vaccination | TLV

"I trust you." It's why she came to him for help, why she trusted him with her warden item.

"Just--don't tell anyone I got bit. I don't want some dumbass thinking I'm infected. And maybe don't tell B. He'll freak."

She has a feeling Steve might tell B anyway.

"I won't tell anyone," he confirms - although yeah, he has to add, "Are you sure you don't want me to tell him anything?"

He frowns a little, but more because, "He's gonna figure out something happened the next time he sees you. I hate to say it, Ellie, but you're not gonna bounce back overnight. You'll probably be able to fake feeling okay if you take it easy for a few days, but your neck'll be harder to hide."

And while she really can tell pretty much anyone else to fuck off, he doubts B is going to take that for an answer.

He's got a point. Ellie's brain isn't functioning at full capacity, and she sighs. Even after it heals--

"This is where I got bitten," she says, and while she can't really manage lifting her arm, that it moves a little is indication enough. "I used to hide my arm. The bite scar. Until I burned it off and got my tattoo."

The bumped, scarred skin is harder to notice with the ink.

"I can hide from B 'til I think of a new tattoo."

"Or I just snap your neck right now and you wake up in an hour with no scar, no blood loss, and a sore neck for a couple of days."

It is not a real suggestion, and the quiet, flat tone of his voice should tell her that. He would never, ever. Ever.

But her plan is about that reasonable, okay. That's all he's saying.

Then he sighs. "If you really don't want anyone to notice, then I'd better clean up the hallway. And get you a scarf from the wardrobe, maybe."

After he gets changed and hikes up to the mess to get her something to drink.

That Ellie snorts should be signal enough that she gets he's just being dramatic.

There's a weak attempt to reach for his arm with the hand that's closest to him.

"No, that's--you've cleaned up enough," she says. Enough of her blood, and she's gotten it on his floor and bed. She's not happy about that. "You've done enough."

Everything in here that she's gotten bloody can be cleaned or replaced. It's not a big deal, but anyone walking down the hall is going to notice the trail from her door to his. And the less obvious one Tess left behind. "It's fine. I'm not gonna make you or Tess clean it up. Don't worry about it."

But if it'll make her feel better, he'll do it while she's asleep.

"Let me get you something to drink, at least. I'm being a terrible host."

"I'm being a shitty warden, so." There's a weak laugh. He shouldn't be dealing with this shit, and she made him go to the pool, but that wasn't really her fault, and wow her head is swimming.

"You're forgiven."

"Oh, I've had worse," Steve assures her with a smile; honestly, at least all this shit is straightforward. He feels useful. Like he can do some good, help her out.

And the pool was definitely not her fault.

"Seriously, though. You're dehydrated. Can't make more blood out of nothing." He moves to stand up, so he can get changed and get her what she needs. "Are you cold? You need more blankets?"

Pity party consisting of one. Ellie wants to grab another blanket herself, or at least sit up, but she can't.

"Yeah. My hands hurt," she mutters. And no, she wouldn't have mentioned it unless he asked.

Hey, just consider it forced naptime.

(Yeah, Steve's bad at just accepting when he has to lie around, too. He gets it.)

He frowns at the admission, though, simultaneously pulling another blanket up while reaching down to check one hand and make sure there wasn't something he missed, but he suspects it has more to do with the fact that her body's going to prioritize getting what blood is left to her organs and not her hands or feet. "Keep 'em down by your sides," he suggests. "Wish I had some plasma, but I don't even know if the infirmary stocks it."

"It's okay," she reassures. "You're doing great."

Since, you know. It probably helps to hear that after she tumbled in, bitten and bloodied and sent him on a mission.

"I'll be okay."

It... weirdly does help, in this almost surprising way, just because he hadn't expected her to say that kind of thing. "You will," he confirms, tucking the blanket carefully - not restrictively - around her, letting out a slow breath. "We'll figure out what happened, and we'll find a way to help Tess if she needs it." Because he doesn't think this was her fault at all, either. Not if it's a disease, even one she might have somehow brought with her (although why it's cropped up now, he doesn't know).

For a moment, he considers getting changed back into civvies to run up to the mess - he can't pull a hoodie on over the uniform because he kind of just tore up his last one. But in the end, he just shrugs out of the top to leave him in a t-shirt underneath, and figures the tac pants don't look too out of place like that. "I'll be right back with something to drink." And maybe something to eat that can sit for a while, he doesn't expect her to want food just yet.

"Tess is going to be so fucked up by this," she says, closing her eyes again. But there's nothing to do about that right now, and Ellie's not sure how much help to Tess she can even be.

"I don't know what's going on out there." More infected? More bullshit? "Be careful."

Not that he really needs it, given who he is, but. She has to say it.

