"I've some ointment," he says, all the same, reaching up to trace a thumb
just around the edge of the mark. "It smells bloody bad, but it works."
He isn't usually very good at taking care of people like this: delegating,
yes, and he knows like no one else where to go to solve a problem. But this
is simpler, this is soothing a smaller, physical pain, and he usually
leaves that to the women. But Polly isn't here, and it's Rey, who right now
feels so alone. He just wants to do something.
It would be something she would say no to under normal circumstances, an item she didn't desperately need and so she wouldn't make a trade for it, but it's never been like that with Tommy. She knows it never will be now, and what's more important is she knows that these are things that people will sometimes offer with no other purpose than helping.
That's what this is, she can see it in his face while he touches her so softly, and it's all but impossible to turn that down, but there's something nice about that. He says it smells bad and she can't help the small smile that gets from her.
Immediately she misses the lack of contact, but just as quickly she realizes that's perhaps not something she should be worrying about.
"Now?" She asks, and that strikes her as not quite right immediately too. He'll be back, so why is she worried about his leaving? She sits up even after she says it, looking a little surprised with herself as she does. "It doesn't look that bad, does it?"
So it didn't cover for her at all. This is what happens when she lets herself open up to someone, it would seem. They start to see through her, but it isn't really the worst thing in the world.
"No, you're right. But-"
She reaches for her communicator and then taps something out on it, glances up at him when the text goes through. It's the code to the door, the code that so far only her and Luke know.
"I'd like to avoid any other visitors, so you can just come straight back in. There's the control panel in the center of the door, you just put that in there."
He closes his hand around the communicator in his pocket, and then looks up
at her with pleasant surprise-- he doesn't know that it's only her and
Luke, of course, but he knows how careful she is.
"Alright," he says, levelly, not wanting to make her feel like this is as
big a deal as he suspects it is. "I'll just be a few minutes, eh?"
He's so tempted to reach out again, to cup his hand around her elbow or pat
her shoulder, but he restrains himself- there's such a thing as too much,
he knows that, and he manages to stop while he's ahead.
"What else do I have going on, eh?" Plenty: but she has priority right now.
He's back in ten minutes, carrying a glass jar of something that even looks
pungent. He punches in the code, then calls out her name to announce
himself.
When he returns he'll find her sitting where they had been before, communicator in hand while she keeps an eye on what's being said, trying to get an idea for who she might expect to show up here next. She might actually be in the clear now, it seems like, so when she sets the device aside she only looks mildly concerned.
When she sees the jar, him standing there with it in his hands because he'd wanted to take some of her pain away and couldn't be bothered to wait, she smiles softly. It feels a little odd to do it after so much sadness, but it happens so naturally she can't really help it.
"I wouldn't want you to make you make a second trip," she says graciously, but once he gets the lid off the jar her eyes widen just a little. He'd warned her about the smell but she still isn't entirely prepared for it.
For some reason, this doesn't surprise her. He'd taken it upon himself last night to care for her, but that had been because she was in shock. Whatever his reason for doing it now she barely even thinks twice before just scooting toward him so he'll be able to reach her easily.
He isn't overly gentle with her, presses the ointment right onto the bruise, but he hardly thinks she's made of sugar. The stuff is pungent but cool, and the sharp smell does bode well.
He inspects the spot, then nods. "Any other places?"
It hurts, of course, but it only shows in the way she closes her eyes and her brow furrows while she endures the application. The cooling feeling immediately tells her this was the right idea, but his question makes the large bruise on her back throb.
When she had kicked the Iron Bull to make him let go of her staff, she had been suspended in the air at the time and that was not a short drop. She'd taken the impact mostly on her back, and that is exactly the problem with him asking that question.
She can't reach to put the ointment on herself, but she also can't let him do it for her without taking her top off. That's not something she can expect him to be fine with, but she's not going to lie about it either.
"My back. I hit the deck hard, but I haven't looked yet at how bad it is."
And it's under her clothes. Her eyes are still closed when she says it and she's not going to open them until he speaks again, so any reaction he'll have to that will be entirely his, private.
Oh-- he has been there. He knows how sore bruises like that can get, has fallen off enough ladders and roofs to know intimately how bad that can get. He even winces a little.
But it's a problem: if it had been someone else, Furiosa or Rosethorn, he would have told them to take off their shirt and let him help. He isn't squeamish, not when it comes to his friends and his family. But this is Rey, whom he may not have explicitly thought of like that yet, but who is not sexless. He's seen how graceful and strong she is, he's seen how she moves, and he doesn't think anyone could deny she's beautiful.
