Chapter Text
Matheo had half a mind to choke her with that hideous scarf. Or perhaps tie her down somewhere with it. He wouldn't really, but he was angry enough and something else enough to fantasize.
He would make the chemist come to her senses another way, of course.
Inwardly he cursed, outwardly he closed his eyes briefly. Whatever might stop him from seeing her open and honest expressions. She was always there, with her stupidly big smiles and frowns, and annoying, even more animated brows.
Well, she typically would be anyway. On this day her usually animated expressions seemed mostly vacant, for good reason.
She mumbled something too garbled and quiet for him to interpret, and he longed to say something cruel and cutting back.
He was all nerves around her, had been from the beginning. Instead, as was becoming increasingly more common for him to do around her, since she had started returning his notes, that is, he bit his tongue and took a deep breath.
He softened his words for her as much as he could. “Has the fumes of your toxic chemicals finally gotten to you?” which wasn't all that much, admittedly.
Her inhale before speaking could be described as shaky at best, gasping at worst. The spoken words were barely a mumble, likely not meant for his ears, but reaching them nonetheless.
“You get your dick stuck in your mortar?”
She was acting wildly different from her typically nauseatingly polite and happy-go-lucky attitude.
He didn’t particularly blame her for finally throwing back some of what he was giving, but the change in character worried him. Worried was not the right word, he was in no way shape or form worried for the outsider, really. Confused would be a better description as her behaviour was simply…unusual, and he took note of this. Nothing else.
He rubbed two fingers at the bridge of his nose, he didn’t want her to know about him knowing about her. That he studied her enough to have a good feel for her character. That the parts of her that made her her, fascinated him as much as they infuriated him. Gods forbid she found out he might be concerned for her. He was not, but maybe he could be, though on his pride she would never know it.
The chemist was a threat to his community despite her admittedly good intentions, and had already isolated him away from it. He reminded himself of this as as he looked at her.
He rolled his eyes, unsure if it was her behavior or his own stupid thoughts that was the real source of the sudden spike of annoyance he felt. “For your sake, Chemist, we will blame that comment on your probable concussion”
He crouched down next to her, she looked confused and tired, vulnerable and hurt. And the only person that could be of help, who had taken an oath to help all in need, was him.
What had he gotten himself into…
Ignoring his own thoughts, he tried to meet her eyes, but hers were not on the same page on exactly where to look. “How many fingers am I holding up,” he asked, his voice both firm and stark in the secluded corner of the woods.
Her eyes narrowed, still pointed in two directions with dilated pupils. “You're tryin’ to make me look stupid, aren't you…” the words were slurred.
He huffed. “Of course I am, why don't you prove me wrong, and tell me how many fingers I'm holding up anyways, hmm?” He softened his voice only out of habit, knowing how painful loud noises could be on a head injury. It was certainly not out of sympathy for her.
He held up two fingers, and she seemed incapable of focusing on his hand, let alone the number of fingers he was holding up. Seeing her unfocused, but stubborn expression, he sighed. “Never mind, I believe I'm quite confident in my assessment regardless”
“Is it four?”
After having checked her neck and spine, he lifted her arm around his neck and shoulders, and boosted her up into a standing position. The woman was leaning heavily on him as he heaved them away from the direction of the rangers post, and closer to the woods nearing his home.
“Sure, Chemist,” he sighed. “You have proved me wrong.” Unfortunately the bite of sarcasm seemed to go right over her head, unlike whatever gave her the head injury. “Now, might we continue this conversation at my place?”
Her eyes widened at the first, and hopefully last, invitation to his home he had ever given her. Then she nodded, eagerly and heavily, before grunting in pain at her own movement.
Like an overly excited dog, he thought, not without disdain, nor fondness unfortunately.
He blinked. Dog. The damned dog!
He turned towards her, and leaned down, briefly removing her arm from around his neck so that he could stand in front of her, both of his hands on her shoulders.
He forced himself into her admittedly split line of sight. “Chemist, listen to me carefully.” He started, keeping his voice down out of sheer force despite the quickening of his pulse. “Was your hound with you when this happened?”
She swallowed, her expression stern and focused as if all her brainpower was being put into that one, simple question.
“Yeah, yeah, he was but…” She closed her eyes, groaning as she thought hard. Without thinking or meaning, he stroked gentle circles into her stiff shoulders, and it seemed to ease her frown just a little. “I think. I think Bubble got ‘im when you guys found me?”
Matheo thought back, and realized the statement was likely correct. He let out a relieved sigh, before moving next to her, and taking her weight once more.
He would never hear the end of it if something happened to the stinking furball. And, well, he certainly had more respect for the dog doing his duty, part of nature but working in tandem with the fool next to him, than he did the fool herself.
Furthermore, it was a good sign she was able to recall what had happened close to the event of the head trauma. It would likely bode well for her recovery. Which would get her out of his hair quicker, of course.
