𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ➪ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐤¹

|| 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐖𝐚𝐫 ||

Samsa couldn't isolate the dreams from the nightmares. Her mind was conjuring up images that felt familiar yet strange to her. One moment, she was working as a nurse on the frontline during World War Two, the next, she was travelling the world with her sister in the Summer of 2015.

One memory, however, remained dominant over all the others. Samsa already hailed the day she lost Patsy Mills as the worst day of her entire existence. Having it played on a loop as she slept was the closest thing to hell she could imagine. An inescapable hell.

After what seemed like an eternity, the repeated nightmares came to an end. Samsa was too exhausted to open her eyes. She allowed her body to cool and heal while she slept.

Eventually, a bright light bloomed over her eyelids, pushing her to peel them open. Utterances were still blurred in her ears. She caught the tail end of some kind of communication but it sounded echoey.

"Your turn to pick a sequin, True. What's it gonna be?"

"Err...that one."

"Seriously? That colour against this fabric?"

"Why ask me in the first place if you're just going to judge my answer?"

"Alright, no need to get your feathers all ruffled, it's only a sequin!"

The slight raise of a woman's voice was the last push Samsa needed to reach consciousness. She squeezed her eyes shut multiple times in an attempt to adjust to her surroundings. Her mouth was incredibly dry which immediately led her into a coughing fit. Panic slithered into her lungs when she discovered the large tube lodged in her throat and a plastic casing covering the lower half of her face.

"Woah, Blondie, try not to fiddle with that. You're fine, I promise."

Samsa would recognise that Southern charm anywhere. She settled back and tried to control her breathing. As she did so, her vision started to settle as well.

Bones was there, hovering a tricorder over her body. That wasn't all. Someone was holding her left hand.

"Hey, you."

The next voice caused tears to blossom in her eyes. A familiar brunette was at her side, a goofy smile brightening her face.

"Lu...Luna." The word was cracked and muffled through the oxygen mask.

"I'm here, Kiddo," Luna cooed.

Samsa felt a hand stroking through her hair. She leant into the touch, craving a release from the pain. Her entire body felt weighted down as if all her muscles were made of lead. How long had she been out?

Upon attempting to lift her head, Samsa became aware of the wounds on her neck and side. They were still tender. Why hadn't they healed?

"You're alright, Sams. Calm down. You're safe." Luna's tone was angelic, resembling the softness of a lullaby. The reassurance was a warm welcome.

Samsa managed to sit back and settle into a fairly comfortable position while Doctor McCoy checked her over. It had taken three days for the virus to take its course. In that time, Jared, and all of his known associates, were put behind bars. Yet, no trial had taken place.

The oxygen mask was removed and her bed was adjusted, allowing her to sit in an upright position. The sight of Mason sitting next to Luna brought tears to the Sanguine's eyes. She wanted to reach out and hug him but the wound on her side cried in protest.

"Here, get some of this down you," Bones said, passing her a cup of water with a straw.

It felt strange to swallow with a nasogastric tube embedded in her throat, but the cool liquid was too refreshing to refuse. It also made speaking much easier, allowing Samsa to blurt her questions. "Is everyone okay? Where's Jim?"