‼️ PAUSED ‼️ ❝ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘 ❞ ~ [ᵂᵉˡᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᴴᵒᵐᵉ/ᴿᶠ ᵂᵃˡˡʸ ˣ ᴼᶜ]

[𝟖.] 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐔𝐩

"Doubt can be the seed of conflicting results, where uncertainty meets the unexpected."
 
 
              _______ 💉 ______
 
 
Vincent's gaze shifted towards the door, where the self-proclaimed 'Slick-Nick' soldier had once stood.
A soft chuckle escaped him as he imagined the soldier's terror upon being caught by the nurse.
 
 
Turning his attention to the window, he watched as the afternoon skies floated by in a lazy dance.
From there, his lilac eyes drifted to the sandwich resting on the hospital table beside him.
He reached out and retrieved the Tupperware, the feeling of gratitude mingling with disappointment as he opened it and took a bite.
The sandwich's warmth was long gone.
 
 
After finishing the sandwich, Vincent set the Tupperware back on the table and settled back into his bed, succumbing to the tedium of the situation.
In the distance, the clinic buzzed with scattered conversations, likely emanating from his teammates or other occupants.
 
 
Amidst his wandering thoughts, the approaching footsteps registered in his heightened senses.
He glanced towards the door, half-expecting the skilled doctor that he always know of, but his lilac eyes fell upon a familiar face, someone he had attempted to convinced during the meeting last week.
  
  
  
"Well, well, it's you again." Vincent greeted with unexpected acknowledgment, a hint of surprise and irritation lingering in his voice at the repeated encounters.

The man at the door rolled his eyes, as if perfectly in tune with Vincent's ill mood.
  
  
  
"Looking like hell, as always." The retort followed naturally.

Vincent scoffed at the remark, the animosity between them still palpable.
 
 
The man approached Vincent, first aid kit in hand.
He methodically prepared himself, cleansing his hands and donning surgical gloves.
Retrieving medical tools from the kit, he approached Vincent's bandages with practiced ease.
 
 
Walden's deft hands worked, gently undoing Vincent's bandages.
He observed the process, silently acknowledging the expertise it took to handle medical tasks with such ease.
For a fleeting moment, Vincent felt a wave of surprise for the man's competence - his medic skills were evident, that's for sure.
 
 
The room then fell into an uncomfortable silence. Breaking it, Walden initiated a small talk, inquiring about the mission.
  
  
  
"What're you feeling right now?" Walden's question broke the silence, a hesitant attempt at conversation.
 
 
Vincent's response was a mere shift of his gaze from Walden to his wounds, then back to Walden again.
The answer was evident: he had been stabbed by a thick, glass shard that can potentially end a normal human being's life.
    
 
Yet, social cues weren't Walden's strong suit, and he continued his work without pressing for an answer.
However, there was a hint of disappointment lingering around Walden's, as if he truly finds his 'silent treatment' that irritating.
  
  
As Walden peeled off the bandages, Vincent couldn't help but flinch at the sensation of cold air against his exposed wounds.
Vincent flinched, teeth sinking into his inner lip to stifle any pained groans.
As blood trickled from the open wounds, Walden muttered a swear under his breath.
Quickly grabbing alcohol-free wipes, he cleaned the area with haste, a sense of urgency in his movements.
  
  
A fleeting glance passed between Vincent and Walden.
His gaze met Vincent's in an unguarded connection, yet he quickly averted, shying away from the intensity.
  
  
After this silent exchange, Walden retrieved a set of surgical needles from the first aid kit.
Holding the needles up, he offered a cautionary warning to Vincent.
  
  
  
"Don't move, this is going to hurt, a lot."
His words held a mix of professionalism and perhaps a hint of empathy, offering a moment for Vincent to brace himself.
  
  
Vincent's eyes betrayed his unease as he took in the sight of the needles.
The fear was evident, but he steeled himself for what was to come.
He gave Walden a hesitant nod, signaling his readiness for the procedure to begin.
 
