“Er…sure.” Raj left to track down food and essentials for Michael, and the two of them sat in awkward silence.
“Mana mila,” Michael finally said, “what are you doing here?”
“I am the leader of an international coalition of aid agencies, providing assistance to the refugees in Parnaas.” He seemed surprised. “What?” She could feel her irritation rising. “Surely you know what I do for a living by now.”
He didn’t respond, and Raj returned to the room. Michael made a face at the red gelatin and broth, but he ate everything with good appetite.
“Out, Sophie.” Raj pulled the curtain. A few minutes later, Michael’s IV was capped, his catheter out, and he was sitting sulkily in a wheelchair. “Don’t worry about the bandages on his feet; we’ll deal with those later,” said the doctor. They walked down the hall to the showers, Raj updating her along the way about their efforts the previous day to persuade some of the more suspicious refugees that the medications they were distributing weren’t harmful.
They arrived at the showers. Raj dragged a chair into the stall, looked doubtfully at Michael, and vanished.
Better take control of this situation. Sophie went into command mode.
“I’ll start your shower, then you go in there. Sit, don’t stand.” She pointed at the shower stall and chair. “Take off your gown and throw it over the curtain to me. I’ll hand you your towel and scrubs when you’re done. Okay?” He nodded. “Talk to me while you’re in there so I know you’re still alive.”
Two minutes later, she threw Michael’s hospital gown into the laundry. Steam billowed out of the stall, and the noise of the splashing water couldn’t cover his sigh of pleasure. She had to smile.
“How long has it been since you’ve had a hot shower?”
“Oh God, I cannot remember,” he groaned. “Weeks, maybe? We washed with cold water in a bucket when we could. Most of the time, we went without.” He let out a startled gasp, followed by silence.
“Are you okay? Michael?” She flew to the curtain in a heartbeat.
“My hair is gone.”
“Anjali had to shave it off. You had lice.” More silence.
“Anjali is here? And also Will?”
“Yes. RCI leads the coalition.” She heard Michael scrubbing months of filth off his body. Sophie couldn’t imagine how good he must have felt right now. She tried not to think about the fact that he was naked a few feet away from her.
He looked exhausted but clean when he emerged in fresh scrubs. A few days of treatment had made an enormous difference in him. His face had filled out now that he was hydrated, and his skin looked dramatically better.
“What?” he asked, noticing her gawking.
“Just looking at you,” she said defensively. “I haven’t seen you for a while, you know. Now do me a favor and brush your teeth. The state of your oral hygiene right now gives me the creeps.”
-
Sophie could tell it took all his strength to get back into the chair and stay sitting upright on the way back to the infirmary. Not that he would admit it. But neither did he waste time crawling into bed. Within minutes, he was asleep. She hooked up his lines again; she’d become quite adept at this rough-and-ready field medicine. She sat down on the bed beside him to work.
A few moments later, she felt a nudge. Then another one. She lifted her arm, and he snuggled against her body. She tried to concentrate on getting her work done, but it wasn’t easy. Especially when he flung his arm over her ribs and pulled her against him.
Sophie shut off the computer, tossed it on to the bedside table, and wrapped herself around him. She’d lived too long not knowing if he were alive or dead to waste these moments.
-
She didn’t know what time it was when she awoke. Michael’s face rested just a few inches from hers, his gaze uncharacteristically soft.
“Hi,” she said.