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It had been three years of living a civilian life and it still felt like second nature to make a dozen mental calculations for every action she took. As she dressed in total darkness, she had just enough time to gauge that the neighbors wouldn’t be able to see or hear her open the door through the pouring rain, so it would be pragmatic to leave it unlocked for her return. She closed it behind her and darted across the street, into the woods that lined the backs of the houses on the other side.
Once she was sure she was far enough away from the bubble of normalcy and back in the real world, she reopened the call. “Still alive?”
There was nothing but shaky breathing on the other side, until, “Not…for long, I think.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Millia snapped. “I’m halfway there.”
The breathing was getting quicker, more shallow. “I shouldn’t have called…”
“Shut up.”
“I’m sorry…”
“You’re not.”
No response. Millia didn’t hang up, even though his breathing was worsening, it quickened her pace to hear that he was still there.
She was close, even through the pouring rain, she recognised the smell of freshly spilled blood. She stopped on a dime, looking down at the half-dissected corpse she’d almost stepped on. She looked to the left, then the right, then darted towards a thicket of bushes.
“Are you there?” Millia asked.
“...Yes.” The voice came from the glowing blue receiver by her ear, and the man curled up on the ground in front of her.
He was pale and shivering; thinner than she remembered, if that was possible. Or, maybe it was just because he was naked and bleeding in her bathtub, watching her bind his wounds for him with empty eyes. He didn’t look like the fearsome leader of the assassin’s guild; just the same stupid boy she’s always known, taking on too much too soon.
She didn’t feel like talking, but the silence was suffocating. “You haven’t taken your medicine yet.”
He sighed, and it was a relief to hear his self-important frustration. “Blood replenishment capsules won’t work if I’m just going to bleed it all out again.”
“I’m working on it.” Millia nudged the still-wrapped pillbox towards him, letting it scratch against the untouched glass of water. “So get a head start on them.”
He stayed still for a while. Just when Millia had resolved to shove them down his throat herself, he reached out a shaking hand and gingerly took the packaging off the side of the bathtub.
He was standing in the bedroom doorway like a ghost, wrapped in her oldest towels, watching Angra inflate the air mattress with a bike pump.
“Sorry, but I’m not letting you sleep on anything that might absorb your blood or sweat.” She said blithely. “I’m going to be burning my trash later this week, so I might as well not waste cleaning supplies.”
He didn’t say anything, but she did see his shadow shift posture in the hazy hallway light.
“Alright, should be good.” She took the bike pump from Angra and stood up. “Just lay down while I put this back in storage, I’ll get you an old quilt or something to keep your body temperature up.”
He was as still as a statue. She walked up to him, not particularly slow or fast, watching for a reaction. His eyes were focused on the floor, blank until she was close enough to see him flinch at her proximity.
“You can hear me?” She reached around and patted his back. He didn’t move right away, letting her hand gingerly rest on his ribs, until she patted him forwards. “Lay down, that’s an order.”
He scowled, but did as his former superior commanded.
She plugged in a fresh zeal battery into the portable electric blanket, then draped it over his sleeping body. Or, she thought he was sleeping, until he coiled up against the unfamiliar sensation.
“Relax, idiot.” She grumbled, turning back to her own bed. She climbed under her covers; much colder from its lack of electric heating, but partially abated by the old quilt she’d draped over herself. She sighed, turning over to reach up for the bedside lamp, and with a click the room went completely dark.
Her eyes adjusted, slowly. She didn’t intend to watch him sleep, but there was nothing else to look at in her room. His back was turned to her, posture still rigid. She could see the way he was shaking, curling up tighter and tighter.
She sat up and knelt on the edge of her mattress, angra reaching down and pulling the inflatable one closer to hers until it was flat against the side of her bedframe. Only then did she lay down, facedown, arm dangling over the side so she could rest her hand on his shoulder.
He slowly relaxed, one shuddering breath at a time. Just as she was falling asleep, she felt his warmed hand close over her cold one.
She shivered under the thin blankets, wearing nothing except patient smocks and the bandages keeping her many injuries from bleeding out. There wasn’t enough supplies for everyone in the medical wing, after such a big job was botched so horribly. Not by her, of course not. She’d never be to blame, if Zato had any say in it.
She was slated for stitches and setting broken bones, with some stopgap measures to keep her from undoing the medical staff’s hard work in another fit of justified self-hatred. Really, with the volume of patients the medical wing had to deal with, this was all more trouble than she was worth. Couldn’t they just let her go, instead of making her suffer through this shame? She’d already told Zato it was what she wanted, the least he could do was listen. Just this once? Once was all she needed…
There was the sound of a canteen being placed beside her head, and the rustle of unopened blood replenishment capsules. Her eyebrows knitted in frustration, and she squeezed her already shut eyes even tighter.
“Zato told me you relapsed.” He said, trying to be gentle, in that stilted way that came from not knowing the right thing to say. “But other than that, the mission was completed.”
Always the fucking mission. She wanted to roll over onto her other side to turn her back to him, but her other side was the one with the giant gash that was going to get stitches, within the next ten minutes to an hour.
“Are you cold?” He stood, and his footsteps got farther away. Only then did she open her eyes, watching him dig through a supply cabinet by an occupied cot.
He came back, weaving through the prone and splayed bodies of the other patients. He knelt beside her, carefully draping a towel over her body. She would’ve made some snide comment about the correct use of materials, but she could already feel that it was trapping much more heat than the flimsy linen the nurses had left her with.
“Can I lift your head?” He was holding a second towel, this one still folded, which he placed under her ear like a pillow.
“The nurses said we’re out of anesthetic, anyway, so I think it shouldn’t matter if you ingest anything before the operation.” He explained idly. She watched his hands open the medicine package and loosen the canteen cork. “Do you mind if I ask Zato if I can guard you tonight? I’ve been saving a bottle of whiskey, if you want to share. Or, if you’d prefer, I might have some extra painkillers? I can’t imagine that I’ll be able to find any that aren’t expired…”
She was sour enough to be considering clenching her jaw against the medicine like a child throwing a tantrum, until he actually held the capsules out to her.
“Please?”
Her better senses won out, and she took the medicine, and a few extra sips of water to quench her thirst. She let her eyes fall shut on their own, feeling his warm hand around hers. A stalwart anchor to this awful world. He was unmoving. She was drowning.
She sat up, her electric blanket falling off her shoulders and into her lap. Sunlight streamed through the open window she knew she had locked last night. The air mattress and quilt were nowhere in sight, neither was the medicine or glass of water she had on her nightstand for him. There was, however, her wallet, which contained a suspiciously thick stack of crisp world dollars.
Her alarm clock went off. She had work in an hour. It was another ordinary day for an ordinary woman with no ties to any criminal underworld. She set her wallet down, and rubbed her eyes, slowly, waiting to see if there would be tears or not.
At last, she surmised she wasn’t accomplishing anything by laying around, and kicked the blankets off to go get ready for the day.