In Too Deep

One

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Nova wasn't sure how he does it; how he could sneak in without her knowing, or how he could easily slip out just like that. Maybe, just maybe she was the one who allowed it to happen. The man bore no superpowers, and she was a light sleeper, but that hadn't stopped her from knowing when he regained consciousness or the moment he left her house. The sound of the door closing should have alerted her. It never does, which made her believe the man does have powers.

Two months of saving his life and treating a possible criminal. If she was ever found out, she was going to serve time in prison, because what she kept doing wasn't good.

It was a crime.

But to hell with the law. She was saving a person's life. Her parents taught her not to judge, to help anyone who was in need, and throwing him away, or calling the police on him would not make her parents proud. At least, that's what she had been telling herself for two months now.

The stranger, whom she called Ghost because she was yet to know his name had become part of her life. It was funny how she had been saving his life for so long but never got to talk to him. Every time he showed up with a wound, he slipped away unnoticed. He never stopped to speak to her, and Nova was sure he wasn't interested, so why on earth would he keep coming back, and why would she keep saving his life?

Either way, the last thing she needed was for anyone to know how deeply involved she was in a criminal's life, which way was Nova stopped bringing people to her house, and when someone dropped by unexpectedly, she was quick to send them home. It made her look like she didn't want them to be there, and it was okay they thought that, but it wasn't okay for them to see Ghost. She was always afraid he would show up at the wrong time, always careful when it came to her privacy.

It was a strange kind of stability that had settled over her new life as a criminal's doctor, sort of. It gave her something to think about, to be useful to someone. She felt wanted, even if it was the wrong kind of need, it felt great at least. While her job as a waitress was slowly starting to tumble down, this job that didn't even have a payment was better; well, most of the time when she wasn't freaking out that he wasn't breathing.

But this time around, she was handling it well. She had already googled how to take a bullet out. The first time she had done it, she had hurled for two hours straight. The second time she did it, she got better at it, and around her third, she wasn't complaining.

Ghost was knifed in the stomach, and although it wasn't a fatal injury, he was still bleeding. He was passed out on the couch, his eyes closed and his hair was out of his face. He had a black eye forming under his right eye; his cheeks had small cuts and a large bruise near his jawline.

Nova filled her glass with wine and gently swirled the contents before taking a sip. That helped her stay focus. That helped her clear her mind. She wondered what kind of a job he did that always rendered him with wounds. What pushed him to risk his life like this? Did he not know there were other jobs out there, ones that were safe? Did he simply love it too much to quit it? She could only stare at him before she made a move to unbutton his shirt with shaky hands even though she had done this so many times, but she could never seem to stop herself from shaking, or from breathing hard and fast. Was it from the heat that was coming from his body and embracing her in its warmth, the cologne that seemed to dance around her nostrils, or from the way her body was reacting to their close proximity?

It was insane, totally and undeniably insane.

She finished unbuttoning the button, and her eyes traveled to his abdomen, to his old wounds that had left scars all around, and she traced each one of them carefully before she focused her gaze on two large cuts across his chest. The longer, thinner one started close to his heart, stretched diagonally across his body and only stopped right at his waist. The other cut was smeared in blood, definitely a deeper wound. If Nova had to guess, a knife hadn't just cut him, but it had been buried in his left-hand side. It was a kill shot. That knowledge alone shook her to the core.