An Uneasy Accord

Chapter 7 - Caretaker

Chapter 7 - Caretaker

“Derek you don’t have to do this,” Brooklyn protested as he lowered on the bed.  “I’ve been on my own long enough I can handle myself.”

                Derek snorted as he started rummaging through her bags, looking for anything that vaguely resembled a first aid kit.  The smell of her blood mingling with muscle and flesh was overpowering to his senses as he flung the first bag aside. 

                “If you’re looking for the first aid kit I suggest the camouflage on the dresser,” Brooklyn groaned and held her hand tighter to her side.  She had suffered worse injuries, alone and in the middle of nowhere, but the hunter felt her anger growing inside.  Anger that she thought long since extinct; anger that was only but lying dormant and waiting for the moment it could break free of its damned prison and onto those who had inflicted so much upon her.

                Derek spotted the bag slumped against the solid mirror and snatched from its resting place.  He dumped the contents onto the bed, sifting through various bottles, bags and other various items that belonged more in a hospital than a hunter’s bag. 

                “Told you I’ve done this on my own,” she tried breathing but the gash on her side made her wince and hold her breath.  Derek heard the frantic pace of her heart as the adrenaline bled into her veins.

                “Sure,” Derek muttered. 

                “I heard that,” she snapped.  “Now see the bag with the foil pouches?”

                Derek nodded and held it in his hands.  “Those are sutures.  I need a wet cloth to clean this bitch out.”

                She watched as he scurried in the bathroom and returned a moment later with a warm soaking cloth.  Brooklyn reached out for it with a bloodied hand but Derek was already peeling the shredded fabric up and over the wound.  The faint pink lines crossed over her hip and side and he found himself wondering how each one came about.  He gently dabbed then traced along the edge, careful not to make it any more agonizing for her than it already was.  Brooklyn’s breathing was shallow and erratic as it was like breathing through fire with every deep fulfilling inhalation.  The wound wasn’t too deep but looked painful nonetheless.  He felt her penetrating stare as the last traces of blood vanished into the faded navy cloth.    

                “Now I need you to sterilize the forceps and clamps you so graciously dumped out.”

                Derek ignored her biting tongue and found a Zippo on the stand.

                “I don’t smoke,” she added, “It’s proven useful when burning the things that go bump in the night.”

                The tiny yet tall light waved along the stainless steel instrument, turning the edges a glowing bright orange.  He went further up about a half inch, not wanting to risk the hunter getting infection.  She wouldn’t be of use to him if she was incapacitated. 

                Brooklyn expertly handled the forceps and clamp, careful to grasp the needle by the center.  With tiny but excruciating movements, the hunter stretched her abs out, not wanting to screw up her work.  Derek sat in observant silence as skin was closed up with chocolate strands and knots.  He acknowledged the hunter was highly self sufficient, able to keep calm and level headed as she repaired the damage from Argent’s arrow.  Brooklyn had to be in unendurable pain the way she had contorted her body and continued to stab and stretch it over and over.  But if she was, she was concealing it very well.