Out in the Black Ch. 15

"Wait here. I'll be back in a moment." Aware that violence was brewing inside me, Phillips rushed off. In an attempt to distract myself from my electronic nemesis, I placed a call to Alix, asking her to shoulder the responsibility of getting Adrenaline home in a few hours. I had no confidence the Enforcers wouldn't make trouble for him.

"Who the fuck is Adrenaline?" She sounded close to the breaking point, which scared the hell out of me. My XO was a frighteningly competent woman and I'd seen her wrangle a seasoned freighter crew with ease when she was just nineteen. I felt a surge of guilt, knowing I had been less than helpful in this crisis.

"I'm sorry, Leelee - "

"Just - " She interrupted herself with a sigh and I could imagine her rubbing her temples. "Just answer my question. Please."

"He's one of Rusty's little camera operators he recruited. Not the little blonde one - that one is apparently called Scrap." I could feel Li's exasperation through the comm. "I really appreciate this, Leelee. Sorry for dumping more on you." Movement caught my eye and I looked around to see Phillips returning with a short, curvy woman in tow. "I have to go," I said quickly, speaking over whatever my XO had been trying to tell me. "I'll contact you when I know what's up with Rusty." Disconnecting the call on her spluttered protests, I forced my back to straighten and my features into some semblance of a pleasantly bland expression. The look on Phillips's face told me the latter effort had met with limited success.

"I'll take you, dear," the woman said cheerfully, slipping her hand through the crook of my arm and tugging me away from the console.

"It looks like you're in capable hands." Phillips said with a smile. "I sent you my contact information. Please do reach out if there's anything else I can do for you." I got the strong impression they were not simply being polite, though it was hard to tell as I was already being drawn deeper into the labyrinthine halls of the hospital.

Long minutes later - the entirety of which my escort managed to fill with chatter - we approached an open door that looked just like every other we had passed. Patting my arm, the woman - a nurse named Cleo who had been at Beacon for nearly a decacycle and could I believe that? - left me standing in the hall while she conducted a - thankfully brief - conversation with the occupants of the room.

She popped back out of the door so suddenly I jumped. "It seems your friend is still in surgery, hon, so why don't I take you to clean up while the doctor works, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, Cleo got me moving again. We had made three turns before I managed to process her words.

"Surgery? But he's going to be okay?" My voice cracked but I couldn't bring myself to be embarrassed.

"Dr. Kwedhi is the top surgeon on the station. Your friend is in the best possible hands." I didn't press her further, distracted by our entry into what appeared to be a locker room. Half a dozen wedge-shaped private shower stalls circling a central drain took up the bulk of the space. Two walls were lined with lockers and benches; the third held sinks and what I assumed to be toilet cubicles. My escort led me to one of the showers and eyed me up and down before opening a cabinet next to the door through which we'd entered and briskly supplying herself from the shelves within.

"Here you go," she said, ushering me into one of the little triangular rooms. "I'll put some clean scrubs in here and a towel there." She suited action to words, stuffing a handful of blue fabric into a plastic cubby with a clear, watertight cover, and hanging a towel from the hook on the door of the stall. "I'll be right outside if you need anything. Soap dispenser is on the wall there next to the shower controls. Just leave your soiled clothes on that bench in the corner and I'll get someone to take care of them after you're done. Oh!" She turned back to the cabinet and fished out a pair of rubber sandals. "I suppose you'll need these, too."

Flip flops in hand, I stood staring at the towel on the door after she was gone, my eyes absently tracing the loops of absorbent material. The borrowed sandals fell from numb fingers and the sound of them hitting the floor made me flinch. Slowly, I removed my boots and peeled off my socks. When I attempted to strip down the rest of the way, I discovered that dried blood had glued my shirt and pants to my skin. Fumbling at the controls, I turned the shower on as hot as it would go and stood under the stream, watching water the color of rust flow down the drain. Just thinking the word "rust" made me cry and I wept for a time, my tears lost in the water that cascaded off my body.

Eventually, I managed to remove the rest of my clothing and continue the process of getting clean. The soap smelled sickly sweet, a cloying scent that I imagined was supposed to bring to mind some sort of fruit. It actually bore a greater resemblance to the coolant Rusty used to flush the Marzi's engines. More tears fell - though not so many this time - as I lathered my hair and rinsed, repeating the process twice more before the water ran clear. Face, hands, body, hands again - I realized with dismay that I couldn't get all of Rusty's blood out from under my nails.

After one last try, I turned off the water and wiped the towel half-heartedly over my skin before donning the scrubs.

Cleo sat me down on one of the benches and toweled my hair dry before combing it out. "I can't --" I said, holding up my hands to display the stubborn mess under my nails. My face crumpled, but I held the tears back this time. Clucking sympathetically, the nurse found a nail brush and scrubbed my hands for me at a sink.

"There. All better?" I stared at my reflection and wondered if this was what loss looked like. I supposed nobody else could see the difference, but all the mirror showed me was the ruins of my life. Though I tried to hold tight to hope, I could still feel the gaping wound in Rusty's side against my palm. There had been too much blood. I knew he was gone, I just didn't understand why they weren't telling me.

"Yes, thank you," I mumbled, belatedly answering the question.

"Are you ready to see him?" Blinking down at the nurse, I couldn't force the words to make sense. Unless she meant his body. Maybe they needed me to look at it.

"I can see Rusty?" My voice was a whisper. Cleo nodded and took my elbow yet again. I shuffled along next to her as she led me to a nondescript hallway that stretched out to the right and left, the pale-yellow walls lined with closed doors.

"Here you go," she said, stopping in front of a door that bore the number 3672 next to a collection of symbols I couldn't decipher. I gave the nurse a confused look. "The doctor poked his head in while you were washing up, said your friend was out of surgery and he'd be by later to check in once his patient was awake. I figured you might like to see Mr. Rust anyway, even if he is still sleeping."

"Rusty is in there?" I asked her, pointing toward the door. She nodded. "He's alive?" Cleo nodded again, this time with a smile.

"Dr. Kwedhi said the surgery went well and, given time to recover, your friend should be good as new." The nurse gave me a little push and stood back as I reached a trembling hand to the door plate. The door hissed open and I stumbled forward, my heart fluttering as if it were afraid to beat fully until I was sure it was really him, that he really wasn't gone.

"Hey, you," Rusty said, his voice rough. He gave me a weak smile from where he lay in bed, an IV line connected to the back of his hand. I opened my mouth and burst into tears. Covering my face with my hands, I fled into the attached bathroom and closed the door.