An Impervious Few // KateLena Apocalypse AU

The Silent Winter

The man nodded, dabbing the metal across the bare skin of Yelena's back, coating it over the jagged five-inch gash. Immediately, Yelena convulsed, the burning sensation overwhelming. Her agonized wails broke Kate's heart, and she had half a mind to tell the man to stop, you're hurting her, find another way. Instead, Kate focused fully on Yelena, kneeling down face to face with her, foreheads touching.

"Lena, you have to be still," Kate pleaded quietly, looking into her tired, tortured eyes. "Please, it's okay. You can rest soon, I promise."

Too pained to speak, Yelena could only attempt a nod, jaw set and body tensed for the next layer of chrome-hued salve. She handled the next round more bravely, both hands crushing Kate's as she clenched, breath catching at the intensity. Kate kept her sane, kept her focused on something other than the searing fire of silver nitrate, and soon the man's work was finished, leaving a smoking, ashen scab on her back.

Completely drained, Yelena fell unconscious as the man bandaged her, and with the blonde finally stable, Kate tiredly collapsed, landing hard against the shelves.

Taking off his fur overcoat to lay over Yelena, the man sighed heavily, wiping his hands with a rag. As he decompressed, standing vigilantly by Yelena's side, the archer finally got a clear look at the mysterious Good Samaritan. He was in his forties, cropped brown hair bringing out his stoic blue eyes and jagged, imperfect, yet ruggedly charming features.

His hands were still despite the chaos, like perhaps he had done this before. Under the fur cloak, his clothes were much simpler- a gray Kevlar vest with identifying sigils scratched out, camo pants, and black boots. The outfit along with the man's considerable weaponry could have been intimidating, but he operated with what Kate could only describe as a paternal gentleness. The way he tucked Yelena in, the way he currently looked at Kate... there was no malice, no predatory hunger, just genuine concern.

"Be right back," he said, grabbing a small pelt from his bed and disappearing into the blizzard for a brief moment. When he came back down into the cellar, white flakes in his hair, he knelt at Kate's side, pouch full of snow in hand. "I could clean those if you want."

Kate, still catching her breath, had to take a moment. "Clean what?"

The man's lips twitched into a hint of a grin. "All the bruises and scratches on your face. I guess you're in too much shock to feel them right now."

"Oh, right..." Kate touched a finger to her cheekbone, wincing at the swollen knot. Even though the fight had taken place less than an hour ago, it had slipped Kate's mind as she focused solely on getting Yelena help. Eyes closing, she sighed, the horrific events of the day sinking in. She had shot her mother, violently fought through an entire compound of guards, and was now in a weird wine bunker with a man who looked like a time traveler.

Wait, fuck, Kate thought, she had shot her own mother. Worse, still, she enjoyed it. What kind of a monster was she if she hoped it killed Eleanor? What kind of a daughter was she if she hoped her mother suffered?

Kate looked to the man again, his expression expectant, pouch still outstretched in offering. Those questions could wait. There were more pressing matters at hand.

"Yeah, um, go ahead," Kate finally replied, and the man nodded.

With a gentle touch and sure hand, he dabbed at her injuries with a square of fur and alcohol. He kept at arm's length, not wanting to crowd her, but kept close enough that Kate felt the warmth radiating from him. Once he finished dressing her wounds, he offered the primitive ice pack full of fresh snow. For a moment, Kate was taken to a memory from lifetimes ago, an image of falling off her bike and having her father patch her up.