by K Alexander
"You're probably less of a lady than she thinks."
"Get it over with. I don't want to chat."
"You know, of course," and he glances at her again, "that if you keep the gun on me without incentive you're an accessory to the crime?"
"You're an ass. That's what I call incentive."
"He's right." The sound of Ryan's voice startles them both. "Walsch, if you don't shoot him when he misbehaves I'll do very bad things to you. Understood?"
"Perfectly. You heard her. Finish."
Chavez snorts roughly. "If you talk while I'm cutting I'm going to hit things I shouldn't." Taking a pair of flat-nosed silver tweezers he presses them into the deep incisions he's made. "Lie still." To her credit she does, her body unmoving as he shifts the instrument around, searching. Pulling out the foreign object he drops it in the metal kidney bowl and begins to clean up the copiously bleeding head wound. There is silence in the room as he puts stitches in the flesh and dabs it with a brown liquid before he sticks on a square plaster.
"There. Done."
She lies motionlessly face down on the bed. Turning around he looks at Claire, his mouth in a half-grin.
"You're not going to shoot me. She's not your friend."
"Neither are you. Shut up." She lifts the gun higher, her eyes sharp above it.
"Come on. She's a ruthless person. You understand that."
Behind him she can see Ryan lifting herself into a sitting position, her eyes closed as she takes a few deep breaths.
"Get back. I warn you."
"Just give me the gun and we'll call the police. It'll be better for her, too."
When she suddenly moves to the side he turns with her, surprised, and then goes sprawling as Ryan places her foot in the small of his back and kicks him forward onto the floor. Standing over him she raises her eyebrows.
"Thanks for the help, Chavez. Do you run a cash practice?"
He nods and she prods at his side with her foot, motioning him towards his desk. Sitting down in the seat opposite from him she motions Claire into the chair next to her and takes the gun, lowering it until it's pointing at him under the lip of the table.
"You know what I've got in my sights now, Chavez, and that's one thing you won't want to part with, right? Tell Rhonda to bring you the money."
"But… " The sound of a gun cocking is always good motivation. Lifting the intercom phone he speaks into it sullenly, and when Rhonda comes in and discreetly slips an envelope into his hand he doesn't return her bright smile. After she leaves he slides the envelope over. "Take it. Just take it and go. I don't want to see you again."
"Aw, thanks, Tony." She slips the envelope into her pocket and rises, pulling Claire up with her. "See us to the door?" With a scowl he gets up and as he walks around the table Ryan's foot meets his jaw in a roundhouse kick which snaps his head back. With a little roll of his eyes he collapses in a heap, unconscious. Shoving the gun back into her waistband under her shirt Ryan pulls at Claire's sleeve. "Come on." She stops to pick up the bloody little chip lying in the kidney dish and stuff it in her pocket before they exit. When they pass the reception desk where Rhonda is filing her nails, Claire stops.
"Rhonda, doctor Chavez said he's on the phone. To his wife, I think, but he said he doesn't want to be disturbed for about ten minutes?" As the receptionist's face clouds over and she begins to type peevishly they walk out towards the car.
"That was mean. I loved it." Ryan waits at the passenger door, and with an amused little smile Claire unlocks the driver's door and gets in, starting the car before she shifts sideways to look at Ryan.
"Where to now?"
"I want to see Turner."
"Not like this, Ryan." Claire shakes her head resolutely. "You're in no condition to do anything, never mind face Doctor Frankenstein. I'm going to find a hotel or something, okay?"
"Okay." Ryan leans her head back gingerly as Claire drives back into town, stopping to ask for directions once before they find the White Springs Hotel in a small side street. It is not exactly the Ritz, but the lobby is clean and there are few people about. Taking the black bag out of the back seat Claire slings it over her shoulder and gets out, watching the soldier carefully as she moves. In the lobby they approach the check-in desk and the pillbox-hatted man standing behind it, looking slightly bored.
"Welcome to the White Springs. How may I help you?"
"I'd like an en-suite room for the night, please."
"Fine." He clicks on his keyboard. "Preference for floor, beds?"
Claire is watching Ryan pulling the envelope out of her pocket, her hand slightly unsteady, and misses his question. "Whatever." Taking the cash she notes his eyes straying to the bandage around Ryan's hand and the plaster on the back of her head. Leaning forward she presents him with her best smile and a good view of her cleavage. "She still hasn't given my bra back, you know."
Choking slightly he lifts the key and squeaks out the room number before he turns around and disappears quite effectively. Hearing a muffled chuckle behind her, Claire shrugs nonchalantly. They are on the third floor, and when she opens the door they are greeted by the sight of a basic but clean room, with a large double bed in the middle of it. Closing the door behind them she puts the bag on the chair and presses Ryan down onto the bed, kneeling to untie her shoes. The soldier watches her in silence. When Claire is finished she motions for Ryan to stand up and, to the woman's bemusement, undoes her pants.
