009. PEBBLES THE MOO-MOO

Scrambling off the bed, Rory hurried to the cabinet under the sink and pulled out her medical kit. She had to admit, she was excited to finally use this thing.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" she asked, making her way back into the room. 

"Well, do you know what you're doing?"

She nodded. "I've read all about it and-"

"Hold on," he held up his hand, "You've never done this before? You've just read about it?"

"I have done this before - just not on a human. Surprisingly, I don't get many strangers covered in blood showing up at my door unannounced." Rory placed her kit down on her bed and unzipped it. "But the fruit I practised on had no complaints if that makes you feel better."

"And the reading?"

"I read medical textbooks for fun."

"Why?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she looked through her bag for some items. "Because I enjoy it."

"You enjoy reading textbooks for fun?"

"Did you hit your head or are you just not listening to what I'm telling you?" she asked, laying out her supplies.

Tapping her finger against her chin, she appeared lost in thought. Before Harry had the chance to ask what was going on in her head, she left the room without a word. Harry turned his head towards the hallway, wondering if she suddenly decided to bow out of helping him. He didn't hear the front door of her apartment opening and slamming shut - that had to be a good sign. Unless she snuck out the window.

Rory returned with folded towels secured under one arm and a garbage bag in one hand while dragging a chair behind her with the other. Laying a towel on the ground, she placed the chair on top and positioned her garbage bag beside it.

"Sit," she instructed. "I don't want you passing out and actually hitting your head."

Disappearing into the bathroom before Harry had the chance to tell her he would be fine, he accepted his defeat and took a seat. His head turned, listening to the noise. It wasn't the running water that caught his attention - it was the sound of her humming a song.

Watching her walk towards her bed, he noticed her hair was now fashioned in a low bun, keeping her hair out of her face and allowing her features to be fully on display.

"What were you singing in there?"

Rory only answered with a smile as she put on a pair of latex gloves.

"Gatekeeping songs from me, Bambi?"

Lowering herself to her knees in front of him, she pressed a towel against his wounds. "It's something my Uncle wrote and it's special to me - that's all."

"Why is it special?"

"Ah, we're getting personal now?" She cocked her head to the side. "How did you end up like this then?"

"Trying to avoid my question, Bambi?"

Adjusting the towel, she pressed a side of the material that wasn't dyed with blood against his skin. "No, I'm just looking to make our sharing circle more interesting for myself. Where's the fun in giving you information if I get nothing back?" she asked, applying more pressure to his wound. "Unfortunately for me, it's best if you keep talking so I know you haven't passed out."

"Fair enough." He was entertained by her; at least that made her lingering presence over this entire situation more tolerable. "Why did you learn how to do this?"

"I told you. I read-"

"You've made your odd choice of personal enjoyment quite clear, Bambi. I mean, was there more behind it?"

Her brows knitted together. "I'm not following."

"Has your life ever been at risk before we met?" Harry heard her answer loud in clear through the way she fell silent. "Is it someone you know?"

Discarding the soaked towel into the garbage bag, she reached for a clean one from the stack on her bed. "Did someone you know do this to you?"

"Yes," he told her honestly, grinning at her sudden snippy tone. "You're the one that told me I should keep talking. I'm only trying to follow instructions, Rory."

Biting the inside of her cheek, she forced her eyes to remain on his wound. "I don't exactly live in a great area," she said. "I learn what I can to protect myself."

"Protecting yourself from those that can hurt you? That's smart, Bambi. I'm impressed"

"Yeah, well, I let you into my apartment so clearly I'm not doing a great job." Her tone was cold, but the smile that played across her lips instantly took away the impact of her words. "Did Colson do this to you?" Noting the confused look he gave her, she added, "You said someone you know caused this. I mean, after what I saw the other night, Dallas would've been my first guess but Colson gives me the impression of someone that's brooding with lots of pent up aggression."

Harry chuckled at her evaluation; she wasn't wrong. "No, it wasn't either of them."

"Oh, don't tell me it was Kip?" She pouted her bottom lip. "He's so innocent looking. Unless..." she suddenly remembered the lack of presence regarding the scrawny boy since that first night, "You didn't kill him, right?"

"Why would I?"

Rory tore open a packet and pulled out a wipe. "Isn't he kind of the reason this whole thing started?"

"How the fuck did you come to that conclusion?"

"If he didn't get so drunk, I would have never had the opportunity to go exploring." Pressing the wipe against his skin, she rolled her eyes as he winced. "Don't be a baby," she muttered.

"It's cold and took me by surprise," he quickly shot back. "And, no, Kip is not dead. He made a mistake."

Her touch was delicate as she cleaned him. "So, is there a reason he hasn't been around then?"

"Why? Miss him?"

