Chapter Text
Sylvie rushed back to the dark cavernous room of the supposed Time Keepers, after she finished locking Ravoona in a cell room for later questioning. She came to a stop at the entry way when she saw Hunter B-15, her prone figure lying in heap on the cold stone floors, unconscious. Her soft hair a ruddy red with blood where she had been struck.
Sylvie winced at the sight of the other women, usually so composed and strong, in such a vulnerable position. She couldn’t just leave her here, especially not with the concussion she was sure to be suffering when she woke up.
Sylvie thought about taking her to the infirmary but quickly dismissed that idea, not knowing if she could trust them to not hurt B-15 now that it was out that she had helped her. No matter that she had Ravoona under locks, she couldn’t guarantee that they were safe.
No, she would just have to look after the women herself.
She picked her up gently, one arm under her knees and another under her arms, bridal style. Her godly strength making the taller women feather light. Padding carefully back to the other woman’s room, she stepped smoothly as to not rustle her.
Realising she didn’t know which room was B-15’s she made a B line to the reception desk, threatening one of the workers into giving her the room number and access. She would really have to tighten security once she had everything under control.
Entering the room she placed B-15 on the bed as gently as possible, moving each limb into a comfortable position and propping her head up on a soft pillow.
She didn’t have much experience with looking after people, since she had been mostly alone since she was young. Despite that she had some experience with healing, often having to look after herself when she couldn’t escape the apocalypses fast enough or when she was hurt in a battle. Her Jotun strength not always enough to protect her.
With this tenuous knowledge she set to work, grabbing cloths and bowls to fill with water to clean away the blood from her face. Along with the antiseptic and band-aids she found in the first aid kit.
As she wiped away the ruby red blood from her face, B-15 eyes started to blink open, instantly squinting in pain from the light.
“Sorry,” Sylvie said as she turned off the overhead light, leaving only the soft glow of the bedside lamp to illuminate the room.
B-15 groaned, holding her head. “What happened?”
She stopped in her movement, worried. “You don’t remember?”
“No, I definitely remember getting hit in the head, I meant after that.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah it must have been quite the blow to knock you out for so long. After you saved me by giving me the weapon everyone fought, we won and I tried to kill one of the Time Keepers. Turns out they’re fake, just mindless droids. After we found out Ravoona pruned Loki, and I fought her. I won. She in a holding cell right now and the TVA is listening to me. Except for a few outliers that is. That’s why you’re not in the infirmary, I didn’t trust them.”
A small frown reached B-15’s face, “I’m sorry about Loki, and thank you for helping me.”
A cold feeling flooded through her as she thought about Loki being pruned in front of her, powerless to stop it. She knew he wasn’t dead, as he said, Loki’s always survived. She just had to figure out how to save him.
“It’s fine, I’ve got a theory about pruning anyways. I don’t think he’s actually dead.”
“The pruning doesn’t kill them? I don’t think my head can take that theory right now. Not after today,” B-15 said bewildered.
“Yes of course. How do you feel?”
“I’ve been better. A little dizzy and my head is throbbing.”
“Hopefully I can help but I’m going to need to finish cleaning the wound first. Don’t want an infection.”
B-15 gestured for her to keep going .“Go ahead.”
She continued to wipe the ruby blood away from her skin, the faint smell of salty iron filling the air. She poured antiseptic on the small gash at her hairline, patting her shoulder gently in sympathy as she watched the other women hiss. She worked quickly, practiced hands covering the wound with a pink bandage.
B-15 watched her as she worked, deep brown eyes locked on her, tracking her movements.
“Ok all done, how about we get you cleaned up? A bath might be a good idea, the blood did get kind of everywhere, head wounds you know.”
“Yeah, I think that might be a good idea,” B-15 said looking down at where the blood had started to dry in patches all over her.
“I’ll go run the bath; you just sit here. Give me a yell if you need me,” she said as she pointed to the bed.
She walked into the bathroom that held a large bath, taking note of the products that lined the sink, bright containers full of soaps and lotions. As she filled the tub with hot water she thought about the other women and what she knew about her. Other than the brief glimpses she saw when she enchanted her back at the Roxxcart she didn’t know much. Despite that she felt a sense of responsibility to the woman, to make sure she was ok. She cared about her.
