Trigger Warning: Heavy on suicidal thoughts.
If you are having suicidal thoughts and need help, please seek help here: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org
***
Today marks one year from the day of your greatest regret, so it is absolutely fitting that it be your last. This is as good a place as any in this area for you to end your life. It is a cliff by a lonely mountain road where trucks sometimes pass by from one city to the next. But it's quiet now, so if you fall from here no one will know.
Your car is parked on the side of the road, maybe someone will find it in a few days, or maybe someone will steal it . Once you fall from this cliff to the water in the river below, no one will find your body. This is for the best, you don't want to trouble anyone with your death, Lord knows you've caused enough trouble in the past year.
You stand on the cliff, the quiet mountain road behind you. Green trees litter the side of the road and you bask in their dark shade, as the warm morning sunlight sips through and burns your skin. There are no tears in your face only determination, after all this is what needs to happen, no one else needs to get hurt except for you. This is it, this is the end. You close your eyes, and you feel the wind in your face and just as you're about to move your feet, and jump down, you hear a sound.
It comes from the trees behind you, and you blink as you turn to the side, only to see someone walking through the trees holding onto them for dear life as he passes them by. He is groaning slowly, breathing heavily. It's a man. He is dressed in only some long leather pants and a torn up coat. The first thing you notice is that there is blood all over his front, and there is a wound on his abdomen that is bleeding profusely as he tries to walk. As you watch in surprise, wondering if this is real, the man falls to the ground in a heap. You glance down to the river where, had he appeared even a few seconds later, you would surely have been drowning in. You breathe, what to do? He is clearly dead on his feet, but you decide to just walk over there and look at the wound, you can't help it, as a healthcare professional, it's more of a reflex really... despite everything that happened last year.
However when you get closer to him you finally notice that he is familiar. His hair is a burning red in the sunlight and the scars on his face are terrifying , but you take a good look at his face, and even with his eyes closed, the distinctive scar that runs over his left eye is unmistakable coupled with that red hair. This the man that you've been seeing on the news for a while. The serial killer who murdered 13 people in the last two months and currently has the police on high alert looking for him. A sinner just like you, both at the edge of death. You can both pay for your sins by dying. You suppose it won't hurt to stay with him until he dies, then you can die afterwards.
A bloody hand suddenly grabs yours, and you look down as the man struggles to talk. "I....don't wanna...die...can't die yet..." he groans. "Save...me..."
Why? You wonder in surprise. What could a man like him probably have to live for? Redemption? More darkness? Why did he cling to his worthless life?
***
"You must have the best luck in the world to run into a doctor when you're injured to the point of death." You say to your unconscious patient as you finally manage to lay the body down on the bed.
How did it end up like this? Why did you struggle to carry the man into your car, drive him to your home, and start nursing him? You weren't kidding about his luck. This house was left to you by your pharmacist grandfather when he passed away, and apparently, since noone had been staying here, he'd used it to store excess medication and medical devices for his pharmacy.
You have managed to irrigate the patient's stab wound and, using a local anaesthetic, suture it. The wound isn't his only injury however, as his left arm is clearly broken due to blunt force trauma, so you put it in a sling. He has some other minor cuts and bruises which you take care of as well.
He has been drifting in and out of consciousness for three days now. He groans in pain every now and then, especially when you change his bandages and administer antibiotics to him. You was his body with a cloth, the way you'd sometimes seen the nurses do with ICU patients, and honestly, you're not sure that you're doing it right. You dress him in your grandfather's old clothes, that are loose and breathable compared to his tattered coat.
Sometimes he whispers things, and turns in his sleep eliciting a pained groan from his wounds, but he is largely immobile. You're worried about his nutrition, as there are no TPNs to give him here, and he is bound to wake up soon. For now all you're doing is administering electrolytes through his IV line. You don't have much food in here as you weren't planning on using it anyway. Therefore, on the fourth day, after cleaning and dressing his wound, you decide to go shopping.
The shopping complex is a bit of a distance from your house, and that is because this place is in the outskirts of a city, but is basically the middle of nowhere. There are a few houses scattered along the woods until you reach the settlement where the people who work on the large Cocoa Plantation farm live with their families. The shopping complex is located in this region and it is basically like a small farming village. The shopping complex does not have a lot of shops, but has all the essentials that the poor families living here need, including a garage, grocery store and a clinic and one of the pharmacies your grandfather owned.
