Chapter Thirty-Three: The Bullet

                                    

                                          
    When they arrived at his home, she sat him on the piano bench - the nearest place for him to sit.
                          
   "Now where are your medical supplies?"
                          
    "In the desk over there."
                          
    "Great. Now take off your shirt."
                          
   She fetched the supplies while he stripped with great difficulty. With her arms loaded with medical things, she paced back to her patient.
                          
   He had only removed his waistcoat.
                          
   "Oh don't be a baby. I used to swim naked with Rodger; get the shirt off so I can inspect whatever you did, hmm?"
                          
   "Grace..." he huffed. He really wanted to inquire further about the swimming... but there was a more pressing matter. "It's not just my face that should be hidden."
                          
   "So you're saying that covered in blood, possibly missing flesh, and definitely gory, you have yo warn about when your skin is not broken and gaping?"
                          
   She sat down behind him and began getting out what she thought she needed. 
                          
   "I have scars too."
                          
   "Maybe some day I'll show you mine if I see yours now," she said, threading a needle.
                          
     "Damn you."
                          
   "Thanks, I love you as well."
                          
      Erik tossed his shirt and Grace was shocked for many reasons. First, he had been shot and blood was gushing, so she assumed an artery had been hit. And it was not in his arm at all, but his shoulder. Second, he had scars all over his back that had been inflicted, as most of hers were, by other people. Third, he had a really fit, well-kept, athletic body. 
                          
    "Well we have another thing in common," she said, applying pressure to the wound as Erik hissed and dug his nails into his palms at the intense pain.
                          
    "I'll bring you a drink if you'd like when I'm done."
                          
   "I don't have liquor in the house."
                          
   "Not even for medicinal purposes?"
                          
  "No."
                          
   "Then I admire you."
                          
   "Shut up and keep talking. Your useless ramble is the only distraction I have. Wait - what do we have in common."
                          
     "This is going to sting." And sting it did. Half his sheet music was suddenly floating to the ground around them as he knocked over the pile when he jumped at the pain she was causing him.
                          
    "Put your guard down, you are much too tense." In fact every time he tensed or craned to look at what she was doing he started bleeding again.
                          
   "Sorry, it's in my nature."
                          
    "Damn it, Erik! Do you know what we have in common? People took knives to us. They hit us and threw us. I'm not going to do that to you, and I know you're not going to do it to me, so let me help you. Be vulnerable and let someone in for once, take down the walls. Or I might just let you die, you insufferable man."
                          
    "I'm sorry," was all he said. But he did stop moving. He knew she was right, and in this circumstance, he was doing more harm than good. He just needed to be in control so badly. He needed to be distrustful less he get hurt again.
                          
   "That's better. What do you want me to uselessly ramble about?"
                          
    "Why were you swimming naked with Rodger?"
                          
    "Well... he was naked. I had on my slip. And we were ten. Oh, and he was already in the water, which came up to his shoulders by the time I turned around."