primum non nocere

Adios, cockbites.

"Are you sure? I’ve never done anything like this before—"

"Yeah, just stick it in."

"But…what if I do it wrong?"

"C’mon, it’s not that fucking hard. You’re a medic. You poke around inside people all the time. This isn’t that different,” the engineer rolled her eyes with growing impatience, only to be met with a skeptical stare. No other retort was necessary. Madison sighed. “Okay, it is, but you have steady hands and that’s all I’m asking for.”

She scrubbed harder, until her skin was patchy and raw, but she felt like there was still a thin film coating her hands that might never wash off. Helena leaned her forearms on the edge of the sink, exhaling into the slowly draining basin, filled halfway up with pink water. She was exhausted, but didn’t want to sleep. She couldn’t get the violent images out of her head, or the echo of Olympia’s weak voice.

Is it done? the woman had asked, of course caring more about the mission than her own well being. Than the fact that she had been blown apart and Helena had only arrived soon enough to make this go easier. She had nodded at the Beta through her shattered visor, taking great caution to remove it. To make her comfortable in the last few moments.

As she slid the syringe of morphine into her neck, Olympia murmured something into the air. Was it a name? Gem? It seemed important to her. Helena had leaned in a little closer, watching her tears cut clean streaks down her ashen cheeks. She heard the whisper: I’m proud of you.

But she wasn’t speaking to Helena—at least, she wasn’t telling her that she was proud. That’s all I wanted to hear, she continued to mumble, lips starting to tremble, slurring the words. I just wanted someone to say…I’m proud of you.

Helena had been the first to wake up with a stiff neck and a top stained slightly pink, though she’d always had a quick metabolism. Carefully, quietly, she had managed to extricate her limbs from the blanket cocoon the pair had drawn about themselves before falling asleep. Without disturbing her partner in crime, she picked up the glasses and the empty bottle and made her way to the kitchen, then her room to fetch a bottle of painkillers.

Perhaps she should’ve changed and showered while she was there, hide all evidence of last night’s shenanigans, but she didn’t want to leave Honolulu alone for too long. After getting a pitcher of water, she returned to the rec room, thankfully still absent of any visitors. Perched on the edge of the couch, she waited for her to stir. Then came the flutter of her eyelashes as the lids began to part, and the melodramatic moan. “I’m dying.”

She couldn’t see her, but she knew that voice—she could pick it out of a crowd of hundreds. It was clear to her even over the thunder of explosions and gunfire, and the resounding ring in her ears. There was anger in her tone, barely masking a bitter sadness. “I didn’t think you were a fucking quitter,” she snarled.

Helena tried to open her eyes, but the crust of blood and ash was too heavy and thick on her face to lift her lids. Or was it the throbbing gash across her brow and cheek that stung too much to move? It didn’t matter. She didn’t need to see the girl, the woman, to know she was right beside her, trying to pull the debris off her body, to dig her out of the ruins.

They both knew it was a futile effort. She wasn’t just crushed—she’d been skewered, too, when the building fell and she went down with it.

"Tara…" the medic croaked, raising the only hand that wasn’t pinned down by concrete slabs and caged by twisted wire. She hated having to ask again. "Please. Stop. You don’t have time." She reached out, grasping at air for a few seconds before she felt fingers entwine with hers. The shifting rubble stilled. Gently, another hand brushed against her brow, pushing aside her clumped hair.

"I’m not leaving you here, Hels."

"Tara…" she murmured again, but the rise of coppery liquid in her throat cut her off, causing her to choke and cough. 

"But...that doesn't make sense. Are you sure that's what she said to Hector? What about Carlos?" she asked the A.I. sat next to her on the couch, hitting the pause button on the remote with great distress. The frame was frozen on a crying woman with a rounded, and obviously fake, belly, pleading at the feet of a man dressed as a priest. Well, it seemed like he was going to be a padre in more than one sense.

Ara blinked at her. "Yes, I'm sure. Can we continue?"

This was stupid. Utterly stupid. Why would Charlie tell Ara to watch this? And how had she been sucked into it, too, when she had only meant to pass through the rec room on her way to the kitchen? Helena didn't even speak fluent Spanish--hence the necessity to check with her translator.

Who knew such a simple statement could carry so much weight? There was both innocence and conviction in the way Vela said it, wide eyes bright and her smile soft, making her youthful design appear even more childlike. It was the sort of pure faith only one yet untouched by the cruelty of the universe could possess.

Helena didn’t know what she could do, but she did not want to let her down. She didn’t want to be the one to dim any of that light, when hope was so scarce in their midst. So of course she would keep this secret between them. Of course she would help, in whatever way she could manage.

"I’ll see what I can do." Her palms outstretched to receive the small crustacean that the A.I. cradled carefully in her cupped hands. The shell was cool to the touch, mostly smooth save for a few ridges. Once the hermit crab was safely transferred, Helena turned the stowaway passenger over to examine it. "I’m glad you brought—er, him?” To be honest, she knew very little about sea creature anatomy, and not enough to determine gender on sight.

But Vela seemed to think it was male. Maybe she would know better, having immediate access to resources on marine biology, and the heightened sensory abilities of her model. Then again, she wouldn’t have asked for her assistance if she understood the problem. Peter had been the one to send the younger unit this way, recommending Helena’s knowledge of animals, and discretion about ‘pets’—but Speedy was a very different beast from this. And a spaceship was hardly the ideal habitat for the species to thrive in. She wasn’t sure if they were both just filling Vela with false hope.