As Tom sat back on his heels, he took the leftover water and cleaned his hands of the blood that coated his hands. Paying special attention to the tattoo on the inside of his right wrist. His fingers ran over the raised ink, the tattoo on it’s final days of healing. His head snapped towards the woman as she came to. “Eh, 15 minutes, give or take like, 5 minutes.” Tom placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, hoping to help calm the woman. “I didn’t leave. I stayed right here, by your side the entire time. I never leave a patient in the field alone. You’re safe.”
Cara jumped at his touch, not expecting it. She recognized the gesture for what it was – he was trying to comfort her – she just wasn’t used to it anymore. Contact only came from whoever or whatever was trying to kill her that day. Which was why a small, wry smile tugged at her lips when he told her that she was safe, “No, I’m not. But I appreciate you saying so.” A beat passed before she carefully dug into her pocket for his keys, pressing them into his hand. “Go. You did more than I could have asked for, more than you had to. And you stayed, you didn’t call the police. …So thank you. But you should leave. I can take over from here.”
While Tom was thankful to have his keys back, he wasn’t ready to leave her just yet. “I can’t do that. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here alone, especially not after you just lost consciousness. I’m staying at least until you eat something and increase your intake of fluids.” He sat back on his heels once more, his hands folded around the keys in his lap. “You can’t convince me otherwise. Now let’s get some water in you,” he smiled, despite the grimness of the overall situation. Tom reached into the duffel and pulled out a few bottles of water, cracking the first open and handing it to her.
