Work Text:
Diomedes remains silent. He has been trained his whole life for this, and he has heard enough about the Goblin’s deranged antics to know what was coming for him the second the man walked into the medBay in the middle of the night. He had expected it to happen differently, perhaps with the Repaer present, or in a darker, dirtier room. Nonetheless, Diomedes is ready and resolute, and he doesn’t scream as the madman rips out one of his first molars with some rusty pliers. He doesn’t cry out as his exposed nerves are electrocuted, even if the pain leaves him seeing stars. He swallows the blood and tastes the burnt. He pushes his thoughts elsewhere and averts his eyes whenever the Goblin gets close to pry for answers. He wonders if the man’s stinky breath is also part of the torture.
By the time the rest of the crew barges in, three of his teeth are gone and the left side of his face has gone numb. There is a moment of confusion as his captors argue, but all his attention is stolen when Aurae rushes to him. Diomedes doesn’t miss how she cringes when her hand collides with the Goblin’s chest, in a weak attempt to shove him away. It’s the first time in the night Diomedes has felt any animosity towards the man.
He pointedly looks away when Aurae leans down to inspect him. Shame and resentment bubble up inside his chest. She did the same soon after he was rescued from the pod. Her gentle hands had carefully extracted all the poisonous thorns still stuck on his arms and face, and if it hadn’t been for the paralysis, Diomedes would have pushed her away. Right now, she holds his face and stares in horror at the mess in his mouth, and he wants to do the same.
Like a petulant child, he refuses to speak to her. He doesn’t want to look at her starry eyes, fearing what he will find. He knows whatever they shared before was only his wishful thinking, and he has since realized that all those times years ago when she would bandage him and ease his pain after battles, she was only humoring him. His mother had always thought him a much too sensitive man, but after Aurae disappeared with the Bellona traitor, all Diomedes had felt was like an utter fool. For thinking she would be genuine with him —what choice did she have, anyway?—, for resenting her for it, and for, despite everything, still holding her so close to his heart. He’s not proud of these emotions and he knows how immature his current ways are, but Diomedes is no stranger to scars. He had been hoping the gaping wound of her betrayal would close with enough time.
His resolve faltered the moment he woke up, though. It was all his fault, after all, for not doing enough. No matter how much he planned to make things right, to be fair to her. Promises, even if unspoken, mean nothing if they’re not fulfilled. Deep in his anguish, he doesn’t realize the rest of the people have left until the Reaper locks eyes with him.
“I am a Daughter of Ares, but I am also a person,” Aurae says after the Reaper’s questioning. The reminder is a stab through Diomedes’ heart. Would she have ever been so blunt with him, had he given her the chance? Would he have accepted the truth as easily as he knows it now?
When they are left alone, Aurae moves away from him. He misses her touch immediately. The room is quiet except for the slight buzzing of a lightbulb and the rummaging of medical tools.
“That… crazy bastard…” Diomedes hears her mumble in frustration, struggling to find a curse appropriate for the Goblin. She may be strong enough to stand her ground against the Reaper, but her mouth is not made for ugly words like insults. When she comes back, she cups his face again and gently turns it towards her. He doesn’t resist, and when she presses the rim of a glass to his lips, he drinks. It’s only water to rinse the blood, and after he spits it back, she tries to assess the damage. Diomedes keeps his lips sealed.
“Let me see, dominus.” She asks sweetly, although her voice has a hint of exasperation. Diomedes knows she’s only using the title out of habit, or perhaps to spare his feelings. Her thumb rubs against his cheekbone, soothing, and when he dares to take a peek at her, Diomedes finds a small smile on her face. Things would be easier if she was angry, or if she looked at him with disgust and simply shoved a gauze swab into his mouth and told him to bite on it and deal with the pain.
She hums in appreciation when he finally concedes, and with a mouth mirror and a dental explorer, she carefully examines his fried gums. The grimace that paints her face tells Diomedes enough. “Let's disinfect you and sew you up, hm?” Her voice is calm, as if Diomedes had only a scratch on the knee that needed a bandaid. She has always been so good at soothing others. If he wasn’t such a coward, he would dare ask for comfort for his broken heart. Perhaps, if he wasn’t so prideful, all this care would make him feel better.
While she’s grabbing other tools and a stool to sit on, Diomedes takes the chance to turn his face away. Being difficult will not get him anywhere, but for all his failings he doesn’t deserve any less than being left here alone and in pain. He hears a small sigh coming from her, and suddenly he feels ridiculous. She doesn’t deserve his tantrums.
“Dominus, come on.” She’s patient with her warning, but he is also a stubborn man, for better or worse. She places a hand under his jaw. It’s grounding, and it reminds Diomedes of what they were, and what they will never be again. He sets his jaw, and biting down hurts enough to be distracted for a second. She notices his discomfort, feeling his muscles tense, and she insists. “Diomedes, please…”
He gives in without saying a word.
She slowly but surely sutures his wounds after having sedated his jaw. From the corner of his eyes, Diomedes keeps seeing her broken finger, now swollen. Whatever pain she is feeling, she's hiding it well. He wonders if the Reaper and the Goblin expect her to come out of this room with answers, if she has permission to waste all those medical supplies on him, and if she feels more at home in this ship than she felt next to him. She wears mechanic overalls now, he has overheard her talk about navigation with the Bellona and play her music for the small crew in the mess hall, and apparently, she was the one who noticed his distress signal. This side of her doesn’t surprise Diomedes, it just pains him to have never been able to see it before. If only he had known, perhaps she wouldn’t have left him.
“There we go. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She asks after she’s finished. She doesn't move from his side. As an answer, Diomedes’ eyes stray away from her.
“How are your cramps?” She tries again after a few quiet minutes. She reaches for his hand, scarred, calloused, and rough against hers. The poison still runs through his veins, but at this point, his muscles are simply sore from it. He can’t pull away, his arms bound to the medical bed, and his fingers twitch slightly at the contact. Diomedes closes his eyes. If only he had a better imagination, he would pretend they were back in Io. He opens them back when Aurae moves away. She cleans the mess the Goblin left behind, dims the lights, and approaches him again.
“Do you want me to stay, or shall I leave you to rest?” She asks quietly. This time, her disappointment in his lack of response is obvious.
Diomedes remains silent as she leaves. He clenches his fists, wishing he weren’t restrained to reach for her.