Work Text:
Cassandra can feel it in her veins. The sepsis, leeching from her leg wound and into her bloodstream. Every time she looks at it she wants to throw up. Pus and mottled skin, turning more garish colours by the day. 10k does his best to clean it because even Doc can’t stand the smell of it anymore. He gags and retches while he does it, but he does it.
The infection is killing her. The others keep carrying her along, which she appreciates, but sometimes she wishes they’d leave her on the side of the road to die. She’s tired, sick of moving, of this fucking journey that she didn’t really agree to in the first place. Most of all, she’s sick of Murphy complaining constantly like he isn’t the reason for all this. Can’t he be grateful for five fucking minutes?
She’s fading. 10k - Tommy, he told her when they were on watch together one late night, whispered like his last true secret - lays her down on a hard metal table and promises to come back for her. She doesn’t honestly expect to be here when he returns. Her eyes fall close and she tries to ignore the pulsing pain in her leg that radiates through her whole body.
“Cassandra.” Murphy mutters. “I can’t let you die.”
Her eyes shoot open just in time to see him bite her face. She doesn’t have the strength to scream.
Something else flows through her veins, a different kind of infection, and she feels… hungry .
