Fated (Bloodhound x Eve (OC))

Apologies

"Look at this. Is my naughty girl enjoying her punishment?"

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The silence in the transport ship was thick, guilt pulling like a weight in Eve's chest. Octavio and Bloodhound had been quickly taken out by Fuse's team shortly after her death, and her conscience felt the brunt of this loss. Her team's defeat had primarily been due to her bad decisions.

The small craft brought the pair to the edge of the forest like it had many times before. Except this time, there was no teasing, no laughter, no tempting promises of what awaited her at the cabin. There was only the deep vibration of the ship's engines, the faint hum of Bloodhound's respirator, and the sound of her own breathing, heavy with the effort of holding back the floodgates of her tears that threatened to burst open. Her boot felt too tight, too hot. She shifted her leg and accidentally tapped her ankle against the metal under her seat, pain pulsating from the impact point.

When they landed, Bloodhound strode down the metal gangway wordlessly, onto the path that led to their home. The ride home had been tense, but it allowed Eve time to cool off. She regretted the harsh words she had thrown at them, the way she had dismissed their concerns with an attitude that was mostly uncalled for. Maybe they were partly at fault for their repeated questioning, but she was the one who didn't handle things well. She couldn't blame them for her actions – or her ankle.

Eve rose out of her seat reluctantly, anticipating the pain she knew was coming. She bit her lip at the sight of Bloodhound's jacket disappearing into the trees. Not wanting to be left behind again, she struggled to traverse the trail, hop-skipping through the dirt, her ankle screaming every excruciating time she had to set it down. It was only a short walk to their cabin, ten minutes at most, but each step was now unbearable. Eve was unable to put any weight on that foot without pain zinging up her calf. There was no way she could make it.

"Wait!" she cried, swallowing her pride. "Hound!" Sweat broke out on her brow and she let herself drop to the forest floor. "I need help."

The distant crunching of pine needles and leaves stopped as Bloodhound halted. She looked up and saw them turn around, then begin to walk towards her, their posture still rigid. Moisture gathered on her lashes, but Eve chewed on her lip, trying to hold out a little longer, not wanting them to see how pathetic she felt.

They stopped a foot away from her. "Ah. I thought you did not need me. Is that not what you said?"

"Yeah. I was wrong." Eve looked away, examining a fern to her right so she didn't have to face the mask that stared down at her accusingly. "Please?"

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from crying and counted each of the fronds of the plant to distract herself. Her thoughts raced, told her how this was all her fault, how badly she had messed up, how Bloodhound must be furious. It was hard to keep that inner voice quiet as she sat on the ground at their feet. Part of her wished she could just dissolve into the dirt below so she wouldn't have to face them.

They wordlessly moved forward and grabbed Eve, throwing her over their shoulder like an animal they had downed on a hunt, not carrying her sweetly like they normally did, cradled against their chest or comfortably on their back where she could rest her head on their shoulder. Her upper body hung limply and the blood rushed to her head, but she didn't complain. The tears fell freely now, fat, salty droplets filled with her pain, shame, and regret, darkening spots on their jacket.

The hunter brought her to their cabin and walked through without taking off their boots, not caring that they tracked in dirt from the path. They set Eve down on the edge of the bed and immediately knelt before her to unlace her boot. She winced as they pulled her shoe off, even though they were incredibly gentle — she choked back more tears, feeling unworthy of their care. Their agile hands unwrapped the pink elastic to examine her joint more closely. Even to Eve's untrained eye, it looked bad. Her ankle was splotched with a large dark purple and red bruise beneath, beginning to swell now with the wrap removed. Bloodhound tutted at the sight of it.