Myla and Kane were through the training room's door, and they wasted no time in moving past Alfred and Phil. After James and Lexa had blown past them, they didn't bother to try to stop these two. The woman's injuries were
real, not part of the simulation. Unlike Kane's own, which would simply require sensors being removed from his body. He barely even felt anything. It was probably the adrenaline.
Kane already knew where the medbay was, as Myla has former experience with it. He was a pretty good navigator, and usually only had to go somewhere one time to know how to get there. He carried her into the lift and eventually into the medbay itself. When they stepped through the lift doors, he noted that James and Lexa were there. At this time, Lexa hadn't woken up quite yet.
He paid James no mind initially, as his gaze snatched an empty bed up immediately. Kane attempted to be gentle with Myla, but he wasn't used to holding onto this much weight for a long period of time. It wasn't that she was heavyset as a woman, but that a whole body was - generally, for the average person, heavy after a long period of time. His muscles were already exhausted. When he set her down, there was a slight hiccup where he practically stumbled and her landing would end up harsher than he would have liked. They were in an awkward position where he was hunched over her, an arm at the small of her back to keep her from completely crashing into the bed, and her face was smashed into his neck. The whole scene looked bad if you would have just walked in on it.
"Sorry. Slipped," he muttered to her.
"Tired," he added, careful not to let her know that she was heavy because he'd probably offend her. Not that she couldn't hear his labored breathing, feel how he had to adjust every so often the whole time he carried her, or even note his rapid heartbeat as it pulsed harshly at the side of his neck.
Myla couldn't help but wince and let out a meek groan at the awkward faltering. He had carried her a long way and there is only so much anyone could handle carrying another person, no matter how light or heavy they were.
In the stumble their bodies were tangled in an awkward knot. They were so close she could hear his heart racing… Or was that hers? It all blurred together. The only thing she could focus on was how close they were, his hand on her back and the accidental brushing of her nose on his skin.
"It's ok," she tried to reassure him while her face was buried in the nape of his neck.
Kane carefully laid her down the rest of the way and closed the curtains. There was likely to be clothing removal, and while Myla may not be as timid about the body as visual people, he didn't need to see all of that. Kane was more on the modest side of things.
There was a moment where Myla nearly reached out to ask Kane to stay but she stopped when she heard the curtain around her bed begin to close. She sighed as she rested her head back on the hospital pillow.
While Myla was attended to, he peeled away the mask and tugged off his hat. Everything was set aside.
Moments ticked by, and eventually an awakened Lexa was one that apparently realized that something was amiss. She looked at him, and he read her emotions painted blatantly across her face as somewhat startled.
"How man—" she cut herself off as she seemed to turn toward James.
"My fault? Did we… fail?" Kane's gaze traveled to the man in question, as he'd be allowed to answer that question. Kane didn't have much concern for anyone else aside from his own charge, and that was Myla. To be honest, he didn't know whose fault this whole thing could be attributed to. It could be boiled down to general incompetence as a team, but he had no idea what a functioning and capable team looked like either.
He watched as James had words with the woman, but did not interfere at any time. He was glad they both left, which allowed him to sink back into a chair and close his eyes for a moment.
"Hello again, Ms. Murdock. Were you also injured in the simulation?" J.A.R.V.I.S. inquired.
Myla nodded her head.
"Yes."
Two mechanical arms extended from under the bed, each one going for either of the bullet wounds. Myla was expecting stitches or perhaps even having to dig out the bullets, but instead, there was a slight tug and a pinch, then it was done.
"Is there anything I can help you with?"
Myla half pushed off the bed, propping herself up on her left elbow as her right hand felt around her shoulder gunshot wound. There was no hole, no blood, nothing. She didn't know if she was thankful or pissed that such a small piece of tech could cause so much pain. She shook her head slightly as she sat upright.
"Yeah," she groaned as she started unzipping her suit.
It took her a moment or two of careful movements and nearly asking Kane for help, but she managed to remove the top half of her suit and let it rest at her hips. Her suit, ribs and part of her sports bra were sticky from blood.
