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savage-rhi · 4 months ago

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Duality

Chapter 12: The Other Side

Summary: Sawyer Kiddo has walked a razor's edge as a hacktivist for several years, driven by the loss of her family in the Raccoon City incident. Haunted by past choices and fueled with desire for vigilante justice, Sawyer's work takes an unexpected turn when she ventures to Spain and crosses paths with Luis Serra—a man with blood on his hands long thought to be dead. Together they unravel a web of corruption and face an impending bioterror threat, fighting not only monsters but also the darker elements of their humanity. As they delve deeper into each other's pasts and the conspiracy at large, Sawyer begins to sense something unsettling about Luis—something that might be even more dangerous than their mutual enemies.

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Blink.

"Why can't you be more like Carmen?"

Sawyer had heard it a dozen times growing up. Over the years, it had become her mother's catchphrase—a weapon to discipline and guilt trip easily. Every stumble, every failure was laid out for judgment, carefully measured against her cousin's successes.

It was never Carmen's fault. Sawyer had always known that. Their families had written their narratives long ago, casting each girl in roles neither had chosen, and Sawyer tried—she really tried—not to resent it. She didn't hold it against her parents, not even while they looked at her with disdain and disappointment, but tonight, it felt different. The words that once just scraped now felt like they were digging deep, rubbing salt in wounds that never had the chance to heal. She felt the weight of every time she felt short, and every time she wasn't enough.

"I'm not Carmen," Sawyer enunciated bitterly. "Unfortunately, you got stuck with me. You might as well say the quiet part out loud."

"Sawyer, that's not—" Her dad pinched the bridge of his nose, the same look he always gave her when he didn't know what to say or was too tired to keep trying. "Soy, you need to get it together."

"I was trying to get it together!"

"By getting arrested? You call that getting it together?!" Her mother's tone was hoarse, eyes red from earlier tears, but her gaze wouldn't soften.

"Now, hon—"

"Don't hon me!" Her eyes stared daggers straight into her husband's. "She's lucky your brother Pax knows people at the RPD because of his janitor job at Umbrella! Do you realize that? Your daughter will have this on her record for the rest of her life!"

"Community service isn't that bad," Sawyer shrugged. "It beats sitting in jail."

"Jail is where you're heading if you keep this up!" her mother countered, hands flinching as she gripped the kitchen top. "Don't act like this is nothing!"

"Hey, I'm accepting the consequences of my actions, okay? What else do you want from me?"

Her dad stepped forward. "Sawyer, you're 21 years old."

"Yes, and?"

"Kiddo…"

Sawyer shrunk into her seat.

She swallowed her words like a five-year-old caught scribbling all over the walls of the living room. She hated how years later, as an adult, his voice could still reduce her to nothing.

"Your mom and I don't ask for much, except you get an education and stay out of trouble. But these past couple of years? It's like you can't even manage that. You were in community college full-time, and now, barely part-time, you're always in between jobs; why aren't you taking this seriously?"

"I'm doing my—"

"Don't even start," her dad interrupted. "Carmen's been employed since you both graduated. Your uncle Pax tried to get you the same job, and you declined, and your aunt Tori? She practically handed you that receptionist position on a silver platter, and still nothing. I don't understand it, Soy. Every time you're given a handout, it's like you're too proud to take it."

Carmen again. It always came back to Carmen.

Sawyer could feel the lump rising in her throat, but she swallowed it. "My odd jobs were helping me cover—"

"You mean your smuggling jobs?" her mother interrupted.

Sawyer scoffed. "You're not letting me finish!"

"Why should we?" her mother balked. "After everything you've done, how can we trust you?"

"We never have money!" Sawyer yelled, the words ripping out of her like they'd been trapped for too long. "We never have anything! Don't you get it? That's why I dropped to part-time. I couldn't afford the tuition anymore, and we all know you can't afford it either! That's why I did what I did. That's why I didn't want to take those jobs Pax and Tori offered; it would keep me trapped here; they don't pay jack shit! I've been scraping together every penny I can to return to full-time and get a damn career! I don't want to be stuck here like you! I'm tired of being poor!"

"Committing crimes isn't going to get you ahead, Soy." Her father's tone was gentler now, but the disappointment remained.

"I know it bit me in the ass, and I know I fucked up, but—"

"But nothing!" her mother's voice rose louder than the storm in Sawyer's chest. "Are you seriously trying to justify yourself?"

"I'm not! Please, let me explain how I can-!"

