meadowlarklogs | intervention (closed)

( for carolina, maine, and wash! )

[ the trip back from the warehouse feels a lot longer than the one there, despite the fact that carolina's with the one person whose average walking pace can be quicker than hers. the last hour has been rough and definitely didn't go the way carolina had planned it to, but things could have ended much worse.

maine isn't hiding from her anymore. that's a win, no matter how much damage they did to one another in the process.

when they finally get back to the apartment carolina shares with wash, it hasn't really changed since maine's other visits. it's still overwhelmingly utilitarian, the only indicators that it isn't a show unit are a few commonly used items left on the kitchen counters and the couch: a cyan blanket is folded neatly at one end, with wash's robot cat deactivated and left on top. carolina was trying to be cute, if things had gone horribly and wash got home before her.

once they're in, carolina toes her sneakers off without bending over to undo them properly before she heads into their little kitchen. two tall glasses on the counter get ice cubes and filtered water from the tap, joined swiftly by two bottles of beer from somewhere in the back of their fridge.

carolina nudges one of each maine's way and then tips her head to indicate the kitchen table. ]

Sit. I'll be right there.

[ because she knows that if she sits down before she gets the first aid kit and ice packs, she won't be standing up for them again any time soon. ]

[ The apartment Carolina and Wash share may lack personal touches, but it's worlds homier than the place Maine found. That's to be expected: he'd been pressed for time and hadn't been able to shop around. He unlaces his boots with practiced speed, then he removes his blousing straps and rolls down his pant legs. By the time he joins Carolina, she's already got the glasses and beers ready.

Maine casts a quick glance at the kitchen. He worked up an appetite, and he's sure the same can be said for Carolina. However, he doesn't argue. Gingerly takes a seat where she indicates, then strips off his dirty gloves and tucks them into a pocket.

The sweatbands covering his wrists stay on. Maine may have resolved to stay by Carolina's side, but he still doesn't want to see the marks from her fingernails. ]

[ the first aid kit that carolina pulls from a largely unused shelf in their cupboards seems as thorough as she's already suggested, supplies more suited to dangerous climates or violent areas than an innocuous apartment in the middle of new amsterdam. it suits them though, and carolina has benefited from it more than once.

she sets the thick case down on the middle of the table and flips it open, immediately reaching for the bottle of painkillers she rarely finds a need for and putting it down in front of maine. then carolina turns, back to the freezer attached to their fridge, pulling out a dedicated ice pack and some frozen foods that seem like they'll do in a pinch. they wind up on the counter while she looks for something to wrap them in. ]

Was that kick to your chest the worst I did?

[ it's casual, the way she'd talk about aches after a particularly intense training session. ]

[ At the sight of that first aid kid, Maine can't suppress a little amused smile. That is indeed an over-the-top kit. For the first time in a long time, he thinks about the way Wash hoarded supplies back in the station — and for once, he's able to think about that Wash without feeling any sting. Looks as though both Washes like to prepare for the worst. Some things don't change.

Carolina sets painkillers in front of Maine. Maine opens the bottle, shakes out two doses, and sets one down for Carolina. The other he hangs onto: he'll take it when she takes hers.

(There's no doubt in his mind that she's in pain. She has to be. The sickening crack still echoing in his mind is proof enough of that.) ]

Definitely.

[ It's not said with any resentment. If anything, there's a faint trace of pride. It was a hell of a kick, and he deserved it.

Belatedly, Maine realizes that he should probably remove his shirt to check the damage. He does so a moment later, grimacing as he realizes his cooling muscles are already starting to hurt. When he looks down at his bare chest, he's unsurprised to see bruises blooming in the shape of Carolina's foot. ]

[ carolina disappears for a moment, coming back with hand towels from the bathroom and in the process of wrapping one around something cold when she actually turns to look back at maine. she may have something hurting a little too much in one shoulder and vision that blurs every time she turns her head, but the bruise, already looking that bad, still makes her wince sympathetically.

she steps back to the table, offers him a makeshift ice pack. ]

You're... sure I didn't break something, right?

[ she trusts him to tell her if he thinks there's a concern there or not, but that doesn't look good. ]

[ Maine reaches out to accept the ice pack with a hum of thanks. For once, he's not overly cautious about his bare hands: he's not paranoid about the empathy bond activating. He doesn't have anything to hide from Carolina right now. She's felt far more (and far worse) from him today.

To her question, he gives a light shrug. ]

Was good kick.

[ Meaning that yes, there may well be something broken. And no, he doesn't think it's serious enough to warrant a medical professional. He's survived worse. ]

You know that's not an answer.

[ but she will accept it as one, just this once.

before she can turn back to the counter, carolina spies maine's dose of medication, untouched on the table. it's only when she opens her mouth to remind him that he's just going to get more sore as the evening wears on that she sees the second dose. ah, that's fair.

she picks up the dose set aside for her with a brief, grateful little smile and moves to take it with her water, stepping away but deliberately not giving maine any reason to worry that she's not actually taking it. it's funny, she thinks, that the same stubborn tactics her and wash use on one another are familiar to maine, too. whether that's the sort of thing she just missed seeing elsewhere in the unsc or something specific to how close the freelancers had been, she's not sure.

medication taken, carolina finishes wrapping the other ice packs, drops one at the table before she passes, heading for the bedroom she shares with wash. ]

I'll be right back. If you're hungry, help yourself.

