Eridanus Flooding

14: Geniuses are Idiots

"You know, it would be easier if someone else did that. . ."

V.C. shrugged, leaning closer to her reflection. The blood on her face had dried and crusted, staining her skin a light pink.

"Easier isn't always better."

She tied off the end of the thread and placed Steri-Strips across the wound, closing it firmly. Beside a laceration transecting her left eyebrow and a split lip, her face was probably in better shape than the other guy.

Jack had seen the blood strewn across the kitchen floor, speckles of crimson. The blood trail had led drip by drip outside to tire treads and then disappeared. But there was enough there to know that the man was injured.

Badly.

After coming across a scene like that, Jack never wanted to get on her bad side. He had a nagging feeling that he would not make it out alive.

A hiss of pain escaped V.C.'s lips as she accidentally clenched her palm closed. A piece of glass glittered in a stream of sunlight. Jack lay the mirror on the seat beside him and grasped her hand in his own.

Skin to skin.

Bloody to clean.

"Let me."

He leaned forward, curling his fingers around her own and pulling them into his lap, balancing it on his thighs. Flushing the wound, Jack wrapped gauze gently around her cuts.

He could hear her breath, feel it. Warm and steady.

And close.

So close.

He ran his thumb down each finger. Tracing the path of creases.

Slow.

Soft.

Strictly professional tracing.

His aimless patterning ceased when a bang from a car door knocked him out of his stupor. Jack leaped back and V.C. jerked her hands into her lap.

Awkward silence basked in their midst.

"I--I..."

Jack cleared his throat roughly and fought the urge to ruffle his hair. Flipping open a pad, he shuffled his feet before asking if she could describe the assailant.

Shrugging one shoulder and flickering her eyes anywhere but at him, V.C. answered.

"6 ft. About 240lbs. Not much else; I didn't get a good look at him." Her eyes finally met his. "I was kinda busy, yanno. Trying not to die and everything."

Jack felt all of the tension dissipate at her sarcastic jibe and rolled his eyes.

"But he definitely is going to be in need of a doctor. He's got a broken nose and a knife wound to the thigh. I didn't hit the femoral artery, but he'll be bleeding pretty bad." She tapped a bound finger to her chin. "We should start by checking hospitals or clinics in the area."

She hopped up quickly. Too quickly. Her body swayed precariously before she righted herself.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine. Just perfect."

~**~~**~

He wouldn't let her drive back to Rinshawn. Something about 'impaired driving' and 'operating machinery with a concussion.'

She had meant to deny the concussion, but that EMT had gotten to Jack first, warning him of the dangers of a serious head impact.

That some met death in their sleep, never to return to the land of the living.