To be honest, you have no idea how long your house guest will stay, and he is the one you're shopping for, after all, you're still planning on dying when he finally leaves. No one knows you here, so nobody talks to you. It's just the way you like it, it's the reason why you moved to this remote area, after all. As you do your shopping, it occurs to you that you don't know what your patient likes, so you just buy what you used to buy when you were doing groceries for your ex-boyfriend.
Thinking about your ex brings everything back to the surface, and you're restless the entire drive home. For someone who lost everything in the span of three hours, and spent the rest of that year in a deep depression filled with pain and solitude, you wonder what exactly it is that you're doing taking care of a serial killer. In the past couple of days, you've done your research on him, and apparently, the gang that he led had fallen, thus he'd resorted to taking out his frustrations by killing people. There is no particular pattern in the victims, they range from criminals, to civilians, to politicians, men, and women alike. The only pattern is that the murders were done with a strange shaped knife, and all the victims were stabbed in the abdomen as well. They were all brutal, clearly the work of a madman, they had even dubbed him a manslayer.
So what merit is there in saving a man like that? A worthless life saving another worthless life? What bullshit, your life already lost its meaning months ago. Why is the manslayer holding on to his life? What more is there for him to do in this life? You sigh, letting the thoughts consume you as you finally park your car at home. Grabbing two of the grocery bags, you walk up to your door, and you unlock it.
You nearly drop the bags when a knife is pointed at your throat.
"Don't...move." The voice is breathy, clearly he is struggling to breathe.
Gently you put down the bags. It's odd, you have no fear for your life. Perhaps a part of you thinks it would be better if you were murdered than if you killed yourself, however, as he is now, this person will not be able to hurt you.
"I should be saying that. You're bleeding out all over my floor." You say to him, "I don't have a maid you know."
"Who're...y..." His hand is trembling and he wobbles, and falls on his knees in pain.
Difficult patients have always been a pain to handle for you, but you sigh, take his arm and help him up, even as the knife falls to the floor. "Let's get you to the sofa, and I'll answer your questions."
Once there, you go get him some water and pain tablets that he merely eyes dizzily. You give him a once over, and yeah, he definitely opened his stitches, but his cast is still in place. Honestly, this will set back his recovery days.
"Speak." He says.
"My name is Y/N, I found you in the woods and brought you to my house." You tell him, holding the two tablets in your hand. "Please drink this, it will lessen your pain, and I need to change your bandages."
He doesn't take it. "Where is this?"
You hold out the tablets stubbornly. He scowls, and his shaking hand takes them from you, and he puts them in his mouth. You hand him the water, and still scowling, clearly displeased, (though sweating from pain) he uses it to wash down the medication.
"Whole Cake Island."
The scowl doesn't go away as he says, "I know. Where on the island?"
"We're a few kilometres from a small settlement in the Seducing Woods. I'll go get my first aid kit, so just sit tight okay?" You stand up, but he grabs your hand, it's not a very tight hold.
"I need to...get to Sweet City...now..." He says.
You break free from his hold, "You won't be able to walk from here to my driveway without reopening your stitches until at least next week. If you want to live, focus on getting better first." It doesn't take long for you to gather the items you need from the storeroom and bring them back to the living room. Surprisingly, he doesn't seem to have moved, which you consider a win.
"You lyin'?" He asks through drowsy eyes, watching you cut the bandage roll. "I've had stitches before..."
"Ah," You say opening the water for irrigation, "I'm not. It's just, well, this isn't my specialty, okay? I haven't had to stitch someone up since like medschool, so I'm a bit rusty."
"You're...a doctor." It's a statement, not a question, so you don't answer, or maybe you just want to avoid the topic altogether.
"Lie down." You instruct, and after a moment of hesitation, he complies. You proceed to clean and disinfect the wound, and he barely flinches, just lies there, breathing in and out heavily.
He must be really weak, you think, and make him an offer. "You must be hungry, you've not eaten in days. I'll make something for you so you can eat as soon as you wake up."
"Why?"
"Because you need to eat."
His eyes are closed, the medication must be starting to kick in, but he manages to speak, "Not pasta."