He nodded to himself, partially speaking said thoughts out loud . “Good, then let's get you checked out so we can part ways as soon as possible”
She giggled and he rolled his eyes, wishing he could move faster whilst carrying most of her weight.
It took them a while to get back to his neck of the woods, mostly because she had gotten weaker and weaker during their walk, and with him taking more and more of the weight, he needed to take occasional breaks to avoid stumbling on a wayward stick and having them both tumble. It would not bode well for both of Moonbury's healers to end up with a concussion.
When he finally got to his front door, breathing heavily with her dead weight, he thanked the gods and nature as he crossed the threshold.
Stumble he had, but fall they did not.
After taking a moment to lean on a wall in his kitchen to breathe, they continued to his empty patient room, where he put her down in one of many empty beds.
“Right”, he murmured to himself. The chemist seemed less alert than when he'd found her, which wasn't great, but not unusual, nor overly concerning.
He quickly but thoroughly washed his hands in the kitchen, before returning back to find her exactly where he left her sitting on the bed.
“I didn’t spot too much bleeding when we found you, but let me check more thoroughly and at least examine the bruising I know is there.”
She grunted “Sure”, the small word swallowed by a big yawn.
Rest would do her well, but it would do her worse for him to not be careful. She’d hit her head pretty hard according to the rangers, and her hair was hiding the damage well.
He sat himself on the bed beside her. “Do you mind?” He held up his hands, it was only good manners to ask.
She nodded tentatively and groaned.
He moved his hands to her head, checking for bumps and moving hair out the way when he spotted dried blood. Head injuries tend to look worse than they are, he reminded himself when the sigh brought an unwanted heavy feeling in his chest.
“Try to reduce any nodding or shaking of your head, alright? I see where you hurt yourself, but I don't spot anything overly concerning. You seem to have given yourself a rather textbook definition of a concussion.” He huffed. “You're not trying to test my abilities, are you, Chemist?”
She laughed, a pathetic, choked up mockery of the usual noise. Still, she smiled geniunly enough. “All part of the plan, Mister Witch Doctor.” She cleared her throat. “Though, it makes sense, it's pr’olly why I can't think right.”
“Well… “ He stopped himself before he could finish the insult, instead pursing his lips. “You seem to be doing alright despite circumstances"
He was making wonderful progress on holding his tongue, but still, he was hopeful for her recovery so he could go back to letting his remarks roll off again. The restraint was frustrating and would not yield the result he missed. She was quite funny to speak with when agitated.
Though admittedly this version of her, and this version of himself didn't feel horrible either.
Matheo washed his hands, then grabbed a cloth and a bowl of water which he used to gently clean the wound. When the remainder of the blood was removed, be saw the wound for what it was. An irritated, swelled up area that would heal on its own, no stitches needed.
“Hematoma” He muttered to himself before he sighed, it felt as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders.
He'd been worried at the chemist's display. Her earlier irritability, confusion, lack of balance, and her brief loss of consciousness before his arrival, were all concerning symptoms.
But she seems to be steadily improving.
He moved the cloth and bucket away from her, and returned with a bandage which he fastened, mostly just so she wouldn't scratch at the wound. All there was to do was monitor her and make sure she would be able to rest for a time. A week and she'd probably demand to get back to work, really.
He sat himself at her bedside once more and held back a smile at the tired eyes that met his.
He raised an eyebrow “You can go to sleep, you know”
She blinked slowly. “Uhuh” then moved her arms, pushing at the mattress as if she was to get up
His brows furrowed as he gently pushed her back down “What is the matter…”
“--I can go sleep in my own bed since everything's alright, I don't need… uh..” a big yawn stopped her from saying anything else.
Matheo rolled his eyes. “Certainly, you could, but you shan't. Keeping you here would make it possible to monitor you should anything occur. You know this is typical for at least the first night.” He waved a hand casually. “And of course, this would appease the merry band of town folks you've somehow managed to enamor”
For a second she looked oddly contemplative. Then she pursed her lips. “You want me to stay here so people don't worry?”
“I'd look awfully cruel throwing you out in your current state, that's all”
That same tired laugh from earlier returned.
Maybe it wasn't all that bad.
She yawned. “All right, just for your image, of course.”
He nodded as he tucked her into bed, the duvet airy and soft as he pulled it over her.
In between a blink and the next, her eyes remained close, and sleepy, deep breaths sounded from the tired chemist.
He stayed at her side for some time, observing how human and frightingly fragile she looked in the bed. No confident strides, no passionate expression, no sure words and ideas escaping her mouth.
It was disconcerting. Uncommon and uncomfortable.
He looked back towards his kitchen and teapot, and out the window to his lovely garden. The sights were tempting, a nice cup in the fresh air, a wonderful stress reliever needed… but when he looked back at the form that seemed so unusually frail he couldn't make himself do it.
He sighed, then crossed his arms. It wouldn't hurt to stay, it had been a while since he'd meditated properly anyways.
But first he gently removed her ugly scarf, it wouldn't do for her to choke on it during his care.