//𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 (Lee Christmas x Reader)

eighteen.

"Toll's got a broken ankle, torn meniscus," Barney said, setting his phone down. "Hear that kid? You ain't the only one laid up from this job."

"Surprised that's all," Lee said. "We damn near gone blown to fucking mars."

Barney chuckled and shrugged, rolling out his shoulders. "Blew out an eardrum, maybe."

"Oh, great," Lee sniggered, rolling his eyes, "just what we need."

"Doesn't matter," Barney said thoughtfully, eyes finding the window beside your bed. "What does matter, though, is why the hell that bomb went off to begin with. That started all this."

"I told you it was bad news," Trench grumbled.

"Yeah, yeah," Barney said. "You ever work a job involving these guys?"

"Not me specifically," Trench shrugged. "Pup. She didn't tell you?"

Barney raised an eyebrow and Trench let out a breathy laugh.

"What is it with that woman?" Lee asked, thinking back to her sitting comfortably in his damn chair.

"She's a hurricane," Trench said, not unkindly. "That's all I'll say."

"Right," Barney grunted. "They should-"

"Holy hell," Caesar said, shuffling through the door and into the room. "What's she doing on a vent?"

Barney looked up at them, Toll waddling in last on crutches. Caesar, Gunner, Pup, Tool, and Toll lined the wall, brimming with exhaustion. He couldn't help but feel a bit proud.

"Doc said that inducing a coma was the best way to go. She has to be on a vent because of the drugs, or whatever," Barney waved his hand in the air, the medicine well above his level of understanding.

"So she's... gonna be alright, though?" Gunner asked, shifting from side to side.

"That's the plan," Lee said. "He said twenty-four hours, right?"

Trench nodded. "Maximum, I think. I don't know."

Pup was standing with her arms crossed over her abdomen, blocking herself off to everybody else. She looked down at you in the bed and made a face, perching her lips. She'd changed back into her civvies, a black crop top with long sleeves that showed off her belly-button piercing and smooth high-waisted leggings tucked into soft boots. Her hair, greasy and catching the light, fell just at her shoulders, tucked behind her ears, showing off red, sunkissed cheeks. Her eyes were slanted, eyelashes short and plentiful. She had the look of the Lone Wolf, that was for sure; a bit soft in the features, dark eyes that glittered and looked sad when the light hit them just right, and a figure that was much less imposing than it ought to have been. Her hair, darker than Booker's, was all her mother. That and her eyes, softer and smaller than Booker's, were reflections of the woman that had brought her into the world. She was beautiful, if not a little bit grungy or mangey, but that was in the nature of the wolf.

"She'll be alright," she said, shrugging up her shoulders. "Anyway... I'm gonna- I should go."

She let out an awkward breath and slid back into the hallway in silence. The guys watched her go, and Barney glanced to Trench, who just shrugged.

"I stopped trying to understand them when they were teenagers," he said hopelessly, and Barney chuckled.

"You three should go get showers, maybe a few hours worth of sleep," Toll said, motioning to the door with his head. "We can babysit for now."

Barney meant to protest but before he realized, he was standing up. He was exhausted, slimy, and desperate for a five second break from the chaos. There was still more to do, more to deal with- there always would be, and if he didn't make himself relax every once in a while, he'd die of sleep deprivation.