#twrarepairedit

“What?” Melissa asked, a little louder than she intended.   Thankfully, the lobby was still empty; most of the action seemed to be concentrated above them, based on the roars and banging she could hear. “You got shot?”

“Not for the first time,” Braeden said.  Her small smirk quickly changed into a wince as she pressed her hand against the side of her thigh.  When she lifted her fingers, they were dripping with blood.   Melissa’s stomach dropped, but only momentarily; her heart rate slowed and even the throbbing in her ribs seemed to subside as she slid forward until her knees were bumping against Braeden’s.  There was a box of latex gloves sitting on a low shelf beside them and Melissa automatically pulled some on, just barely registering another one of Scott’s roars somewhere above them.

“How bad does it hurt?” she asked, gently turning Braeden’s leg.  The wound was still bleeding profusely, soaking into Braeden’s dark pants and making it difficult to gauge its severity.  

“I’ve had worse,” Braeden replied.

“I don’t doubt it,” Melissa said, absently glancing at the scars across Braeden’s throat.   There was a bottle of water on another shelf and Melissa used it to wash most of the blood away.  Thankfully, the bullet had just grazed Braeden’s leg, but it had still made a deep furrow in the side of her thigh.  It definitely required stitches, ideally in a quiet room where the lights weren’t flickering and they didn’t have to worry about supernatural creatures barging in and ripping them to shreds.  

“Oh, thank God,” Melissa muttered, spotting a small first-aid kit underneath the reception computer.  She yanked it down and opened it, hoping that it hadn’t already been rifled through during any of the other attacks the hospital had been subjected to.  Thankfully, the important stuff was still in place and she immediately got down to work, using a tiny pair of shears to cut away the blood soaked fabric around the bullet wound.

“Damn,” Braeden said, leaning her head against a shelf, “I actually liked these pants.”

“I’m sure you like your leg more,” Melissa said quietly, leaning closer and brushing away a few errant drops of blood with her thumb.

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” Braeden replied, wincing slightly as Melissa ran an antiseptic wipe over the bullet wound.  The edges were pink and raw but there was no sign of blood poisoning, which was definitely a blessing.  The materials Melissa needed for stitching were at the bottom of the kit, along with a lighter.  She wasn’t sure if it had come with the kit or if one of the nurses had been hiding it there, but either way, it was the closest thing she had to a proper sanitizing tool at the moment.

“What was that thing?” Melissa asked as she held the needle over the flickering flame of the lighter.  “The thing that shot you.  Was it human?”

“Not exactly.”  Braeden’s eyes darted back and forth, like she was continuing to scan for threats.  “It was human at one point, I think.   It seems like it’s a guardian for the… for the whatever the hell that thing is that’s running around upstairs.”

“You don’t know what it is yet?”

“I don’t need to know what either of those things are,” Braeden snapped.  “I just need to know how to kill them and so far, it seems like a shotgun blast to the face does the trick.”  Melissa could only imagine the mess on the other side of the reception desk; she could already smell decay, mixed with something earthier.  She took a deep breath through her mouth and threw the lighter to the side.  Clean-up would have to wait.  Her patient came first.

“Ready?” she asked, wiping the hot needle off with an alcohol wipe, just to be on the safe side.

“Just get it over with,” Braeden said, sounding almost wearied.  “I don’t want to be caught with my pants down if another one of those guardians shows up.”

“Your pants are still on,” Melissa pointed out, pressing the tip of the needle against Braeden’s skin.  Braeden shot her a glare and Melissa shrugged apologetically before beginning the process of stitching Braeden’s wound up.  Neither of them spoke; normally, Melissa attempted to make people comfortable or distract them from the pain, but she had a feeling that Braeden would only resent being coddled.  Occasionally, Braeden’s breathing hitched and her fingers tapped against the floor but otherwise, she was completely silent.  

“And we’re done,” she said once she finished up, stripping her gloves off.  “Normally, I’d tell you to take it easy, but there doesn’t seem to be much of a point.”

“You’re right about that,” Braeden said, sitting up straight and gently running her fingers over the skin on either side of the wound.   “Thank you, Melissa.”

“What?”  As far as Melissa could remember, on the few occasions she’d seen Braeden previously, they’d never actually spoke.  “How’d you know my name?”

“Your name-tag,” Braeden replied, leaning forward and tapping her nail off the tiny tag over the pocket of Melissa’s scrubs.  “Also, Scott’s mentioned you before.”

