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"Come on," he beckons, reaching for her. "I have you."
The assurance comes with his grip on her forearm yanking her through the gate before slamming it shut and turning his back against the infected. He throws all his weight against it, his breath fogging in a huff as the icy rain pelts down on them both.
"Okay, well I shot the lock so we're gonna have to make a break for the door," he says, breath thudding through the words as the zombies battering the fence almost throw him off. The chain rattles ominously but he manages to keep the gate shut. She looks to the door he means and nods.
"Okay, let's go for it."
"You first, I'll hold this until you have the exit open."
"Leon--"
"I had a 15 second 100 meter dash at the academy, and that was without adrenaline. Go!"
She shoots him one last look and then obeys, throwing the door open and reaching for him.
"Okay come on!"
He takes a huge breath, the rain glittering across his uniform and running in rivers down his face, and then his muscles coil and he runs.
He isn't kidding about being fast, that's for sure, and he ends up spinning them both into the building as he grabs her and the door, still using himself as a shield. Fortunately, the zombies had piled up and they trip over each other following the scent of blood.
Claire realizes the blood is Leon's when she grabs his bicep to steady herself. He is out of her hands a moment later, shoving things in front of the door to slow the assault.
"Do you know you're bleeding?" She asks, leaning next to him on a desk as they shove it together with a clang against the door.
"No, but I'm not surprised," he says, using his flashlight to quickly look over their work before another sound turns his head and he rubs rain and blood out of his eyes. "We gotta move, half the station is still moving around on this floor, I only cleared a few rooms to get to you. The central lobby is clean."
They run again, Claire sticking close enough she can feel his body heat coming through the soaked clothes when they pause, huddled at a corner and peering towards safety. Leon squeezes her hand where it's resting on his shoulder, and she knows he means go.
The main hall is well lit and there's little blood. A makeshift hospital has been left abandoned by the front desk just up the stairs and Claire pulls Leon towards it.
"Come on, let's see where that's coming from before it gets worse."
"I'm okay," he insists, but she doesn't let go until they're next to a bed. She nods to it.
"That's the adrenaline talking. Sit for five minutes."
Leon doesn't sit, and when Claire turns back to him with bandages and alcohol he opens his mouth until she raises her eyebrow and rips the packaging open threateningly. She's already wearing gloves.
"Okay, but….fast," he says, suppressing a shiver and sitting down.
"Vest first, anything hurt yet?" She asks, surveying her other supplies while he grimaces and unstraps the left shoulder.
"My shoulder and arm does kinda hurt, and that is the side I landed on earlier…" he admits. She sees the pinch of pain now, and she furrows her brow in sympathy. "Ribs too, apparently," he says, hissing through his teeth when he moves to pull the vest apart at the side.
"Okay, just sit still for a moment, I'm going to see if I can feel any breaks."
He frowns lightly, blue eyes tracking her as she gently starts at his sternum and works her way across and down.
"Are you a medic?"
"Not technically but I worked summer camps and took emergency field classes. And I used to do basic med screens for beer money."
She smiles a little and glances at him, both hoping to lighten the mood and to see how he's faring as the life-or-death aura dims.
He looks tired, but he smiles and it reaches his eyes.
"I'm glad you're alright," he says.
"That makes two of us, thanks for coming out like you did."
"How could I have done anything else?"
She pauses, hand resting on his lower ribs and meets his eyes. He looks so earnest, and she's grateful.
"All the same."
He winces where she presses next and she apologizes, firmly testing the rib. She feels his muscles harden but nothing gives.
"Bruised and will hurt like a bitch but not broken," she says. "Now let's see where the blood is coming from."
It doesn't take long for her to find it.
"Oh, shit. What happened?"
She's standing behind him and he holds his shoulder, cringing. "Fell through the floor in the library. How bad?"
"Well. You have a piece of wood sticking out of the back of your shoulder. So it's not good."
Leon nods once, swallowing back a sudden wave of nausea as the pain of the wound makes itself known for the first time. “Well that explains a lot. It’s been really itchy for a while but I hadn’t bothered with it.”
“Too busy trying not to get your throat ripped out?”
He snorts, swallowing again compulsively as suddenly there is a burning of pain and he hunches over, his vision spotting dangerously.
“I’m sorry I know you’re not supposed to do that but it’s gonna be a while and I wanted you to be able to move your shoulder,” Claire says, pressing a fistful of gauze against the wound to stem the sudden gout of blood. Leon can’t answer and he looks frighteningly pale, but his muscles are still taught so he hasn’t passed out.
The blood doesn’t gush or throb so she figures his arteries must be secure, and she talks to him while she pulls back to make sure there’s no more slivers.
“Can I borrow your flashlight?” she asks, slipping it off his belt. “What kind of shit tax allocation does this precinct have if the library floor just fell in on you anyway? We’re gonna need to write a strongly worded letter.”