[ it's maine. after the last few hours they've had, she's sure that he is.

and carolina wants to get somewhere more private to perform the arduous task of getting out of her shirt. it isn't a matter of modesty — maine has certainly seen her topless more than once — but a sense of wanting to minimize maine's reactions to her injuries. she doesn't want him to see her struggle, doesn't want him to see how badly she's bruised before she has time to identify it herself.

there's a brief stop in the bedroom, then a longer one in the bathroom before carolina finally emerges, wearing a loose, sleeveless shirt. it was easy to get on, but the collar dips low enough that the bruising from maine's blows is visibly already making itself known.

she doesn't want to dwell on it right now, just get an ice pack resting against her collarbone. ]

[ There are plenty of reasons Carolina might retreat to another room. Maine briefly considers a few, then lets the matter drop from his thoughts. Carolina took her painkillers; she has an ice pack; she's in a safe environment more familiar to her than him. Whatever reasons she has for seeking privacy are hers. He's not about to pry.

Maine takes his medicine and spends a few minutes icing his chest. Whether he has a cracked rib or just a bad bruise doesn't really matter to him. Treatment is more or less the same. When he gets tired of sitting, he stands up, grimaces, stretches, grimaces again, and heads into the kitchen.

Back in the station, Maine's kitchen was a fucking masterpiece. Tall counters, lots of room to move, and a ceiling so high he never felt he had to duck. This kitchen is … not that. But it's better than the so-called "kitchen" in Maine's new place. He pulls off his sweatbands, sticks them in a pocket, and then washes his hands thoroughly and gets to work.

Cooking isn't necessarily something that Maine enjoys. Not the way he enjoys combat and pushing his physical limits. But it's easy to get lost in, and he's not bad at it. Learned some as a kid. Learned more once he was on his own, too big and too hungry to rely on takeout without breaking the bank. It was either learn how to cook or eat military rations for the rest of his (potentially very short) life. He chose to learn.

By the time Carolina returns, a still-shirtless Maine has made himself at home in the kitchen. He has shrimp on the stove, and he's busy chopping vegetables for stir fry. The ice pack lies nearby, but it's evident he's decided food is more important than ice right now.

Maine glances up when he sees movement. His eyes meet Carolina's, then drop to the ice pack on her collarbone … and the bruises peeking out from beneath her neckline.

There's a moment of silence: Maine's hands have stilled. Then, purposefully, he drags his gaze away, looks down at what he's doing, and resumes chopping. ]

[ maine's eyes land on the ice pack, on the bruising visible at the edges of it despite the fact that she has it pressed to the worst part, and carolina finds herself holding her breath. the first time his power had activated, he'd been disgusted with himself, upset with the thought of having caused her harm. she thinks he's done significantly more this time but he's been steadier, after the memories she shared.

clear evidence of what he'd done might have been a reason for maine to leave and when his hands still, carolina expects him to.

but his eyes drop, he stays, and carolina can breathe again, even if it's still not without pain. the worry about trying to make maine stay in the apartment long enough for wash to get home fades away and she gladly buries it. it's not a concern anymore. ]

I take it you've found what you needed.

[ it's with a little tip of her head at the stove as she moves to lean against the counter furthest from maine, giving him space to move. it's not a big kitchen and he's not a small man. ]

Anything I can do?

[ If Maine hadn't already resolved to stop running and hiding, Carolina's bruises might've pushed him toward the door. He might've tried to get away from her, afraid that he might hurt her again. It's not as though that fear is gone — far from it. It's that he knows distancing himself from Carolina isn't the answer.

He doesn't want to become that person in her memory. He doesn't want to leave her.

Guilt rises, and Maine focuses on his work. Focuses on the knife's edge instead of the marks still visible on his wrist. Focuses on controlling himself. He can't take away Carolina's bruises; he can cook her dinner. ]

Can chop.

[ Said as he looks over at her for a moment, then jerks his chin toward the vegetables still waiting to be sliced. ]

[ carolina's affirmative nod is small, a little vague, and she deliberately adds a hum of confirmation as she makes her way over to the sink to wash her hands. she still has her ice pack on her chest, awkwardly draped over her shoulder so it's not everywhere she needs iced, but at least she won't have to hold onto to it and she's getting at least a little relief.

then she's skirting around maine, finding a knife to start working at the vegetables in question. she leans down a little, definitely squints to try to make her vision focus, but she wants to help.

she's mostly through them when she hears the lock of the front door and pauses to take as deep of a breath as she can manage. ]

Right. Time to see how upset Wash is with us.

[ with her, more likely, but as far as joking about it goes, she feels more comfortable acting as if it's both of them. ]

[ Wash was antsy the entire end of his shift, after the text argument with Carolina. But she'd apologized for not telling him, so now he's just eager to get back and check on them, make sure they're both alright. He kind of can't believe Maine came over, that it worked, but. He shouldn't underestimate Carolina's powers of persuasion.

He rushes home after work and fumbles with his keys a little as he lets himself in -- what he sees when he gets inside isn't what he expected. They're both in the kitchen cooking, Carolina's grip on her knife seeming a little shaky. Unsurprising, considering the visible bruising under her icepack, and the way her eyes don't quite focus on him when he anxiously tries to meet them. Maine looks steady but.. it's Maine. Wash would still really like to check him over. ]

Hey... I didn't expect dinner to be happening.

[ He closes the door and reaches out toward Carolina first, hand beckoning like "let me look at you." ]

It's good to see you, Maine. Are you guys sure you're okay?

THE HEALING HANDS

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bedtime w/carolina

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