“Oh.  Right,” Melissa murmured, trying to will herself not to blush. Braeden’s smirk was back in full force but this time, it seemed softer, almost like it was on the verge of turning into a smile.  Before Melissa could attempt to come up with a response that was at least semi-dignified, a flicker of movement caught her eye.  When she looked upwards, she was staring straight at another one of the robed beings, who was holding another revolver in their skeletal fingers.  Melissa didn’t have to say anything; Braeden whipped her head around, reaching for the revolver she had stolen earlier.

“Get down!” she yelled, palm slapping down between Melissa’s shoulder blades.  Melissa dropped her head straight into Braeden’s lap, inches away from the fresh stitches.  A thunderclap of sound split the room again and Melissa jumped, waiting for blossoms of pain to start spreading through her body.

But they never arrived.  Instead, after a few moments, Braeden’s hand dropped onto Melissa’s back again, far more gentle this time.  

“You can sit up now,” Braeden said.  Slowly, Melissa lifted her head.  The air smelled rank, thick with the stench of gunpowder and blood.   The second robed creature was laying on the ground a few feet away, fingers still twitching minutely.  The floor around it was streaked with blood and gore.    

“Looks like a revolver does the trick too,” Braeden muttered, turning over the gun in her hand before setting it aside.  

“Thank you.  Looks like I owe you, again,” Melissa said, averting her eyes from the mess covering the tiles.  

“How about coffee?”  Braeden asked.  She leaned in, one eyebrow raised, close enough for Melissa to feel Braeden's breath brushing against her cheek. 

“Coffee?  Like, a coffee date?” Melissa asked, feeling her cheeks heat up again. Braeden nodded, smirk having finally turned into a small smile.  While Braeden’s idea was unexpected, it certainly wasn’t unwelcome.  It’d been awhile since Melissa had been on an actual date (the few dinners she’d had with Peter Hale did not count) and even if nothing came out of it, a cup of coffee was a small price to pay for having her life saved twice in one night.

“Yeah.  Sounds great,” Melissa said with a grin.  “But maybe we should wait until after the pack gets rid of whatever that thing is.”

“Deal,” Braeden replied, slowly getting to her feet and grabbing one of the strange revolvers.  “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.  You might have to drive.”  Melissa rolled her eyes slightly as Braeden slowly walked (or, more accurately, hobbled) down the hallway.  She was sure that it would be more like a few days before either of them were in any position to go on a date.

Yet two hours later, just as the sun began to peer over the horizon, there was a knock on the door of the room where Melissa was checking on one of their comatose patients, who hadn’t been affected at all by the attack.  When she opened it, Braeden was leaning against the door frame, looking a little worse for wear.  There was grime streaked along her face and down over the scars on her neck and her clothes were torn in a few spots.  But Melissa knew she was in no position to judge; her scrubs were covered in all sorts of questionable fluids and wisps of her hair were plastered to her forehead.  

“Coffee?” Braeden asked, panting slightly.  Melissa nodded quickly, setting the patient’s chart back down.  She assumed that the pack had managed to subdue the creature, which meant it was going to be time to start cleaning up the mess soon.  She definitely needed coffee before that.

“Absolutely.”

The cafeteria coffee was lukewarm and tasted burnt, but they drank it on the roof, which seemed to be one of the only areas of the hospital that hadn’t been touched by the creature’s (miraculously non-murderous) rampage.  The air was still cool as the sun’s glow began to spread across the sky and Melissa told herself that it was because of the coolness that she sat so close to Braeden.  It had nothing to do with the fact that she thought Braeden looked like she’d had a hell of a long night.  She looked like she could use a hug (or maybe about a day of sleep), which was a feeling Melissa understood all too well.  

“You know, this doesn’t count as our date,” Braeden said, after they had been sitting in silence for a number of moments.  Her injured leg was stuck out straight in front of her and Melissa was glad to see that all of the stitches were still intact.  

“It doesn’t?” Melissa asked, finishing off the last of her coffee.  

“No.  You didn’t buy this coffee so technically, you still owe me.  This is just a placeholder date.”  

“I am more than okay with that,” Melissa said, unable to stop herself from smiling.  She needed to get back downstairs soon, but she was sure that she had enough time to see what it felt like to tuck her fingers between Braeden’s.