Chapter 60- The Worst Patient Alive
The scream pulls me forward before I have time to think.
It cuts through the morning like something alive—sharp, pained, and entirely too familiar—and my heart lurches violently in my chest as I reach for the tent flap. For a single second, my hand hesitates against the fabric, my fingers trembling as fear presses in from every direction at once.
I know that sound.
I've heard it before.
And I don't know if I can handle seeing what caused it.
But Elias is inside.
That is all that matters.
I push through.
The first thing that hits me is the smell.
It's thick, heavy, overwhelming the metallic scent of blood layered over something sharper, cleaner, like alcohol and crushed herbs, like something meant to heal but struggling against the damage it's being asked to fix.
It fills my lungs, coats the back of my throat, and my stomach twists so violently I have to steady myself against the entrance just to remain upright.
Then I see him.
Elias is slumped against a wooden beam, his body barely held upright by it, his head tilted back as if even the act of keeping it up has become too much. He's stripped down to his underclothes, his usual polished, composed appearance gone entirely, replaced by something raw and unsettling.
He looks like he lost.
Not a small loss.
Not a simple injury.
He looks like a man who stood in the middle of a battlefield and refused to fall until his body gave up on him.
Blood covers him.
It streaks across his chest, dries in dark patches along his ribs, pools faintly at his waist. His skin is a map of violence bruises blooming in deep purples and blues, cuts scattered across him like careless brushstrokes. Some are shallow. Others
Others are not.
My eyes catch on one and refuse to move.
His arm.
There's a gash there so deep it makes my vision blur for a second. The skin is split open in a way that doesn't look natural, doesn't look survivable, and beneath it just for a second I see something pale, something wrong.
Bone.
My stomach lurches so hard I nearly turn away.
But I don't.
Because he's still breathing.
Because he's still talking.
Because...
Veronica is sewing him back together like this is nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
She sits in front of him, surrounded by an array of medical kits laid out in perfect order, her sleeves rolled up, her hands steady and sure as she works.
The needle moves through his skin with precision, the thread following without hesitation, her expression calm and focused in a way that feels completely at odds with the state of the man in front of her.
Elias groans, his head falling back against the beam with a dull thud.
"You have," he says, pausing to suck in a breath through his teeth as she pulls the thread tight, "the worst bedside manner I have ever experienced."
Veronica doesn't even glance up.
"Noted," she replies, already moving on to the next stitch.
"I would like," he continues, his voice strained but still managing to hold that familiar, ridiculous tone, "to formally request a different doctor."
"No."
The answer is immediate.
Flat.
Final.
Then she pulls the thread again.
Harder this time.
Elias screams.
The sound bounces off the tent walls, sharp enough to make me flinch, my hand tightening instinctively against the entrance as my entire body reacts.
"Gods...!" he gasps, his body jerking despite her firm grip. "Are you trying to kill me?!"
Veronica exhales slowly, like she's dealing with a particularly annoying child.
"You're the one who decided to get stabbed like an idiot," she replies calmly, adjusting her grip and continuing her work. "I'm just fixing the consequences of your poor life choices."
"I was busy being heroic," he protests weakly.
"You were busy being reckless," she corrects.
"Same thing."
"It is absolutely not the same thing."
He huffs.
"I still want another doctor."
Veronica pauses.
Slowly looks up at him.
Her expression shifts not dramatically, not obviously, but enough that I feel it from where I stand.
Dangerous.
"Oh?" she says sweetly. "You want another woman touching you while you're half naked?"
Elias blinks.
"...that is not what I said."
"That is exactly what you said," she replies, tightening another stitch just enough to make him wince again. "And I'm going to call it what it is...complete and utter nonsense."
She leans closer, inspecting the wound with narrowed eyes.
"I already had to drag you out of that mess like you were some kind of tragic damsel in distress," she continues, her tone shifting into something mockingly offended. "Which, by the way, is deeply insulting. The man is supposed to rescue the princess, not the other way around."
Elias lets out a weak laugh.
"You are not a princess You're a demon," he corrects.
Her smile sharpens.
Without warning
She pulls the thread.
Elias screams again, louder this time, his entire body tensing as his head snaps forward.
"You heartless witch!"
"Thank you," she says brightly.
Then, before I can even process what's happening.
She leans in and kisses his cheek.
Quick.
Casual.
Like it's nothing.
"Now be quiet," she murmurs. "Or I will make the next one worse."
Elias groans, slumping back against the beam, but there's something else there now—something that doesn't match the pain.
He's smiling.
Trying not to.
Failing.
"Psychopath," he mutters.
I blink.
Because I don't understand what I'm looking at.
Because he looks like he barely survived whatever happened to him.
Because he should not be smiling.
And yet...
He is.
My eyes drift over him again, taking in everything now that the initial shock has settled just enough for me to see clearly.
The bruises.
The cuts.
The way his body looks like it's been pushed far beyond what it should have endured.
And then...
Veronica leans closer to him again.
Whispers something.
Soft.
Too quiet for me to hear.
Elias stills.
Just for a second.
Then he turns his head.
And looks at me.
And my breath stops.
Because one of his eyes is gone.
Not hidden.
Not swollen.
Gone.
My hand flies to my mouth.
The world tilts slightly.
And for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
Elias watches me carefully.
And for the first time since I walked in.
He looks unsure.
"I've looked worse," he says, attempting a grin that doesn't quite work.
Veronica snorts.
"You absolutely have not."
"I have," he insists.
"You had a paper cut once."
"It was a very serious paper cut."
"It did not require stitches."
"This does not require this many stitches either."
She raises an eyebrow.
"I can stop."
"...you're evil."
Their eyes meet.
And something passes between them.
Something quiet.
Something that has nothing to do with the situation around them. Something that makes my confusion deepen.
Because this isn't new.
This isn't surprising to them.
This is... normal.
Before I can fully process that—
Elias reaches for her.
Weakly.
With his good arm.
And pulls her closer.
Veronica doesn't resist.
Not even a little.
She leans in
And kisses him.
I freeze.
Completely.
My brain stops working.
I don't even have time to react before
A hand covers my eyes.
Firm.
Immediate.
Achilles' voice is low beside me, edged with something that sounds suspiciously like irritation.There's a pointed clearing of his throat.
Very loud.
Very deliberate.
The kiss breaks.
"Really?" Veronica says, clearly amused. "Now?"
"Yes," Achilles replies flatly.
I push his hand away instantly.
"What—" I blink, looking between them, then back at him. "What just happened?"
Elias groans.
"I'm dying," he mutters.
"You're not dying," Veronica replies.
"Let me have this moment."
"You had your moment."
"I deserve another."
I stare at them.
Then at Achilles.
Then back again.
My brain finally catches up.
"...how?"
The question slips out before I can stop it.
I look at Elias.
Then at Veronica.
Then back again.
"How did you.." I gesture vaguely between them. "She's... she's..."
I falter.
Because there are no words strong enough.
"Way out of your league," I finish.
Elias looks offended.
"I am extremely charming."
"No you are not," Veronica replies.
"Yes i am."