Now I just wanted to lie down. To close my eyes. To stop feeling the weight of almost failing.
The door was already unlocked. I registered that through the haze of pain and exhaustion. Wrong. Security breach. Someone had been here.
My hand went to my weapon. Drew it smooth despite the screaming in my shoulder. Pushed the door open with my boot. Swept the room.
Clear. Empty. Nothing disturbed except?—
A medical kit sat on my desk. Open. Supplies arranged in neatrows. Fresh gauze. Saline. Antibiotics. More bandages than Dr. Amir had used.
Movement in the corner. I spun, weapon raised.
Sebastian stepped out of the shadows by the window. Hands up. Non-threatening. “It's me. Don't shoot.”
I lowered the gun. “What are you doing here.”
“Checking on you.” He moved into the light. Still wearing the clothes from earlier. Blood-spattered. Torn. Face pale but composed. “Dr. Amir said you refused painkillers. That you walked out before he could finish the full examination.”
“He finished enough.”
“Did he?” Sebastian crossed to the medical kit. Started pulling on latex gloves with practiced movements. “Because from where I'm standing, you look like you're about to pass out.”
“Am fine.”
“You're bleeding through your bandages.” He pointed to my shoulder where red was seeping through white. “Sit down before you fall down.”
“Do not need?—“
“Sit.” Not a request. A command. Wrapped in concern but steel underneath. “Please.”
The please did it. Made me realize I was swaying on my feet. Made me acknowledge that standing was becoming difficult. Made me move to the chair he was pointing at and sink down before my legs gave out.
He moved behind me. I felt his hands on my jacket. Helping me out of it with care that made my chest tight. The fabric stuck to wounds. He worked it free slowly. Patient. Not rushing. Not causing more pain than necessary.
“Shirt too,” he said quietly.
I unbuttoned it with clumsy fingers. My left hand wasn't working properly. Nerve damage, probably. Temporary. Had to be temporary.
Sebastian helped. Worked buttons I couldn't manage. Peeled fabric away from injuries Dr. Amir had already dressed. His breath hitched when he saw the full extent of it.
“Christ, Viktor.”
“Is not as bad as it looks.”
“It looks like you got shot three times and then decided to ignore medical advice.” He moved around to face me. Eyes tracking over bandages. Over blood seeping through. Over damage I'd collected protecting him. “Why did you leave before Dr. Amir finished?”
“Had things to do.”
“Like what? Bleeding in private?” He grabbed supplies from the kit. Started laying them out on the table beside me. “You're allowed to accept help, you know. Allowed to let someone take care of you.”
“Do not need taking care of.”
“Everyone needs taking care of sometimes.” He pulled up a stool. Sat close enough that I could feel his warmth. Close enough to smell cedar and gunpowder on him. “Even you.”
He reached for my shoulder bandage. Gentle fingers finding the edge. Peeling it back with care that hurt more than speed would have. The sting traveled down my spine. Settled in my teeth. I didn't move.
The wound underneath was angry. Red. Weeping. Dr. Amir's stitches held but barely. The surrounding tissue was inflamed. Infection setting in despite antibiotics.
Sebastian made a sound. Soft. Pained. Like my injury physically hurt him.
