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𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐱
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I'm just getting back into our hotel room when I start to feel the pain seeping from my wounds. I walk in and it's completely quiet.
I guess Aziel and Aspen passed out.
That's good, I don't really want them to see what happened and I don't feel like talking about it. Sighing I walk towards the kitchen getting ready to clean my wounds but stop mid-step when I see Hayes. I'm suddenly so glad the lights are off.
I lean against the fridge trying to seem as casual as possible but I feel myself start to get light-headed from the blood loss.
"Where were you?" He asks slowly walking towards me.
"Getting more vodka for Aspen and Aziel. But I guess they passed out." I say to him, trying to keep the pain out of my voice. He walks past the island only a few feet from me. "Why are you in here?"
"Late night snack." He looks me up and down, "You seem pretty out of breath for just getting some vodka..." Hayes muses.
I hum in thought as I feel my head getting lighter, "I took the stairs up here...you know...exercise is...good."
"Mhm, where's the vodka?" He mumbles.
Right...
He's in front of me now. I can't see the look on his face or how he's feeling because it's so dark in here. Our chests are almost touching and I try to control my breathing so he doesn't think anything is wrong.
"Someone stole it from me." I lie.
"Is that what happened?" He starts bringing his arm up. As he leans in closer, I remember the feeling of his hands and lips on me from the other night. My breathing deepens even more as I remember how his hands gripped my hips and hair. How his lips felt creating these marks on my neck. How his teeth felt when they closed around my skin in the most sensual way. How his hips grinded into mine sending feelings of ecstasy through both of us.
I'm to distracted by the thoughts from last night to see what he's about to do. He pushes down on my arm (the arm Andrey's guy stabbed me in) and I yelp in pain jumping out of the way.
"Jesus Christ Phoenix. What the fuck happened?" He looks down at his hand probably seeing all the blood on it.
"It's that time of the month." I try to joke but I feel myself about to pass out from the pain. I grip the counter my knuckles going white from trying to stay conscious.
I swear I see his lips pull into a grin but it's gone so quickly I was probably just hallucinating from the blood loss. My knees buck from underneath me, and my grip loosens on the counter and I brace for impact on the floor.
Quickly Hayes rushes over and wraps his arms around me, catching me before I fall and he curses audibly. He turns me so I'm facing him, and then he sets me on the island
"Stay here." He says and then he walks into the hallway. I lay back on the counter because even sitting feels like to much work.
I hear water running from the bathroom in the hallway. The cabinets opening and closing. I feel my breath get heavier the more blood I lose.
A few seconds later, he comes back with a first aid kit. I try to sit up again but black dots dance across my vision making me pant. I'm suddenly picked up again and brought over to the couch.
"No, no. Blood is gonna get all over the couch." I protest.
"No it's not." Hayes places me down, that's when I see the towel already splayed across the couch. Hayes flicks on the lamp on the side table, engulfing the room in a warm glow.
He starts pulling things out of the first aid kit as he kneels down in front of me.
"Mm-mm, gimme that I can do it myself." I stubbornly try to grab for the box but he easily slips out of my reach since my movements are slower.
"No way." He looks over at me. "You're about to black out from all the blood loss from whatever the fuck happened to you. Which I expect you to tell me about."
"God your such a Dad." I sigh leaning into the couch more.
"There's an innuendo somewhere in there," Hayes rolls his eyes but I see a smirk pull at his lips.
"Get your mind out of the gutter," I breathe out a chuckle as he pulls out a needle and thread.
"Your jacket needs to be off so I can stitch your arm up." He says. I sit up to take my sweatshirt off and I get about half way through before black dots make an appearance in my vision again. I start panting again and Hayes sits up to take it off for me. His knuckles brush down my arms as he pulls my jacket off my body.
He gets out rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad and starts to rub it on the stab wound. I hiss at the pain but stay in place.
"Do you have any other cuts?" He questions once he's finished cleaning my arm. I point to where the bullet grazed my other arm. I feel a burning pain in my abdomen. I lift up shirt to show him a deep slice from a knife that I hadn't noticed earlier.
He leans over and cleans up the bullet graze, "Bullets? Seriously?" He raises his eyebrow at me, "Tell me what happened." His voice is commanding as his jaw clenches, leaving little room for argument.
So I tell him what happened and if Hayes is shocked he barely shows it other than his jaw tensing in anger or a slight widening of his eyes.
