That was all he could focus on. But he had to try to push through it. Keeping one hand pressed against her stomach, his other reached out to sweep across her pale cheek. Her skin was still warm to the touch, shock not settling in enough yet to drop it dangerously low. She was alive, breathing, her heart still beating.
Settling his fingertips on her neck, he allowed each bump of her pulse to seep inside him, to reassure him that he hadn't lost her yet. As long as she was still alive, he had a chance to bring her back. This wasn't an injury he would normally think someone could survive, even immediate surgery in a hospital likely wouldn't be enough. But this wasn't anyone. Indigo had the same enhanced healing ability as he and his team.
Losing her wasn't a given.
Forcing himself to pull it together, he’d never forgive himself if it was his own panic that caused him to lose Indigo.
Leaning down he touched his lips to her forehead. “I'm not giving up on you, honey, so don’t you dare give up on me.”
January 25th
3:19 A.M.
I'm not giving up on you, honey, so don’t you dare give up on me.
The words floated into her mind like pretty, colorful ribbons wafting on a breeze.
While of course Indigo felt no pain, she felt … wrong somehow.
It was hard to put into words. It was just a deep knowledge, settled into her very bones, that she knew what was happening to her, and she knew there wasn't going to be anything she could do to stop it.
“Can you hear me, Indy?”
If it were anyone else other than Voodoo asking her that question, she probably would have allowed those words to flutter right onpast her hazy mind and sink into the enticing quiet that was lapping at the edges of her consciousness.
Drifting off into it was almost too appealing to fight against.
But just like she knew what was going to happen to her, she also knew what it was going to do to Voodoo.
He was a healer, saving people was what he did, what he thought he had to do, the only thing he thought gave him any value. Indigo wanted him to know that he was more than that, that his value was simply because he was a human being with a good heart, who cared about others, who wanted to do what he could to help them.
The last thing she wanted for him was for her death to send him spiraling.
How she knew he was teetering on the edge of spiraling Indigo wasn't really sure, she just knew it, felt it. Maybe the rest of his team knew it, too, or maybe they didn't. She did know that when she was gone, they would still be there, and she wanted them all to know that they had to be there for Voodoo, to support him, to help him, and stop treating him as though his ability to heal was all that mattered.
So, because she cared more about Voodoo than she did the lure of peace and quiet in the dark place slowly surrounding her, Indigo summoned strength she wasn't sure she had left, and managed to jerk her head in a single nod. Not much, but it was all she could manage.
“There you go, honey, there’s my brave fighter,” Voodoo praised, and his words were like a rush of warmth flooding her system.
It wasn't until that warmth touched her that she even realized she’d been freezing cold. Now that had registered, her entire body began to shake in what she knew would have been painful shudders if she were capable of feeling pain.
“It’s going to be okay, honey, I'm going to fix you right up,” Voodoo said. His tone was meant to be soothing, comforting, reassuring, and maybe it would be if she were anyone else.
But she wasn't anyone else, and she could feel his fear as though it was her own.
More than that, she could feel his insecurities, his terror at failing, his deep-seated belief that if he didn't save her, then nobody would love him, nobody would care about him, nobody would be interested inhaving him around. After all, if his own parents didn't care about him no matter how hard he fought to gain their love and attention, then why should anybody else ever care about him?
“We need to get her off the cold ground,” Voodoo said, only the cold slowly consuming her from the outside in, was no longer the reason she was shaking. Now it was him, his emotions, her own emotions over what her impending death was going to do to him.
“You sure we should move her?” someone else asked. Maybe she’d know who if she could concentrate on anything other than Voodoo, but he was all Indigo cared about right now, all she could focus on.
“She’s in shock, we need to warm her up,” Voodoo said, his voice so strong and confident, so many years of practicing not letting anyone get a glimpse at what lay beneath his surface serving him well.
Forcing her eyes open, Indigo reached out before Voodoo could gather her into his arms. She wasn't surviving this. She’d just shot herself through the stomach, the blood loss on top of the burns littering her body, the broken leg, the infection that had already weakened her, there was no way she was surviving. Attempting to live wasn't even her goal right now. She had accepted the inevitable, her only driving need was to assure Voodoo that he didn't need to blame himself, convince him somehow that he was just him and he was good enough like that, he was all he had to be.
“No,” she said, annoyed that her voice was weak and insubstantial, nothing like the raging fire inside her. Voodoo had given her everything she always wanted in the short time since she’d met him. He’d made her feel seen, valued, like she mattered. He was nothing like her ex-husband, who even when she thought their relationship was everything she’d ever wanted, was always putting her down, issuing vague insults that she’d learned to brush off.
“Yes, honey,” he contradicted, and she saw the tender affection on his face as he looked down at her. Or maybe she felt it rather than saw it.
