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“It’s alright, Eishia, I don’t think he needs Type: Heal. You can rest,” Gris assures soothingly, starting to push up Zanka’s sleeve. “He’s only passed out. I’ve got him.”
Zanka collapsed from exhaustion while training. Eishia knows because he’s taken off his outer layer of uniform and is down to just his long-sleeved black shirt. It typically wouldn’t be possible to hike i[ up, but it’s ripped where it hooks around his finger. Gris is gentle as he touches him but it makes Eishia’s heart slam painfully against her ribs nonetheless.
“What are you doing?” she asks worriedly, moving toward him despite his words.
”Checking his pulse,” Gris replies without judging her for asking such an obvious question. It’s not what she meant. She’s a doctor. Zanka is her friend.
Eishia’s heart is lodged in her throat, and not for any reason Gris thinks.
”Please don’t! I’ve got it, I’ll take care of him,” she says, searching for any reason, any excuse she can think of at all to stop him from seeing what is beneath his sleeves.
Eishia knows how Zanka feels about stuff like this. If Gris saw, Zanka would never be able to look him in the eye ever again, and it would be all Eishia’s fault. She can’t let that happen to him, no matter how heavily the secrecy weighs on her. She knows how it weighs on Zanka, too. A sorry doctor she is–but the least she can do is be a good friend.
It works. Gris steps back, expression apologetic as though he’s done anything wrong. He only wanted to help, and now Eishia’s made him feel bad. It worked. Eishia is still awful.
”Of course, yeah.” Gris gives up on his sleeve, instead tugging it back down. Eishia could cry a river with the relief that floods through her. She’s done it. Gris musses up Zanka’s hair where he lies on the infirmary bed before stepping back to offer Eishia space to examine him.
Zanka’s starting to wake up. Had she not intervened, he would have woken up just as Gris’ gaze landed on his bare arm, and all the evidence of mistake after mistake he tries so hard to hide. Eishia doesn’t want to think about what he would’ve done after that.
She’s got it. She’ll take care of him.
All of the Cleaners have got their own scars. Some on their skin, and some in their chest where their ribs could not protect their hearts. Eishia is their only on-site Healer, she knows it better than anyone. Eishia has seen so many scars but when she sees Zanka’s, she sees a reflection of herself, the same dance and drag on his skin that she sees on her own.
Eishia is not a good doctor. The only person she hurts, though, is herself. She plans to keep it that way.
They don’t talk about it, the two of them. Zanka refuses to think about it more than he has to, and Eishia because it feels like blades in her throat to say the words aloud. But it’s there.
They don’t talk about it but it’s there, always in the air around them, always always always there. It’s always there and won’t ever fade completely.
Zanka’s eyes flutter open, floating to where Eishia stands at his side, tugging nervously at the cord on her hat.
”I’m sorry,” he mutters.
”It’s alright,” she promises.
Eishia hands him a glass of water, urging him with a hand on his chest not to sit fully up just yet but tucking another pillow beneath his head so he can drink.
Zanka’s been training even more than usual lately, fighting and fighting to recover completely and beyond following a hit from Jabber’s last concoction of poison. If Eishia was a better doctor, she would have synthesized a proper antidote by now, something that would make Zanka all better so he could focus completely on recovery and not training, but Eishia is only herself which is to say not that much at all.
Once he’s drunk something and not started choking, Eishia briefly leaves his side to bring him snacks to get his energy back up.
”Don’t bother,” he says before she can take more than a few steps. “Getting food, I mean.”
They’ve done this song and dance a few times. Neither are very good at it. At least it’s familiar.
Eishia turns around, worry permeating her expression without any regard for the guilt it could manifest in him.
”Why not? Are you not feeling well?”
”No, it’s—I feel fine. I ate something earlier. I’m not bulking right now.” Zanka’s never bulking. Eishia would know better than anyone. It’s her office he’s always winding up in, after all. She wishes he wouldn’t act like she doesn’t know.
”Okay,” she says. “That’s fine. Just keep lying down.”
”I can’t, I need to keep—“
”Please?” She isn’t asking as a doctor, too desperate for it, she’s just asking as Eishia.
It shouldn’t be enough. Eishia isn’t enough.
For some reason, it’s enough for Zanka. He settles back into bed.
”Right.” He looks ashamed. “Sorry for pushing, you’re the doctor.”
Eishia’s heart swells with appreciation and guilt that she tries to push past. She turns to thank him for his too-kind words, but he’s got his attention locked onto his messed up sleeve.
Her expression softens.
”It’s alright, I’m sure my brother will be able to fix it,” she assures. August is a lot but he’s talented and would do it for Zanka no questions. Eishia wonders sometimes, how August is so much and she is so little. She knows better than to ask August.
”Did… anyone…”
”Oh, no! I, er, said I’d check you out myself.”
”Who brought me here?”