Seconds later, Sawyer's voice was extinguished, drowned out by her parents. Accusations flew, with words twisted into daggers aimed straight at things that hurt the most. It didn't matter how far she clawed through the dirt; Sawyer knew she wouldn't get a final say.

"It's not just about the weird music, the bailouts, or any of that! She's always with strange men. It's been like this since high school! God knows what else she's doing for money!"

Sawyer clenched her jaw at the insinuation. It was always like this—they feared the worst and assumed even worse. She wasn't going to explain herself, not when they wouldn't hear her out or didn't want to know her, the real her.

"Look, we're both upset, but we can't shame her for doing what normal twenty-somethings do. They have desires just like we did once."

"But we weren't selling ourselves for money, Daniel!"

"Maybe you should've had Carmen for a daughter instead," Sawyer spat, shattering the tension like glass, the bitterness curling in her throat like smoke as she finished. "Or even your dead son."

Her parents turned toward her, shock on their faces like she'd hit them both in the gut. Her mother's face twisted into something ugly and wounded, a fury rising in her eyes.

"It's too late to change that."

Sawyer's breath caught in her throat.

"Hon," her father's hand jerked, but it was enough. Her mother cringed as her expression faltered, regret dimming the anger behind her eyes.

Sawyer made a fist so tight her nails bit into her palm. Finally, they said it—the truth.

She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor like nails on a chalkboard. She grabbed her pack of cigarettes from the table, stuffing them angrily into her pocket. With shaking hands, she zipped her jacket and headed for the door.

"Soy, wait—"

"Never thought I'd say this, but fuck both of you." Sawyer gulped, betraying the tears already burning behind her eyes. She paused at the door, her back to them, shoulders tight with pain. "I love you, but—"

She left before the tears could spill over, immediately power-walking to get as far away as possible.

"I need to wake up. I need to wake the fuck up."

Blink.

"Thanks for taking the heat," Carmen murmured. She offered a weak smile as Sawyer handed her a beer, but her fingers hesitated around the bottle's neck, too heavy with guilt to open it. "I'm sorry—"

"You have nothing to apologize for," Sawyer said confidently, her eyes narrowing slightly as if daring Carmen to disagree. "Even if you got busted and I slipped away, they'd still blame me. I'm the bad influence, remember? The problem kid."

Carmen's shoulders drooped. "It's not fair. It's never been fair," she whispered, the frustration of years unraveling in the quiet of her voice. "Maybe I can go down to the police station and—"

"No." Sawyer shook her head as her eyes softened. "What happened, happened. No one expected an undercover cop. You need to let this go. We screwed up and paid the price in our own ways. You still want to be a teacher, right?"

"I do…"

"Well, no place is gonna let you near kids if you have a record. You're lucky. You still have a future."

"What about your future?" Carmen asked, glancing up with an almost pleading look.

Sawyer took a long, slow sip from her beer, her eyes distant. "Pardon?"

"College. What happens to you now?"

Sawyer laughed. "I'll do my community service. Then I'll find some nine-to-five gig and save up. I'm good with computers; maybe I'll get a decent tech job and work up the ranks. College, well...I'll go back eventually. Somebody's gotta give me a chance again."

"You're the smart one," Carmen sighed, almost to herself. "You shouldn't be stuck like this."

Sawyer smirked and nudged Carmen's shoulder. "Hey, I might've teased you about aunt Tori dropping you on your head, but you're every bit as smart as me. Come on, between the two of us, you have the charm."

Carmen shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Yeah, but you're the one with all the plans ."

Sawyer chuckled, watching Carmen absently pet Abner, her lab retriever, who lay half-asleep by her feet. "If I could sleep like that, I'd be in heaven."

"If you slept that deep, you'd be dead," Carmen muttered.

"You worry too much," Sawyer teased, but her voice carried a hint of weariness now, a slight tremor that Carmen caught as she swallowed hard.

"I'm scared, Sawyer. I don't want to be stuck because of our stupid mistakes like my mom and dad or your parents."

Sawyer's smile faded, but her tone remained steady. "I told you. I'm going to take care of us. I've got it covered."

Carmen stared at her, the fear in her eyes still there, unspoken. "You always say that."

"And when have I ever let us down?"

"Never," Carmen whispered with a smile.

"Exactly. I'm gonna fix this. I'm gonna fix this my way. Just watch."

Carmen sighed. "Sawyer, you need to wake up."

Blink.

Sawyer bit the inside of her lip, staring blankly at her email. The inbox flooded with messages from her family, Carmen included. Each unread subject line felt like a rock pressing down on her back. How are you? Are you okay? Why haven't you called? They all blurred together as the mouse hovered over each one and sent it to a private folder on the screen.