Leon trembles with a nauseated giggle, the burned off adrenaline and pain causing his hand to shake as he wipes it across a forehead that is suddenly pouring sweat. Claire works as quickly as she can, flashing the light across blood that is vibrant and hot and strongly metallic. After so much dead, nearly black blood, Leon’s very alive body is somehow both comforting and uniquely distressing.
She squeezes his upper arm “little sting--” then pours alcohol across the pit. Leon gives a strangled cry and doubles over, wheezing. “I’m sorry I’m so sorry,” she says, packing it with gauze and wrapping it tightly. “I’m done I promise. I’m done. You still with me?”
He gives her a trembling thumbs up and she laughs, unaware that a tear is striking through the grime on her cheek until she feels a tickle at her jaw and wipes it away. “Okay, easy, can you just….lay back. Here I’ll help you.”
She helps him shift and put his legs up on the bed, laying down slowly. His face is pinched with pain and too pale, and she reaches for a stethoscope and cuff sitting nearby. He hunches his injured arm close to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut, body trembling slightly.
“Here this won’t hurt, promise, just don’t pass out on me,” she says, slipping the cuff over his bicep and adjusting the strap. She slips the diaphragm of the stethoscope under the cuff and against the artery, pumping the cuff up and watching the numbers worriedly.
“You seem really comfortable doing that, that was all in a class?” he asks, cracking his eyes open and watching her hands on his arm.
“This is actually the easy part,” she answers, letting the cuff deflate as she slips the stethoscope out of her ears. “I learned how to do that for the screening job. Yours is high, by the way. Which is what tends to happen when you’ve had a piece of wood in your shoulder.”
He grimaces and gives a shrug with his good side, dropping his head back. She watches the sweat glitter on his skin with sympathy, and has to stop herself from carding his hair back.
“Let me find you some water, and maybe something to eat,” she says, casting around. “We gotta get you back on your feet.”
She manages to find some herbal supplements, a bottle of water, and a protein bar covered in chocolate, and she comes back to find him slowly sitting up. She helps him, then hands him the water and sets the supplements and food at his side. “Those herbs are supposed to help with pain and bleeding. I didn’t find anything else, sorry.”
“I’d rather have my head clear anyway,” he says, offering her a weak smile. At least he doesn’t look like he’s going to pass out anymore, and she leans her hip against the low wall she’s been using as a makeshift counter. He nods to the stethoscope after a moment, swallowing a mouthful of water and picking up the protein bar.
“You know how to use that for anything besides BP?”
“I can tell you if your heart is beating or not, but I’m pretty sure you can tell me that too,” she says, smiling.
He smiles back, still pinched as he opens the package. “Yeah...kinda feel like death warmed over.”
“You look it too but--” and she picks up the stethoscope, turning it around and putting it on. He watches her with amusement as she tries to use it through his vest, even though it’s still undone at one side. “No, my fault you’re right,” she deadpans. “Guess I’ll have to get used to having a vampire cop around.”
He laughs for real that time, and then he takes the end of the stethoscope and slips it under the gap at the side of the vest, pressing his hand and the vest over it instead. “How about now?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.
Claire wants to joke with him, keep up the ruse, but he’s smiling at her and there’s some color back in his face and the heartbeat she can suddenly hear nearly silences his words.
All at once she’s aware of the blood drying on his arm and the ache in her shoulders from where she’d had to break through a door and the lingering smack of bruising in her hand from the pistol. A shuffling outside makes her twitch and then she goes very still, closing her eyes and taking in a shaky breath. Leon’s heartbeat accelerates, and she furrows her brow, wishing suddenly she could place her hand beneath the vest too. The sound is so warm, so safe, so strong and yet….so fragile.
His brow furrows, and his fingers lift to her shoulder, concern lacing his voice. “Claire?”
“Misdiagnosis,” she says at last, her voice soft as she tries to keep the sudden emotions out. “I’m no longer worried about you drinking my blood.” She opens her eyes and meets his, closing her hands into loose fists to keep from touching him.
“Hey,” he presses, pale eyes earnest as they search her face. He reaches down and coaxes one of those fists open, holding her hand gently. His fingers are warm despite the blood loss. “What’s wrong?”
She can’t look away from him, and feels new tears come, ones she doesn’t understand because she thinks they’re happy. She shakes her head and gives him a difficult smile. “Nothing,” she whispers, and he runs his thumb once across the back of her hand. Slowly, he reaches up and pulls the stethoscope out of her ears, and she blinks down a tear with its absence. He sets it to the side, then stands, looking at her with that same concern before she gives in and moves closer.
As if he was waiting for that unspoken permission, Leon embraces her, and she wraps her arms tightly around his strong back, his warmth a balm like slipping into a hot bath. It doesn’t matter that he smells like blood and that his gear is digging into her shoulder and her hip. He’s warm and he’s kind and when she tucks her ear into his chest, above the vest, she can still hear the distant echo of his heart promising:
We’ll be okay. We’re going to get out of here. Together.
When they finally break apart, she does the straps of his vest up for him and finally gives in to stroking his hair back once. It doesn’t stay put. “You need a hair tie more than I do,” she says, and he smiles.