”Gris.”
Zanka smiles sadly, hands limp in his lap.
”Thanks, Eishia. I’ll have to thank him too.”
”Of course, it’s my job!”
”Doesn’t mean you should have to… keep my secrets.” The words sound painful leaving his mouth. Zanka looks like he’s swallowing down a cry of pain and it tears Eishia to shreds that it isn’t the sort of pain she can fix.
”You keep mine too,” she offers.
The reminder doesn’t seem to make Zanka feel any better.
()
Eishia loves her job sometimes. She’s a doctor, a healer, and just like everyone keeps reminding her, she’s the best one they’ve got. With her grandmother a bit of a drive away, she’s the only one they’ve got, but the sentiment and time everyone spends reassuring her feels nice just as well. Eishia can save them. Usually.
The rest of the time, she hates it.
People still get hurt. Eishia can’t save everyone. She’s supposed to be able to, but she can’t. She can’t, can’t, can’t even breathe sometimes, either. Eishia can’t always save herself.
()
Someone’s pounding on Eishia’s door. Her room, not office, so this is surely urgent. She wishes she could just stay here forever, curled with her knees pulled up to her chest on the restroom floor, but doesn’t want to keep her visitor waiting any longer than she has to. Despite how faint it makes her feel, Eishia forces herself to stand with wobbly knees, her trembling hands gripping the edge of the sink as she surveys her appearance in the mirror.
Eishia doesn’t look well at all. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are wet and her nose is red.
She pulls her gloves on over her fresh, neatly wound bandages and rubs her knuckles over her eyes with a little sniffle. After a tissue to dab the tear stains from her cheeks and a shaky breath, Eishia looks the tiniest bit better.
Oh, who is she kidding? Eishia isn’t well
She opens the door anyway so as not to be rude. And it’s—well, it’s—Eishia doesn’t feel up to seeing anyone at all right now, but if she had to choose someone while she’s like this, it'd be Zanka. Zanka’s here. Her bottom lip trembles a little and she bites into it gently with her top teeth to make it stop. Zanka’s here.
”Hi. Do you need anything?” she mumbles. She can’t fool Zanka but she can at least be polite.
Zanka scratches the back of his neck. Eishia can’t read his expression at all, her teary eyes making it all too blurry.
”Nah, I just wanted to thank you again. For earlier. Gris told me, and I— ya saved my— are you alright?”
”Yeah,” Eishia chokes out miserably.
She’s trying her very best to push it down but it’s there, there, there, always there and now it’s all leaking out like she’s a pathetic storm cloud, and Zanka isn’t a hugger, Eishia’s seen how he gets, but then he’s hugging her real gentle, tucking her head under his chin.
This sad little noise tears from Eishia’s throat but it’s muffled. Zanka keeps hugging her even though he must know her tears are getting on his uniform. He doesn’t say anything so Eishia doesn’t either, she just lets herself melt into it. She never realized Zanka, with his sharp looks and cold demeanor could feel so warm when everything is awful, and she really never thought herself as deserving of that warmth surrounding her at all.
She’s got to enjoy it while it lasts. While it’s right here.
Eishia eventually remembers to hug him back, that’s what you’re supposed to do. When her arms wrap around him he lets out this little gasp Eishia thinks translates to embarrassment though she can’t even begin to figure out why.
Eventually it ends and they pull apart.
The cold doesn’t come rushing back. Not yet, at least, not completely, even though the warmth isn’t enveloping her anymore.
”I’m sorry, I should’ve—“ Zanka looks all awkward, his cheeks flushed red the same way he gets after a compliment hits him right in the chest. “Are you hurt?”
Eishia hesitates, the cold starting to pry apart her ribs to creep around her heart as she debates how to answer. She settles for shaking her head.
”Are you sure?”
She nods minutely.
Zanka’s face softens somehow even further but he still looks worried. About her. Eishia is a doctor, she isn’t meant to be worried about, that’s not how it should be, but she gets the feeling Zanka would worry anyway and maybe for a short while she can be the worst doctor at the Cleaner Headquarters and let him be a little bit worried.
About her. Her.
”Thank you for—“ her voice threatens to break so she pauses and reminds herself to stay whole, “—coming to say thank you. You really didn’t have to. Really.”
Her skin beneath her bandages twinges quietly. She sniffles.
Zanka moves fast, finding a tissue for her and pressing it into her hand.
”I was gonna go ask August about fixin’ up my uniform. D’ya wanna come with? We can stop by the cafeteria on the way, Rudo’s been talkin’ about this new candy he loves.”
A little smile floats onto Eishia’s face. It sounds good. She would like to get out of her dorm. She wipes at her eyes again.
”I do, yeah.”
Zanka smiles back and for a little while the warmth in her heart is right, right, right there with her. He lets her take his hand and she lets him pulls her from her dark room.