She paused momentarily, eyes darting to the calendar hanging beside her bookshelf.

September 22nd, 1998.

When had summer slipped away...?

Sawyer glanced back at the emails, her heart too heavy to open them—yet the longer she waited, the more it hurt to do nothing.

She'd done her time in solitude, getting her shit together like her dad always told her to. For herself, for Carmen.

She'd call them tomorrow.

She'd pick up Carmen after.

They'd both would turn a new page.

It's time to stop running and wake up...

Blink.

"We lost our insurance today," Sawyer sighed. "I think there's only five sessions left that I can afford out of pocket unless we get something from that suit with Umbrella."

Carmen's hollow stare had grown colder with each passing second. Her once bright eyes were vacant, barely acknowledging the world around her. It was day four of the hunger strike, and the untouched plate of rice on the kitchen table made Sawyer uneasy.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to speak through the knot in her throat.

"There's a survivors' group about half an hour from here," Sawyer said tentatively. She nudged Carmen's plate, hoping for a response. "It might help, y'know? Since therapy hasn't been working, maybe being around people who understand what happened—"

Before she could finish, Carmen's hand slammed onto the table, dishes crashing to the floor. Then came the slap. It wasn't hard, but the sting of it left Sawyer reeling as she immediately grabbed Carmen's wrists, desperately trying to calm her. She watched her cousin's eyes become crazed, full of rage and something even more wrenching—despair.

Carmen snarled and writhed, attempting to throw Sawyer off.

"Carmen, stop! Please! It's okay! Carmen, stop! Stop! Stop it! Stop!"

Then suddenly, she went still. Tears spilled down her cheeks, a broken sob tearing from her throat as she whined.

"I know, I know, hey, hey...it's okay," Sawyer whispered, pulling back as Carmen collapsed into herself.

Sawyer wanted to reach out and embrace her, but the space between them felt too vast like a chasm neither could cross. All she could do was watch Carmen's face crumple, more tears staining her cheeks.

At the very least, she offered a hand.

"Hey, c'mon...it's okay,"

"I'm sorry...I wish I were dead," Carmen muttered, shaking her head. Then, barely audible, she whispered, "I wish you were dead. I wish it would've been you. I miss my mom. I miss uncle Dan. I miss Abner."

Sawyer was too shocked to notice Carmen getting up, muttering something about going for a walk. She didn't even hear the door click when Carmen finally fled.

I wish you were dead.

I wish you were

I wish you

I wish

I wish you would wake up.

Blink

The cabinet door creaked open, and there they were—bottles lined up neatly, their promises of escape whispering to her. Sawyer reached for one without thinking, the familiar burn of alcohol beckoning her to have a taste.

Her fingers shook as she twisted off the cap.

There was no need for a glass. The bottle of whiskey was dinner, just like it would be breakfast and lunch.

As she swallowed gulp after gulp, only one thing went through her mind:

I don't want to wake up...

Blink.

The scent of freshly ground beans wrapped around her nose, but it did little to chase away her nerves. The warm cup in her hands was a poor substitute for something to lean on to keep her grounded.

Sawyer never thought attending those stupid meetings would lead to anything other than awkward silence and a waste of two hours on a Saturday, yet here she was. For once, she had followed the counselor's advice: "Make a friend."

Maybe it was the alcohol still buzzing in her veins, or maybe, just maybe, she was feeling something close to ease as she sat across from Samuel, the widow. He'd found her antics amusing, especially when the local pastor paid his visits to preach about "finding god" after losing loved ones to the undead.

They'd met only a week ago, but she spilled her thoughts to him like they were old friends. He was so easy to talk to, and it scared her how genuine he was.

Samuel pulled Sawyer from her wandering thoughts. The familiar crease between his eyes told her something more was on his mind.

"I'm sorry about what you've lost, Kiddo," his voice heavy as his slumping shoulders.

Sawyer blinked a few times, swallowing the lump in her throat. She exhaled sharply, feigning nonchalance. "It's whatever, you know? We've all lost something. Maybe the preach had a point...we're gonna carry this crap for the rest of our lives, aren't we?"

Samuel leaned back, his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a smirk. "That bloke was full of 'horseshit,' as you so eloquently pointed out. Mid-coughing fit , no less."

"I was such a jackass that day, wasn't I?" Sawyer snorted, not able to help it. A grin tugged at her lips.

"I'd go with 'asshole,' but you got Sonny and Joyce to laugh. They haven't smiled in weeks. That's a win in my book."

