Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FITZ
“Alright, Captain,” Darby greeted him as she burst through the workshop door. “Today is the day—er, night.” She shrugged out of her blue medical jacket and hung it neatly on the clothing rack.
Fitz looked up at her from the cot that had been his home for the last two days.
Other than the few times her friend Henry had come down to help him with his private business, he had laid in the same position, alternating between sleeping and staring up at the same spot on the ceiling for hours.
The crow had been allowed to come and go again, as Darby had apparently deemed him trustworthy enough to return, but he seemed to regard Fitz as some sort of interloper.
Despite his best attempts at getting the bird to speak, Raven remained silent.
After spending most of his life constantly surrounded by his comrades-in-arms, his existence had become incredibly lonely.
“Today’s the day for what?”
“You’re going to go for a walk.” Darby grabbed a pair of brown coveralls and ducked behind a screen Henry had brought down to allow him some semblance of privacy. “I need to make sure that the calibrations on your limbs are correct, and you need to start moving again if you’re going to heal.”
“Isn’t it a little soon for that?”
Darby stepped out from behind the screen, pulling her red hair back and tying it off at the crown of her head.
It swished behind her as she moved, the effect rather like that of a horse’s tail.
The straight lines of her coveralls emphasized her long legs and broad shoulders, and he was struck by just how much strength she hid under her normal uniform.
She didn’t have the delicate, sweet beauty that was all the rage in fashionable circles, but she moved with an ease and confidence that was mesmerizing.
“The sooner, the better, actually,” she answered. “Studies show that the earlier you can get a patient moving after major surgery, the more successful their recovery.”
He frowned. “Maybe I should stay here, then.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” She stood beside his bed looking down at him, her hands on her hips and her legs akimbo. “You’ve got too much left to offer to have that attitude.”
“Like what?”
“A really winning personality, for one,” she answered dryly. “But also a good heart and a head for leadership.”
He tried to cross his arms, but settled for rolling his eyes instead. “You don’t even know me.”
She held up a hand and began ticking off her fingers.
“I know that you’re in this position because you valued your men more than your own life.
I know that you’ve proved yourself worthy of a captain’s rank, which means you must have at least some leadership qualities.
In a time of war, I would also imagine that means you’re able to think tactically and strategize.
Merry told me he just enlisted, which means he hadn’t known you for long before this all happened, and yet he was moved to tears when he thought you were dying.
You don’t earn that kind of devotion that quickly without doing something right.
And, lastly, Raven hasn’t tried to steal your screws yet, which means he must find you at least passable. He’s a very good judge of character.”
“Good Raven,” the bird in question piped in from his position on the edge of one of the bookshelves.
“He’s a bird.”
“With very good instincts.” Darby knelt beside him, bringing her within arm’s distance.
This close, he could see every freckle that dotted her face like a constellation of stars.
The dark circles under her eyes seemed to grow every time he saw her, but the green pools themselves were alight with warmth and good humor.
“Come on, Captain. It’s time to get up. Don’t make me use a kiss of true love to wake you, like they do in the fairy tales. ”
His eyes dropped to her lips, which were spread in a teasing grin. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to have her kiss him. Would it be as fiery and passionate as the stubborn temper he had seen glimpses of? Or as controlled and exact as her surgeon’s training?
My head must have also been injured in the attack. I can’t think about kissing women I barely know.
She was looking at him expectantly, and he cleared his throat. “You can just call me Fitz. If anyone is the captain here, it seems to be you.”
Her smile broadened. “Alright then, Fitz. I’m going to put a hand behind your shoulders to help you sit up, okay? Let me know if you have any chest pain, or if you start to feel light-headed.”
Darby’s arm slipped around him, bringing her head close to his own. Her soft hair brushed against his cheek, and when he inhaled, he could smell the chocolate and coffee that she seemed to consume like a plant needing sunshine.
“Here we go.” Her soft words brushed against his ear, and his heart rate sped up, clanging against his ribs like a hammer. She eased him into a seated position, supporting his left side as the weight of his metal arm tried to pull him over. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” Fitz lied, turning all of his focus on using what core muscles he had left to right himself and move away from how close she was to him.
