Her fingers checked the IV line, movements efficient, practiced. Nurse. The assessment came automatic. Medical training. Years of it visible in how she positioned herself, how she found pulse points without looking.
How she’d put me back together.
My attention tracked her across the small space. Kitchen area. Window, still covered. Door, still closed. She swayed, caught herself on the counter edge.
Exhaustion.
The observation came clinical, detached. But something underneath twisted wrong. Made my lungs tight.
Why do I care if she’s tired?
Didn’t know. Couldn’t stop noticing anyway.
She moved to the makeshift supply area, bags piled on the floor, medical equipment spread across surfaces meant for cooking. Her coordination was off. Movements clumsy.
Busy work. Keeping herself upright through motion.
I knew that pattern. Recognized it.
From where?
No answer. Just the certainty that I’d seen people push past exhaustion before. Seen them sway and catch themselves and keep moving anyway because stopping meant something worse.
My fists clenched in the blankets. The need to get up, to, what? Help her? I couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t explain. Couldn’t do anything but lie here and watch her wear herself into the ground keeping me alive.
Useless.
Bitter. True.
She turned toward the window, stumbled. Her palm hit the wall, steadying herself. Stood there inhaling harder than walking three steps should require.
My body tensed. Defensive response I couldn’t control, muscles coiling under blankets despite the screaming protests from my side and shoulder.
Move. Get to her before,
Before what?
She pushed off the wall. Made it two steps toward the bed.
I saw it happen before she did.
The way her knees went loose. The tilt of her body, center of gravity shifting wrong. Her focus vanishing, consciousness flickering.
Falling.
My body moved.
Threw off blankets, cold hit bare skin sharp as knives. Ignored it. Swung legs off the bed, side screamed, shoulder seized, head exploded bright. Ignored that too. Lunged forward, reaching for her even as my vision grayed, even as something tore open across my torso.
Not fast enough.
She went down hard, crumpling, her temple catching the corner of the table on the way. Sharp thump on wood. Her body hit the floor and stayed there, one arm stretched toward the medical supplies as though she’d been trying to reach them even while falling.
Trying to help me. Even unconscious, still trying to reach the things that would keep me alive.
I dragged myself forward. Side grinding, something wet spreading across the bandages. Didn’t matter. Kept moving, using my good arm, pulling my body across freezing floor.
Every inch was agony. The cold bit into exposed skin, the shock of it stealing air. My shoulder screamed. Head pounded so hard I couldn’t see straight. Something warm dripped down my face, the head wound reopening, blood in my vision.