They both chuckled, but Samuel's face grew serious as their laughter subsided, his eyes searching hers while humming thoughtfully.

"Penny for your thoughts, professor ?" she teased.

"Oh please, I'm not that handsome," Samuel smirked, but his gaze softened. "I was thinking…maybe we should do this more often. Y'know, make it a weekend ritual. After the meetings, we come here and shoot the shit. Be friends, at least."

"Friends, huh?" Sawyer tilted her head and smiled amusingly. The counselor never said anything about scaring the friend off. "We could be more than just friends if you keep buying coffee for me."

The silence that followed hung heavy, and then Samuel's hearty laugh broke through the tension, catching Sawyer off guard.

"Yeah, I'll stick with caffeine as my main squeeze."

Sawyer rolled her eyes playfully and giggled.

"C'mon, what does she have that I don't?" she asked, gesturing toward the cup in his hand.

Samuel grinned, his crow's feet capturing his mischief. "For one, she makes my heart race, and I know where she's been—unlike some people."

"Asshole!" Sawyer tossed a napkin at him, but she couldn't help the laughter rippling up from her chest. "I'm flirty, but I'm not a harlot!"

"Sure, act like one." Samuel snorted.

"You would've gotten along great with my parents," Sawyer muttered with a snort, leaning back into the booth and shrugged. "I'm all bark and no bite in that department, but my offer still stands for you."

Samuel's smile softened, but his gaze didn't waver. "Maybe when you're not dying."

This wasn't right. He never said that to her, no. She could've sworn he said, "Maybe when you're not a functioning alcoholic anymore." That's how it was supposed to go.

"Ouch," Sawyer grimaced, blinking as she tried to play out the scene. "You're never gonna get a girlfriend with that attitude."

"Well, I landed a wife once, and you're never gonna get a boyfriend with your personality either."

She forced another laugh, but her chest felt heavier now. She couldn't smell the coffee anymore. The cafe and all the people inside felt like they were somewhere else, in a fog she couldn't conceptualize.

"All the more reason why we should be friends, right?"

Samuel leaned forward, his voice low and serious. "You need to wake up, Kiddo."

"What?"

Blink.

She sat in a courtroom. The warmth of that moment with Sam—felt like it belonged to another life. The lights above hummed faintly, and all Sawyer could hear was the pounding of her pulse against her chest like a drum in a warzone.

Her gaze fixed on the man on the witness stand, her late uncle Pax's boss at Umbrella. His voice was mechanical as he recited the same excuses: "corporate responsibility," "miscalculations." Each empty word shredded what little remained of her patience.

They had stolen everything from her, from Carmen.

Sawyer's shaking hands clenched tightly at her coat pockets, fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the gun hidden within.

She could feel it anchoring her rage as the courtroom withered.

She wanted to scream and tear down the facade of a mourning niece and daughter, to make him and everyone who was under the thumb of that godforsaken company pay.

"Wake up!"

Sawyer's head snapped up. The voices were everywhere now, loud and insistent, drowning out everything but a sharp ringing in her ears that doused the judges' screams.

"Wake up!"

Blink.

Through the haze, she could make out Luis. Blood smeared his mouth, and his eyes—wild and glowing, something more than human—met hers. Fear clawed its way up to her throat as she gagged on bile. Her body refused to move away, too weak to respond. She reached out with shaky fingers, brushing his hand before darkness pulled over her eyes.

A warmth bloomed inside her. It was foreign but strangely soothing like something deep within her clung to a final spark. When she came to, the world was coming apart around her. Luis was cradling her body in his arms, the terror in his eyes contrasting with how gentle he was being.

"I know...I know it hurts," Two Legs whispered. He lowered her onto something hard, something cold. His hands reached for her head, supporting it as he peered over her face.

Stay awake…

"Hey...!" A broken smile stretched across his lips when her eyes fluttered open. "Hey, you..."

She had never seen anyone look so happy and relieved to see her alive.

"Carmen…" Her cousin's name slipped out before she could stop it, no louder than a breath. It was all she had left.

Two Legs leaned closer, brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

He called out to her somewhere far away, a distant echo bouncing off invisible walls she couldn't see.

"No…no, no, no!"

Sawyer felt Luis's hands shaking in his weak grip on her. He muttered something she couldn't make out. His breaths were uneven and quick as if he was running out of time, trying to avoid death's scythe from reaping its next victim.

A hand found hers, warm and sticky with blood.

Suddenly, pain—sharp, searing pain in her right arm. Something pierced her skin, jolting Sawyer back into awareness for a moment. She gasped. A red string went from Luis's arm to hers.

