Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

139. The Other Half of Me, Pt. 3

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CONTENT WARNING:

This chapter contains themes of sexual trauma that may be disturbing or troubling to some readers. Please proceed with caution.

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I watched in silence as the nurse stopped the pump infusing the sedative into Striker's IV, undoing the restraints tethering his wrists to the hospital bed.

"Will you just make sure he doesn't pull at his lines?" asked the nurse. "I'll be right back."

I nodded, and she turned to leave the room. She returned a few minutes later with a fresh bag of the milky white medication and tubing, preparing the new setup while we waited for the old medication to wear off.

After about ten or fifteen minutes, I noticed Striker's fingers begin to twitch more and more. The nurse circled to the foot of the bed, pulling up the crisp bedsheet and lightly running the tip of her pen across the soles of his feet—or, rather, his hooves. His feet recoiled slightly from the contact, and she recovered his legs and stepped back over to his head to check his pupils. Without thinking, I stood from my seat and gently linked his hands with mine.

"Striker," I said softly, watching for a reaction. "Squeeze my hands, Striker."

It took a few seconds, but Striker's fingers slowly curled around my hands. His grip was weak—very weak—but it was there, and just that single action washed me in a wave of relief.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I gave his hands a firm squeeze in return. "Good job, baby."

The nurse restarted the sedative infusion, and it didn't take long at all for Striker to slip back out of consciousness.

A little less than an hour later, the night shift staff began to trickle in. Husk and I didn't pay them any mind until we heard a light knock on the glass door, and I turned around in my chair to see a familiar face smiling back at me.

"I was hoping you'd come today," said Reggie as he walked into the room. "Missy was worried when she found out about him."

I pursed my lips, my eyes falling to the floor. "Yeah," I said quietly. "It—It's just been. . ."

He nodded in understanding, hooking his thumbs in his pants pockets. "Yeah. I'm sure." He tilted his head to the side in an attempt to meet my eyes. "You look tired. Visiting hours end pretty soon—you should probably head home and get some rest."

I shook my head. "Reggie," I muttered. "Can I stay the night? Please?"

Reggie's gaze wandered to the wall beside us, and he lifted a hand to sheepishly rub the back of his neck. "As much as I'd like to say yes, I don't know where you could, hon. We don't have a couch or anything to put in the room—just those chairs. Same with the waiting room."

"You probably should go home, (Y/N)," said Husk. He laid a hand on my shoulder. "Go shower and get some good rest and come back in the morning."

"He's right, (Y/N)," chimed Reggie. "Your place is maybe a ten-minute walk from here. And I promise, if anything changes, I'll call you immediately, okay?" He flashed me a soft smile. "Missy gave you my number, right? It'll be okay. And he's doing a lot better now than he was last night when I was here."

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I knew they were only trying to help—and while I appreciated the concern, I didn't particularly care for the fact that they were essentially ganging up on me. But given my exhaustion, it didn't take much convincing for me to leave for the night. I double-checked and triple-checked to ensure Reggie had my contact info, then said goodnight to my fiancé, despite knowing he couldn't hear me. I held his hand, stroked his messy white locks, and told him that I loved him and I would see him in the morning.