The Boy from the Bunker - Season 8

Episode Three, Part 4:

Episode Three, Part 4:
Fragile

All I do is get over you,
and I'm still so bad at it. 

Elara stirred, slowly returning to consciousness in a groggy, exhausted state. She tried to figure out where she was, even before her eyes opened; she could feel that she was laying down and that her shoulder was stiff and achy from where the drug had gone into her and, most noticeable of all, someone was dabbing a cold, damp material on the inside of her elbow.

She forced her eyes open, desperate to know what was happening to her and immediately panicking when she saw a guard standing over her with a needle. It brought back traumatic memories of the numerous times she woke up in Blood Riders' labs to find Rhea or her father hovering beside her, ready to inject her with another round of the serum.

"Get away from me!" She snapped, trying to push herself off the bed, but her wrists were bound down. She knew she had no chance of escaping, but it didn't stop her from squirming nonetheless, hoping to show her reluctance and lack of cooperation to the guard.

"You're okay," Ammon assured her, pulling the cotton ball that was drenched in alcohol away from her arm, but not flinching at her outburst. He was calm and seemed prepared for her yelling, not taking anything to heart.

"What were you doing to me? Where is everyone?"

"This is an IV," Ammon told her, bringing up the needle he had had in his hands so she could see it clearly. "I had to give you a sedation in the mess hall and now I need to give you this so you don't become dehydrated," he said.

"I don't want it," Elara looked away. She would have folded her arms if she could.

Ammon chuckled underneath his helmet. "I don't want to force it into you, but I really think you should let me do it. It'll make you feel better faster and I'm sure your brother would want you to have it-"

"Don't talk about my brothers," Elara said. "Don't try and manipulate me into this by using them."

"I'm not," Ammon assured her, raising his hands up. "Here," he said, suddenly struck by an idea. He set the needle down on the tray beside the half-propped up bed Elara was laying on, reaching up to pull down the bag of fluids that was connected to the needle.

"For use for dehydration or IV therapy. Contains saline, vitamins and electrolytes-"

"Fine," Elara sighed, reading where Ammon was pointing to, reluctantly accepting that what he was saying was the truth. She knew that he was right, as well: the headache and fatigue she was feeling were clear signs of dehydration, and even if this was some kind of a setup, she didn't feel like she had much left to lose, anyway.

"...I'm going to inject it now. Is that okay?" Ammon asked.

Elara looked over at him, confused at why he had asked for consent when he and the other guards hadn't when it came to locking her up in an isolated cell for days, physically restraining her, or forcing a sedative into her...

But she nodded anyway, chewing on her bottom lip as Ammon pushed the needle into her arm, surprisingly careful with her.

After the drip was in, Ammon tape the needle to her skin, making sure it was secure and wouldn't come loose. Once he was confident in his work, he reached into his pocket for a set of keys and moved them up to her wrists, casually freeing her as if she wasn't one of his prisoners.

"...Why did you do that?" Elara asked, hugging herself with her good arm.

"I only had them on so you didn't hurt yourself when you woke up," Ammon told her. "I didn't want to be halfway through an injection if you were to wake up and suddenly move your arm."