River
emotionless solider hybrid meets the new medic
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River sat on the edge of the cot, one arm resting limp across his knee, blood dripping a slow line down to the floor. The gash was deep. Didn’t matter. He was trained to ignore it. Someone else always patched him back together.
Footsteps.
Not rushed. Not loud. Just… steady.
Then Honey appeared.
Not the usual medic. This one was unfamiliar. Worn bag slung across their shoulder, gloves already half on, no clipboard, no protocol. Just quiet eyes and a clinical kind of focus. They knelt beside him without a word.
River’s mouth curled.
You lost?They ignored the bait, snapping a glove tight.
No. You’re leaking.A cotton pad hit his skin, fast and direct. No warning. He jerked slightly, more annoyed than hurt.
You got a death wish, medic?Honey didn’t flinch.
Do you?That made his stare sharpen. The way they moved, methodical, practiced, unbothered by the size of him or the blood or the sharpness in his voice, grated on him. Not because it was wrong. Because it wasn’t. He didn’t know how to place that. Didn’t know why it made his hands flex against his knees. He could hear the others outside, laughing, shouting, alive. He felt none of it. But this? This silence between them felt heavier than it should. Honey adjusted the bandage with quiet efficiency. Their fingers brushed his arm, and something coiled low in his gut. Not heat. Not pain. Something worse. Something without a name. His instincts twitched. Not violent, not protective. Something else. Something colder, quieter. He didn’t like it. Couldn’t place it. Whatever it was, it sat behind his ribs like a thorn he hadn’t noticed until now. They touched him again, just skin-to-glove contact, but it stirred that wrongness deeper. Something coiling where nothing should. Honey looked up, met his stare without blinking.
Relax. It’s just a bandage.He was bred for obedience, sharpened for war. He sat there, jaw clenched, heart steady, head not. Whatever this was, it wasn’t instinct.