She hummed, leaning back and studying him with narrowing eyes. “Let’s give you a few minutes to adjust to gravity again before we try standing. Do you think you can stay up on your own if I let go?”
Don’t let go. “Yes.”
She released his shoulders, and he wobbled a bit, but managed to keep himself upright.
He was rewarded with another of her wide smiles.
She crossed the room and pulled out a stethoscope from the deep pocket of her medical coat before kneeling in front of him again.
“I just want to check and make sure everything is working properly. You look a little pale. Any shortness of breath?” She rubbed the end of the stethoscope on her sleeve before slipping it under his shirt on the right side of his chest.
“No.”
“Chest pain?” Her brow furrowed, and she moved the instrument higher.
“No.”
“Dizziness?”
“No.”
“A sense of impending doom?”
“No—wait, what?” He blinked and shook his head.
Darby chuckled and leaned back on her heels as she looped the stethoscope over the back of her neck. “Believe it or not, it’s a common symptom before a heart failure.”
“I thought you were worried about my metal monster limbs, not my heart.”
She bit her lip, and he could read the hesitation that flashed across her face as easily as a road sign. “What is it?”
“Your arm and leg weren’t the only thing that had to be rebuilt.”
A growing sense of horror washed over him. It was bad enough to be metal and screws and gears on the outside, but if she was saying what he thought she was saying…
“Your heart was too damaged to leave as it was.”
The hammers were back again, and Fitz felt like he was going to be sick. Immediately, the warm bubbly feeling was back in his chest. “Stop that!” he barked. “Stop trying to fix me. You’ve already done enough.”
You’ve already turned me into some kind of monster.
She must have correctly interpreted the undercurrent of his words, for she stepped back, giving him space. The warm, bubbly feeling abated, but didn’t leave completely. Heavy silence stretched between them for several minutes.
Raven cawed. “What do you think you’re doing?”
His words were like a stone dropped in a pond, breaking the tension of the surface.
“Do you—”
“So—” They spoke at the same time. Fitz motioned for her to continue, but she shook her head.
“No, you.”
He squeezed his right hand into a fist. “Not even my heart is human anymore?”
“It’s human because you are human and it’s your heart. But I had to construct the left atrium and chamber. Do you want to listen?” Without waiting for an answer, Darby placed the earpieces in his ears and positioned the chest piece over his heart.
Thum, tick. Thum, tock.
He pushed the earpieces away with a scowl. “You turned me into a pocket watch.”
She looped the stethoscope over her neck again. “I think you’re a little too big to be pocket-sized.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I actually don’t.” Her expression was frank. “I understand that it’s an adjustment, that your body will work a little differently than before. But it’s still your body, and you’re still you. Your soul and your mind haven’t changed a bit, and—most importantly—you’re alive.”
Fitz scoffed, “I’m more metal than man.”
“Not true. Given the weight of your remaining body and comparing it to the weight of your new limbs, I would say you’re at least twice the amount of man than metal.”
Her voice was still infuriatingly cheerful and upbeat, completely unfazed by his persistent arguing.
Even more annoying, the longer he listened to her, the more Fitz found himself wanting to believe her.
Wanting to believe that, despite how foreign and strange his body now felt, he was still the same man as before.
Wanting to believe that he wasn’t a monster.
With a rustling of feathers, Raven flew over and landed on his left shoulder, talons making little metallic clinks against the metal. He bobbed his head. “Make it work.”
“An excellent idea, Raven,” Darby chuckled. She gestured to Fitz’s arm. “While you’re sitting, we might as well test your arm. Can you stretch it out?”
Fitz pressed his lips together in concentration as he focused on following her directions, lifting and twisting and bending his arm through as full a range of motion as he could.
It was still odd, to see his arm moving, to know that he was the one directing the motion, and yet to be unable to feel any sensation from that part of his body.
Darby seemed to be satisfied with her handiwork, smiling and offering him encouragement the whole time.
“Alright, now we come to the tricky bit.” She grabbed his wrist. “I want you to open and close your hand.”
The fingers only bent halfway. “I can’t.”
“Hmm.” Darby bent over his hand. “I think I might need to loosen some of these screws. Hold on a minute.”