~
You are done cooking by the time he wakes up. Honestly, you've outdone yourself.
"How are you feeling?" You ask, as he sits up on the sofa.
"Better." He admits, "and hungry." He can probably smell the food from here too.
"Right, we can eat here, I'll bring the food right now." You say, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice as you begin to set the table. When you're done, you see the surprised look on his face and you blink, "Sorry, I haven't cooked for anyone else in about a year, and I guess I made too much. But look on the bright side, there's rice, there's garlic butter chicken here, potatoes and beans stew, um, and mushrooms and peas salad...plenty to choose from." You ramble.
Tentatively, he takes the spoon and tastes the food. You are aware that you are watching him closely, but you can't help but be pleased by the softening of his facial expression. He seems pleased with the food, and accordingly, digs in.
As it turns out, he's a big eater. He seems to inhale the food like he hasn't had a meal in weeks. You're halfway through your plate when he looks up expectantly. "The rice is finished." He says.
So is everything else, you want to say, but you made too much anyway, so there's more food in the kitchen. His disappointment at the food being finished quickly turns into delight when you bring him more. It's quite satisfying to see someone eat your food like this.
"How long have I been here?" He asks, as soon as he finishes eating. He seems to be able to speak well now.
"Three days, four today." you tell him as you gather the dishes, taking them to the sink.
"Three..." he mutters, "That means this was my first meal in five days."
Before you can respond, he bows his head, and says, "Thank you for the food."
It takes you by surprise, when was the last time anyone genuinely expressed their gratitude to you? You'd forgotten what it feels like to take care of someone else. For a moment, you forget the type of person that he is, and you smile. "No problem."
Wait.
You smiled?
How long has it been since you did that? Since anything warmed your heart enough to smile? Since you felt any other emotion besides guilt and sadness? Certainly, too long...or perhaps, not long enough. "Here, take your medication. I'll help you to your room."
He eyes the tablets, "We need to talk."
"We'll talk tomorrow."
"You said we'd talk after I woke up."
"Go to sleep." You say firmly. "Your mind will be clearer in the morning."
"I-"
"That's an order."
He frowns, "I don't take orders from anyone."
"Please listen to me. I'm your doctor. You said you wanted to go somewhere, you need to take your medicine, and get better first." You insist.
Scowling again, which is clearly the only way he can protest since he knows that you're right, he swallows the tablets whole. You put his good arm around your shoulders, and help him stand up. Luckily, the guest room is close to the living room because no matter how much he tries to walk on his own, he is still very heavy to assist.
"We'll talk tomorrow." He confirms as soon as you lay him down on the bed.
"Sure. Goodnight."
*
"Do you want me to help you wash your body?" You ask, the next morning after you help your patient change bandages.
"Don't you dare." Is all he says, so you bring him a basin of warm water, bathing soap and some towels.
You don't know why he's being shy, given the fact that you bathed him in the past few days.
By the time he comes out of the room (holding on to the wall and walking slowly until you go and assist him) you have breakfast ready.
"Tea or coffee?" You ask.
"Coffee."
As expected. You hand him a cup, and the rest of his food on a tray.
"You don't have bread?" He asks.
You blink. "Oh right, sorry. I'm so used to just keeping the bread for myself." You hasten back to the kitchen and bring him some. "My ex, he hated bread, so it's become kind of a habit not to dish it up for someone else...sorry."
"It's fine." He says, and as he eats, he watches you. His eyes searching for something.
"What?"
He frowns, "Turn on the TV. I wanna see the news."
"I don't have cable." You tell him stubbornly .
"I'm sure you have WiFi!"
"Finish your food first, then we'll watch TV." You're worried, he probably wants to know what's being said about him on the news.
"Am I a child? Fine, whatever." He resigns, before changing the subject.
"Do you live alone?" He asks.
You are startled. Normally if a suspicious guy like him asked you this, you'd lie. Say no. But he already knows you live alone, and honestly, you don't see the point in lying.
"Yes."
"You are a really, really hot girl-" He shamelessly checks you out as he says this, "-who lives alone in the middle of nowhere... Do you make a habit of picking up strange dangerous men in the woods and bringing them to your house?"
"No. You... I know who you are." You admit.