Everything went dark again.

Realities' coldness faded, and a heat she hadn't known in years washed over her. Voices came with it, distant and muddled as if they were speaking underwater—familiar but lost.

Sawyer didn't understand any of it, but the noise calmed her. It was like hearing a lullaby one had forgotten, the memory just out of reach, but there if one had the strength to peel the layers away. She wanted to touch those endless voices, but it wasn't needed in this place—not when she could feel every vibration like a thousand hands reaching out to greet her.

She was floating.

A new sound appeared—faint at first.

"The truth may be stretched thin, but it never breaks, and it always surfaces above lies, as oil floats on water."

"...For I've heard that what they call fortune is a flighty woman who drinks too much, and, what's more, she's blind, so she can't see what she's doing, and she doesn't know who she's knocking over or who she's raising up."

"I have never died all my life."

She knew that voice, knew it in her bones.

Samuel…?

Between the lines of the text, another voice—a more profound, softer one—spoke in the spaces between. Sawyer couldn't understand words, but the tone held her, soothed her. It felt like a pull, gentle but unstoppable, tugging her away. She fought for a moment to stay—to hear the rest and hold on.

And then, just a vibration—faint, wordless, like sound without shape.

Blink.

"It's time to wake up, Kiddo."

Sawyer's senses returned as if rising from a bottomless abyss. A blanket pressed gently against her skin, and she curled her fingers into the softness beneath her, grounding herself. Her eyes, unfocused at first, settled on her hand resting across the mattress.

Her skin looked paler than she remembered, and the glint of an IV needle buried in her vein caught Sawyer's attention. She traced the red tube upward, following it to the unmarked blood bag beside a saline solution hanging from an IV pole. She swallowed reflexively, blinking to clear her vision further.

The attic she lay in felt impossibly distant from where she'd last been. It wasn't the cramped, dusty kind—this space was open and refurbished, with sunlight pouring in from a window so bright it hurt to look. Only the tops of distant trees were visible beyond the glare.

She shifted, wincing as the needle tugged against her hand, and glanced at the ceiling. A large net hung just above the bed, hooked from one side of the room to the other and overflowing with blankets and pillows. The material nudged to one side like a forgotten cocoon—like someone had been sleeping in it.

Wooden beams crisscrossed above her, worn smooth by time but looking recently polished, string lights draped across them. Shelves lined the far wall, cluttered with mismatched knickknacks—framed photos and old books. The air had a faint, comforting scent of citrus and lavender, like someone had tried to make the space inviting despite its makeshift feel.

Her lips twitched into a weak smile.

Heaven…? The thought slipped into her mind, playful but fleeting.

If heaven had IV bags and hammocks, maybe…

Her gaze drifted to a book beside the nightstand. She reached for it, then paused, feeling a strange disconnection between herself and the body she was only beginning to reclaim.

"Oye, bella durmiente!" a familiar voice called out, playful and full of mischief. "You look like crap!" (1)

"I feel like it," Sawyer groaned softly, turning her head toward Two Legs as he finished climbing a flight of stairs. "Why do you have to speak in tongues?"

Two Legs grinned, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes relieved.

"My apologies for being excited to see you..." He paused, squinting while looking her over more closely. "Ehh, mostly dead?"

"I see your tact hasn't changed," she quipped, trying to sit up further.

"Five days isn't long enough to form a new habit, I'm afraid."

"That's how long it's been?" Sawyer blinked while a dull ache sank in her chest.

"Yeah..." Two Legs trailed off, his grin faltering as his gaze drifted to the floor. "I didn't think that you'd..." He quickly cleared his throat, hiding behind humor again as he raised a coffee cup between them. "I uh—bought you a little pick-me-up."

"Liar," Sawyer teased, though her voice staggered. "You got that for yourself. I can see it on your face—you weren't expecting me to wake up. Probably came to check if I had a pulse."

Two Legs chuckled, shrugging as though he could brush off the truth. "Caught me red-handed!"

He walked over to the bed, the teasing glint returning to his eyes. "Although between the two of us, you need it more than I do."

Sawyer smiled. "You cut your hair down and shaved the beard off."

"How nice of you to notice." Two Legs grinned. His expression was gentle, as if her noticing something so small reminded him that things were okay again.

"How come?"

Two Legs shrugged, his smile dimming slightly. "Eh, I got tired of rolling out of bed looking like Jesus and felt nostalgic for 2004."

Sawyer snorted, wincing at the ache it caused, but the laugh still escaped. "Relevant year?"