"Claire, I'm flattered, but I'm a bit tired… "
"Oh hush, will you." Pulling the pants down she has Ryan step out of them before she folds them up and places them neatly on the chair. "Get into bed."
The soldier does so without comment. Her face is as white as the pillow case it is resting on. Going into the bathroom Claire gets a glass of water and shakes four aspirin from the bottle in the bag, passing them to the reclining woman. "Here."
"Thanks." Ryan swallows them and puts the half-full glass on the bedside table, her eyes closing for a moment against her will. When she pries them open Claire shakes her head.
"Close your eyes. Relax. Nothing's going to happen. Go to sleep." Unconsciously she repeats the soldier's earlier words to her.
Ryan closes her eyes. "Claire? In case you're gone when I wake up, I just want to say now that I'm sorry. And thank you."
"Shush." Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Claire smiles down at her. "Go to sleep. I'll see you later."
When the green eyes close she waits until the woman's breath evens out. Leaning forward she places a hand lightly on Ryan's forehead and finds it still too warm. With a sigh she stares down at the angular face, the semi-circle of dark lashes resting on the hollow cheeks, the straight nose with the slight bump halfway down (broken at some stage?) and the lips which, even in sleep, look solemn and serious. She does not understand herself. She does not understand the compulsion to stay right here when she should be running as fast and far away as she can.
------ Ryan opens her eyes, rolling over and groaning slightly at the pain the motion awakes in her head. It is dark in the room, the curtains closed, and the only source of light is her bedside lamp. When her eyes fall on it inadvertently the brightness shoots daggers into her skull. Reaching up towards her forehead with her hand she frowns at the bandages and the low-grade burning sensation which courses through the limbs persistently.
"Damn."
Cursing the uninvited aches and pains she shifts the blanket off her and sits upright, immediately shifting back to a horizontal position when her head begins to pound to an unbearable degree. Swallowing down the rising bile she peers around her. Apart from her, the room is empty.
What did you expect? She was here against her will.
The thoughts come unbidden and Ryan actually smiles. For a long time she has tried to avoid such internal dialogue, however impossible. And now, here it is, and she knows it's her own thoughts and nothing else. The content is not that great, but the concept is spectacular.
Ryan lies q
uietly for another few minutes before she moves again. This time the pain is not as bad, and she swings her feet off the bed and sits for a while before she gets up. Her limbs are alarmingly shaky, but she braces herself and walks the short distance to the bathroom. She wants to take a shower, but with her hands wrapped and the dressing on her head she is not sure whether she will manage. Instead she uses the toilet and returns to sit on the bed, reaching for her pants. She is bending down, her head pounding, to slip her feet into the pant legs, when the door opens. Alarmed she shoots up and almost falls down with the sudden change of blood flow.
Claire Walsch is standing in the door, her expression concerned.
"Are you going somewhere?"
Promptly Ryan sits down again, abandoning the pants as she props her forearms on her knees and leans forward, closing her eyes.
"I thought you'd gone."
"I told you I wouldn't. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." Looking up Ryan catches her raised eyebrows and amends. "I feel like a tank drove over me. And then reversed to shoot me. But otherwise, perfect." She turns her head to look at the bags in Claire's hands. "What have you got there?"
"I hope you don't mind. I got you a shirt and a pair of jeans, and the same for me. And some socks. Oh, and… " she smiles a little, "I replaced my bra." Tossing the bags on the bed she takes out the items and shows them to Ryan. The denim is plain and seems to be her size, the shirt is a green v-neck with a white dragon design over the arm, and lastly Claire takes out a green baseball cap. "Since you lost the other one. I hope they're all the right size."
"They look fine. Thank you." Ryan eyes the jeans and light-blue collared golf shirt Claire has bought for herself. "Nice shirt. The color will look great on you." Lifting an eyebrow she purses her lips. "Where's the bra?"
To her satisfaction a faint blush appears on Claire's cheeks. "I'm wearing it. It was an emergency."
"I paid for it and I don't get to see it. Unreasonable."
"You didn't pay for it." Claire is smug, and quietly amused by the soldier's unusual playfulness. "Anthony Chavez paid for it. Would you like for me to go and show him?"
"No. I really wouldn't."
"I thought as much. Here's something I think you might like." She holds out a toothbrush and toothpaste, which Ryan grasps gratefully.
"Thanks, that's a great idea." The soldier considers getting up, surprised when she feels a hand wrap under her arm and pull her up. Shooting the blonde a grateful nod she moves into the bathroom and brushes her teeth, savoring the experience. While she is busy Claire steps around her and opens the bathtub's hot tap, waiting for her to finish and go back to bed before she too brushes her teeth. Then she retrieves her clean clothes.
"I'm going to take a quick bath if you don't mind. There's some coffee and a bagel in that bag on the floor for you, if you're interested."