"I popped my stitches. Is there anything you can do that won't come out in training?"
"Stitches are the recommended way to address a wound such as yours. It isn't severe enough to require something more invasive. The only other option I have available is cauterization, but it will scar."
"I'll scar or worse if I keep ripping out stitches," Myla commented plainly as she laid down on her good side. Scars didn't bother her. She already had some and it was inevitable that she'd get more in her line of work. She couldn't get a doctor's note from an A.I. to excuse her and the situation was too dire to not train at every moment she had. Her dad's life depended on her.
"Just do it."
"As you wish, Ms. Murdock. I must warn you, this will hurt."
On the other side of the curtain, Kane wasn't quite sure what to do. He stood up, sat down, stood up again… sat down. Paced a few times. She could probably hear it all. They didn't know each other all that well, yet there was an undeniable connection and chemistry that made the assassin think more than once when it came to her. He didn't know how to help. What does one do with all of this emotion? It's weird and uncertain.
Eventually, all this noise ended with the sound of the curtain opening. He's not going to hold her hand or anything, but he did give her this… awkward pat on the head. He cleared his throat, too. To be fair, Kane was doing his best to be comforting as a man that didn't regularly partake in being gentle and reassuring.
He was there! That had to count for something? Right. In his mind, it had to mean
something. There was nothing he could do about pain anyway.
Myla's face contorted in a slightly confused expression at the head patting. Was this supposed to be comforting? She wasn't sure. But nothing between herself and Kane could be classified as normal. She waited on the bed for J.A.R.V.I.S. to finish up by putting some ointment and gauze on her wound. Once he was done, she slowly sat up with an uncomfortable groan. It hurt, but she no longer felt the tugging and tearing, so that was a bonus.
"I don't belong here," she admitted to herself under her breath. Myla kept her head pointed forward trying to hide a little bit of her face from him. She was embarrassed that she needed help twice in the past 24 hours. She felt like a burden and useless. She didn't understand why he came for her in the simulation but he did. Myla could only hope that her damsel in distress antics were at an end.
"Thanks… For coming for me."
There was nothing else she could say. Myla sighed softly before pushing off the hospital bed and getting to her feet. For a moment or two, she was lightheaded and held onto the bed for stability. But once it ceased she gave Kane a sad smile.
"I..." She started to say something but then quickly found herself at a loss for words. What could she say? Instead, her head fell slightly and she headed for the exit.
Kane quickly gathered his things, tucking them all under an arm and pinning it against his side. Before Myla could escape too far, he reached out and seized her wrist. He didn't mean to grab her so hard, but he didn't want her to think he's just accepting her dismissal.
"I don't belong here, either." He tilted his head, bent down just slightly, and cracked the smallest - tiniest - quickest smile. It was wasted on her because she couldn't see, but maybe she could hear the effort,
"I think it's starting to feel bearable."
Myla didn't fight Kane's hold on her wrist. She even allowed her feet to stop so she could hear whatever he had to say. No, she couldn't see his smile. But something told her he was. Perhaps it was the briefest of sounds as his lips pulled back over his teeth, or maybe there was a shift in the air. She didn't know. Maybe neither one of them belonged there. After all, what powers did they have? From what she saw, Kane was like her… plain and human. But… she supposed if he could find a reason to stay, then she could too.
They moved to the lift, but he kept her wrist in his grasp idly. He only let it go when he gestured her to head into the lift by gently pressing the small of her back with a palm, and remained shoulder-to-shoulder with her. It was comfortable here. He pressed the button to the highest loft - his own, and swat away her fingers if she tried to push one of her own.
The presence of Kane standing shoulder to shoulder with her was something Myla hadn't expected, especially not after their awkward elevator ride earlier that day. But she said nothing. Her brows furrowed when he batted her hand away from the buttons. She scoffed softly but said nothing. She had assumed she'd go to her penthouse and change, but it seemed he had other plans in mind. After everything he had done for her, she supposed she couldn't argue. But as the silence lingered Myla grew increasingly aware that she only wore a blood-stained sports bra and half of her suit.
