9.2 Affliction

The next few days pass by with a less tense, yet, still slightly uncomfortable air. While you seem to have come to an understanding with Boyd, it's clear he still harbors feelings of doubt. Deciding to double down on your efforts, you spend all your free time working on the slightly decrepit aircraft. More remnants of your fracted knowledge slowly resurfaces with time. Soon, you find yourself growing more confident with your assessments and diagnosis. Unfortunately, with this knowledge comes the realization this project will take far longer than you had anticipated.

Without the correct tools and parts, jerry-rigging the craft back together will be a delicate endeavor. As you continue working with the stoic man, you begin learning some information about his past. It seems he was an engineer before the majority of the world was taken out by a large cluster of asteroids. This past experience has given him a basic understanding of how an engine may work. However, theoretical knowledge is rarely a good substitute for hands-on experience. You're pleased when he finally lets you take the lead when the actual reconstruction of the engine begins.

It's hard, dirty work, methodically taking apart the large mechanical component. Each part must be carefully cleaned and examined before being replaced or repaired. Feeling the most distracted when you're working, you find yourself waking earlier each day as you're compelled to continue the progress. The damage to the ozone continues to cause fluctuations in the temperature, resulting in brutally hot temperatures even early in the day. Hot rays of sunlight beat against your back as you struggle to loosen a bolt that's been cross-threaded on the side of the engine. Grunting slightly, you blink away beads of sweat that run into your eyes.

Exerting all your strength, you gasp in surprise when your slick hands slip off the metal surface of the wrench. The sudden sound of footsteps behind you causes you to quickly straighten up. Glancing over your shoulder you're somewhat annoyed to see Boyd's familiar figure. Turning your attention back to the stubborn bolt, you reposition your hands around the wrenches' handle. Your back stiffens in surprise when Boyd crouches down and places his hands over yours. Tightening your grip around the object, you raise your arm in a vain effort to shrug him away.

"I don't need your help." You mutter stubbornly while unsuccessfully tugging at the still unmoving object.

"Very well," You're surprised to hear him relinquish before removing his hands. "Have at it."

Ignoring the lingering sensation from his touch, you reconcentrate your efforts on the task at hand. Exhaling in frustration, as you find yourself still unable to make any progress. You face grows hot as you're aware of Boyd's proximity and view of your failure. Squaring your shoulders, you lean against the stubborn object and give it a final wrench.

"Shit!" You exclaim in pain when your hands slip off again and your shoulder roughly scrapes against the exposed metal frame.

"Now look at what you've done." Boyd chastises while slipping a hand under the crook of your arm and swiftly pulling you to your feet.

Grimacing lightly, your eyes are quickly drawn to the steady stream of blood running down your torn shoulder. Gritting your teeth, you quickly jerk out of the man's grasp and press your palm against the seeping wound.

"Maybe if you weren't hovering around," You snap irately, swaying slightly as you grow somewhat lightheaded. "I wouldn't have been distracted."

Boyd lets out an annoyed sigh and catches you when you stumble forward.

"Stop moving," He berates while slipping his arm around you. "You'll only make it worse."

Slumping against Boyd's broad torso, you're far too weak to stop him from lifting you off your feet. Your eyelids blink heavily as you're quickly carted back inside the hangar. Your hand slides around your drenched shoulder as Boyd slowly lowers you on to one of the weathered tables.

"James!" He calls out, moving to hurriedly unbutton his shirt. "Where's the medical kit?"

James comes running over a moment later, holding a small black case. A concerned look quickly covers his face at the sight of you.

"What happened?" He demands and begins striping away your torn sleeve. "She's losing a lot of blood."

"She was being foolish." Boyd replies bluntly and steps around the younger man.

"No, I wasn't." You mumble back somewhat childishly, noticing the pain in your arm slowly begin to subside.

"Stop talking." Boyd snaps while pressing his now removed shirt against the large gash. "She's going to need stitches."

"What?" You quickly ask, struggling to sit up as slight panic takes over. "No, just bandage it, I'll be fine."

Boyd gives you a puzzled look before turning his attention to James.