"Kind of," she confessed. "He's the most normal one out of the four of you." Getting up on her feet, she bent at the waist and leaned towards his face with a fresh wipe in hand. "Hold still," she chided, brushing his hair away from his face.

"I guess you didn't do that great of a job with your tongue."

"What do you want me to do? Use my tongue to scrub off the dried blood?"

Intoxicating by her scent, Harry instinctively placed a hand on her thigh, letting it wander to the hem of her shorts.

"Harry," she warned, cleaning the mark on his temple.

Humming a response, he continued to let his hands explore. As his touch travelled to the back of her thigh and towards her bottom, his fingers began to knead into the sensitive flesh. It was pleasing to see the way her heartbeat picked up by his movements and the way her skin flushed.

Guiding her body down to straddle his knee, he asked, "All clean?"

She nodded, licking her lips. "The cut above your brow doesn't need stitches but I'm going to put a couple of strips on there to help it heal." Feeling him pull her closer, Rory pressed her hand against his chest. "Not till I'm done," she told him, putting a stop to his actions before he had the chance to try anything.

Harry didn't protest as she got off his lap, knowing she was the one with the power to stitch him back up. It wasn't like he had many options at the moment; returning to his own home tonight wasn't a possibility for the night.

"What is that?" he asked, looking at the small vial in her hand.

"Benzoin tincture," she replied, dipping a cotton swab into the brown liquid. "Don't worry, it won't hurt. It just helps make the strips stick better."

Staying silent and keeping his hands to himself, he allowed her to work in peace as dabbed the swab around his small cut and applied the strips onto his skin. It wasn't his goal to distract her, she was just impossible for him to ignore sometimes. The way her soft skin felt under his touch, how her scent of vanilla filled his scenes and left him dizzy. Rory was more than intoxicating to him; she was like a drug.

Consumed by his thoughts, it took him a moment to realize she had returned to her position of kneeling in front of him. He noticed a bunch of discarded latex gloves were in the garbage bag, but he couldn't recall seeing her ever change them.

"It's only numbing cream and some saline solution," she told him, assuming her action of cleaning out his large wound was the reason for his staring. "I'm going to need you to keep talking, Harry."

His tongue swiped across his bottom lip as she prepared and sterilized the needle. "Never thought I'd hear you say that to me, Bambi."

"There's a first time for everything." Noticing the way his eyes were fixated on what she was doing, she told him, "Don't look. Find something in my room to annoy me about."

He was quick to scoff at her suggestion, but it didn't take long for him to find something. "What the fuck is that?" he asked, pointing to the stuffed animal that resembled a cow on her bed.

She looked over her shoulder, smiling to herself as she turned her focus back to his wound. "Pebbles the Moo-Moo."

"Pebbles the... what?" His curiosity was cut short. Clenching his jaw, he let a struggling breath of air out, squeezing his eyes shut over the intrusion on his side. "Fucking hell!" he snapped, "You could have fucking warned me, Bambi!"

"His name is Pebbles the Moo-Moo," she repeated, ignoring his livid remarks. "I've had him since I was a kid." Noting the odd expression on his face, she bit back a laugh, "Oh, come on. You don't have anything saved from your childhood?"

Wincing at the second poke of the needle, he gritted, "No. I'm an adult."

"You must have been a joyful kid," she said, rolling her eyes at his snarky reply, "Did you also hate dreaming and cartoon shows?"

He watched as she expertly worked the thread. Within a second, she wrapped it around the tool she used, grabbed the other side of the thread, and pulled it through the loop. After making two more knots, the first stitch was tightly secured and Rory trimmed the edges.

"Wow," he said, giving her a nod of approval. "You actually know what you're doing there, Bambi."

"Like I said, I've had no complaints so far." She glanced up at him. "Stop looking."

"Why it's not-" another grunt of pain left his lips. "Jesus, fuck! I thought you said you put numbing cream on."

"I did. Now, come on, Haroldina. Find something else to focus on."

He tapped his fingers against his thigh, attempting to find something in her room to focus on so his mind stayed away from the pain being punctured into his side. "Have you always liked getting choked during sex?"

"Is that really the only thing you can think about asking me right now?"

Harry let out an annoyed sigh. "I'm trying to talk here, Bambi. I didn't realize there were going to be parameters over what that could be."

"Well, if you want to know," she tightened another stitch. "I've asked other partners to do it before, but you're the only one that made it feel good."

Harry let out a stifled laugh. "You are an interesting one, Rory."

"How so?"

"I can't imagine there are many out there like you who would clean up and stitch someone back together who shot another person in front of them only days ago." His hand reached down, caressing her cheek. "What I did the other night... Did that scare you?"

She nodded. "I was sick for two days straight," she said, starting the next stitch. "But I don't feel guilty over the fact that man is now dead because of me."

"You don't?"