 
With that unspoken agreement, Walden began his work.
As the needles pierced his skin, Vincent began to winced involuntarily.
His teeth clenched down on his lip, muffling any potential cries of pain.
He made a conscious effort to maintain his position, understanding that any movement could jeopardize the delicate operation.
Vincent loathed stitching; he found surgical staples to be a more tolerable alternative,
-despite akin to being injected by multiple syringes at once-, the method suited him better.
 
 
Yet, he understood that medical expertise was not his forte, and his complaints would likely fall on deaf ears.
After all, he was a man geared to executing orders, wielding firearms, and handling tactical operations - not administer medical care.
 
 
As the procedure continued, Vincent remained perched on the bed, locked in a battle of wills with his own discomfort.
He fought to maintain his stoic facade, refraining from so much as flinching, despite the intense sensations racing through his body.
This image was a stark contrast to the stoic and solitary Vincent that most were familiar with.
Even the Head Experimenter, who was overseeing the medical procedure, couldn't help but feel a sliver of doubt if this was indeed the same unflinching individual he knew for two(2) years.
 
 
As the procedure continued, the room was filled with a mix of tension, discomfort, and the sound of the needle piercing flesh, forming an odd symphony that encapsulated the complexities of the moment.
 
 

Focused on the task at hand, Walden continued his careful work on the stitching, barely sparing a glance at Vincent.
The experimenter's voice broke the silence, his question hanging in the air.
  
  
  
"How are you holding up?"
  
  
  
Vincent's gaze shifted, but he didn't lift his head, instead casting a glance at the man who had just posed the question.
His voice held an edge of weariness as he replied,
  
"Barely any good."
  
  
  
The experimenter's response was concise, his attention focused on the task at hand.
"Then hold still, this is the last one."
  
  
  
With a steadying breath, Vincent braced himself for the final stitch.
The needle re-entered his skin, eliciting a muted grunt of discomfort from him.
His grip on the edge of the bed tightened as he fought to remain as still as possible, his jaw clenched against the pain.
 
 
As the experimenter reached for a pair of scissors, Vincent watched the movement out of the corner of his eye.
The sound of the scissors cutting through the thread was a faint but distinct sound in the room.
With the last remnants of the stitching operation now completed, there was only one task left to be done.
He retrieved a sterile bandage, as the man began to carefully wrap the bandage around Vincent's sutured wound, a sense of finality settled over the room.

The stitching operation left Vincent panting heavily, the ordeal had taken every ounce of his self-control to refrain from unleashing a string of curses and aggressive outbursts.
The sensation around the stitched area was numb, extending from the edges of the wound, as if any slight movement might rip the painstakingly sewn flesh apart.
 
 
Taking a moment to collect himself, he let out a slow exhale, grateful for the chance to find a marginally more comfortable position.
The soft sound of fabric rubbing against fabric filled the room as he shifted, and he flinched involuntarily as a jolt of pain shot through his side in response.
 
 
His lilac eyes followed Walden's every movement in the aftermath of the procedure.
He observed as Walden meticulously cleaned the tools, discarded the used gloves, and returned the medical instruments to their designated places.
 
 
In the midst of observing Walden's actions, Vincent found himself grappling with an unexpected mix of emotions.
A newfound sense of understanding began to blossom within Vincent, a flicker of empathy that he hadn't expected.
Perhaps, even a hint of respect for Walden's expertise was creeping into his thoughts.
 
 
The contradiction was perplexing.
 
 
{{{ How could he hold such feelings of connection and respect for someone he had spent so long despising? }}}

 
 
He was torn between his deeply ingrained skepticism and the nascent appreciation he felt for Walden's skills and dedication.
It was as if the lines between his animosity and his newfound appreciation were becoming blurred, leaving him uncertain about his own reactions.
 
 
Vincent's internal struggle played out silently in the room, mingling with the lingering scent of antiseptic and the sterile atmosphere.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
‼️This chapter has been rewritten for the sole purpose of renewing the plot of this story.
I would like to advise readers, -who had been reading this book for a few months-, to reread the newer version of this book.
Thank you and have a great day, readers!
(⁠/⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠(⁠-⁠ω⁠-⁠)