He blinks, and then shakes his head. "You took me in, and nursed me... having seen everything that's being said about me on the news? Are you one of those pretty but completely stupid bitches?"
His condescending statement after all you've done for him, makes you angry. "Perhaps. But I don't need a fucking serial killer to judge me!"
"Don't try me, Doc. I may be injured, but I sure as hell am confident that I can kill you if I need to." He retorts.
You scoff, "If you think you can keep me on my best behaviour by threatening me, don't bother. My life is meaningless."
You stand up, turn on the TV and go to the kitchen.
It's cold.
You spend the rest of the day outside, in the garden. To be honest, this place is your only solace from the craziness of your mind. Tending to the flowers that you planted in the past year has become less of a hobby and more of a necessity to keep your sanity. The good thing is that some of them have started to bloom.
You find him asleep on the sofa later in the day when you go on to start preparing for dinner. It seems like he took his medication without your nagging today. You make him a large meal, and place it on the living room table in front of him, and before he wakes up, you shut yourself in your room. He'll either sleep there tonight or crawl to his room. You don't care, you don't appreciate the way he spoke to you today. How dare he threaten you, his life's saviour like that? What an ass.
*
He wakes up earlier than you the following day. He's already sitting up and waiting by the time you get to his room.
Without saying a word to him, you remove the bandage. There is no bleeding today, which is a good sign. You press slightly on the wound. "Do you feel any pain?"
"Hmph." He says, and you can feel it with your hands where you're pressing. "So, you ignored me the whole day, but you still want to take care of me?"
You press harder. He flinched.
"Do you feel pain or not?"
"Only when you're pressing like that!" He snaps.
"Good." You withdraw. " The good news is that I don't think you'll get an infection, and the wound is healing nicely, so I'll probably be able to remove the stitches in about six to eight days. What I'm worried more about is your arm. A makeshift cast like that....it probably won't be back to normal without surgery."
He shifts uncomfortably as you apply the antibiotic cream to his wound.
"Don't worry about the arm, it's been messed up since last year, I can barely even feel it." He tells you. "Listen, Doc. I didn't mean to offend you yesterday, it's just you're an odd girl, you know? Hot, but odd. What's your name?"
You find yourself relaxing a little thanks to his apology as you finish wrapping him with the bandage. "I told you, my name is Y/N."
"Nice to meet you Doc. I'm Eustass Kid." He grins. It's not a scary, run-for-your-life, smile, but an amused one.
~
That night you have the same nightmare again. You're in that theatre, on that day. Everything is vivid, because your brain remembers it very well. Every detail about the medication tray is clearer to you now than it was on that day. In the dream, you administer the anaesthesia, and the child smiles at you before he falls asleep. Law makes the incision carefully and you diligently monitor the child's vitals, and during the surgery, his blood pressure spikes, and you quickly administer the appropriate dose of labetalol so that the surgery can proceed smoothly.
It does.
In a few hours the surgery is done and you can't wait to tell the boy's mother that he will be fine.
It's only a nightmare because you have to wake up from it and remember that this is not what actually happened, as you sweat profusely and cry unbearably.
*
The eighth day you change his cast, but his arm is still very messed up.
"You need to see an orthopaedic surgeon, I don't think your bone is healing very well. I'm doing the best I can but..." you inform him.
For a moment he doesn't say anything, then he asks, "What kinda doctor are you? You a quack or some shit? You say you're terrible at stitches and also you can't fit a cast well?"
You glare at him as you finish up. "I'm an anaesthetist, okay. And also, I haven't treated anyone in over a year. I'm a bit rusty."
"Hmm." He mutters. "By your recommendation, how soon can I start going to Sweet city?" He asks.
He hasn't been impatient, but you've seen him everyday scanning the news, clearly looking for something. "Depends on how you're planning to get there."
He shrugs, "I jumped into a moving truck after being stabbed and I jumped off in the middle of the road to get into this forest. I'm sure I can just find a truck again on the road."
You raise your eyebrows as you close the first aid kit. "If that's your mode of transportation, I don't recommend leaving."
"Oh come on, Doc. You know there's another reason you want me to stay. If you've fallen for me just say so, I wouldn't be opposed to it, honestly, you just gotta say the word."
