11. Eleven
11
ELEVEN
ELIANA RICHARDS
CIA Headquarter, August 2022
“ A m I in hell already? Because I swear, I can see the devil,” I mumbled and could very clearly see the devil roll his eyes at me. Mission accomplished.
“You’re unbelievable, Richards,” Peter grumbled, but he held his gaze with mine, and I could even see a hint of a smile dancing around his lips. The anesthetics must clearly still affect me because seeing him smile made that warmth in my heart appear again.
“Unbelievably what? Smart, funny, pretty?” I winked back at him and the laughter that erupted from his throat made the pain in my ankle go away in an instant. He was standing right next to the bed I was lying in, and I wasn’t only surprised that he stayed and waited for me to wake after surgery, but also that there was a chair right next to my head. Why would he have stayed so close to me? That didn’t make any sense. Especially when there was a small couch on the other end of the room.
“I’ll go and get Toby.” But before he could turn around and leave the room, I grabbed his hand and held him back.
“No, please. I’m not ready for this yet. Give me a few more minutes of peace and then Summers can ruin my day by telling me how much I fucked up that ankle.”
His eyes flickered down to our connected hands before he raised his head to look at me with furrowed brows. I sighed loudly, letting go of his hand, and turned my head away from him to stare at the ceiling.
“What’s wrong, Eli?”
The nickname again. I didn’t understand Peter Davis at all. Most of the time I was Richards , sometimes Eliana , but I couldn’t put my finger on what circumstances made him comfortable enough with calling me Eli .
“My head is foggy and I don’t make sense to myself,” I answered honestly while covering my face with the hand that wasn’t attached to the IV.
“It’s the concussion. I should really go and get Toby so he can check on you.”
He didn’t wait for my answer. I heard his footsteps through the room and the slight creak of a door that’s been opened.
I was alone with my thoughts for the first time since the accident, but instead of diving into my feelings towards Peter, I decided to focus on the physical damage first.
But wait a minute!
Did Peter just say Toby? I’ve not been around here for very long, but that’s not Dr. Summers’ first name. Who’s Toby?
I slowly shook my head in an attempt to get rid of the confusion, but the pain only intensified, so I tried to focus on my other injuries first.
Carefully, I lifted the blanket to look at my leg, which was the reason I had to have surgery as soon as we arrived back at headquarters. A nurse, I didn’t remember her name, had shown me my X-rays, explained that the ankle was broken, and that the bone fragments were not aligned, which was the reason for the surgery. I hadn’t seen Dr. Summers once before I went under. Which, now thinking about it more clearly, was weird.
The leg was secured in a white cast, or splint, or whatever that monstrosity on my leg was called, and elevated on a stack of pillows. I know this was to reduce the swelling after the surgery, but the pulse in the leg was still more than only uncomfortable. My head turned to look at the IV and I frowned at the lack of liquid painkillers hanging on it. There was only a bag of saline solution.
Peter getting help was probably a good idea so I could ask for some painkillers before it would become worse than it was right now. Better safe than sorry. I mean, there had to be an advantage of lying in the med- bay, so the least I could ask for was some painless sleep to recover. The time on the sideline would be hard enough, so I should take every opportunity to heal as fast as I can and start physiotherapy soon.
The door opened and I saw Peter entering the room followed by a tall, blond man wearing a doctor’s coat. He stepped towards the disinfectant and sanitized his hands before he made his way to my bed.
“How are you feeling, Agent Richards?” he asked with a shy, but obviously fake, smile on his face that I couldn’t copy because of the increasing pain.
“I’m sorry, but who are you?”
The man’s smile fell and his eyes widened slightly, as if he was a boy caught forgetting something important.
“Shit, sorry. My name’s Dr. Toby Brown and I’m your operating doctor. I thought Peter had already informed you about the changed circumstances.”
My facial expression was enough for him to understand that Peter didn’t say anything at all, but I couldn’t hold the frown on my face, as the motion made a stabbing pain appear behind my eyes. I groaned slightly, but didn’t have the chance to ask a question as the doctor continued.
“How are you feeling? You look like you’re in pain.”
“Yeah, it started to kick in. I’m still feeling dizzy and my brain is like it’s wrapped in wool. I have trouble thinking.”
The last sentence let Peter chuckle, who was standing by the end of my bed to give Dr. Brown enough space to examine me. I shot him a quick death glare which let the laughter die in his throat, but there was still a mischievous smile on his face. I knew he would have found a sassy response if we were alone.
“That was to be expected. You’re having a concussion and the surgery on your ankle wasn’t exactly a picnic. I pumped painkillers into your system during surgery, but we always need to wait for when the patient wakes up to decide if we should give more or not.”
I nodded, but regretted it the same moment as my vision got blurry with the movement and I had to close my eyes for a second. My condition had worsened dramatically over the last ten minutes and I really hoped he would provide me release from the pain soon.
“What about the leg?” I asked with a trembling voice, suddenly scared to hear the diagnosis. I’ve seen agents forced to retire or change to a desk job because they were never able to get back to hundred percent after a severe leg injury.