"You have no idea," he sighed, shaking his head before handing her the cup. His fingers lingered on the edge of it for just a second longer than necessary. "Go on."

Sawyer accepted it reluctantly, taking a small gulp. She winced, the taste strange in her mouth, lips tightening into a thin line.

"Too sweet?"

"No." Her voice was quiet, almost strained. "I can taste my blood in between my teeth. Not the best combo with coffee."

She grimaced, shutting her eyes as a wave of nausea passed through, a slow exhale escaping her. Her gaze fell to the top of the cup while a faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"All it's missing is bubbles."

Two Legs raised a brow, his grin widening. "Bubbles?"

"Yeah," Sawyer said softly as if she were seeing something far away. "When I was younger, I wouldn't drink anything unless it had bubbles in it ."

Two Legs let out a small chuckle, his gaze lingering on her face. "Why?"

"I was a weird kid?" Sawyer tried to laugh with him, but the sound came out rough and uneven, her throat scratchy. The glow in her eyes faded just as quickly as it came. "Maybe it was a sensory thing. I thought they were neat to look at."

Two Legs hesitated, unsure what to say, then made a small gesture.

"Lemme see that."

Sawyer blinked, confused, but handed over the cup. She watched as he fished a straw out of his pocket and stuck it into the coffee. Her eyes narrowed, ready to protest, but then he met her gaze, something playful and tender rising there, and he blew bubbles into the drink.

Sawyer burst out in giggles despite herself. The sound filled the room. Two Legs, grinning, exaggeratedly puffed his cheeks and did it again.

The heaviness in her heart lifted for a moment, feeling as though she could breathe again.

He handed the cup back with a dramatic flourish. "Your bubbles, madam."

Sawyer's grin widened, her cheeks flushed from the laughter. It was well worth the pain that came after the fact. "You're so cliché, you know that?"

Two Legs winked, the mischievous spark in his eyes still there. "I aim to please—and you're welcome."

Sawyer winced as she tried to sit up further. Her eyes, still heavy from exhaustion, swept around the room again. "Where are we?"

"My humble abode," Two Legs smirked. He glanced between Sawyer and a worn rocking chair nearby, finally pulling it up beside the bed so he could sit. "We're in the Costa Brava region. About eight hours from Madrid, give or take."

"All this time, I thought you lived in a van," Sawyer scoffed, though it came out weaker than intended.

"Haha, good one!" he replied, trying to keep things light.

She sighed, rubbing her temples, then finished the coffee and set the empty cup aside.

"Anyway," she muttered, swinging her legs off the bed's edge and pushing herself to her feet, wincing as her legs wobbled beneath her. "Give me an hour, and I'll be gone."

"Wait, what?" Two Legs shot up from the chair, his eyes widening with concern as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to coax her back to bed. "The last thing you should be doing is running around. You're in no shape to leave. You need to take it easy."

"I can't," Sawyer whispered, almost pleading. Every part of her body screamed at her to lie back down, but she refused to listen. "I have 24 hours left to get on a plane or…you said I was out for five days, right?"

"That's right," Two Legs nodded, his brow furrowing as he hovered beside her, unsure what to do. His hands twitched as if ready to catch her if she fell.

Sawyer's face paled. "Oh, shit..."

Two Legs swallowed hard, noticing the fear creeping into her expression, and stepped closer to try to calm her down. "I'm sure you can find another arrangement to get out of Spain."

Sawyer's shoulders slumped, and her eyes were distant as she murmured. "It's not that simple."

Two Legs frowned. "How so?"

"It's like I told you back at the hotel," Sawyer sighed. She couldn't help but recall that last night before everything went wrong—the night before she was shot. "Everything's fake. All my travel papers, documentation…and Kari, that fucking—"

Sawyer paused, her vision swimming as she fought back a sudden wave of dizziness.

"Easy. Take another breath," Two Legs murmured, his concern hidden behind a gentle command. "VITA can still help you out, right? Even without all the paperwork they did for you?"

Sawyer's lips pressed together, frustration bouncing as she tried to focus.

"I don't know," she admitted quietly, her mind drifting back to that failed attempt to access the archives, a gnawing suspicion that Kari had sabotaged her. She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close Luis was, his breath warm, his face just inches from hers. She looked away, her pulse quickening for reasons she didn't want to investigate, before she winced and sank back onto the bed, her legs finally giving in.

"I've never been in a situation like this."

"I guess this means you're stranded," Two Legs replied, his relief tangible when she sat down, though his eyes were clouded.

