Remembering You

Time to Leave

"You okay?" Jason asked as I hurriedly cleaned up the mess.

"Yes, fine, fine. I think..." I said, trailing off, shaking a bit as I pushed the glass shards into the dustpan haphazardly, a challenging task with a damaged arm. I hissed in pain, accidentally cutting myself with one of the shards in my hurry to fix the mess I had caused.

"Sorry...sorry...really sorry..." I mumbled, overwhelmed and running on no sleep after recovering from a horrible virus. It was as if my mind was scrambling again, unable to handle the stress of everything, and I felt like I was spiraling out of control.

Jason grabbed my hand harshly, making me flinch back. "Anna, you're bleeding. Your wound needs to be cleaned," he said firmly, looking at me darkly in the eyes, silently telling me to get control of myself without actually saying it for the whole room to hear.

I took a deep shuddering breath, trying to relax myself, but I felt mostly panic still. He led me away from the mess and over to the sinks, out of earshot of everyone else. He started to clean my hand, which was gushing blood now.

"Anna, you need rest. We have everything under control here. Take a sandwich and go get a nap," he said evenly, his voice not its usual judgmental self. It was surprisingly calm, and I felt the tension leave my body as I relaxed.

"You're still recovering from the accident. We can't afford to stress you out," he said patiently, grabbing the sutures from one of the cabinets. I had to bite my lip to keep from yelling at him, 'Then why did you lie about me losing my babies!' I didn't want to tell him I knew, just in case that would be game over for me, and he would just finish the job.

"Aren't you going to numb me first?" I asked, surprised when he got the needle ready without any topical painkillers. He shook his head, smiling a bit.

"No. You're actually immune to it. I remember one time you cut your hand during dinner. We gave you a dozen shots of painkillers, and you still felt every stitch. It's more sympathetic just to go ahead and stitch you up," he explained, not unkindly. "By all means, we can try if you want, though?" he said, pausing before starting the stitching.

"Never mind. Just do it," I muttered, just wanting him to release my hand and not sure if I trusted him injecting me with something anyway. I bit my lip to keep from hissing in pain and let him do the five stitches needed to get the wound closed. The care he took wrapping my throbbed hand in a bandage was almost like he gave a damn.

"Keep it clean and dry for two weeks. Next time, let me know if you need a break. You're already a hero enough. No need to make us all look even more ordinary," he said with a playful grin, brushing my hair out of my face gently. I could feel his concern for me, which was just adding to my confusion about what his endgame was. Did he want me dead, and this was all a ruse? Or did he actually care and have some sort of weird explanation for all this?

"Go get some sleep. I will check on you and Sera later," he said, backing up, the moment over, leaving me alone with my confused thoughts that swirled endlessly over and over again.

Time passed so quickly over the next week with how busy we were trying to get everyone vaccinated that I thankfully didn't have time to think much about everything going on, which was exactly how I wanted it. Anytime I thought about the twins or Jason's motives, I would just instantly become overwhelmed and start panicking.

By the end of the week, though, the major laboratories had picked up distribution for the vaccine, and the epidemic was largely over with, the virus halted in its path by us. The lockdowns were lifted, which meant I could finally go home. Wherever that was, of course. I was terrified of being left alone with Jason, wondering when he would finish the job and off me or the babies.