Perhaps it's because no one has hit on you in months, or perhaps it's because he's so shameless about it, but you can't help but feel the heat of embarrassment on your cheeks. "Don't flatter yourself Eustass, you're not my type." You need to change the subject. "Why do you wanna leave so badly anyway?"
The playful look on his face disappears , and you think that perhaps he won't answer, but he does.
"There are people waiting for me. Their lives depend entirely on my return. My crew is scattered and they are suffering because I'm not there. I have to get back to them." There is a fierce determination on his face that you haven't seen since the day you found him when he said he wanted to live.
Are they the reason he wants to live in spite of his sins? If so, then you're not like him at all, after all, you don't have anyone who has any expectations from you anymore.
"I'd recommend twelve days, but if you're in a hurry at least seven more days." You cave.
~
It's a different nightmare tonight. You're at the funeral, and you can see the raw unfiltered pain in Smoothie's face, the tears as she holds the picture of her dead child in her arms. The love that she held for him now completely overcome with pure sorrow. She is held in the comforting arms of her wife as the same pain is reflected in her eyes.
But then Smoothie sees you and that pain turns into anger and she stands up and walks over to you, she shakes you violently, and she screams at you. You're numb, crying apologising, not knowing what to do. You need support. Where is Law? He was just here holding your hand, telling you it would be okay, but this is a nightmare, so he's not here to comfort you. You're all alone.
Your heart feels like it's burning, you want to claw it out so that you can breathe. You also loved that child so much so your own heart is breaking into pieces too. But she's here, the person who loved him the most and she's crying and you're both hysterical. You can't breathe. It's too crowded...you feel as though you're being suffocated. It hurts.
"Shh...it's okay, you're okay..." a comforting voice says. You feel a strong hand clasping your shaking one. You want to hold on to this comforting hand. "It's okay, open your eyes."
He gently pulls you to him, and the warmth is refreshing, as you cry into his chest.
"Law?" You open your eyes.
But you're not in Law's arms at the funeral, you're in your bed, and your red haired guest is comforting you quietly as your head is laid on his chest.
"Eustass?" You say, pulling yourself away from him.
"You okay?" He looks like he just woke up, and there's heavy concern on his face. The way that he asks is full of concern, and well, this is just great...you're so pitiful that even a serial killer is worried.
"Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep." You say, quietly wrapping your blanket around you.
"Lie down." He doesn't look like he believes you, and instead grabs a chair from your dresser and sits down.
You sigh , but lie back down anyway, facing away from him. It's silent for a second, then he starts humming quietly. It's unlike him, a soothing and comforting sound that you have heard before.
"Binks' Sake?" You ask.
He pauses humming. "You know it?"
"Yeah." You smile, then turn over in the bed, to face him.
"Killer...my friend, he used to sing it to me when I was sick." He has a fond look on his face.
You can't help but snort, "Of course you've got a friend named Killer."
He grins, "Yeah, pretty intimidating isn't it? It makes our enemies cower even before they meet us. Anyway, how do you know the song?"
"Oh, that...a friend of Law's loves that song. Whenever we reluctantly went to one of his parties, he'd sing it with his friends when they got drunk." You smile, remembering how annoyed Law would get everytime Luffy tried to drag him to the dance floor, it was hilarious.
"Who's Law?" Kid asks clearly curious. "He your boyfriend?"
"What's it to you?"
"He is, isn't he?" He purses his lips. "What's he do? He a serial killer too?"
"Well, he is good with a blade." You snort. "He's a cardio-thoracic surgeon."
Eustass Kid scratches his head, "Imma pretend I know what that is. So is he your man or not?"
You look up with raised eyebrows, "Why? Are you jealous?"
He smirks, "'Course. You're really hot."
You choke on your own saliva. He looks satisfied.
Great, a serial killer is flirting with you. Again.
You don't notice this until later, but you fall asleep again without thinking about your nightmare.
*
He finds you in the garden in the afternoon, as you tend to the flowers in there.
"Wow, you got a garden in here?" He asks, walking slowly towards you, and stopping by the wall.
"Yeah, but marigolds are the only things I know how to raise, so..." You finish removing the dying blossoms, and you pick up the watering can.
"They are pretty, but I don't get it, why?"
"It's a hobby. I'm stuck in this place in the middle of nowhere, with nothing else to do." You tell him.
