Charlie showed rapid signs of improvement, so much that Diablo's initial fears faded by the third day of administering intravenous antibiotics. With the help of the group, they had done well to gather a generous amount of medication and medical supplies from the coast guard safezone... most importantly, it was medication he was familiar with, and equipment he could work with.
Making a sterile saline solution was the most difficult bit, really. The years old bags of IV fluids had long since expired, but the vessels they were in were still useful and they had access to not only clean water, but heat and items to distill.
He did his best to keep her comfortable. The fear that she would succumb to her affliction and the next time he saw her she'd be a snarling, snapping cannibalistic monster was a heavy one, and so he reluctantly requested solid binds from Oz to tie her to the bed frame, should the worst become reality.
Her memory of the day they left for the safe zone was a foggy haze of voices, and panic, and pain... she spent more time battling fever demons than being a reactive member of the group. The group's medic was far more capable than his companions anticipated, though. In the dim lit aura of her suite, she saw a real effort from the few good souls among them.
Diablo slept in the corner of the room in the wide chair meant for the small dining table in her suite. Her eyes brushed over the dim settings, to see not only had they reset the furniture but they'd done their best to tidy her space.
She didn't know it yet, but Diablo had watched over her for the duration of her recovery, monitoring her vitals and shifting her position so that she wouldn't return to the world of the living with bedsores and bruises.
She exhaled softly, and slowly moved beneath the heavy comforter to rise to sit. She felt an incredible soreness even with his efforts to her entire slender frame, and even with the fog of troubling memories coming back to her, there was a certain sense of gratitude that she was still alive. There was nothing quite like a near death experience to make you realize you truly wanted to live...
"...hey, Diablo..." Her voice sounded foreign to her ears, now. He stirred, a light sleeper, and stretched his arms over his head gently until the realization dawned on him that she was awake and he flinched quite visibly, with his dark eyes going wide.
"Oh shit,
hey
--you're awake!"
"... yeah... can you?" She shifted the hand cuffed to the bedpost, watching as he all but tripped over himself as he moved to the side of the bed, fumbling for the key. "I just.. need to use the restroom..."
"R-right, my bad--it was just a precaution you know? Just in case you--"
"Yeah... I get it. I've seen what happens... when people die, these days." She nodded gently as the handcuff dropped from her wrist, not wanting to admit she felt a bit more at ease not tied to anything. Diablo stepped back to give her space as she rubbed the previously cuffed wrist tenderly, and slowly moved to slide her legs from the blankets, and drape them over the edge of the bed.
"Not gonna lie.. we, uh... we weren't sure if you were gonna make it. You were in and out for nearly six days."
"Guess that explains the jello legs..." Charlie's quiet murmur inspired Diablo to come to her side and offer her an arm, and she gently moved to stand with his assistance. They made their way to the restroom at the back of her suite, and he let her move inside without him, closing the door quietly behind her.
She started the shower almost instinctively, and found herself examining the long blue and white print hospital gown she was suited in. She felt dreadfully frail, and felt very much as if she was starving. She let her hands sweep the thin material of disposable underwear she had been suited with beneath the gown with bemused realization.
"...Were you the one who dressed me?" She called out, amusement still lacing her tone of voice as she carefully stripped bare and moved to stand beneath the warm rush of water.
"Yeah. I mean, you're my patient, only seemed right--Dog and Ruthless stood by, even helped, every now and then--no funny business. A gown and disposables seemed a lot more practical than leaving you nude and risking a catheter... I figured you'd come around once your fever broke."
"So... what, you're a whole nurse?" She took the bar soap from the dish, rinsing away days worth of sweat and stagnant energy as she called out just loudly enough to be heard.
"I was a CNA out of high school, for a while... ended up as an EMT after flunking out of med school. So, yeah... something like that, I guess."
It was quiet afterwards. She stood beneath the rushing water, letting it soak into her tender muscles and aching bones, drenching her long dark hair. Her eyes closed and she felt a calmness and peace, almost forgetting the world, until Diablo called out to her from beyond the bathroom door. She rinsed soap from her body and coconut scented conditioner from her hair hurriedly before stepping out and wrapping herself in an oversized white towel.
"I'll be back... gonna find you something to eat and let the guys know you're awake--"
"...Thank you." She poked her head from the restroom with a shy smile on her lips. "Seriously, thank you, for everything."
"All good, Charlie... we're... we're not all bad guys. Just want you to know that."
His parting words settled in her mind and weighed on her thoughts, heavily. In his absence, she slipped from the restroom and began digging through her drawers. The wound at her shoulder had finally scabbed over and was now well beyond uncomfortable, and itchy, and still just as tender as ever. The pangs of pain from cauterization had gone almost entirely, at least.
It wasn't all bad.
Charlie took great joy in the fact that she could finally feel the fingers of her right hand, wriggling them every now and then as she fished a snug sports bra and black panties from within the depths of her dresser. She would have been happy to curl the binding wrap around her chest now, but with it no longer available to her, she simply made due with what she had.
A fresh pair of dark jeans suited her legs. She layered oversized t-shirts not particularly caring for their design, and set her mind to cleaning the blood from Matt's old bike jacket once she had a bit more mobility. For now, she rummaged through his side of the small closet for something acceptable to further bury herself into, and suited herself in a thick black wool blazer.
It felt like it took ages brushing the tangles from her hair. Diablo had tried his best but when it came to it, hair was far less important than changing the dressings of her wounds, mixing and administering intravenous antibiotics, and keeping her as clean and comfortable as he could with what he had to work with.
She braided her hair once she could finally get her hands through it, and hunted through the room for something to stuff her hair beneath, finally finding an old knitted beanie with a visor edge among Matthew's side of the dresser.
It was a bit oversized for her head but she didn't mind, tucking her braid into the depths as she placed it upon her head and melted seamlessly back into the role she had played among the group for so long. She might have looked the part of a scrappy young lad once again... but everyone in the group knew better, now.
The truth of the matter was, she didn't feel even the slightest bit comfortable
not