"No. I don't know why. Any normal person would feel guilt... and I thought I did right after it happened but I realized I wasn't. I didn't think about his wife or his kids. I only thought about myself and how you looked..." Rory parted her mouth as if to say more but quickly pressed her lips together as she returned her focus to her task.

"Have you ever had thoughts like that before?"

"Not exactly. I always knew my brain worked a little differently than all the other kids," she said, starting another stitch, "But when I was younger, adults would just laugh at what I said, thinking I was too adorable to hurt a fly."

"Did you?"

"Did I ever hurt someone?" she asked rhetorically. "No, but I thought about it. What it would be like... how I would do it and get away with it. It fascinated me."

Rory trimmed the edges of the thread, pleased with how her work was turning out.

"You keep thinking I'm not afraid of you and that's why I didn't take your threats seriously. But it's not that. I'm just not afraid to die." She stole a glance around her room. "What would I be losing? Another night of sleeping in a shitty apartment hoping my creepy neighbour down the hall hasn't suddenly learned how to break through the deadbolt on my front door in the middle of the night? Or how about my landlord's disgusting son that always says I can pay off my rent in ways that don't include cash as long as I let him have his way with me? I'm not exactly living the high life over here.

"I've always thought about how it would feel if I did that to someone... or if someone did that to me. I think I'd enjoy it. I know that's not normal to think about... but you're not normal like that either, right? That look of darkness you had in your eyes when you shot him, the way you barely even lined your gun to be on target and stared me down, shooting him right between the eyes..." Rory finished her last stitch, "That's what I keep thinking about."

Harry stayed silent.

"I can't help but feel like maybe you understand me in ways no one else could because you're like that too, aren't you? Killing someone doesn't bother you - it fascinates you, doesn't it?"

Met with more silence, Rory realized she had made a grave mistake speaking to him about her inner thoughts. She confessed her thoughts of death to the man that wanted to kill her; she should've just written "OK WITH DYING" or "PLEASE KILL ME" across her forehead and made it easier for him.

Most of all, she felt stupid for opening up like that at all. Hearing her own words out loud only made her feel more insane than when the voice repeated them in her head.

Rory sat back on her heels. "Sorry. I shouldn't have gone off on a tangent like that."

His continued silence only made the pressure in her chest worse and the humiliation rise within her. She was quick to busy her hands by cleaning up the mess of bloodied gauze and tossing it into the garbage bag.

"Bambi," he finally said softly. Met with no response, he tried saying it again, "Bambi."

"It's fine," she whispered, "I shouldn't have said any of that."

"Bambi, stop," he was able to grab her hand before she got too far away from him. "Look at me."

She didn't move terrified of having to face him.

"Look at me, Rory."

The sound of her name finally caused her head to turn, allowing Harry to see her glossed over eyes.

"Come here."

She shook her head, attempting to pull herself free from his grasp. "It's fine, Harry. You don't have to pity me or whatever now."

"Rory," he said, tugging her arm. "Just shut up and come here already."

Harry knew the type of response he got from her when he used her real name. Her head would perk up, and her eyes would slightly widen as the corners of her lips tugged. The fact that her name elicited such a reaction was the main reason why he tended to stay away from using it. Otherwise, moments like these, when he needed to pull her out of her head and get her to listen, wouldn't be as impactful.

Patting his lap to instruct her where to sit, Rory silently complied. Straddling his waist in the chair, she bent both her legs on either side of him and sat back against his thighs. Her lack of a sassy remark took Harry by surprise - she had to be struggling with whatever thoughts were running through her mind.

"You've never told someone those things before, have you?"

She scoffed. "No. If I told anyone the thoughts in my head, they would find a way to lock me up."

"They could try, but I'm sure you'd find a way out of it before they could."

Hearing that comment resulted in a smile to form. "You probably think I'm an even bigger idiot now."

"I don't think you're an idiot."

"You tell me that I'm stupid all the time."

"Yes, because sometimes you do and say stupid shit," he said, running his hand up her thigh. "But I know you have a brain in there. And if someone didn't think you were smart before, they certainly would after hearing about what you read for fun."

Harry didn't say he thought she was smart, but she took what he said as if he had. And to her, that was a compliment.

"So, you don't think I'm crazy?"

He smiled. "In general? Sure. Over thinking about murder from time to time? Not at all." Raising his hand to her cheek, his thumb grazed her bottom lip. "I know what it's like to have those thoughts, Bambi. I'm far from the type of person who would judge you over that."

"Why does the first person who finally understands me have to be the one that wants to kill me?"

"The world is cruel."

Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip to muffle a laugh, she replied, "Don't I know it." Her finger lightly traced the ink mark below his collarbone. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Not killing me tonight."

Harry grinned. "Careful now. Don't jinx it, Bambi. The night's still young."

I cant sleep more than 4 hours anymore. yay. anyway. hope you enjoyed x

if you know pebbles the moo-moo, you're a real one.