Wrist Deep In Thought and Blood
I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control, and at times hard to handle, but if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.
~ Marilyn Monroe
Bel wiped her brow, not noticing the smear of blood that followed it as she looked down at the wounded man. She recognized him. The man who sold her a teapot off the back of his ship. The kind old man with grey eyes and a laugh that made her mood instantly brighten just at the sound of it. He always had a joke and a limerick to try out on the bonny doctor that would buy the little trinkets. She didn’t know if he knew she only bought the useless trinkets to help him and his family. But she would like to think he did.
The wound was severe but not one that was life threatening, Bel cut the stitch and carefully wrapped a bandage around his stomach before nodding to the volunteers to carry him to the other side of Fook’s. She could hear the screams and ravages of the Reavers as they ran through the streets. She reached down and touched the gun at her side and she took a deep breath before she turned to patch up the next wounded, this time a fighter with a nasty gash along his arm.
She went into automatic, her mind leaving as her hands cleaned and stitched the wound. She refused to think about the past. That was something she figured she crossed already. No regrets, no sad thoughts. Instead she thought of something far worse. The future. She thought about the rebellion from Shadow. How they demanded their independence from the Alliance. She thought about how this could affect Hale’s and Blackburne.
She had thought about the innocent men, women and children that needed to head off the moons so they wont get caught up in the middle of this impending war. She thought about Sarah and Walter. About Xaviar and Bridgette and the rest of the crew. She already cortexed them and told them to stay on the other side of the verse, it wasn’t safe around her right now. She immediately got a message back demanding they come get her so she can be safe. Although Xav knew it would fall on deaf ears.
When the fighter was patched up, he grabbed his coat and ran out the door, Bel shaking her head and smiling, glad she gave him the shot before he decided to run off and get an infection. She sat down on the couch, glad for the lull and knowing that it is only a small break and she looked around at the wounded and the dead. She had seen so much of it from the hands of Reavers and Raiders, she didn’t know how she would react to it coming from a war.
She had slowly but surely recovered from the attempted rape. The thought of Otis Miley coming back to get her had faded into a distant memory. She still wasn’t back together. But she knew she wasn’t going to be the starry eyed virgin of long ago who believed that love was the most powerful emotion of all. She knew now that it was just a fantasy shoved down her throat by people who already had that.
She thought about Derrick, out there in the black and risking his life for her and her calls for medication and food. How he asked to know her better. How he kissed her when he left. She had watched him take off and she didn’t know how she felt about it. Didn’t know if he would run away. If he would never come back if he knew. She didn’t have the heart to tell him. To tell him that it is in his own best interests to never have feelings for her. To run away and never look back. He deserved someone sweet and innocent. And she was neither.
Bel blinked as she heard the familiar call of her name. Another wounded fighter, the same one with the shoulder wound. She took a deep breath and wandered over, wiping her hands on her apron before getting in and looking at his leg, the thoughts and wonderings forgotten.
~ Marilyn Monroe
Bel wiped her brow, not noticing the smear of blood that followed it as she looked down at the wounded man. She recognized him. The man who sold her a teapot off the back of his ship. The kind old man with grey eyes and a laugh that made her mood instantly brighten just at the sound of it. He always had a joke and a limerick to try out on the bonny doctor that would buy the little trinkets. She didn’t know if he knew she only bought the useless trinkets to help him and his family. But she would like to think he did.
The wound was severe but not one that was life threatening, Bel cut the stitch and carefully wrapped a bandage around his stomach before nodding to the volunteers to carry him to the other side of Fook’s. She could hear the screams and ravages of the Reavers as they ran through the streets. She reached down and touched the gun at her side and she took a deep breath before she turned to patch up the next wounded, this time a fighter with a nasty gash along his arm.
She went into automatic, her mind leaving as her hands cleaned and stitched the wound. She refused to think about the past. That was something she figured she crossed already. No regrets, no sad thoughts. Instead she thought of something far worse. The future. She thought about the rebellion from Shadow. How they demanded their independence from the Alliance. She thought about how this could affect Hale’s and Blackburne.
She had thought about the innocent men, women and children that needed to head off the moons so they wont get caught up in the middle of this impending war. She thought about Sarah and Walter. About Xaviar and Bridgette and the rest of the crew. She already cortexed them and told them to stay on the other side of the verse, it wasn’t safe around her right now. She immediately got a message back demanding they come get her so she can be safe. Although Xav knew it would fall on deaf ears.
When the fighter was patched up, he grabbed his coat and ran out the door, Bel shaking her head and smiling, glad she gave him the shot before he decided to run off and get an infection. She sat down on the couch, glad for the lull and knowing that it is only a small break and she looked around at the wounded and the dead. She had seen so much of it from the hands of Reavers and Raiders, she didn’t know how she would react to it coming from a war.
She had slowly but surely recovered from the attempted rape. The thought of Otis Miley coming back to get her had faded into a distant memory. She still wasn’t back together. But she knew she wasn’t going to be the starry eyed virgin of long ago who believed that love was the most powerful emotion of all. She knew now that it was just a fantasy shoved down her throat by people who already had that.
She thought about Derrick, out there in the black and risking his life for her and her calls for medication and food. How he asked to know her better. How he kissed her when he left. She had watched him take off and she didn’t know how she felt about it. Didn’t know if he would run away. If he would never come back if he knew. She didn’t have the heart to tell him. To tell him that it is in his own best interests to never have feelings for her. To run away and never look back. He deserved someone sweet and innocent. And she was neither.
Bel blinked as she heard the familiar call of her name. Another wounded fighter, the same one with the shoulder wound. She took a deep breath and wandered over, wiping her hands on her apron before getting in and looking at his leg, the thoughts and wonderings forgotten.
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