Rory paced back and forth around the staff room until Brendan had had enough.
"Can you please stop?" He snapped, peering at Rory through his long bangs. His eyes looked black in the dark room, lit only by the gas lamp Emily had found.
"Sorry," Rory hung his head. He looked over at Helena, who was laying on her back, dark hair fanning out around her face. Her face was unusually white and dried blood crusted on her forehead. Brendan and Emily sat next to her. Emily was obsessively going through the little medical kit, organizing utensils and occasionally taking Helena's blood pulse. Brendan held his head in his hands.
James was still sleeping on the couch. No one wanted to wake him. Sam was watching them from his lounge chair, shifting uncomfortably.
Rory sat down on the floor next to the sleeping James and avoided Brendan's glares. Brendan was extra stressed, sitting next to his half dead girlfriend. He had gotten less friendly over the past few hours and Rory tried to stay out of his way as much as possible. He didn't want to fight anyone.
"We'll have to wait until Helena wakes up," Emily said. "She seems alright, but she might have head damage from being hit. I don't know."
Emily was the best they had, now that their own doctor was the sick one.
No one wanted to talk about Salar. Rory had left his body when he carried Helena away. When he had told his friends about the events, they all stayed very quiet. A blanket of sorrow still hung heavy over the group. Helena would have been the one to break the silence and talk about Salar, Rory realized, but she wasn't here.
Two hours later, James woke up.
"What's going on?" He murmured groggily and raised his head. Emily had been dosing on the couch next to James, but her head whipped up at the sound of his voice.
"James!"
She grabbed his face between both hands and pressed her lips against his in a rush. Rory looked at his hands awkwardly.
"Woah," James finally said. "Maybe I should die more often."
"Don't you dare," Emily's voice was low with emotion. "You're not going anywhere."
Emily explained to James in a low voice what had happened over the course of the night. Rory noticed that James looked a little better. Some color had returned to his face and his blue eyes looked a lot more focused. The bandage on his arm was almost still completely white. Rory wondered how Helena had known what to do under such pressure.
James was looking over at Helena with raw grief.
"She's not dying on us," James said. "She saved my life, so I'm going to save hers." He tried getting up, but Emily held him down.
"You're going to aggravate your wound," Emily said. "The last thing we need is you bleeding everywhere."
James' eyes flashed with annoyance. "It's fine. I can't lay here forever." Emily still held him down.
"Well, you can lie here for as long as possible. Give as much time as possible for the wound to close. Helena would agree with me."
"Yeah, except Helena's dying, or does that not matter to you?" James pushed Emily off and stood up. Emily glared at his back but didn't say anything.
"Trouble in paradise," Rory heard Sam mutter under his breath.
James walked over to where Helena lay still. Brendan hadn't moved from his post next to her. He absently twirled a strand of curly hair around his finger and stared down at her, lost in his thoughts. James' put a tentative hand on his shoulder.