"Is that why you saved me too? You have nothing else to do?" It's a serious question , and those eyes are demanding an answer from you.
"No, that's not why." You continue watering the flowerbed, not looking at him as he observes you shrewdly while he leans against the wall.
"Who is it?"
"What?" You still don't look up, and you pretend to be busy.
"Who do you want me to kill for you? That's the payment you want right?" He asks.
You nearly drop the watering can in shock at how casually he says those words. How dare he make that assumption? How dare he assume you to be that kind of a person? You walk up to him scowling, and slap him across the face. He doesn't look surprised.
"What the fuck does a life mean to you? Huh? If I asked you to kill someone right now, you'd really do it? No questions asked? How can you want to live like that?" You shout at him angrily.
He merely shrugs, "I've taken many lives before...good people, bad people...they all die the same. It's not that hard to end a life."
No, it's not. You know this very well. "I am a doctor, I save lives!" You pause, as the bitter truth of reality bites you. "It's what I'm supposed to do. So don't come in here and try to corrupt my decision, my mind, okay? Don't-"
"Fine, I get it. There's no need to get pissy." He turns away. "It's cold out here, I'm going back in."
*
The tenth day goes by like any other, and you sit in front of the television watching the news. The main news story is that Queen Linlin announced that she is getting married to her forty-third husband.
"Is that old bitch serious? Why the hell would anyone ever still want to marry her?" Eustass marvels, shaking his head.
"You shouldn't speak that way about our queen. And they marry her because she's rich, and their kids automatically become royalty." You tell him. You neglect to mention your own relationship with the royal family. You'll probably be invited to the wedding, but that's one thing you won't regret missing when you die.
"She can't possibly have anymore children! Like, do you know that one in ten people on this island is related to her?" He shakes his head, and you stifle a laugh as he doesn't know just how close to home that statistic is.
The light mood quickly darkens, however when the next top story is read. You blink in surprise as you think you misheard the reporter, but no, she clearly said that the manslayer has struck again in Sweet City.
"Wait a sec, you're not-" you start in confusion, but Eustass violently slams his good hand on the glass table, shattering it.
You look at him, and he is livid. His face is contorted with anger, the now bleeding hand balled into a fist. "Fucking bastard!" He growls angrily.
You stay put, afraid to make a move, until his anger deflates, and he sits back down.
"Are you okay? What's going on?" You ask.
"It's a warning. They think I might be dead, but they are still not letting Killer go. They are still making him do their dirty work. And if I'm alive they're warning me not to do anything rash because he's their hostage..." he looks down. "Why must he dirty his hands for me again?"
You don't fully understand what's going on, but he was there for you when you were traumatised by your dream, so you walk over, and gently place your hand on his back. His breathing is heavy.
"I'm sorry." Is all you can say.
He doesn't say anything as the news displays his wanted poster on the screen.
"Let me treat your hand." You ask quietly. A moment passes before he places that bleeding hand in yours.
Thankfully, the first aid kit stays in the living room now, so all you have to do is stretch out your hand. His hand is warm, and you can feel his pulse through his wrist, faster than it should be as you clean the wound. For some reason, even though you're looking down at his hand, you can feel him watching you, and he's very close. And you can tell, somehow that you holding his hand like this is making his anger dissipate.
It's a strange feeling, a warmth that starts somewhere in the pit of your stomach and makes it's way up to your heart, making it beat. It's a good feeling, one that you can only feel because you're alive, and you have someone next to you, who needs you.
"You're very kind." He says, and his voice sounds like he's in your ear, whispering it.
"There are many who would disagree with you." You say without looking up. Like your sister.
"They are wrong."
He doesn't even know you but he says that so confidently, and damn, you want to believe him.
"All done." You say putting the band aid on his hand. Under the pretext of putting away the first aid kit, you shift away from him on the couch, and you let go his hand.
He is silent for a moment, then speaks. "He's not like me, you know. Killer. With a name like that, you'd expect him to be a bloodthirsty son of a bitch, but all the bad things he's ever done, all the lives he's ever taken...were for me." He says sombrely. "I can't count how many times he's saved me, but I have to go back to him. I have to pull him out of that darkness that they've sent him into because of me."
You honestly don't understand, but you kind of get it. "If he's your friend, then yeah, of course you have to save him."
