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“Arms up. And slowly, Nat.” Renee says softly. Natalie does as she’s told though she winces once her hands are all the way up. Her tee shirt is carefully pulled up and over as it has been dozens of times already. “Good. Now lay down and tell me if anything hurts.” Renee whispers.
Again Natalie follows the ritual. She lays on her front and crosses her arms in front of her face, bracing for the sting. The bandages on her back are less red than last time but still stained by the wounds beneath. Only Renee’s hands are gentle enough to cautiously peel back the wrappings, only her palms are kind enough to rub Natalie’s back while she whimpers. The skirmisher doesn’t judge the engineer’s sounds of pain, she doesn’t shush or tsk, she just slows down when Natalie whines. She reveals a long and deep gash. It’s one of three in this set from the slash of prowler claws. The wound is healing but still four weeks fresh. Renee dips a sponge in water and soap before she puts her hand on Natalie’s shoulder.
“I’m going to clean this one. I can hold your hand if you need it.” Renee’s offer is hastily accepted. Natalie’s palm is already damp with sweat as she grips her friend’s palm. They both know what’s coming when Renee squishes the sponge to her skin. “I know it hurts. You’re okay, I’ve got you. Talk with me Nat.” The skirmisher whispers.
She wipes away dried blood and grime. They change the dressing twice a week, each time it's the same process. The same old sharp bite streaks along the gash, cutting as deep as the prowler’s claws. Her hand squeezes down on Renee’s and she bites her own hand to hide the pained sounds trying to eek out of her mouth. All of her friend’s care and kindness can’t stop the pain from coming. It can’t undo the embarrassment of letting this happen to herself. She let her friends down and that hurts far more than the disinfectant in her opened wound. A tender grasp of Renee’s hand reminds her that she’s not alone. She’s not abandoned. Her body shakes with another rip of pain.It’s only the gentle touch of her closest friend and the caution she takes with the sponge that keep Natalie from screaming out.
The routine is burned into her head and she counts down the swabs, each one passing like the lash of a whip across her skin. One, two, three. She breathes out during a short pause. It’s funny, the attack didn’t hurt. In the moment Natalie was too focused on the mission and too high on adrenaline to notice. And laying in that bed was painless, though Ajay kept her on painkillers and Natalie’s mine remained on completing the task. It wasn’t until she got home, when the pain killers wore off, when the horrible realization that she very nearly died set in, and the guilt grew in her guts that the pain crept in. She braces for the next swab. Four, five, six. Without Renee she doesn’t know if she could have managed. Even getting out of bed in the morning is a chore but the other woman is always there, always willing to lend her gentle hand.
“You’re healing well. The scars won’t be that visible once everything closes. I’m putting the next bandage on.” Renee hums and rubs ointment along the gash before rolling out the fresh gauze. The sticky side clings to her skin as the cool ointment does its magic to soothe the pain.
“Thank you. I would not let anyone else do this, you know.” Natalie’s murmur is answered by a soft hum of approval. “How did you get so good at this?” The conversation is to distract herself. She hopes it doesn’t distract Renee too. The skirmisher pauses and sits on the bed next to her.
“Well, I got good at taking care of myself first. When you’re alone and don’t have a place to stay you meet some…interesting people.” She rolls up the sleeve of her hoodie. Wrapping around her defined forearm is a jagged and gnarled scar. It’s no clean cut and it’s pink shiny surface stands out from Renee’s pale skin. “Another person came at me with a knife. I mostly got away but I was bleeding pretty bad. Turns out wrapping a cut like this in an old tee shirt isn’t the best plan.” She chuckles. It’s a rare sound but more therapeutic than anything she could offer. Natalie thoughtlessly traces her finger along the old scar. Her friend doesn’t pull away as she so often does from touch. Most of Renee is usually under sleeves. What other scars does she have? Natalie pulls her hand back to herself. There are still bandages to change but at least now, she feels a little better.