"Yeah," Sawyer let out a weak laugh, but there was no humor in it. She caught onto the tension in his features, the worry that mirrored her own. "You seem upset?

Two Legs rubbed the back of his neck, furrowing his brow before leaning back in the creaky rocking chair. "Not at you. Just the situation, what happened back there, in Toledo."

Sawyer's face softened as she studied him. His shoulders held tension even though he attempted to appear relaxed, and his eyes wandered like he hadn't rested well in days. She wanted to ask about Kari and the complicated mess between him and her but now wasn't the time.

He looked like he was barely holding it together.

"How did you get away?" she asked instead, her voice a bit quieter, as if acknowledging the gravity of what he'd been through.

"I ran like hell," Two Legs chuckled, the kind of laugh that only came from someone trying to chase away something that still scared him.

"Obviously, or we wouldn't be here," Sawyer grunted, trying to lighten the mood, but the reality crashed down on her as she glanced at her bandaged shoulder, packed with gauze. "Did you take me to a hospital?"

"Nope," Two Legs admitted, almost proudly, though his voice was softer now. "I, uh, pulled a MacGyver, as one might say. I broke into a medical supply facility and patched you up. The bullet skimmed an artery—it didn't go all the way through, but you lost a lot of blood. Guess my minor in anatomy came in handy, huh?"

"And then some," Sawyer gingerly touched her shoulder, wincing as she felt the stitches beneath the wrappings. Her brow furrowed, confusion clouding her thoughts. "Wait, how the hell did you get me here in one piece? I was eight hours away when I got shot…"

"Here comes the crazy part." Two Legs hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, his playful tone faltering. "After I stitched you up, I…well, I hooked an IV from me to you. Then I found a motorcycle and had you sit up front and lean against me to keep the blood flowing. Rode the whole way like that."

Sawyer's eyes widened in disbelief. "How the fuck did I not drain you dry?"

"Adrenaline?" Two Legs laughed sheepishly like he was trying to hide how close he'd come to collapsing. "I made some stops along the way, gave myself a break…then kept going."

Sawyer stared at him for a long moment. Her eyes flicked up to the IV pole and the blood bag. "And that up there…that's yours too?"

Two Legs nodded, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "Made it myself."

"Oh, you're crazy…" Sawyer murmured, shaking her head as she let out a shaky breath. "How did you even know our blood was compatible?"

There was a slight pause before he answered, his eyes darting away.

"There were some tests in the facility. I took three, just to be sure."

Sawyer had a sinking feeling he was lying. A brief flash of memory surfaced—Luis's face, pale and tautened, his eyes dark and feral. Blood smeared across his lips. She shuddered, forcing herself to dismiss it as a hallucination from her blood loss, but the unease lingered.

She frowned and glanced at the empty cup before her, biting her lip.

I almost died…

"Well," she said with a forced casualness, "give me a day to recoup, and I'll be out of your hair."

"Wait, you said you can't get home."

"I'll find a way; I always do." Sawyer insisted, her tone a little too firm. She gave a sharp nod, more to herself than to him. "We've helped each other enough."

"That may be true," Two Legs began, pausing as if carefully choosing his next words, "but we're both still in the hot seat, and I don't feel comfortable letting you go out there while you're still injured. You'll have no protection here."

"You don't think I can—" Sawyer started, her irritation rising.

"Hear me out," he cut her off, his voice softening. "I know you're strong. Hell, you took a bullet helping a man you hardly know. I'm not underestimating you. But you don't know your way around Spain like I do, and there's a good chance Alvarez is looking for us. We're better off together than separated."

Sawyer hesitated. He was right, and she knew it, but admitting that felt like admitting weakness, and that scared her more than the pain in her arm.

"But I…"

"I want you to stay," Two Legs plead. The sincerity in his eyes made Sawyer's heart skip. "It's the least I can do for…for getting you caught up in my mess. At least until you're back on your feet, how about that?"

Sawyer's gaze dropped to the floor. The truth was, she didn't have the strength to argue anymore. The consistent pain radiating down her arm reminded her she wasn't at one hundred percent. Still, she hated feeling vulnerable and needing help.

"Alright…" she muttered. "I'll stick around, I guess."

"Great then!" Two Legs' smile was big and warm, too warm for the grey still swirling in her head. "We'll figure this out. Trust me!"

Sawyer was silent for a long moment, staring at her hands. She felt a knot in her stomach. "Should we talk about how we will deal with Kari and what happened between you two back there?"

Two Legs' face fell slightly.