Steve's mouth twists unhappily - just the Barge being the Barge, probably, leaving the victims to deal with the fallout. But that's not going to change, so, "We'll do what we can for her," he says, quietly, even though it feels like too little too late. He barely knows Tess, isn't sure he's liked a lot of what he's seen, but she still doesn't deserve this. They'll figure something out, even if it's just making sure she knows they know it was shitty. Sometimes, that's all you can do. Sometimes, that's all you want.

He pauses with his hand on the door handle and nods. "Me, either, but it was pretty quiet." Either way, "I will. I won't be long."

He takes the stairs up at a run, at least. He has to be a little more careful, coming back down, so he doesn't spill the two glasses of juice he's carrying; plus, there are a few apples shoved into his pockets.

It's still weirdly quiet - maybe even more so than he expects, but maybe he's just on edge. He opens the door carefully with one elbow, maybe half expecting Ellie to be asleep.

She's about to give in and doze off when Steve returns. There's a slight start from her, but then she relaxes, hoping he didn't catch that reaction.

"Hope you brought a straw."

Sitting up is going to suck.

Get it. Suck. Straw.

If he caught it, he doesn't say anything about it, just shaking his head a little as he sets the glasses down on the desk. "Sorry, no. I don't even know where I'd get one around here."

Even if he had one, though, she's going to have to sit up to drink either way. Which... yeah, is not gonna be fun, but it's probably best just to get it overwith. He settles back down on the bed for a minute, considering before, "If I just pull you up, how much am I going to pay for it later?"

She really hates being this helpless. She made it back to Jackson with a broken shoulder and face, but this is worse. That shit hurt, but her strength came back as soon as she picked herself up off the floor. This is just sort of humiliating and there's the looming threat of things becoming worse before they get better. But.

"Pretty sure my pride bled out a while ago. Just do it," she sighs. If she really wanted, she could manage, but she knows it's no trouble for Steve to pull her up. He's carried her like she weighs nothing.

He knows what it's like, and he knows how much it stings when you can't do things for yourself. "You know, I've probably mentioned, but B's probably put in more hours dealing with me than most actual nurses will in a lifetime," he offers softly, scooting a little more onto the bed and carefully reaching under Ellie's shoulders to pull her upright, bracing her with one hand at her back while he shuffles the pillow against the wall so between it and him, she can lean on it and stay up. Then he reaches over and pulls over one glass, waiting patiently to see if she's got enough control with her hands to get it.

The attack has her whole body feeling like a giant bruise even if it's the blood loss she's mostly struggling with, now. Ellie bites down on her lip as she's moved, swearing softly once she's mostly up, and letting out a breath. Her head feels heavy.

"Nurse Steve is enough for me. Nurse B can stay in retirement," Ellie says. She eyes the glass, then slowly holds out two shaky hands to try and take it. "There's a few lines in your file about how things were for you before."

Or at least a few that Ellie read.

"Yeah, he definitely deserves the break," Steve agrees, letting her take it but keeping a hand under it for extra support, because he wants to give her what autonomy he can, but he also figures neither of them want her to spill it all over the bed, either. He's still trying to work out how pissed she'll be if he tries to get her to put on something without tacky, drying blood all over it.

He hums, because he's not surprised the file includes it. "Yeah. You could've taken me out without breaking a sweat," he says, and honestly, he's not even really exaggerating much. "But a bad cold would floor me just as bad as a good punch. Hell, even on the Barge, I got knocked flat a couple times. I brought something back from a breach, once. I'm that talented."

Ellie's more bark than bite right now. But, unfortunately, she's more than used to sitting around in clothes with bodily fluids caked on them. She's not going to complain.

Drinking feels uncomfortable knowing there's a hole in her neck, but she manages a few small sips. It tastes good, feels good when her mouth feels like cotton, but she doesn't want to overwhelm herself and puke on Steve's bed on top of everything else.

"I don't think I would have." It's just musing. Physically, yeah, probably. Especially as an adult. But fourteen year old Ellie, lonely and bullied? She would have wanted to be friends, especially once she realized they both liked to draw. "I was always an easy target for bullies because I was small. I get that much, at least."

Steve honestly appreciates that she's taking it slow - that's better than just gulping it down, anyway. But the hole is nowhere near your throat, Ellie. And he is pretty good at stitches, if he does say so himself. You'll be fine.

"Yeah," Steve murmurs, agreeing, "they do like to go after the small kids. I never understood, but I guess that's the difference between us and them." Making people smaller than him feel weaker doesn't make him feel better about anything.

"Besides, being small can be a major advantage in the right circumstances, at least." You're faster, more maneuverable. (When you're not asthmatic, at least.) And sometimes people not noticing you can really be to your advantage.

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