It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, she was prone to caring too much in a lot of circumstances, but she didn’t often get the chance to do anything about it. She never stayed in one play long enough, always on the run.
As the water reached the top of the bath she poured in bubbles, enough to ensure some semblance of modestly for the other woman. The sweet smell of berries surrounded her as the bubbles coated the water in a thick sheet.
Drying her wet hands on her pants she came to stand at the bedside, helping B-15 to the bath with a guiding hand. Sylvie turned around as B-15 undressed and painstakingly got into the bath, small groans of pain coming from her as she sunk into the water.
Free to face her again Sylvie explained, “Ok B-15, I think you’ll be alright to do everything else but I’m going to need to wash your hair, you’ll get the wound all wet if you do it since you can’t see.”
“Fine,” B-15 grumbled.
She grabbed a cup so she could wet down her hair, filling it with fresh warm water. The steam from the water sinking into her skin as she put two fingers under B-15’s chin and tipped it back, “Ok just tilt your head back for me.”
The women did as she asked, her eyes closed so she didn’t get any in her eyes.
“Good,” Sylvie praised as she grabbed for the shampoo.
As she gently massaged the product into the roots, she marvelled at the softness of the plush, curly locks. The other woman made a pleased noise from her throat, pressing back into her fingers as they made small circles at the crown of her head. A shiver ran down Sylvie’s spine at the noise. Flustered she made quick work of washing out the shampoo and coating her hair in moisturising conditioner, brushing it out with the comb that B-15 passed her.
She had of course noticed that the woman was gorgeous before, it was hard not to. She was tall and strong, dark eyes intelligent and inviting. Even in the pouring rain her skin still glowed.
She couldn’t do anything about it though, she was meant to be alone.
Still ruminating she patted the hair dry, careful to make sure she didn’t touch the wound. “All done.”
B-15 opened her eyes slowly, blinking away the stray drops of water that had reached them, “Thanks for washing my hair for me, you didn’t have to do that.”
Sylvie thought about how much she had enjoyed helping and responded honestly, “Anytime.”
After Sylvie had taken her turn getting clean and B-15 had gotten dressed she strode back out to the bedroom, the carpet tickling her bare feet.
“You’ve got a concussion, so I’m going to need to stay to make sure you’re ok.”
B-15 looked around sparse room. “Stay here?”
She nodded. “Yeah, is that ok?”
“I guess, it’s a small room though, all the hunters just got the basics. I don’t even have a couch, just an armchair.”
She looked around the room and B-15 was right, there was nothing much but a queen-sized bed, a closet, a small grey armchair and bedside tables that held simple lamps and a few books. Despite the size it was cosy and warm. It looked lived in. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to wish that she could have a room that looked like this one day. Like she hadn’t just dumped her scarce belongings there for the night, while she got as much sleep as she could before the world ended.
She shook her head, blonde curls bouncing as she did. “I don’t need much sleep anyways.”
“If you’re. Thanks again for looking after me.”
“You saved me back there, it’s the least I could do,” Sylvie said thinking about how the other women had burst in before they had gotten pruned like a shining grace, throwing her the machete with no hesitation. Trusting her with the weapon implicitly.
B-15 padded slowly over to her closet, rustling around for a moment before chucking something blue at her. “If you’re gonna be staying you’ll need some clothes. You can borrow some of mine, they’re a little big but they’ll do fine.”
Sylvie stared down at the clothes in her hands. Soft sky-blue cotton, meant for comfort and warmth, not protection. It was foreign to her, even as a child she was made to wear nightgowns made of pretty, but scratchy, lace.
She rushed to change in the bathroom, grinning at her reflection in the mirror. In the reflection she stood, the blue matching her eyes, and the clothes drowning her small frame, making her look young. She took a big inhale, noticing that the clothes smelt like B-15, the sweet coconut smell of her conditioner and something earthy that she suspected was uniquely hers.
Coming back to the bed where B-15 lied she sat down, the mattress yielding to her weight. “I’m not used to wearing such comfortable clothes. It’s nice.”
B-15 tilted her head. “You mean pyjamas? What do you usually wear to bed?”
“Well, I grew up hiding at the ends of the world, so I had to be ready to run. Not much time to buy soft pyjamas,” she admitted, voice sad.
The other woman nodded in understanding, eyes soft, “Oh, well I’ve got a bunch. Take some.”