"Let's just eat before we get an earful from two old men," he sighed. Kane wasn't bothered by her appearance, but he did worry that she might neglect to eat. The lift doors opened to his
penthouse, and he guided her inside. Another set of sliding doors would open, and she'd soon feel the cool late afternoon air.
Was Myla hungry? She wasn't sure. But she didn't argue. She couldn't see the penthouse she had given up, but as he led her through it, her fingertips would brush whatever furniture and walls she passed. It was open, empty, and far less cluttered than her own, other than that she couldn't tell. She turned her head toward the sound of the doors sliding open and exhaled softly as the sea breeze tousled her hair.
There was a small table out there for eating, as Kane spent a great deal of time outdoors.
"I'll be back." He left her there to find her own way around, trusting that she had enough sense to not plummet to her death.
She turned to stop him, but before Myla could say anything Kane had disappeared inside. It wasn't until she was alone that she realized she still wore her helmet. She pulled it off and had half a mind to toss it over the balcony, but decided to set it down instead. She'd only have to go searching for it later. Her feet carried her over to the edge where she rested her arms on the railing.
About twenty minutes later, he came out with a tray and food. Everything was plated in wooden bowls and plates, and of course, Japanese chopsticks and a spoon. He knew how to cook basic staples, so he had some
Kitsune Udon and your classic sushi. They would each have a bowl of rice. He set everything down, including the teapot and two small porcelain mugs. He had placed some green tea bags in them.
After he set the Udon down for her, he helped her grasp the chopsticks.
"Careful," he warned. He poured boiling water into her teacup, and then sat down to eat as well. He moved his chair so that he could sit next to her, as he thought she might have trouble with the utensils.
He grabbed his own chopsticks, tapping them once on the table to even them out. He let her fumble around with the chopsticks for a minute or so as he used his own to shovel some sushi into his mouth.
Myla let Kane guide her accordingly. Her brows furrowed as she clumsily tried to figure out how to hold the chopsticks. Her left hand adjusted them in her right until they were right… She thinks. Honestly, she had no clue.
"How do I find the food?" She asked barely above a whisper with a sheepish chuckle. The only way Myla could figure it would be sticking her left hand into the bowl and at that point, it kind of defeated the purpose.
Kane scooted closer to her; his face practically smooshed alongside hers, and an arm cradling her upper back only to come up to her opposing shoulder. He took her hands with both of his, very gently, and helped adjust her fingers on the thin long chopsticks. They were not easy to master for anyone, honestly.
"It's actually easier for a blind person to use chopsticks than do what you can," he chuckled at her; low and amused. His mouth was close to her cheek where she might feel how his own cheek puffed when his lips were tucked into a smile.
"Just feel for the food," he instructed, helping her swirl the chopsticks around until she could feel the tension of the noodles against them. Then he manipulated her fingers to assist her in opening and closing them to trap the food.
After she adjusts to the foreign utensils, he reached forward to pull his own food toward him without moving away from her. He was comfortable here next to Myla. Even if she was covered in blood.
Myla chuckled softly at his comment. She supposed he wasn't wrong. A blind vigilante who couldn't use chopsticks… That was a tale if she ever heard one. It took her sometime to get the hand of the utensils and while she got into a rhythm, part of her doubted it was correct in form. But she managed to grab a hold of food and get it into her mouth with minimal casualties, so that was a plus in her opinion.
With her first bite she proved to be far more hungry than she had previously thought. Everything was delicious, especially the sushi. The pair both must have been famished, or maybe it was the comfort in each other's company. Neither spoke, but also neither one of them felt the need to fill the silence with idle chatter.
It was then, in that moment, that Myla realized she was thankful that Kane decided to stay. She didn't know why. She knew nothing about him beyond his name, yet, for some strange reason, she felt comfortable around him. She trusted him.
