𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐩𝐞 - j.egan [masters of the air]

∣ 021; s a v i o r

(warning: talks of sexual violence)

. *. ⋆

John had driven Eloise to the medical center, neither of them doing much talking; not even five minutes after getting seated in the jeep, Eloise had passed out, her head slumping against John's shoulder, all of her weight supported by his body.

The whole drive there, he kept looking at her, fearing that if he looked away too long, she'd disappear yet again, and he'd be left with the despair he had to live with for 18 months.

She never did leave him, though; she slept against him, her breathing soft touching the skin of his neck, marking him with the delightful warmth of love he had not been blessed to experience while she had been forced away from him.

He wanted to drive slower, to let her sleep on him for as long as she needed. Still, John knew her leg needed tending to— he huffed, partially annoyed as he parked the jeep outside the hospital, his hands going to Eloise, scooping her from her seat and bringing her inside the building.

It was a shock for Lillian when she first saw her old friend.

She wanted to cry, to break down into tears of relief. She had stopped everything she had been doing prior, her hands holding a shake as she dropped her pencil, and rushed over to the two, where she quickly checked on Eloise, questioning John, her words rapid as she ushered the man to bring Eloise into the emergency surgery room so she could get a good look on her leg.

"She didn't say what happened?" Lillian had asked, scissors in her hands, cutting away the material of Eloise's pants. "Oh— well, I guess she didn't need to. She got shot."

"She what?" John asked, his head snapping to Eloise, his hands putting down the jar of cotton pads he had been tossing around. "She got shot? With a gun?"

Lillian nodded, shooing John away when he tried to grab Eloise's thigh to examine the wounds, promptly ignoring the glare John sent her.

"Yeah. Now, you stand there and look. There are two bullet wounds. It looks like they passed through, which is good. I won't need to extract anything. Only stitches are needed."

"How'd she get shot with a gun?"

"You're actin' like I was there with her, Bucky," Lillian said, crouching to grab the supplies to stitch Eloise up. "I'm seeing her for the first time in two years, too. I don't know where she's been. I don't think anyone knows."

John waved her off, "Heath does."

Lillian snapped her head to John, eyes widening a fraction.

"Heath's here, too?"

"Yeah— they were together the whole time, I'm assumin'. I dunno— look, can you stitch and wake her up again, please— "

Lillian scoffed, shaking her head, "You're stressin' me out, Bucky. Go and grab Heath. I gotta' check on him, too. She'll be stitched up and awake by the time you get back. You don't gotta worry— "

"But— "

"Go."

John sighed in annoyance, his head tilting back as he ran his hands over his face, but he listened to Lillian, muttering to himself as he left the room with quick strides with the door swinging shut behind him.

Lillian was quick to stitch Eloise up, her hands skilled, and her eyes darted up to Eloise's face every few seconds to see if the girl was showing any signs of waking up, but it seemed she was knocked out cold.

It was easy to tell by her face that she was exhausted in more ways than one.

Her state broke Lillian's heart— the last time she saw Eloise, the woman was lively and happy. Now, though, she seemed drained, the happy persona she always held stripped from her while being at the camps.