He hesitates when he moves to clean the cut on my rib. Then he clears his throat and lifting my shirt. My breath hitches when his thumb accidentally brushes my bra. And I think he's trying his best not to look at my boobs because his eyes are so focused on the cut, it's unnatural. It makes me chuckle and his gaze finds mine.
"What?" He mutters, his brows furrowed in concentration as he cleans the wound.
"Nothing." I try to hide my smile. He rolls his eyes at me. I feel his breath fan across my ribs and it makes goosebumps rise on my skin. I internally curse my hormones.
There's a few minutes of silence as he starts to stitch my wounds which leaves me alone in my thoughts.
She's alive.
I only realize I said it out loud when Hayes looks at me and asks, "Who?"
I forgot I left that part out of the story. I contemplate telling him, but as a member of the team, he should know. "My mom." I murmur. I feel tears start to prick at my eyes but I blink them away quickly. There's no way I'm crying in front of Hayes of all people.
"What?" Confusion is written all over his face as he pauses his stitching. "How do you know?"
"Because that guy told me." I look over at him.
"What'd he say exactly?"
"He thought I was my Mom and asked me how I got out. I also asked if she was alive, and he said yeah, but not for long..."
Hayes hums in thought and continues his stitching.
"But that just means that she's been tortured for all these years." I whisper. I wince when Hayes sticks the needle through my arm one last time before tying the suture off and moving to the bullet graze on my other arm.
"Do you wish he had killed her?" Hayes asks with empathetic eyes.
I'm surprised he's actually indulging in this topic with me. Usually people in the agency never talk about my mom when I'm around. Or it just gets so awkward whenever I do talk about her (which is rarely).
I kinda like it though. Even with Cole, we both know how much it hurts to dive into detail about my mom and dad. But having somebody actually ask and not beat around the bush about it...I don't know it just feels...nice, I guess?
"I don't know." I mumble an answer. "Maybe there are times when my mom is there and she wishes he killed her with my dad. And I hate that thought."
He pauses before answering, "I'm sure she has thought that a few times." Hayes brows furrows as he concentrates on the stitching, "But I'm sure she wants to stay alive so she can see you again. You know, see the woman you've become."
I my lips lift slightly at that thought, but it fades quickly.
We sit in silence as he finishes the stitches on my other arm. He ties off the suture and directs his attention to my abdomen. He clears his throat before cleaning off the needle and putting a new thread in. He hesitates before lifting up my shirt.
He gestures toward my shirt, "Can you..."
I chuckle lifting my shirt up at best as I can without hurting my arms. He leans into and pokes the needle through my skin. I wince at the sharp pain. Hayes' breath fans across my stomach, sending butterflies through me.
Stupid hormones.
With his head being so close to me, my mind starts to drift to dark places. Like what it would feel like for his head to be between my-
I shift on the couch at my thoughts, feeling a pulsing ache down there. Hayes' eyes shift to me for a brief second, "You okay?"
"Mhm," I hum.
"Almost done," He murmurs as he concentrates on the stitches again.
"Okay Doc Mcstuffins," I grin.
"Don't call me that," Hayes says but I see his lips lift just a fraction.
A few minutes later he ties off the stitching and puts down the needle. He grabs something else from the first aid kit. "This'll help with the healing process." He squeezes something from a tube on his finger and rubs it on my arm.
"Are you sure you're not Doc Mcstu-"
"Phoenix." Hayes warns.
"You're getting a little too defensive..." I trail. He just sighs and shakes his head at me. He moves to put the cream on my other arm too. Once he finished with that are me moves back to my abdomen. He pauses a beat before rubbing it on the wound.
He rubs the cream on my rib and my mind flashes back to the other night as chills rise across my body and I curse at myself internally. His fingers rub in circular motions around the wound and I feel tiredness start to claim me as he continues his gentle motions.
That was until I feel him stiffen for a second before he continues his movements.
"What?" I mumble tiredly.
"Nothing." He says.
"No, you paused. What?" I ask, looking down at him.
He finishes rubbing the cream in and wipes his hands off on a towel. He looks up at me and sighs. "You don't have to answer if you don't want-"
"Can you just ask?" I cut to the chase.
He rolls his eyes at me. His eyes moves back down to my exposed stomach, and by the look on his face I already know what he's going to ask. "What is this from?" His eyes are directed to the large scar across my stomach, going from my left rib and stopping a few inches above my right hip.
Dark memories flash behind my eyes and I clench my fists. Memories of voices whisper through my mind. The pain, both emotional and physical, making an appearance again like an unexpected wave.