And then Eustass Kid smiles, "He'd like you."
***
He wakes up earlier than you on the eleventh day. You know this because the smoke alarm wakes you up, and you rush to the kitchen to find actual fire in a saucepan on the stove, and Eustass Kid trying fiercely to put it out.
You finally manage to calm things down with a fire extinguisher.
"What are you doing?" You ask with a yawn, not having the energy to shout.
"Making you breakfast in bed?" He tries.
"I'd appreciate it if I enjoyed eating coal." You snap. "There's bread, polony and you can make coffee without burning anything, okay. I'm tired. I'm going back to bed."
"Wait." He asks. "I actually wanted to ask you for a favour. Can I fix the van in the garage? If I do will you let me borrow it when I go back to Sweet City?"
You blink. Your grandfather's van has not been used since he died two years ago, and you're going to die anyway, so. "Yeah, sure, whatever." You say going back to bed.
Fixing the van keeps him occupied for the next couple of days, by which time his wound is healing nicely. He will be leaving soon, so you have to ask him what you need to ask him.
That night after dinner, you make a decision. Every day that he's here, is a day that you did not expect to live. You need to prepare yourself for the worst again, as soon as he leaves.
"Eustass, can I ask you something?" It's been days since you saved him. You're still afraid of asking the real question, and you're not sure how he will react.
"Sure." He says, looking interestedly at the news on TV.
"What's it like to take a life voluntarily?" You ask.
He stiffens, and turns sharply to you, clearly caught off guard by your question? "What?"
"How does it feel to kill people? How can you live with it? Doing something so abhorrent like taking away someone's future...how can you possibly think you deserve to live after that?" You ask, genuinely wanting to know how he cops with it. The news may dub him a psychopath, but you've spent a week with the man, he is very much human.
But then his eyes darken, and his expression sours, as he appraises you quietly. "Who's the one judging now?" His voice is lower than usual. "But, if you're so curious Doc, why don't I show you just what kind of expression I have on my face as I kill someone...by killing you?"
You flinch back unintentionally, it is less the threat that scares you and more his tone of voice, and his face. You know without a shadow of doubt that he can kill you if he so desires. "Y-you don't scare me."
He snorts, and then shifts on the couch, moving closer to you. "Say that to me without a stutter, and I might believe you."
He's too close, and his eyes are staring back at you intensely. It makes you nervous, body heating up, heart pumping, ready for anything. You have to respond, say something and not be dragged into his pace. "Whatever." You say.
Lame.
But he smiles, and his good hand reaches out, and you feel the cold hand on your warm cheek. "I don't get it. You're an amazing woman, you're hot, very beautiful...a fucking doctor, you're kind, sassy, you grow flowers, you are great cook...so why, why were you trying to jump that day?"
You blink. You'd thought he was too disoriented to remember the day you found him, but evidently he remembers.
You turn your face away from him. "Maybe that's all just a mask. And underneath that perfect exterior...lies a murderer like you." You stand up.
You don't look to see what expression he has on his face.
*
The nightmares don't stop, but they die down slowly. Hell, you even dream of a time when you and Smoothie were happy, when she didn't hate you, and your family was complete.
And it's not a nightmare, but he still hears you crying, and you wake up to him patting your hair gently and humming Binks' sake. You immediately relax in his presence, but you can feel the dread in your heart because the van is workin now, and he's leaving tomorrow, so when you're living alone, your depression will intensify again.
Wait.
Living alone?
When he leaves, you'll kill yourself, right? So, why are you worried about life after he leaves?
You open your eyes, and he is sitting there, humming quietly, and he smiles when he sees you awake. It makes you think of how good it feels to have someone smile because of you.
"Morning." He says.
"Good Morning." You breathe, and suddenly, it feels the day is worth living.
~
It's twilight, and the sun is going down with your mood as you sit across him in the living room.
"Come sit with me." He says.
You don't have the energy to refuse so you go over to your usual spot next to him on the couch. "No, sit on my right, please." He asks.
"Why?" You're puzzled.
"Please?"
"Ugh, fine." There's not much space on his right, and he doesn't move to give you space, so you have to sit right next to him. He reaches out, and to your surprise, places his arm around you.