They’ve both forgotten why Renee is sleeping over again but her presence is as routine as the changing of Natalie’s bandages. There’s only a few more weeks before they can give up on the ritual and go back to how things were before. In reality, Natalie can change them on her own at this point yet neither really complain about the visits. But both of them know that it's not just the physical scars that must heal. Because it's not just Renee who wakes up screaming in the night.
Icy cold sweat clings to Natalie’s skin while her lungs frantically try to remember how to take in a breath. Next to her, Renee is saying something. It’s lost and muffled over the pounding of Natalie’s own heart. The room spins while her mind plays the nightmare over and over: her friends falling to the prowler she failed to kill. It’s Ajay being slashed, Makoa being torn apart by two, Renee… she can’t stomach that image again. Why can’t she stop the nightmares either? Are even imagined dangers too much?
“-and out. In, and out. In, and out. You’re doing good, Nat. Breathe. You’re okay, you’re not alone.” At last Renee’s steadfast voice cuts through the engineer’s hazy mind. The rhythm of her words dictates the rhythm of Natalie’s breathing and her heart slows to a normal pace. Just as with her bedside manner, Renee is a pro here. “I know, I know, nightmares. I have them too. We can talk about them if you want.”
Natalie finds herself wrapped in her weighted blanket at her kitchen table. There’s a hot mug of tea in her hands and a purring kitty in her lap, but what gives her the most comfort sits across from her: Renee, complete with bedhead and oversized sweatshirt. She’s patient. She waits for Natalie to tell her story. The whole nightmare is retold, awful detail by awful detail. When Natalie needs a break, Renee waits. When the engineer feels silly, when she feels childish for having a nightmare, the strongest person she knows tells her it's okay to be scared. Over two tea refills, Natalie cries and laughs with Renee, spilling herself out to the skirmisher. And when she’s done and bleary eyed, her friend just smiles like it really all will be okay.
“Do the nightmares stop? I don’t want to have them like this forever.” Natalie sighs. If anyone would know about bad dreams it's the woman across from her.
“I don’t know. Mine come and go. I’m so used to them, sometimes I forget if I even had them. Ironic I guess.” Wraith fiddles with her tea. The gears of her mind are nearly audible while she picks her words. “They’re like scars on your brain. They never go away, but over time, they’ll fade and become just another part of you. The more you try and bury them the more they’re on your mind. But they always linger.” She says with a sad smile.
That night, they share the bed. Ostensibly its to comfort Natalie, to give her a powerful protector. But for the first time in months, Renee has no nightmares either. Because she has her defender too. Being next to each other (though separated by Nikola curled up on the sheets) brings a comfort that neither knew they were looking for. Their mutual healing has only just begun.
Early one morning, Natlaie’s palm slides up Renee’s bicep. There’s metal implants in her skin among countless scars. Renee’s hand follows the now subtle streaks of pink scar along her girlfriend’s back under her shirt. They’re lost among her lichtenberg mark but the wound remains, just as the implants still shimmer their silvery blue on Renee’s arm. No matter how long gone the prowlers or the labs are, the marks they left linger on their victims skin. And yet, they feel different now. The scars are still painful reminders of a past their owners would like to leave behind. They are also the marks of survivors, of people who persist beyond their darkest days. Renee’s thumb rubs across the overlapping scars of Natalie’s back.
Twice death had come stalking for the engineer. Twice the skirmisher had told death to come back another time. But these were not the scars she was the happiest to see fade, in fact she often told Natalie that these marks were badass. What brought her the most joy was to see Natalie’s beaming smile again, to hear her silly little puns, and to know she was no longer afraid. Her spark had not been extinguished. That is Renee’s greatest feat yet. Landing her as a girlfriend was a mere happy accident. In each other’s company, the scars are all beautiful. And when they sleep, dreams of their lover ward off nightmares. Tonight sleep will wait a little while longer.
“Arms up. And slowly, Nat.” Renee says softly. This time she has no wounds to tend to, though she may be leaving marks of her own across that woman’s back.