The Nurse Part II

Shiro's eyes snap open. Her body jerks upright, sending Friend tumbling from her chest in a flurry of feathers.

The chicken lets out an squawk, wings flapping as she rights herself on the floor. Her tail feathers puff up, displaying her displeasure at the rude awakening.

"Where-" Shiro's hand flies to her face, finding the oxygen mask still strapped in place. The tank hisses softly beside her, its gauge showing half-full.

A rustling sound draws her attention. Ophira stirs from her slouched position against the cabin wall, dark hair falling across her face. The nurse's medical kit lies open at her feet, its contents scattered across the floor - evidence of her earlier desperate search for treatment.

"You're awake." Ophira straightens, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her voice comes out hoarse. "How do you feel?"

Shiro rips the mask from her face, launching herself at Ophira. Her scaled hands wrap around the nurse's throat, pinning her against the cabin wall. Friend squawks and flutters back, wings beating against the air.

"What did you do to me?" Shiro's eyes bore into Ophira's widening ones.

"Nothing-" Ophira chokes out, her fingers scrabbling at Shiro's grip. "Just... oxygen..."

"Lies." Shiro tightens her hold. The veins in her arms pulse darker. "Who sent you?"

"No one. I'm a nurse. I help people. That's all."

"Everyone wants something."

"I'm trying to help. Whatever happened to you - those scales, those veins - it's killing you. Let me help."

"You can't help." Shiro steps back, pulling her sleeves down to cover the scaled flesh. "No one can."

Her gaze flicks to the large suitcase resting against the cabin wall. "Your suitcase. What's in it?"

"Nothing, just-"

"Open it."

Ophira's fingers tremble as they hover over the suitcase latches.

"I said open it." Shiro's voice cuts through the silence.

The latches click open. The lid lifts with a creak. Inside, bandages shift, revealing patches of mottled flesh beneath. A weak gurgle echoes from the case's depths.

Friend hops closer, her head tilting as she peers into the suitcase. Her feathers ruffle at the sight, and she backs away with a startled cluck.

"This is one of my patients. The hospitals in Bonaparte couldn't help. I need to get to Pallas. They were kind enough to offer treatment."

The mass of bandages shifts again. Raw muscle glistens where the wrappings have come loose. Where arms and legs should be, there are only stumps wrapped in blood-soaked gauze.

"Bile. You're smuggling a Bile victim."

"Please." Ophira reaches toward the case, her fingers ghosting over the bandages. "The facilities in Pallas might be able to save what's left."

"You risked boarding my ship with that. Why?"

"I can't let them die." Ophira's fingers brush against the blood-soaked bandages. "Not when there's still a chance."

The body moves beneath her touch. The remnants of their jaw work silently, trapped in endless agony.

"The hospitals in Bonaparte gave up." Ophira's hands shake as she adjusts a loose bandage. "Said the Bile had taken too much. But Pallas has better facilities. They might be able to save what's left."

"Please." Ophira looks up at Shiro, tears cutting tracks through the grime on her face. "I know it's asking too much. I know I shouldn't have hidden this. But I have to try."

Shiro's shoulders drop, the tension bleeding from her stance. Her scaled hands uncurl. She studies Ophira - not as a threat now, but as someone carrying a weight she recognizes.

"You're like her. The Prophet."

Ophira's hands still over the body's bandages. "The Prophet? Those are just stories from the Null War. Rumors of a healer who could cure anything."

"No." Shiro's voice carries a weight Ophira hasn't heard before. "She was real. I've been telling everyone she's just a legend, but..."

"How can you be so sure? Everyone talks about the Prophet, but no one's ever proven she existed."

"Stories spread for a reason."

"But you speak like you knew her."

"I know what she did. She couldn't stop trying to save everyone either. Even when it destroyed her."

"Did you meet her?" Ophira steps closer.

"Does it matter? She’s gone now. Like everything else from that war."

The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating. Ophira shifts her focus from Shiro’s reflection to her hands, scaled and gripping the window frame.

"They’re beautiful."

Shiro turns sharply, her piercing gaze locking onto Ophira. For a moment, surprise flickers across her face, quickly masked by indifference. "Beautiful?"

Shiro nods, pulling her arm back and tugging her sleeve down.

"The poison… I might be able to help. Not cure it, but maybe slow it down."

"Thanks for the offer, but it'll heal on its own. You've done enough."

"But-"

"Get some rest. We leave at sunset."

"You mean..."

"Your patient needs treatment. Pallas isn't far."

"Thank you." Ophira's voice cracks. She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Friend clucks softly, pecking at Ophira's medical kit until she finds a clean bandage. The chicken drags it toward the suitcase, dropping it at Ophira's knee.

A ghost of a smile crosses Shiro's face as she watches Friend's determined efforts. "Seems you've made a friend."

Ophira picks up the bandage, her fingers steadier now. "I've never seen a chicken act like this before."

"She has her moments." Shiro turns toward the door. "Get some sleep. Both of you will need it."

Friend follows Shiro to the threshold, then pauses. She looks back at Ophira, head tilted as if making a decision. With a soft cluck, she waddles back to settle beside the nurse.

"Traitor," Shiro mutters, but there's no bite to her words. She leaves them there - the nurse, her patient, and a chicken standing guard over them both.