"W...W.." You are so surprised that you can't form words. But you don't push his arm away. This is the last time anyway, so you lean against him, your head on his shoulder.
"Don't die." He says quietly.
"Why not? You won't be here, just...pretend you never knew me." You reply.
"Why did you save me? Were you too afraid to do it yourself? Did you want me to kill you?" He asks.
Did you? Somewhere inside, perhaps you hoped a serial killer would end your life and you'd be remembered as a victim rather than a villain.
"Perhaps." You admit. "But I would have died with you on that cliff, yet, you a serial killer wanted to live...I just wanted to know why."
"I'm not a serial killer." He confesses. "I am a gang leader, so I've taken lives before, but the manslayer...it's Killer. I fucked up, I went after one of the four dons, I wanted to move up, but my allies betrayed me, and I was captured."
You look at him. Not a serial killer, but still a killer, Huh?
"That bastard made Killer his personal assassin, and since I was missing, he pinned the murders on me. Killer did it so he wouldn't kill me. I failed him, I failed all of them." Kid tells you. "That's why I want to live. I have to make things right. I know you're depressed, and I know I can't begin to understand your mental health, but someone like you with clean hands, who saves lives, can find a reason to live."
"They aren't clean." Your hands tremble, and tears claw at your eyelids. "I killed someone. A boy. A five year old child."
"What?" He sounds shocked.
You can't bear to look up and see his reaction.
"My sister's son! She struggled so hard to conceive in a family that values children above all else...she can't have anymore kids and I took the only one she had." You can't see anymore because the pouring tears are clouding your eyes. "She trusted me with him. I was there in that operating room when his blood pressure shot up. Phenylepherine...I accidentally gave him gave him a drug to increase his blood pressure instead of the one to reduce it and I....I..." you can't breathe.
He pulls you closer to him, and you can't stop crying thinking of that day, as he holds you. "A simple mistake...Law tried his best but....but we couldn't...we couldn't get it to go...go down after that...we lost him...I killed him..." You cry. "How can I be allowed to live, after taking a young life?"
He wiped your tears with his hand. "It was an accident. I can feel your pain, but it was an accident, Y/N."
Law said the same thing, and you only got suspended instead of losing your license, but it doesn't change the fact that he's gone.
"I wanted to die so I can apologise to him in the afterlife and finally be free of this guilt, but... taking care of you reminded me of taking care of my sister after she had him...and how much we prayed for him to live...and I..I wavered..." you confess.
"Look at me." He says. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to live. I want you to live, I want you to want to live. And it's not just because you saved me, or just because I think that something could happen between us, but because there is not a life in this world that does not deserve to live."
You are looking at him, and he has a serious look in his face.
"I'm sure you loved that child, so carry him with you, and live the years he never got to. Apologise to your sister as many times as possible. Even if it hurts, even if it breaks you sometimes, because I can promise you, from experience, that if you kill yourself before you kneel before your sister, and beg endlessly for her forgiveness, she will never forgive you, and you will never forgive yourself." He says.
There's a story there, and maybe one day he will tell you. But for now you take his words to heart. To live through the pain. Yeah, maybe you weren't looking for anything more than a reason to live, or maybe you already had a reason to live but it was too painful to bear.
*
He leaves the following day.
You give him food for the road, and he smiles, "You're gonna make someone a very good wife one day."
You raise your eyebrows, "You offering?"
"Maybe when my war is over." He says seriously.
You huff, "I already told you, you're not my type."
He steps closer, and wraps his one good arm around your waist. "Don't die on me. I promise I'll come back for you."
You let yourself drown in his warmth, and you hold on to him, and close your eyes. "I'm scared, Eustass."
"Of what?"
"Living."
He pulls back and looks at you, "I want to ask you to come with me, but I don't know if I can protect you."
"Even if you did, I'd still be scared. Of my mother, of my sister, of the operating room, of facing everything...I'm a coward." You say. "But, I do...want to want to live...and I wanted to thank you because you gave that to me. You made think about living again. So thank you."
He gently kisses your forehead.
"Thank me by living."
And then he's gone. But you're still alive the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that....
***
A/N
Phew, this was only supposed to be 2000 words, and it's probably a one shot, I don't know, my brain has the whole world mapped out and an entire possible story, but I'm lazy.
Xoxo
Rhea.