“Thankfully, no surprises during surgery. I repositioned the broken fibula and secured a metal plate with screws over the fracture. It will take a few weeks until the bone will be healed, but there’s no need to worry. You’ll make a full recovery and be out in the field in no time.” Dr. Brown smiled at me again and I basically saw the tension falling off Peter’s shoulders. Was he still concerned about me? I didn’t know how to handle this version of Peter Davis, but I didn’t have the energy to think about it right now.
“I put the leg in a splint after surgery, but when the swelling is down, I’ll change you into a permanent cast. Hope to do that in a couple of days. Until then, I need you to stay here so I can monitor you closely. We’re a little…understaffed at the moment, so don’t be confused when the nurses will access your condition more frequently than I do.”
There was a sadness shimmering in his eyes that I didn’t understand, and even Peter averted his gaze from me and let his shoulders hang low.
“Oh…okay. No worries, if you give me enough strong painkillers, I’ll be the best patient you ever had, Doc.”
My comment let even Dr. Brown snicker, but the sadness in his hazel eyes didn’t leave. Something was going on here, but I would investigate this further when my brain wasn’t that foggy anymore.
“We’ll manage your pain, no worries. I let nurse Birdie bring you some morphine. That should help you rest. You’re just out of surgery, so give your body some time to cope with the new situation. I’ll be back to look for you later.” And with a tiny nod, Dr. Brown turned around and left the room, leaving me alone with Peter. He stepped around the bed to fall down on the chair next to me and I turned my head around to look at him. His face was unreadable with his slightly furrowed brows, but a weird glimmer in those emerald eyes.
“You’ll feel better in a minute, Eli. Hang in there,” he whispered, his hand shooting out to touch mine. My entire body tensed and I could see the goosebumps on my arms. I listened closely to my heart, but couldn’t understand what it was telling me. Did we like his touch?
I tried so hard to understand what was going on here, why Peter Davis suddenly cared for me, why my heart started to gallop the moment he touched me and why the hell the words, “Can you lay with me,” sat on the tip of my tongue. My mind was running a marathon and with every second, the pain in my head intensified and my ankle throbbed so much as if someone had stabbed a hot, burning knife into it and was now digging around the tissue.
His thumb drew circles on the top of my hand, and I had to close my eyes because it was all too overwhelming.
I flinched a little and let my eyes fly open again when a black woman with beautiful, curly hair and the most intense dark brown eyes that I’ve ever seen in my life burst through the door. Her light blue scrubs hugged her body perfectly and I could see a million different things stuffed into her pockets.
“This woman is driving me nuts. Never met someone so stubborn,” she mumbled with intense shakes of her head before she stopped at the end of my bed.
As quick as Peter’s hand came, it left me again and he cleared his throat while he stood from the chair. The nurse tilted her head a little before differing her gaze between me and Peter, but she didn’t say anything .
“Is she okay?” Peter asked and I looked at him with confusion.
“I’m okay,” I mumbled barely hearable, but Peter didn’t look at me nor react to my words. My mind became more and more fuzzy so that I completely missed why he was talking about me as if I wasn’t in the room. Was he even talking about me? Or maybe he didn’t even say anything at all?
I had no idea.
“Yeah, she’ll live. Already discussing with me about every little thing, can’t wait to kick her out of med-bay. Then she will be lover boy’s problem and not mine anymore.”
A full-on belly laugh left Peter’s throat, but I couldn’t join as I had no idea what they were talking about and what kind of inside joke I missed.
“That’s good to hear. I was worried a lot when I heard what happened. Can’t believe Oliver didn’t tell us before our mission.”
“Tell us what?” I asked with a gruff voice, sick of not being able to join the conversation. Additionally, the agonizing pain reduced my patience and all I was craving was some release.
Peter’s head turned around to look at me and his face fell when he saw the anger and discomfort in mine.
“Sorry, Agent Richards. Peter met another patient when he was about to visit you and was surprised because he hadn’t known that she was admitted to the med-bay. But let’s not talk about this. I’m nurse Birdie and I’m here to bring you some liquid happiness.” She smiled, pulled a small bottle out of her pocket, and wiggled it in the air.
Instant relief flooded my body, although the morphine wasn’t even connected to my IV line yet. Just knowing that it would be soon, helped me relax. There was too much going on around me that I didn’t understand and I just wanted to take a break.
“That’s good,” I simply responded, my eyes so heavy from the pain that I had trouble watching her hang the morphine on the IV pole and attach it to the drip. I’d feel better in a minute. Just like Peter had said.
Peter.
I wished he would hold my hand again, giving me some comfort while I was about to drift off. I’d like to feel safe and protected because I never had my entire life.
But instead of Peter’s callused hand on mine, an uncomfortable coldness spread over my broken leg, and in the last moments, I saw that he had placed an ice bag on it. Wherever that came from. I didn’t care.
With every passing second, the pain became more and more a background noise until I was finally comfortable enough to close my eyes and welcome the darkness.