I'll Track You Down

Recovering

Even though Caspian has bragging rights, he doesn't use them.

Instead he stays with me while Willow treats my wounds.

In addition to her being such an impressive fighter she finished medical school in four years, so cleaning and stitching up a stabbing is no problem for her at all.

"You are a lucky girl Kalisa, if he'd stabbed you a couple inches lower it would have punctured your liver. Anyways, I did good today Kalisa, I'm thoroughly impressed." She says poking the needle through my flesh once more.

"I'm only doing my job." I say back I feel the thin almost invisible thread feed through my skin and stitch my wound together.

Their base was actually much bigger than I predicted with many bedrooms, a smaller hospital wing with large equipment and of course a boatload of weapons.

I lay on my stomach on top of one of the surprisingly comfortable beds. I've been given a fresh pair of clothes but I only wear the pants as of right now.

Caspian sits perched on a bench from across the room, he doesn't seem to be bothered seeing me with only pants and a bra on.

And strangely I don't feel bothered either, his eyes are fixed on Willow's stitchwork, his blue eyes following her movements. His forehead is loosely wrapped in a white bandage now tinted red by his blood.

My face sits on top of crossed arms, my hair still pulled back into the knotted ponytail I started with, Willow cleaned my hands, feet, neck, and face of blood but I still smell it in the air. Radiating off of all of us, reminding us of the battle that ended only half an hour ago.

"Done." Willow says, tying a knot at the end of my skin and wrapping it in the same bandage resting on Caspian's head.

The gash still hurts, it was cut pretty deep, but I feel refreshed, and a million times better than I was before. I hug Willow and she lets out an accomplished smile.

I throw on my shirt, it's a little tight on me but I'm not complaining, I step into the slippers that have been provided for me, they feel soft against my feet that are covered in bruises and calluses.

"Here." Willow says while handing me a brush.

"That bad?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"You have no idea." She says. Willow leaves the room to attend to other injured patients leaving Caspian and I alone.

"You should really sit down." Caspian says to me, and I comply. It's not as if I have better things to be doing right now, I sit back down on the bed and turn my head over, examining him.

He's also changed out of his wetsuit and is back in his old money style of clothing, today he favors a pair of sharp white pants and a loose beige collared shirt.

I take a look at what I'm wearing, baggy blue jeans, and a tight black shirt. Then I notice my fingernails are still covered in blood, now dried and brown.

I guess Willow only cleaned my palms and fingers, no matter if I can clean them up later.

I could really use a shower right now, but I'm not supposed to get my stitches wet. Instead I redirect my attention to my hair, and try my best to brush out the thousands of knots forming seemingly everywhere.

Caspian's eyes stay glued onto me, he wears the same unreadable expression, if only I could travel into his head and discover what he was thinking, but I already have a pretty good idea.

He's doubting my skills again, I couldn't even protect myself from a simple knife, and even after he showed me off to Willow and Aeron, he might not even tell me everything he knows about Malgrave now.

"Caspian, I know that this looks really bad," Great way to start the sentence Kalisa, I scold myself. "And I know that it doesn't paint me in the best lighting, but if you could just forget about that and . . ."

My words fall short when Caspian stands up and starts walking towards me, he raises a hand I flinch, but instead of him grabbing my face or pointing a finger at me he strokes my cheeks affectionately. "Cas . . ." I trail off again, he closes the distance between us, our noses almost touching.

"I told you to stay behind me." He says, but he doesn't say it judgingly like I thought but rather more shamed and regretful.

"I'm sorry." I say slowly and quietly, I watch his chest rise and fall, and sync my breathing to his, I might as well dissolve into his eyes, filled with worry, and sadness not pity, but he felt genuinely worried for me.