Boundless

Of Thirst and Strings

"Lar'jar... whatever you gave me-" Lance never had a chance to complete that phrase. Nor to reach the toilet. She threw up violently on the floor of the shower.

"My God-" Another wave of nausea hit her, but now that the damage was done, she just sat down and waited.

In no time, there was only yellow bile coming out of her mouth. She tried to drink some water from the shower to calm the burning sensation in her throat once her nausea subsided, just to throw up again.

Lance allowed her back to rest against the shower wall, sliding to the floor, resting her forehead against her knees.

"Gal'vn, she can't keep water down", a masked Lar'jar spoke with someone. Still, Lance couldn't bring herself to care who, and sick as she was, the Girl was also not able to find in herself the strength to pay attention to the flat voice of the translator (truth to be told, she wanted to throw that thing across the bathroom, away from her).

"Lance", again, the flat tone of the mask. She felt a paw shaking her left knee. The Girl lifted her head.

"Can I lie down?", she pleaded.

"I will take you to the bed", the Medic got under the stream of water to lift her, the holographic projection of a predator that was not Ah'kaedh hovering over his wristblade.

"No", Lance weakly tried to keep him from picking her up. "I guess I will be sick again", and was now squirming away.

"I can't let you lie here on the bathroom floor!"

Lance felt her stomach churning and the reflexive impulse to the puke. There was almost nothing on her belly now. But she was still salivating.

Lar'jar was now seated with her on his lap, on the floor under the freaking shower, still talking to whoever that person was.

"Don't purr, for Christ's sake...", she tried to crawl away.

"Gal'vn, I will call you later", Lar'jar said to the stranger and then turned back to her. "It will calm you down, creature".

"No", Lance was still trying to slip free from him. Yeah, purr would calm her, Lance was very aware of that. But Gosh, that felt weirdly intimate.

(Lar'jar was technically her brother-in-law. That was beyond inappropriate).

"Calm down", the rumbling came to a halt.

"Lar'jar, I just need the floor and the water. I have done it before". Inglorious episodes in the shower room of the Cradle danced in her mind.

"We won't give you blood today, and you must eat".

"What? No!" she finally crawled to the floor, lying in the fetal position, most of her body under the water stream. "I'm fine", she obviously wasn't.

Lar'jar looked down, shaking his head. Thankfully the Enforcer was busy untangling problems elsewhere.

Ah'kaedh had been on the verge of... something. Not a breakdown, but not an episode of blinding fury either.

(Lar'jar knew how hard he had worked to make Lance return to a healthy weight, just to watch her reject any food for the last three days. And that was just one of the many things about her current state stressing out the Enforcer).

"Is this your professional opinion?" Lar'jar asked. There was no way the flat tone of the mask could convey sarcasm, but...

"Asshole", the Girl chuckled.

Somewhere behind metal, Lance could hear the distinctive clicking of mandibles.

***

"I don't want to question your motives to hold the ooman here", Jakhar was quite aware of Lar'jar's boundaries around his craft. But as a close friend of the Medic, he also knew that Jerk would manipulate his way into getting whatever he wanted.