Cogs Of Fate

Something To Protect

Back in the infirmary, Tenley finished patching everyone up and sat down at her desk with a heavy sigh. She was thankful for the much-needed silence and space away from everyone.

It had been quite a day and this was the first chance she had to sit and take a moment to rest. As she sat there in the empty room, her eyes drifted across her desk at the stacks of papers, the occasional pen peeking out from the clutter, and the small ball of rubber bands before landing on a familiar leather-bound journal. Sitting up straight in her chair, she reached for it.

She eyed the cover of the old journal in her hands, noticing the silvered monogram letters embossed on the front. She stared at them, trying to understand what they meant when she noticed the shading was slightly different on the last two letters in the series.

Before she had a chance to properly investigate the cover, the door to the infirmary opened, gaining her attention. A young woman with coppery hair entered, her eyes scanned the place before landing on the doctor.

Tenley blinked at her. "Can I help you?

The woman nodded, holding up her right hand which was bound by a light green kitchen towel, dark hues of crimson visibly seeped through. "I cut myself."

Tenley stood from her desk, setting the journal down as she motioned for the young woman to enter and sit on one of the exam tables across the way. "What happened?"

The woman crossed the room as she explained, "I sliced it in the kitchen," she climbed up onto the exam table, "I tried to wrap it as best as I could but..."

"Let's take a look," Tenley said, pulling a pair of purple latex gloves on. She started to unwrap the blood-soaked dish towel from the woman's hand. "What's your name?"

"Poppy," the woman replied. The moment her wound was exposed to air, she hissed in pain, grimacing at the sight of it before averting her gaze. The cut across her palm was jagged, about an inch wide and 4 inches long, the flesh peeled awkwardly away from the exposed tissue beneath. Some of the shallower sections had started to clot but the woman would need a few stitches.

Tenley's brows drew together at the state of the wound. "You cut yourself?" Poppy nodded and Tenley asked, "On what?"

Poppy bit her lip to keep from hissing out as Tenley began cleaning the wound. "A metal - "

The door to the infirmary opened again, interrupting Poppy's explanation. Both women glanced over to see Quinn halting in his tracks just beyond the threshold. His posture tensed as he stared at them, his hand remained on the doorknob.

Tenley's brow drew together as she took in his appearance. "What's wrong?

"When ye get a moment," he said, his dark eyes never leaving Poppy, "I'd like to speak with ye."

"Might be a while," Tenley told him as she turned her attention back to Poppy's sliced hand.

"I can wait," he told her, not moving from the doorway.

Tenley glanced back over to him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you planning on holding the wall up or are you going to come inside and sit down?"

Quinn's lips drooped into a frown. "I'm going to walk the hallway," he told her, "keep the blood flowing in my leg." He turned, leaving the door wide open as he paced the length of the hall.

Tenley shook her head slightly, turning back to Poppy. "Sorry about that," she muttered, resuming her work on the woman's hand. She paused long enough to grab the suture kit to begin stitching the palm.

"He scares me," she confessed quietly, her green eyes locked on the opened door.

Tenley lifted her gaze to meet hers. "Who? Quinn?" Poppy nodded. Tenley asked, "Any particular reason why?"