“I already know it’s dislocated,” he gasps, shrugging out of the sleeve on his good arm first. “Felt it before.”
She doesn’t ask how or when, just like he didn’t ask her how she gained her knowledge on the subject. Not yet, anyway. “Take a big, deep breath.”
He sucks one down into his lungs as she peels off the coat sleeve from his pained arm in one careful go. He makes no sound but pales two shades lighter, easy to nudge backward until he’s lying down, eyes glazing over and dilated like saucers.
His good hand flies up to grip the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut tight. “You know how to fix it? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ve done it on myself.”
His quick nod is taken as permission. After giving him a once-over and not seeing any bones poking out or torn flesh, she grabs his wrist and his upper arm and firmly pops the whole thing back into place with little warning. The anticipation only makes it worse. She doesn’t stop for a second because if she does, it’ll be harder to try again. The only way out of this pain is through it. So she keeps going until she feels it slide into the socket again where it belongs.
Theo’s fairly stoic in general, but this tests him far worse than anything they’ve faced yet. By the time she’s finished, he’s shaking harder than they ever did outside in the cold, with hot tears springing forward and down his nose to soak into the pillow.
“It’s over. It’s done.I’m sorry, I’m sorry.We have to put it in a sling for now to keep it still.”
The scarf is a good option for that, easy to fashion into a makeshift sling.
“You’re gonna be okay.” Her hand finds his face, thumb stroking gently over a semi-dried tear. She’s being touchy, needy,too much, but he’s alive, and her emotions are far too frazzled to police her behavior at the moment. “Are you good here so I can check this place out and look for help or food?”
“Yeah. Go. I really hope you hit the jackpot and find some pain pills.”
His attention seems more on his head than his arm now, and she watches the tips of his fingers tremble as he pushes the base of his palm to his forehead.
“Migraine?” she asks carefully.
“Yeah. Always at the worst fucking time. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”
She doesn’t want to go. She wants to stay here with him and not let him out of her sight, but quickly forces herself down the hall, away from the sleeping quarters and into what looks like a science lab filled with metal tables, empty freezers, and computers that won’t turn on.
The next room is more of the same, and the one after that reveals a bathroom that won’t work without power, just like the heat isn’t on without it either, leaving them vulnerable to the freezing temperatures. The utility closet holds promise. There has to be a furnace in there, or a heat pump,something, but she can’t force it open and gives up after a few efforts to aim for a red door at the very end.
“Communications room.”
The label makes her nerves jump. The lock on the door is frustrating enough to have her pounding her fists against it until she slumps in a miserable heap. There’s a radio in there, there has to be. Whoever does research here would need a way to callfor help, but it’s not doing them any good on the other side of a lock.
She can wallow later. For now, at least they’re inside, and she tries to be thankful for that. Heads back to Theo and fills him in on what she found, watching the same emotions she felt flicker across his face one by one.
They are so close, yet so far away.
“Come sit with me,” he says, suddenly. “Please?”
It’s a small bed. There’s only enough room for her on the edge or sideways with her back against the wall. She chooses the wall. Feels a little awkward about it at first with her legs bent over his outstretched knees, but this way she can face him easily and she’s not relaxed enough here to be anywhere she can’t see the door.
“Are you okay?” he asks, worried about her when he should be worried about himself.
She deflates, shoulders sagging, and the memory of him under that bear flashes quick and unwanted behind her closed lids. “I thought you were gone for a second there. I was so scared.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“Stop,” she scolds. “It’s not funny.”
“I know.”
Of course he knows. He’s the one with his arm in a sling.
His face softens, even pained as he must be. “I’m sorry that you know what this feels like.”
“I’m sorry you do, too, even before today. Can I ask how?”