"Okay. Thanks." While the doctor splashes around next-door Ryan holds the cup carefully in her stiffened and slightly swollen hands and savors the strong taste, ignoring the bagel in spite of the hunger pangs its scent wakes. When the coffee is finished she discards the cup and attempts a few slow stretches, impatient with the stiffness of her body and the pounding in her head that impairs her steadiness. She is standing perfectly still, her eyes closed, when Claire emerges from the bathroom along with a cloud of steam and a whiff of fresh clean aroma. In the process of toweling her hair she stops.
"Ryan?"
"I'm fine." Straightening up Ryan sits down on the bed. Claire bends over forward and towels her hair vigorously, and in that moment the soldier cannot help but notice the movements of her curvy body. Berating herself mentally she looks away as the blonde straightens up and flips her shoulder-length hair back, combing through it with her fingers.
"I've run you a bath as well."
"Oh." Ryan looks down at her hands. "I'm not sure how I'm going to manage that, Claire. I think I'd probably better skip it."
Claire's eyes follow hers to her bandaged hands and she bites her bottom lip. "Mm. Would you let me help you?"
Ryan frowns. "I'm not an invalid."
"Don't start that again." The tone is so terse than the soldier looks up in astonishment. "I'm offering my help. It doesn't diminish you in any way to accept it."
There is silence for a moment and then Ryan nods. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm just not that used to needing help." Getting up she walks into the bathroom and sits down on the edge of the bath, looking up at Claire. "Can you help me take off my shirt, please?"
"Sure." The soldier lifts her arms and Claire reaches down, pulling the black shirt over her head carefully.
Glancing down at her panties Ryan arches an eyebrow. "I believe I can handle those." She gets up and hooks her thumbs into the sides, managing to pull them down as Claire tactfully turns around, but when she wants to get into the bath she realizes that she can't support herself on the edge with her hands, and her balance is less than ideal.
"Claire?"
"Yeah?" The blonde replies with her back still turned.
"Can you lend me a hand here?" Claire wraps a hand around her arm and helps her into the bath with the other hand lightly on her side. "Thanks."
"Not a problem." Reaching for the soap Claire begins to lather up a sponge. "I'm sorry; it's going to have to be a sponge bath for you today. I don't think you're going to have much luck holding anything yourself."
"With a sponge bath, who needs luck?" She drops her head forward as Claire begins to wash her shoulders and back.
The blonde uses long strokes to cover the tapering back, studying the prominent muscles and bones beneath it as she passes over them. The woman's build is athletic, her physique probably inclined to leanness even without the recent lack of food. The shoulders are square and strong, and her arms well-defined. When she passes the sponge forward over Ryan's chest she falters for a moment.
"Do you want to… ?"
"No. Go ahead."
She sits back slightly to allow Claire easier access, draping her hands over the sides of the tub as the blonde awkwardly lathers soap over her breasts and then washes it off, moving with some relief to her stomach.
"Time to get up?"
"Yeah." Claire lends a hand to get her to her feet, blushing slightly as she runs the sponge over Ryan's buttocks and her trim muscled thighs. It is as she is lathering Ryan's hip that the woman takes the sponge out of her hands clumsily.
"I should probably take it from here."
"Yeah. Probably. I'm going to drink my coffee. Call me when you need me."
After she has finished Ryan lies in the bath for a while, relaxing. Though she will say nothing to spare the blonde further discomfort, she has actually enjoyed the attention a little too much. Writing it off to the fact that she hasn't been touched kindly in many years, she gets out of the bath on her own steam. The towel, however, proves tricky. When she calls Claire's name the blonde head pops in almost immediately.
"I hate to ask, but… "
Claire looks at the towel grasped awkwardly in one hand and takes it from her. "Of course." She dries the soldier's body efficiently. When Ryan's nipples stiffen involuntarily under her hands she feels herself blush hotly as she summarily moves to dry her shoulders and back. The fading bruise is still blooming at the base of Ryan's spine, and Claire trails a finger over it softly before she can stop herself.
"How did this happen?"
Ryan arches a little, away from the touch. "One of the orderlies kicked me."
"What?" Claire is outraged. "That's unacceptable!"
"To be fair," Ryan says idly, "I did whack him in the head."
"Why?"
"He was being rude. I hate that." She shivers and steps into the room. "It's a little chilly, isn't it? Can you help me with…?" Indicating her clothes.
To her surprise Claire shakes her head. "No. I think you need to get back into bed for a while."
"What's the time?"
"It's just after seven pm."
"I sl
ept too long." She runs a hand over her head. "They'll be coming for me, you realize that." Her gaze is direct and Claire returns it.
"I realize that. But if they come for you in this state there's nothing you'll be able to do anyway, Ryan. Get a little more sleep. Tomorrow you can go on as usual."
"Things stopped being as usual for me a very long time ago." With wry eyes Ryan moves to the bed and climbs under the covers. Peeking in the bag Claire takes out the bagel and holds it up, her eyes reproachful.
"You should be eating. All the rest in the world won't help on an empty stomach."