"Let's table that for now," he said calmly. "I may look like I have it together, but these past few days have been hard for me too. I know you have a hundred questions, and I'll answer them, but…If it's all the same to you, I need time to get my head straight."

Sawyer furrowed her brows, feeling sympathy despite the questions clawing at the back of her mind. She nodded slowly.

"First things first!" Two Legs exclaimed, his voice bright with an almost contagious excitement. He disappeared downstairs momentarily, returning with a crinkling grocery bag filled to the brim, which he promptly set on the bed beside Sawyer.

"I bought you some snacks. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a little of everything. The pantry's stocked, fridge too—and oh! Clothes, I got you some clothes!"

Sawyer blinked, her groggy mind struggling to catch up. "Clothes?"

"Yeah!" His grin widened, a proud glint in his eyes. "Shirts, pants, underwear, socks...based on what you had on."

It took a second for her to register what he meant, and when she did, a flood of realization hit her. She wasn't wearing her original clothes—hell, she wasn't even wearing a bra.

Her heart gave a startled lurch as she glanced down, then quickly back up at him.

"You looked at my body?"

Two Legs' face flushed deep red, his hands shooting up defensively.

"I—I had to clean you up! You were unconscious. I wasn't going to leave you lying there in...well, you know." He shifted on his feet, clearly flustered, dropping his hands. "But I swear, I didn't peek at anything. I...I respect ladies."

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open, torn between shock and something resembling gratitude. He was an awkward mess, but the sincerity in his words disarmed her.

"Oddly comforting..." she muttered.

Two Legs slapped his forehead suddenly, struck by another thought.

"Oh man, I forgot body wash, conditioner, all that…If you don't mind smelling like me, you can use my stuff for now. There are more blankets downstairs, a deck, umm...kitchen area's a bit of a mess 'cause I haven't had time to—"

"Luis," Sawyer interrupted gently. Her throat narrowed as she looked at him, at this man who had taken care of her when she was most vulnerable. "Thank you."

Two Legs expression eased, nervousness melting into something more caring—something that whispered he was just glad she was awake. He smiled faintly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks as his mind raced ahead of him.

"Can I ask you something?"

Sawyer shrugged. "Sure, it's not like I'm going anywhere."

"Who's Carmen?"

"What?"

"You said her name a lot when you were bleeding." His gaze searched hers. "Is she another one of your friends, like Sam?"

Sawyer's face darkened as a flood of emotions surged forward. She took a shaky breath, ignoring his eyes, pretending she hadn't heard him right.

"I need some time alone...if that's alright," she whispered.

Two Legs' eyes widened for a fraction of a second, realizing he had crossed an unspoken line.

"Yeah, yeah, sure...um," He nodded, stepping back, his usual confidence faltering. "I'll be downstairs. Just holler if you need anything. I'll check on you later, yeah?"

"Okay..."

Sawyer's mind was already shutting him out as she turned away and lay back down.

Two Legs stood in the doorway, watching her frame disappear into the sheets. For the first time since meeting her, she looked small and lost. He didn't know what to say, so he slipped out of the room, the door closing with a soft click.

Once downstairs, he pressed his back against the wall, releasing a deep breath he didn't even realize he was holding. His arms shuddered, pulsing almost violently, his fingernails shifting from blunt to sickle and back again, between human and parasite.

"Mierda joder," he muttered under his breath. (2)

Two Legs stared at his hands for a long moment with resignation as he focused on his breaths, controlling himself.

"You can do this," he whispered to himself, jaw tightening. "You've got a plan. It'll work."

He had already made arrangements and figured out his "meals" for the next week to keep himself from spiraling, especially now that she was awake. Then he let out a dark, humorless chuckle, rubbing his temple.

"If you were human...if you were Luis, you'd be thrilled right now. Over the damn moon. There's a woman in my bed, hell yes!"

His cheeky grin faded into a frown. "But no...there's a woman in my bed, and I can only think about how not to kill and eat her."

His conflict churned, making it even more complicated when he thought about what had happened earlier. When Sawyer stood up from the bed, her body so close to his, it sent a jolt through him, standing the hairs on his neck. How the faint scent of her lingered in the air, her skin warm...he was painfully aware of the distance between them, or lack thereof, and how easy it would have been to pull her closer.

Two Legs sighed. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, and the hunger bit at him, primal and instinctive.

"I can do this..."

He curled his hands into fists to steady himself and keep from doing something he couldn't take back.

Notes:

1. Oye, bella durmiente! = Hey, sleeping beauty! 2. Mierda joder = Shit, fuck

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