Sylvie flushed at thought of getting permission to wear her clothes more often, to be wrapped in their softness, the smell of coconut engulfing her. She knew she should decline the offer. She didn’t want to be seen as someone who needed charity, or pity, but she couldn’t say no. She desperately wanted the clothes for herself, to wear something that represented comfort and safety, even if it was a façade.
Covering her red face with her hair she said, “Time for you to sleep, your heads going to get worse before it gets better. I’m going to have to wake you up soon though.”
“How soon?”
“About 2 hours.”
B-15 groaned dramatically. “Damnit.”
##
Sylvie looked up from the book she had started reading out of boredom, to see that about 2 hours had already passed. Time moved differently at the TVA, but it was close enough. She smiled when she saw that the other woman fast asleep, face smushed into her pillow, lips slightly parted. She felt bad that she would have to wake her up from her seemingly peaceful sleep, but it was necessary.
She poked her shoulder lightly. “Hey, hey. Wake up.”
“Ehhhh,” B-15 noised unintelligibly as she batted Sylvie’s hand away.
Sylvie chuckled. “How do you feel?”
B-15 opened an eye blearily, cringing at the sudden light coming from the lamp that glowed a muted orange. “Worse. So much worse.”
“It will pass, don’t worry. Now I need to ask you some questions to make sure your memories fine,” Sylvie reassured.
B-15 raised an eyebrow questioningly. “You mean despite being brainwashed?”
Sylvie winced, “Ok maybe not fine, but normal.”
“What’s your name?”
“Hunter B-15,” she answered confidently.
Sylvie nodded. “Good. What’s 15 + 7.”
“22,” B-15 said, sitting up against the plush grey headboard.
Struggling to come up with another question she blurted, “What’s your favourite colour?”
“You don’t know my favourite colour. If I’d lost my memory, I could have just picked one,” she reminded her.
“Yeah, good point. This is kind of hard because I don’t know anything about you,” Sylvie admitted thinking about how little she really knew about the other women, despite all they had gone through together in the last day.
Eye’s meeting B-15 said softly, “Well, you could get to know me now.”
“Really?” Sylvie breathed.
The other woman nodded, before realising her mistake and grimacing in pain, “Yeah. Why do you sound surprised?”
“Guess I’m just not used to doing stuff like this.”
Sylvie tried to think back to the last time someone had let her get to know them properly, drawing a blank. She supposed she had started to get to know Loki, but they were the same person, so it was different. She had missed it, the action of getting to know someone, all the random little titbits about themselves that weren’t necessary at all to know. Shared only out of genuine interest in getting to know someone as deeply as possible.
“Green.”
“What?”
“My favourite colour, it’s green,” B-15 repeated.
“Mine too.”
B-15 chuckled, “Yeah, I assumed from your whole look.”
“Whole look?” she asked, faking offense.
B-15’s eyes lit up with mirth, stating deadpan, “Hmm it’s got quite the dramatic flair to it.”
Sylvie broke out into a laugh, she couldn’t argue really, her outfit was a bit dramatic. “Well at least it has some colour! Yours is all black.”
“It’s a uniform,” B-15 whined jokingly.
She knew she was joking but the words made Sylvie’s smile fade. Reminding her that B-15 had been kidnapped out of time just like she had been, taken from her life and forced by the TVA to do their bidding. Dehumanising her to the point that her only identifier was a number.
She was already determined to free the workers at the TVA and return their memories, but this solidified the plan for her. Igniting her with fury at what the TVA had done to this woman. This beautiful, kind, brave woman whose very presence brightened the room. Who had risked her life to save her, someone who was basically a stranger to her. B-15 deserved better, and Sylvie was going to do everything in her power to make sure that she got it.
“Well, you don’t have to wear that anymore. You can wear all the colour you want now.”
A grin split B-15’s face in two, pearly white teeth glowing in the light, only to be cut off by a yawn. She looked sheepish at the yawn but lied back down anyways, if a little closer to where Sylvie was sitting. Sylvie looked down fondly at the other woman as she watched her pull the blanket up to cover all but part of her face, snuggling in with a contented sigh.
“I’ll wake you again in a few hours,” Sylvie whispered.
Already halfway back to sleep the woman mumbled, “Hmm ok.”