Souls Through Time (EzioxOC/DesmondxOC)

Chapter 15 - Claire

As the TPN flowed, Claire felt a tiny surge of relief, but it was short-lived, quickly overshadowed by the worries clawing at the edges of her mind. Her gaze drifted down the line, following the drip of the nutrient solution, then back to Desmond's pale, still form. It was a start—a lifeline—but it wasn't enough to erase her deeper fears. Her mind raced over all the unseen dangers lurking within him, things she had no way of monitoring, of managing. She bit her lip, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table as her thoughts spiraled.

The function of his organs—the state of his liver, kidneys, electrolytes—none of it was something she could simply check with a glance. Each silent hour stretched his body further from equilibrium, a fragile system that could collapse at any moment. Without blood tests, she was in the dark, unable to know if his liver was processing the nutrients correctly or if his kidneys were holding up against the strain. Any shift, any silent failure inside him, could worsen his already precarious condition, and the thought gnawed at her, relentless.

"Claire?" Aiden's voice was softer now, and she looked up, startled to find him watching her with a hint of concern. The playful glint in his eyes had softened, replaced by something quieter, more attuned to her mood. "You're doing everything you can, you know that, right?"

She let out a slow breath, running a hand over her face, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in her bones. "It just doesn't feel like enough," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't see what's happening inside. I can't track the damage. It's like... like I'm just throwing things at the dark, hoping something works."

Aiden stepped closer, his expression a blend of sympathy and reassurance. "He's tougher than he looks," he said, nodding toward Desmond. "He's made it this far. And he's got you here, keeping an eye on him."

She managed a faint smile, appreciating the encouragement, but her gaze lingered on Desmond's face. "I just hate feeling helpless," she whispered. "If he were awake, he'd hate it too. The idea of not having control..."

Aiden's voice softened even further. "Control's an illusion, Claire. You know that better than most." He glanced back at Desmond. "But you're keeping him alive, giving him a fighting chance. That's not nothing."

She took a steadying breath, nodding slightly, her fingers moving instinctively to check the line again, making sure everything was set perfectly. As much as Aiden's words helped, the fear still lingered—a reminder of the razor's edge Desmond was teetering on. But for now, at least, the TPN was a start, something to sustain him in the absence of everything else she couldn't give him.

The quiet moment between Claire and Aiden was soon interrupted by the soft murmur of footsteps approaching. Claire glanced up, finding the rest of the team filtering into the small, dimly lit room. The cramped space took on a warmer glow as the familiar faces appeared, each carrying the weight of worry and exhaustion in their expressions.

William entered first, his eyes scanning Desmond's setup with the sharp precision of a leader assessing a battle line. His gaze softened slightly as it landed on Claire, a subtle nod acknowledging her efforts. Behind him, Rebecca's face was a mixture of relief and curiosity, her fingers already tapping anxiously at her tablet, no doubt running checks on Desmond's vitals and the Animus data.

Paul, tall and stoic, moved to the side, watching the scene in contemplative silence. His rugged, weathered face was partially shadowed in the dim light, but there was an unmistakable glint of respect in his gaze. "Looks like you managed quite the haul," he murmured, eyeing the setup around Desmond.

"It was a team effort," Claire replied quietly, though her tone hinted at pride.

Then came Shaun, his expression shifting between a frown and a faint smirk. He adjusted his glasses, his gaze darting from Desmond to the TPN line and then to Claire with that usual critical air he carried. "Well, Nurse Starling, I suppose we should thank you for your 'heroics,'" he quipped, his tone dry but not unkind. "Though I shudder to imagine the things you pilfered for our... comatose friend."