Wickedly Ethereal (ashen_key) wrote in blackbiology,
Wickedly Ethereal
ashen_key
blackbiology

Sasha and Jack: Rome, 1976

Sasha: Rome, city of sinners and saints and over two thousand years of poverty mingling with the very personifications of power and money. She had had a job, naturally, for Jack was not, never had been, never will be, her only concern. Simple, really. Find a woman and track her down and a bullet between her startled grey eyes, and Sasha never did care what the woman had done.

Now she was walking through the streets, hands in her pockets and head slightly bowed. Nothing to see here, just a woman who knew exactly where she was going….but Sasha wasn’t perfect, and now she was lost. She brushed her hair back in a single gesture of irritation, but it was enough to cause the ring on her middle finger to flash in the light, and that was enough to attract attention.

Two men, youths, really, and it didn’t matter that one was now NOW lying crumpled on the street, she had her hand pressed to the knife in her side even as she pointed the gun at the other man.

The problem was, she was leaning against the wall because her legs couldn’t support her weight. The problem was, that her head was starting to spin because oh god, oh god it hurt.

Jack: "Shh." His voice was low, and an arm went around her carefully, supporting her. "Come on, this is no place to lie around bleeding. Much nicer back at the hotel. Just move your feet, one at a time, come on."

Sasha: “But it hurts,” and in her soft voice was the confused wail of a child.

Jack: "I know." His tone was sympathetic, somehow soothing. "But it's not far, and I can get you something for the pain, and then we'll clean you up and make sure your insides are all okay. Keep a hold on that knife, love, okay? It'll be safe to pull it out once we're inside. You just come with me, you'll be fine."

Sasha: She managed a nod, but her mind, normally empty, was awash with ‘oh god, oh god, it hurts, it hurts, I don’t understand…’. She couldn’t even think that she was trusting him, not really. It just hurt.

Jack: He guided her to a cheap, seedy hotel and into the elevator, keeping a firm grip on her and speaking softly all the while, until they got into the room and he locked the door behind them.

"Okay, just sit on the sofa over there, all right?" he said soothingly, guiding her to said sofa. "I'll be back in a second, I'm just going to grab you some morphine. It'll make the pain go away."

Sasha: When he came back, her hands were shaking. Her face was pale and those warm, doe-brown eyes were too wide, too startled.

“Jack?”

Jack: "In the flesh." He smiled a little, holding up a syringe. "Just morphine, I promise. You going to let me treat you? I'm afraid there aren't any hospitals in this part of town."

Sasha "Why?"

Jack: "Humour me."

Sasha A quick faint smile. "That's my line."

Jack: "I'm a thief, then. Hold still," he added, moving closer, "and let me give you this. It'll help with the pain, and then I can get to making sure you're not going to bleed out."

JSash Now her eyes were searching, as much as they could, but she nodded, once.

Jack: "Good." He smiled, kneeling beside the sofa and lifting her arm gently, injecting the painkiller. "Sit tight, I've got supplies in the bathroom. Don't go moving about and knocking that knife, all right?"

Sasha: "Move?"

Jack: "I never know with you, Sasha," he called over his shoulder, retrieving a plastic box from the bathroom and returning to the couch, fetching a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth. "Okay, I'm going to have to cut your shirt away, I'm afraid. I don't want you using those muscles and I need to be able to see the wound properly."

Sasha: "And jacket," she pointed out, helpfully. "It's okay. Blood's a bitch."

Jack: "Got that right."

He frowned in concentration, cutting away her jacket and shirt and pulling the scraps of fabric away from her skin.

"I'm going to take the knife out, all right? It shouldn't be too bad, not with that morphine. Just hold still, love."

Sasha: "Hold still....sure."

Jack: Still scowling with concentration, he gripped the handle of the knife and pulled it out smoothly, quickly pressing a wad of cloth over the wound.

Sasha: She didn't scream, but the sound she made was somewhere between a yelp and a groan, and she clenched the seat of the couch.

Jack: After a few minutes he carefully peeled the cloth away and made a face, leaning down to dampen a second cloth in the warm water and started gently cleaning the blood away from the wound.

"Not as bad as it could be. Your first time getting knifed?"

Sasha: "It's different from being shot."

Jack: "Mmm. I prefer being knifed, myself. It doesn't look like this'll need stitches." He kept cleaning the wound, reaching down for alcohol to sterilise it.

Sasha: "I passed out when I was shot. I don't remember it."

Jack: "Lucky."

He taped a gauze pad over the wound, absently stroking a thumb over the skin of her hip.

Sasha: Sasha didn't saying anything to that, she just went back to how she normally was with him, which simply meant watching.

Jack: "Should heal up well enough, if you keep it clean," he said after a moment, sitting back on his heels and using the remaining water to clean his hands. "They missed anything major."

Sasha: "Wouldn't you be relieved, if they did?"

Jack: "Why would I want you to die?"

Sasha: "I'm hunting you," she pointed out, her voice light and dreamy from combined morphine and shock.

Jack: "You're a complication." He shrugged, drying his hands. "I've lived with complications for years now. And I'm not the same person you were hunting three years ago."

Sasha: "No. You are harder, now."

Jack: He smiled, a little.

"You learn or die, in this world. I didn't relish the latter."

Sasha: "No. It's cold enough here."

Jack: "You're going to need to take it easy for the night. Do you want me to get you anything?"

Sasha: "A shirt might be nice." And the thing was, she didn't even sound sarcastic. It might be nice, it might.

Jack: He didn't bring her a shirt, exactly. He brought her a blanket, tucked it over her, and set a shirt on the coffee table.

"You can put that on in the morning. I don't want you pulling that wound."

Sasha: "Yes, sir."

Jack: He tapped her nose lightly. "None of that. Now, the room's booked for three more days, and I'm sure that morphine is going to have you unconscious in about five minutes. I won't be here when you wake up. Look after yourself."

Sasha: "And then I'll find you again."

Jack: "Looking forward to it, love."

He gave her another grin, and then got to his feet and left.
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