"From a time that I don't like to remember," I state simply, cutting off the flow of memories. Hayes opens his mouth to ask another question but I cut him off, "No it's not from Andrey."
Hayes stares at me. He doesn't say anything he just looks, and I look back. It's like we've come to a mental mutual agreement that this isn't something he's ever gonna find out about unless I ever get close with him (and that'll happen when pigs fly), because the only person who knows about the trauma behind that scar is Cole, and I'd like to keep the number that do know about it, to a minimum.
"Okay." Hayes whispers, nodding.
I hear him get up as my eyelids start to close. I hear the faucet turn on and off and then his footsteps move towards me again. Hayes taps my shoulder making me open my eyes.
"Hmm?" I ask.
"You have blood all over your face, so..." He gestures to the wet cloth.
"Oh...right." I mumble tiredly. I close my eyes again and then I feel a cold soft rag move across my face in gentle movements. I hum at the feeling.
I feel the cloth drag under my eyes slowly, making sure to get all the blood off. He moves it down to my cheek, wiping up and down softly. He starts wiping the blood off from my chin. I feel the cloth pause, and when I'm about to open my eyes to look at Hayes he starts cleaning my face again. He delicately cleans my other cheek and down my nose. The soothing movements of the cloth on my face make my consciousness start to drift. I feel him move the towel up to my forehead and rub it softly. He gently clean my hairline, making sure that most of the blood is gone.
I feel him stop his movements again. It takes me a second to register that and when I'm about to open my eyes again, he continues his movements. His forefinger and thumb tilt my chin up to clean my neck. The cloth moves gently up and down my neck in smooth motions.
Dammit now I'm remembering his lips on my neck.
I hear Hayes' footsteps move away from me again, then he comes back a few seconds later. I feel a dry towel pat at my face drying it.
And the soothing motion is the last thing I feel before sleep claims me.
————
𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐬
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"Phoenix?" I murmur. After a beat, light snores start to leave her mouth.
I sigh, staring at her for a moment. She looks so much less lethal when she's asleep but somehow still looks like if you woke her, she wouldn't hesitate to kill you. I pack up the first aid kit, before putting it back into the hall bathroom.
As I pass her bedroom, I hear snores coming through her door.
I open the door a crack and see Aspen and Aziel lying on top of each other passed out from whatever they were drinking. I let out an exasperated breath.
With a resigned breath, knowing Phoenix probably doesn't want Aspen and Aziel finding out about what happened yet, I pick her up, making sure I don't wake her, and head towards my bedroom.
Why am I always put in these situations with her?
I walk into the hallway and into my room. I carefully shut the door behind me with my foot and walk over towards my bed. I peel back the covers and gently lay her down. I put the covers back, making sure she's warm enough, so she doesn't die after all the blood loss. She shifts onto her stomach in her sleep. In the movement something gets knocked out from under the pillow.
I pick it up from off the floor and see a small baggy of hotel chocolates with a note in it.
Asked the hotel for more chocolates for you as a thanks for the other night. Still not sorry I ate yours though, these chocolates are gas
-Phoenix
I chuckle at her note as I sit down in the arm chair by my bed. I put the chocolates on the nightstand and look over at Phoenix, processing everything that happened tonight.
When she said her mom was alive, there was a hope in her eyes that I'd never seen and it took all the strength I had not to smile at her. The other day at the warehouse when she didn't see her mother, I could practically see her loosing hope.
It reminded me of the little boy I see in my dreams. I think to myself.
I rest my head in my fist as my gaze drifts down Phoenix's body engulfed by the blanket in my bed. Her shirt rises up on her back and I see another scar.
My mind drifts to all the possible causes of those scars. She said it's not from Andrey, so I could only imagine what else she's gone through to get those scars...
I hear light snores start to leave Phoenix's mouth and my eyes wander back up to her face. Her tan cheek is squished beneath the pillow below her head. Her pink lips parted in light breaths. Her smooth chocolate hair falls on her cheek and forehead.
I feel my eyes start to drift closed in tiredness as my head falls against the back of the arm chair. All my other sense start to drown out as sleep pulls me into it's arms.
♚♚♚
The 'tending to their wounds' trope gets me every time <333
This chapter was so fun to write, it's actually one of my new favorites (from the ones I've uploaded so far)
Anyway I've had this scene planned in my head for so long, I don't know if it's met my expectations, but I hoped you enjoyed <3
If you could marry any fictional character, who would it be?
Loren Hale from the Addicted Series because I just love him too much
Thank you all so much for reading, I love you all so much<3