In the Wake of the War 3/?
anonymous
July 28 2014, 09:17:25 UTC
Nicola quickly found that Amicus became as familiar to her as any of the human patients. She got used to his grey, plated skin. She got used to his soft-spoken manner and the permanent rasp in his voice. She got used to being the one beneath his arm as he slowly adapted to his prosthetic. And visiting him became not only familiar, but the most anticipated part of her day.
Amicus grew restless, eager to be out of the hospital -- “Help with the rebuilding, at least,” -- but it wouldn’t happen soon. His recovery was complicated by extensive damage to his lungs and he regularly found himself short of breath, reduced to coughing fits, his voice dropping to a whisper. There were no occupational therapists to help him get used to his new prosthetic, no speech therapists to help his harmonics return to their former strength.
His CO visited briefly to officially recognise his contribution to the war effort and grant a leave of absence until fit to return to duty. He also offered his apologies that they would not be able to return Amicus home to Palaven sooner.
"It's no problem," Amicus had replied. "Palaven wasn't really my home anyway."
His voice was mild, but Nic, standing politely outside the door, saw the turian Commander's talons twitch.
Later, when she had asked about the Commander's reaction, Amicus shrugged a little and said, "He was a good CO, but we weren't friends." He gave his low, soft chuckle, and said, "I was ribbing him a little. How he must hate it that I survived the war other soldiers, others with a place in the world, fell."
Nic frowned. There was an edge to Amicus' tone that spoke more of hurt than of hate.
A storm rattled the little hospital one night, the hail trapping Nic and the other nurses there for the evening. Instead of sleeping, she sought Amicus out and sat by his bedside, listening as he told her of his life amongst the stars. To Nic, who had left Earth for Mars only once, and had never left the Sol system, the tales were alluring.
“Why haven’t you travelled?” Amicus asked. “If it interests you so...”
Nic shrugged. “Never had enough money. Never had a reason to go, either. I don’t know anyone out there, my job had nothing to do with it.” Her breath was wistful. “I thought if I ever got married, I might honeymoon somewhere else in the galaxy ... visit Thessia, one of the garden worlds, I don’t know.”
“Honeymoon?”
“A holiday you take after you get married -- bonded,” she added, remembering the difference.
“Ah, yeah. We don’t have a turian equivalent.” His elbow shifted on the mattress. “... Did you have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”
She gave a little grin. “What makes you think I don’t have one now?”
He looked at her for a long moment, before saying slowly, “You don’t.”
Nicola swallowed. “No. I don’t.”
They were locked in each others gazes for a moment, then Nicola blushed and looked away, and Amicus settled back against the pillows thoughtfully. It hadn’t escaped his noticed that as open as he was about his past, she had told him almost nothing of hers.
Nicola quickly found that Amicus became as familiar to her as any of the human patients. She got used to his grey, plated skin. She got used to his soft-spoken manner and the permanent rasp in his voice. She got used to being the one beneath his arm as he slowly adapted to his prosthetic. And visiting him became not only familiar, but the most anticipated part of her day.
Amicus grew restless, eager to be out of the hospital -- “Help with the rebuilding, at least,” -- but it wouldn’t happen soon. His recovery was complicated by extensive damage to his lungs and he regularly found himself short of breath, reduced to coughing fits, his voice dropping to a whisper. There were no occupational therapists to help him get used to his new prosthetic, no speech therapists to help his harmonics return to their former strength.
His CO visited briefly to officially recognise his contribution to the war effort and grant a leave of absence until fit to return to duty. He also offered his apologies that they would not be able to return Amicus home to Palaven sooner.
"It's no problem," Amicus had replied. "Palaven wasn't really my home anyway."
His voice was mild, but Nic, standing politely outside the door, saw the turian Commander's talons twitch.
Later, when she had asked about the Commander's reaction, Amicus shrugged a little and said, "He was a good CO, but we weren't friends." He gave his low, soft chuckle, and said, "I was ribbing him a little. How he must hate it that I survived the war other soldiers, others with a place in the world, fell."
Nic frowned. There was an edge to Amicus' tone that spoke more of hurt than of hate.
A storm rattled the little hospital one night, the hail trapping Nic and the other nurses there for the evening. Instead of sleeping, she sought Amicus out and sat by his bedside, listening as he told her of his life amongst the stars. To Nic, who had left Earth for Mars only once, and had never left the Sol system, the tales were alluring.
“Why haven’t you travelled?” Amicus asked. “If it interests you so...”
Nic shrugged. “Never had enough money. Never had a reason to go, either. I don’t know anyone out there, my job had nothing to do with it.” Her breath was wistful. “I thought if I ever got married, I might honeymoon somewhere else in the galaxy ... visit Thessia, one of the garden worlds, I don’t know.”
“Honeymoon?”
“A holiday you take after you get married -- bonded,” she added, remembering the difference.
“Ah, yeah. We don’t have a turian equivalent.” His elbow shifted on the mattress. “... Did you have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”
She gave a little grin. “What makes you think I don’t have one now?”
He looked at her for a long moment, before saying slowly, “You don’t.”
Nicola swallowed. “No. I don’t.”
They were locked in each others gazes for a moment, then Nicola blushed and looked away, and Amicus settled back against the pillows thoughtfully. It hadn’t escaped his noticed that as open as he was about his past, she had told him almost nothing of hers.
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