A Hand of Spades

Chapter 11. Suffer to Survive

True to his word, Doc arrives a few hours later dressed casually in jeans and a tank top. She assesses my shoulder first, noting I can take it out of the sling now that it's been a few days. With that more casual business out of the way, I'm suddenly on the receiving end of her sternest look. I wonder if she learned it from Pearl; the resemblance is strong.

"Let me see it." She chides, and blows out an exasperated breath at the sight of the infected gash. "Idiot."

"Sorry." I mutter.

"Don't apologize to me. Cash looks like a wounded dog."

My face heats with shame. "Yeah. I-I hit him."

"In any other scenario I'd congratulate you. He probably deserved it." She smiles ever-so-slightly. "Look, I know it's hard to trust any of us. I don't know what your life was like before you got here, but I do know what you looked like last week when Cash brought you in."

She shudders remembering it. She'd seemed so calm the night we met, totally unphased by the sight of me. She's a professional, she must see battered people all the time. My injuries should have been no different.

"The Spades are criminals, sure, but they aren't like the ones you know. We care about what happens to you, Jane. Cash is," she fumbles for the right word, "invested in your safety."

A little warmth kisses my cheeks at that. I blame the fever. 

Doc has me take antibiotics and something else to help me sleep. She watches critically as I drink water and eat soup. Her level of care feels so strange and familial that I have to remind myself she's a medical professional and not some sweet guardian illuminated by the lamplight.

"Why does everyone call you Doc?"

"Why does everyone call you Jane?" She counters.

"Bad first name." I sigh.

A private smile, like she knows she's got me beat. "Mine's Dorthea."

I cringe before I can stop myself. "That's not so bad."

"Please, it's hideous. The boys called me Dot for a long time. When I went into medicine it naturally evolved. I'll take it." She shrugs. "Even though I'm a nurse, not a Doc. I spend so much time patching these guys up, I might as well be a damn surgeon."

The way she speaks about the Spades is so casual. To her, they're just 'the guys'. 

"You really trust them."

She doesn't hesitate. "With my life."

"Okay." I let her words sink in.

"I've told Cash we should have a gathering. You and your sister can meet all of us properly. What do you think?"

The idea of socializing is an absolutely nightmarish one, but there's an olive branch being extended and I'd be a fool not to take it.  Getting to know everyone might make both Blister and I feel more comfortable.

"I think that's a good idea."

"Good. You off at all this weekend?"

"Yeah. Sunday."

She gets to her feet, brushing her hands on her jeans. "We'll do that then. I should warn you, Spade gatherings get a little," her eyes sparkle fondly, "intense."

"Intense how?"

"What's your alcohol tolerance like?"

~~

When Doc goes, I drift in and out of sleep. The hours pass in lazy, sliding bouts of dreaming. I open my eyes, the room is still dark. There's a recognizable grumpy shadow in the doorway.

"I'm sorry I hit you."

He nods, a long pause stretching between us before he speaks again. "Are you saying that because you mean it, or because you're scared I'll throw you out on your ass?"

I don't answer. I'm not sure I should.

"Jesus, kid." He breathes, eyeing me up. "I'm not going to make you suffer to survive."

The statement hits me like a shock of cold water. "I-I never said"-

"I know you didn't. You'd put your life on the line for your sister. Hell, if it would guarantee Hoyt would leave Blister alone, wouldn't you have done anything he asked?"

Yes, in a heartbeat. I don't say it out loud, he knows.

"You have our protection regardless of whether or not you're useful. If you want to stop working at the Stella"-

"No." When his eyebrow quirks up doubtfully, I add: "I mean it. I want to take Hoyt down."

"Then you gotta start accepting help, Dallas. Work with me." He pauses, ruminating. "When your car pulled in tonight, it wasn't from the direction of the Stella."

Busted.

"I went to the motel where Cori was living."

He sucks in a breath. "Why?"

"I don't know. I wanted to make sure she was okay. She hasn't come in for her shifts after seeing Tex and I-I wanted to make sure Hoyt didn't hurt her." The same way he hurt me.

"Did you find anything?"

I shake my head. "It looks like she bolted, but he tore the place apart."

"Damn, Cori." He sighs. "Did it seem like he was looking for something?"

"Yeah, it did."

"That's good to know, but I'd rather you didn't go off on your own, especially someplace that might be dangerous."

I laugh unexpectedly. "Okay boss."

He smiles down at me and butterflies stir up in my stomach.

"I'm sorry I hit you." I don't know what else to say.

He smirks. "You already said that. It's okay. We should teach you how to throw a harder punch though."

"In my defense, I was feverish." He strides over to the bed, sighing. He places the back of his hand gently against my forehead. He feels warm even against the heat of my own skin.

I think he's looking at me with some measure of affection, but the illusion is quickly shattered when he says: "I knew you'd be a pain in the ass from the moment I saw you."

Feebly, I reach up to knock his hand away. His fingers loop into a strand of my hair, tugging on it gently; a lifeline. "Be nice to me." I croak. "I'm sick."

"You made yourself sick, kid. I'm amazed you've survived as long as you have."

"Stop calling me kid. You're not that much older than me, are you?"

"I'm thirty-two."

"Ancient." I murmur. "Old man."

He laughs. "Don't call me old man. People will start to get ideas."

My eyes flicker closed and it feels so cozy in the dark, with the gentle calloused hands of a biker sliding through my hair, brushing gently against my scalp. I sigh contentedly. His weight sinks into the edge of the mattress. How can I convince him to do this every night? I'd certainly sleep much better.

It's a strange request, an intimate one, so instead I launch a complaint: "I haven't seen a single motorcycle yet. How is that possible? I thought you were a biker gang."

"Motorcycle club." He corrects gently. "I'll take you for a ride when you're better."

"Promise?

"Yes, Dallas. I promise."

///

AN: Sorry for the short chapter!