"I'll get the needle ready." He directs, grabbing your hand and replacing his over the shirt. "Go grab my backpack."

Groaning, you wearily lay your head back down, feeling more of your strength drained. Boyd frowns lightly while leaning over your disheveled frame.

"Calm down," He says, running the back of his hand across your sweaty brow. "It won't hurt."

"I don't like needles." You whisper while closing your eyes.

"Hey!" Boyd exclaims, gently pulling up slightly. "Stay awake."

Slowly blinking your eyes back open, you try to focus your gaze on his concerned face. Messy locks of dark hair hang around his broad face. The look in his light gray eyes makes you realize this may be more serious than you had assumed. Exhaling sharply, you use your good arm to help prop yourself up further. Boyd curses softly while quickly grabbing on to the shirt you forgot you were holding. Glancing over, you feel your stomach grow queasy at the sight of your torn shoulder. Boyd quickly presses the bloody shirt back against the wound and helps you sit back against the adjoining wall.

"It's okay." He says in what he must assume is a reassuring tone. "I've seen worse."

"That doesn't make me feel any better." You groan as more pressure is applied to the area.

Boyd ignores the comment while temporarily fastening the garment around your shoulder. You watch nervously as he uses a nearby flask to wash his hands. A moment later he's pulled out a long needle and a roll of thin thread. Quickly averting your gaze, you try to focus your attention on anything other than your current situation. Seeming to notice your apprehension, Boyd clears his throat suddenly.

"You know," He begins somewhat haltingly while keeping his focus on his actions. "You've been far more helpful than I had anticipated."

You can't help but roll your eyes slightly at the rather backhanded compliment. Deciding not to antagonize the man about to thread a large needle through your shoulder, you instead mutter a half-hearted thanks. The room seems to have grown uncomfortably cold despite the beads of sweat running down the sides of your face. Exhaling shallowly, you weakly wrap your good arm around your torso. Just as Boyd is finishing his preparations, James finally returns. Quickly taking the backpack from him, Boyd begins rifling around inside it. A moment later, he pulls out a small flask of what appears to be vodka.

"You have liquor?" James demands rather irately, while the man moves over to your side.

"Not now, James." He snaps back brusquely and begins untying the makeshift bandage.

"You're not going to use that on me." You exclaim, wrinkling your nose at the sight of the old bottle.

"You don't want an infection." Boyd replies sternly, using his free hand to hold you still.

Before you can continue your protests he's already begun dosing your arm with warm water. You're unable to pull away as he wipes the area dry before pulling the flask back out. The sudden flash of pain temporarily subdues you after the cold liquid is poured over the wound. Gritting your teeth, you blink back tears while Boyd takes a seat beside you.

"Please, stop moving." He growls, clearly starting to lose his patience.

Closing your eyes, you cautiously nod in compliance while attempting to suppress your shaking. You feel Boyd's rough hand slide behind your shoulder, keeping you steady. A moment later you're met with the dull pain of sharp metal being pulled through your flesh. Whimpering softly, you unconsciously grab onto the man's undershirt tightly. Your nails dig into your palms through the thin material of the garment, temporarily distracting you from the greater pain in your shoulder. Much to your chagrin, Boyd moves at a slow, methodical pace. Just when you think you can longer stand the pain, his movements finally cease.

Exhaling deeply, you watch as he leans down and uses his teeth to sever the excess thread. Warily looking over further, you see the now tightly stitched wound and feel yourself grow slightly lightheaded once more.

"Take it easy." Boyd directs and begins to tear his bloody shirt into long strips. "You're going to be fine now."

Nodding again dizzily, you lean your head back against the wall while he wraps the pieces of fabric around your shoulder. Tilting your head to the side, you notice James has wandered off again, leaving you alone with the distant man. Biting the inside of your lip, you glance over at his now slightly sweaty form. A deep frown still remains etched across his face while he finishes fastening the makeshift bandage around you. His movements quickly stop when you tentatively drape your hand over his.

"I'm sorry for earlier." You apologize softly, keeping your gaze downcast. "And thank you, for this."

You gesture your head subtly towards your arm and wait for his response.