He nods, turning to take my mortar out. The only sounds in the room are our breathing and the pestle scraping against the side of the mortar. I carefully swipe the paste away, replacing it with a new dollop as soon as Christian has made it, causing more black pus to ooze out. We do that, over and over and over. And with each fresh application, Timalah breathes just a little bit easier. I check his pulse, finding it stronger beneath my finger, his color slowly coming back.
“That was fast thinking,” Christian says, carefully pulling Timalah’s armour off all the way, making sure he’s comfortable.
“Thanks,” I murmur. “This paste is what I use when the kids show up with splinters or small infections. It helps draw outintrusions from your body. I--” I clear my throat. “I wasn’t even sure it would actually work for this.”
“Well it did,” he tells me, reaching over and squeezing my shoulder.
I nod, needing the reminder. As far as I can tell, Timalah is going to pull through and be fine. But that doesn’t stop my heart from racing at such a close call. I was so close to losing him and he would have never known how I felt about him.
A pained noise leaves his throat and it has me in motion once more. I step over to my collection of plants and herbs, finding a bark I know can be used for pain relief. I shave it into small pieces, trying to convince my hands to stop shaking.
I gently rub the bark flakes against the inside of his gums, careful to avoid his long fangs. The effect is almost instant as the wrinkle of his brows slowly smooth out. Once he’s sleeping more peacefully I step away.
“Go wash up,” Christian says gently. “Go tell the other’s all signs point to him being okay. His vitals are steady and it looks like the plants you gave him are doing their job. Go and take a moment.”
I nod my head, moving before I even know what’s happening. I carefully peel the gloves free, tossing them into my trash. Then I step out of my apothecary, freezing when Ghenie and Gendry stand in my way. “He’ll be okay,” I tell them right away, not wanting them to spend an extra second filled with dread. “He’s alive. He’s weak but he’ll be fine.”
Ghenie pulls me against himself into a tight hug. I’m so surprised by the gesture all I can do is wrap my arms around him right back.
“Thank you,” Ghenie whispers. And then he pulls back, looking unsure. “And I’m sorry. For the way I acted.” He keeps his head held high and I’m struck all over again how good ofa leader Ghenie truly is. Loving his people while also showing humility.
I reach up and grab his shoulder, ignoring the way his armour still has Timalah’s blood on it. “It was a stressful situation,” I tell him gently. “I’m just glad I didn’t say anything stupid you could tease me about later.” That leaves us both chuckling, the tension breaking. Clearing my throat, I softly add, “While I am here, you are my leader, Ghenie. I only said that to snap you out of your panic.”
“I know,” he says, just as softly. Ghenie goes into the room to see Timalah while I go to my bathroom. I watch, silently, as my sink runs black, the little bit of Timalah’s blood that got onto my skin where my gloves didn’t reach swirling around my drain. My throat tightens until I can barely breathe.
It’s been a year since I’ve arrived on this planet and during that time, I’ve done my damndest to push my feelings away, convincing myself that Timalah was nothing more than a silly crush I’ve acquired thanks to that first night on the spaceship. But seeing him bleeding out? Seeing how close to losing him I was? That has my eyes opening wide. This isn’t a silly crush. This isn’t hero worship. I have very real feelings for him. Feelings I’m positive aren’t just gonna go away.
I shake out my hands and tilt my neck back and forth, trying to get myself under control. I cup my hands under the flow of water, using it to cool my face. I finish by wetting the back of my neck, feeling leaps and bounds more in control then I did just a moment before. I look at myself in the mirror, carefully swiping at the smudge on my cheek I must have put there without realizing it. My golden hair is a disaster, matted down by adrenaline sweat, my cheeks are flushed, my eyes still looking a little crazed. But I’m okay. And so is Timalah. That’s what I hold onto as I step out of my bathroom and back through to my apothecary.
“No, no, no,” I hear Ghenie say. “He’ll come home with me. I can take care of him until he’s feeling better and able to go back to his own home.”
I clear my throat as I step into the room. “Actually, I think it would be best if he stayedhere. I have the proper supplies to care for him. Plus, I’m a trained professional.”
“He wouldn’t wish to be a burden,” Ghenie tries to say but I raise my hand, cutting him off.
“He wouldn’t be. I--” I look away, cursing the way my cheeks heat. I lick my lips and clear my throat. “I want to take care of him.”
“Miles is the best for the job,” Christian says from his place in the corner of the room. It’s the only time I’ve ever thought about kissing my best friend. “Timalah will be in good hands here.”
Ghenie and Christian share a long look, the two of them seeming to have a silent conversation before Ghenie is nodding. “Very well,” Ghenie says, his voice not disguising that this is a reluctant decision. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning to check on him.”
A tiny piece of my chest unclenches with the knowledge that Timalah isn’t leaving this house, that I’ll be able to watch over him. Relief and nerves intermix within my chest.
I give both Ghenie and Gendry hugs as I walk them out. I know there’s no hard feelings between us. We all just want the best for Timalah, even if my intentions are a little less than pure.
“I’ll be right across the way if you need anything,” Christian says. “Even if you just need someone here so you can get some sleep.”
“I’ll let you know. Thank you.”
Christian stares at me, looking like he wants to say something. Then he gives the tiniest shake of his head. “Good night, Miles.”
“Night, Christian.”
That’s how I find myself standing beside Timalah’s bed, a washcloth and bowl of water at my side. He’s still peacefully asleep which is why I feel okay giving myself permission to look my fill. My palm cups his cheek, his skin slightly heated against my own as his body fights off any lingering venom. Dipping the cloth into the cool water, I use it to gently wipe the sweat from Timalah’s brow. His face wrinkles a moment before going slack once more.
My movements are steady and careful as I wash his chest, wiping away the dried blood. Then I apply a bit more herbs to the wound before bandaging it up for the night. My hands clench as I hold myself back from touching his chest. I’ve seen him in nothing but his leather pants before but now it feels different, more intimate now that he’s in my home, relying on me.
I pull up a chair to his side, not wanting him to wake up all alone. My stomach flutters with nerves as I take his hand, cradling it between both of mine. His are larger than mine and I’m reminded of that first time we met, when I couldn’t stop thinking about the ‘rainbow aliens’. I gently run the pad of my finger against his palm, feeling how rough and calloused they are. Just another thing that makes us so wildly different. His hands are the hands of a warrior, while mine are the soft hands of a healer.
