures?”
Did he know? Did they suspect? What if they separated them? What if they arrested her for domestic abuse!?
“I--” Her thoughts raced in a frenzied blur. “He was in the war! A long time ago. Life was not very… good for him. Back then. We’re newly married. I don’t know much about it.”
Actually, that was pretty good. Sounded believable.
“Ah, I see,” he nodded. “Well, that is all we need from you at this moment. Would you like to see your husband?”
“Yes… Please.”
She found him lying on the bed, reading a magazine as if there was nothing wrong in the world, belongings already packed and ready to go. Her heart tightened at the sight of his eased cheeks and loose shoulders. When he spotted her, she shot her a friendly smile in greeting.
Yor knew a thing or two about fractured ribs. He showed no signs at all. It was possible that the doctor lied, and Loid, in fact, did NOT have fractured ribs.
But something told her that wasn’t the answer. Something told her he was as used to the pain and the agony almost, if not just as much as she was.
Who would do this to Loid, of all people?
People like her, that’s who.
She was one of them.
And then she became one of them tonight.
They did not talk much in the taxi ride home, other than going over the doctor’s instructions for the fifth time. She rubbed her palms on her skirt.
The front door closed behind them, and Loid turned to her.
“Hey, is everything ok?”
She nodded, and after a brief pause, he nodded and let her be.
The ribs took seven weeks to heal, and throughout those seven weeks, Yor pampered him as best she could. She even roped Anya into it, and Bond instinctively seemed to know to be extra attentive to him, cuddling on his lap as he read.
On the last day, Yor waited for him to return home from work, drumming her fingers on the coffee table and glancing at the clock. She had a whole speech planned and everything. Memorized it in front of the mirror when he wasn’t home, even. Perhaps she should practice again. Just in case.
So lost in thought was she that the jingling of keys almost didn’t rescue her from her stupor.
In a quarter of a second, she launched herself towards the door, overestimating her aim, and collided onto Loid. They both fell to the floor with a loud “OOF!”
Yor found herself on top of Loid, arms wrapped around his torso and face buried in his chest. It wasn’t entirely a comfortable position, but she couldn’t bear herself to move.
There was something about his touch. Even through the clothes, his body felt warm under her fingers. He was real. He was alive. He was ok.
Although she could never vocalize the feelings that bubbled just underneath her throat, Loid seemed to understand and wrapped his arms around her in acceptance. A thumb rubbed gentle circles into her back shoulder.
Yor cried in relief.