Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller

Part 12

TWELVE

When I awoke next, it was daylight. Last night's dark window showed sunlight and blue sky. I stretched and saw the IV was no longer connected to my arm, though the needle was still taped to my hand.

Time for a walk, I thought. Let's see which hospital this is and what ward. Is there a guard outside my room or is Nathan all the protection I have? If he is and they come looking for me... I'm going to die.

Carefully, I sat up and dangled my legs off the side of the bed nearest the door, too high up for my feet to reach the floor. I looked for the buttons to control the bed so that I could move it lower, then realised that I couldn't press them.

I poised myself on the edge, hesitating a second because of the half-metre drop. I almost put my hands on the mattress beside me to take my weight as I slid off the bed, but then I remembered that my hands were damaged. So, with my hands up as if to demonstrate how defenceless I was, I gave a little jump and my feet hit the floor. The impact set my legs on fire, the muscles turned from ordinary tissue to white-hot, molten metal.

Blinded by pain, I swore through gritted teeth as I felt myself falling forward with f**k-all I could do about it. I instinctively stuck my hands out to break my fall. The bones in my hands caught the same agonising fire before the rest of my body hit the floor heavily. Tears sprang to my eyes, but they burned away on my hot cheeks.

Fucking perverted bastards. b****y legs that wouldn't f*****g work.

I reached up to the bed, to try and pull myself up again, before I realised that my useless hands couldn't grab anything.

Damn bed too b****y high up. f*****g linen. b****y broken fingers...

I didn't realise I was swearing out loud until Nathan appeared in front of me, asking what was wrong.

What wasn't wrong, I thought bitterly, as I added to the list of things to swear about. "I can't f*****g walk and I can't f*****g get up." I felt like biting his toes off to quell my frustration.

"Here, let me help you." His words were gentle.

"It's either that or stay here on the f*****g floor all day," I muttered.

His arms closed around me, cradling me to his chest, so I could both hear and feel his laughter at my reply.

Instinctively, I wanted to shrink away from his touch, from anyone and everyone else, yet at the same time I relaxed, telling myself, You're safe. This is Nathan. He won't hurt you.

Nathan let out a small grunt of pain as he lifted me up. I wondered whether his wound had healed enough for him to be lifting anything, but he didn't make another sound as he carefully put me back into bed, pulling the sheets up to cover me again. He rubbed his shoulder, almost unconsciously, as he sat in the chair beside my bed.

Belatedly, I thanked him.

"What happened?" he asked, echoing my words from the day before.

What to tell him? I was useless, I couldn't walk and my hands and legs didn't work. I was a sitting target for anyone. And I didn't know if I could trust him to protect me.

I tried to be vague. "I got out of bed, tried to take a step and it hurt. Then I fell." Tell him. He'd find out anyway. At least now I'd see his reaction – I'd know if I couldn't trust him. "I can't walk if it hurts that much," I admitted grudgingly.

He told me to stay in bed and rest, smiling kindly.

"I needed..." I wondered if there was a nice way to tell him I didn't believe he could protect me. If he was as useless as my legs at present, they'd find me and hurt me again... I looked away from him as I tried not to cry. My eyes lighted on the door beside the one leading out of the room. "I was trying to get to the bathroom." Well, with all the IV fluid they'd pumped into me as I slept, I did want to make use of the facilities in the ensuite. Second to my desire to live was the pressing need to go to the loo.

Nathan didn't hesitate – he offered to carry me.

I wanted to ask if it would hurt him, but I fought the urge. He knew his own limitations – I wasn't even sure of mine yet. I felt like an overfilled water balloon, so my only reply was to thank him as he carried me to the toilet.

The feeling of his skin against mine made me self-conscious about the hospital gown I wore and how little it covered, though Nathan didn't seem to be fazed about it. He lifted me up deftly, carried me to the bathroom quickly and put me down gently, as if this were something he did every day as part of his job.

A bathrobe would be nice, I thought. I decided to buy one when I could go shopping, just in case I was ever stuck in hospital wearing one of these again.

Nathan's back blocked the doorway and he didn't say anything for a few minutes, until he burst out, "If you want, I could ask my sister to drop by your house the next time she comes in to see me. She could pick up some of your own clothes for you to wear."

Mortified, I realised he was just as aware of my near-nakedness as I was. I choked back the horrified reply I wanted to make so I could politely refuse his offer as coherently as possible.

I reached for the toilet paper and it started to dawn on me how useless my hands were. First one hand, then the other – no, I couldn't even grasp it. But with two hands together... I could hold something between them if I concentrated.

Right. Play it out, carefully. With one bandaged hand, I pushed the roll of toilet paper, making it unroll slowly. Okay, faster now.

"Let me know when you're done and need my help again."

His voice made me jump and knock the toilet roll back the other way.

"I... I'm not done, but I may need your help in a minute." My throat was dry and my voice failed somewhere in the middle. Don't turn around. Don't look yet, I begged him silently, as I tried to unroll the toilet paper again. The only thing worse than having to plan every step to wipe your own bum is knowing someone else watched you do it. Please, don't look.

Too late. Nathan leaned over me, deft hands grabbing the toilet paper I wanted, before he gave it to me. Helping me. Then he called me a kitten, wearing a worried smile. My eyes locked on his as I used the toilet paper as quickly as I could.

Kitten? Meow. I struggled to understand the comparison. Something to do with pawing the toilet paper? I lifted my useless hands up and they did resemble white paws, a little. Why try to hide it from him? He knew how disabled I was. I looked up to meet his concerned gaze. For the first time, I saw the dark circles beneath his eyes. He lost sleep over me? He genuinely seemed to want to help me.

I made an effort to try to smile, though my cheeks still felt too stiff and heavy to do it properly. "Meow. I feel about as weak as a kitten, so the comparison is probably right." I let out a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding. "Now, I would appreciate your help one more time, because I think you're right. I need to rest in bed a bit longer."

"At your service." His arms closed around me again, carrying me back to bed, where he covered me with the sheet, as clinical as any nurse.

As if he'd read my mind, Nathan reminded me that while I was in hospital I could ask the nurses for help.

Didn't he realise that I couldn't press the nurse call button? I kept my eyes down, hoping he wouldn't read that thought, too. Then inspiration hit, as I thought of something true that wouldn't sound like an excuse. I told him I didn't like strangers touching me. Too many strangers had touched me, hurt me... I felt myself shudder at the memories that threatened to pull me back down into despair. I tried to focus on what he was saying, his words a lifeline out of the dark.

"And the last time you asked a random stranger for help, you ended up in hospital with him and now you can't get rid of him – he even followed you into the bathroom."

That was a joke, I told myself. He was trying to be funny. But I'd never asked him for help, yet he kept helping me. I looked down at my lap, where his warm hand covered both of mine. The contact didn't make me shudder – in fact, it felt comforting. I looked up again to meet his worried eyes and wistful smile. I want to trust you, I thought.

"After you saved my life, got shot and even helped me wipe my..." I tried to put it into words, but failed. I started again. "I don't think you qualify as a random stranger any more. I would like to think you're a very good friend, even if I don't know you very well." Will you be my friend, Nathan, or are you going to join the list of bastards I want to kill?

He made a weak joke in reply, but the real answer was in his expression. For the first time, his smile reached his eyes, which didn't look worried. Just relieved.