But her back hurts. Her back hurts because she fought someone three times her size, and Tommy has something that could help her out.
It takes him just a tick to long, but he purses his lips and nods. "If you like, I can leave this with you and you can let one of the women look at it."
When he says one of the women Rey can't help it, a little huff of a laugh escapes her and she shakes her head.
"The only people I know well enough to do that are men and most of them won't speak to me." She opens her eyes now, and she looks directly into his to be absolutely sure she gets across what she means. "It's alright. I've had worse and it'll heal. You got the important one."
She doesn't know any of the women on this ship well enough to let them touch her and at this point, she doesn't want that to change. She'd rather be in pain for a few days than invite someone she doesn't know well to touch her back.
"I just thought you'd prefer someone your own gender do something like that," he says, seeming surprised, a little taken aback- because he absolutely wants her to do something about her back, now, and she's just being stubborn.
She'd trust Luke or Han to do it if she wasn't entirely prepared for the possibility of losing them over what she did to Bull, but it's exactly for that reason she won't ask them. She's too devoted to staying strong to cope with that to let her guard down enough to let them see her weaknesses and a bruise that probably takes up her entire back is more of a weakness than she could stomach them knowing about.
It's probably stupid, but she doesn't really care. She watches Tommy for one more moment before she asks him, honestly and softly,
"Who do you think did came to my home in the desert to put ointment on me when I was hurt on Jakku, Tommy? This won't be the first time I heal on my own and it won't be the last time. It's fine."
"But you're not on your own this time," he says, soft but insistent. It isn't that he doesn't understand, it's that he's right there with her now, and there are many others who care about her, and she's holing up in here.
He understands. But he wishes she wouldn't. He wishes she'd let people in, so she wouldn't have to carry all that weight around.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"I've some ointment," he says, all the same, reaching up to trace a thumb just around the edge of the mark. "It smells bloody bad, but it works."
He isn't usually very good at taking care of people like this: delegating, yes, and he knows like no one else where to go to solve a problem. But this is simpler, this is soothing a smaller, physical pain, and he usually leaves that to the women. But Polly isn't here, and it's Rey, who right now feels so alone. He just wants to do something.
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That's what this is, she can see it in his face while he touches her so softly, and it's all but impossible to turn that down, but there's something nice about that. He says it smells bad and she can't help the small smile that gets from her.
"I can just hold my breath, then."
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"Alright, then," he nods, dropping his hand from her cheek when he notices how intimate that is, how close they are.
"I'll go get that, then. You sit tight."
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"Now?" She asks, and that strikes her as not quite right immediately too. He'll be back, so why is she worried about his leaving? She sits up even after she says it, looking a little surprised with herself as she does. "It doesn't look that bad, does it?"
Hopefully that covered for her a little.
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That-- surprises him a little, and it shows in his eyes. His eyebrows draw up, and his hand curls lightly around his own knee.
"It doesn't, but the longer we leave it the longer it'll hurt. Or I could- stay?"
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"No, you're right. But-"
She reaches for her communicator and then taps something out on it, glances up at him when the text goes through. It's the code to the door, the code that so far only her and Luke know.
"I'd like to avoid any other visitors, so you can just come straight back in. There's the control panel in the center of the door, you just put that in there."
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He closes his hand around the communicator in his pocket, and then looks up at her with pleasant surprise-- he doesn't know that it's only her and Luke, of course, but he knows how careful she is.
"Alright," he says, levelly, not wanting to make her feel like this is as big a deal as he suspects it is. "I'll just be a few minutes, eh?"
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"There's really no rush, it doesn't hurt that badly."
But it does look horrible so having that fixed up so she can leave her room without looking like a victim would be nice.
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He's so tempted to reach out again, to cup his hand around her elbow or pat her shoulder, but he restrains himself- there's such a thing as too much, he knows that, and he manages to stop while he's ahead.
"What else do I have going on, eh?" Plenty: but she has priority right now.
He's back in ten minutes, carrying a glass jar of something that even looks pungent. He punches in the code, then calls out her name to announce himself.
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When she sees the jar, him standing there with it in his hands because he'd wanted to take some of her pain away and couldn't be bothered to wait, she smiles softly. It feels a little odd to do it after so much sadness, but it happens so naturally she can't really help it.
"Where did you get that, anyway?"
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"I made it. We Shelbies get ourselves punched often enough that we have our recipes."
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She doesn't mean to sound so surprised, but... well, just look at him. He doesn't exactly look like the type of man to make his own bruise creams.
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They aren't hurt, just to be sure: his eyes are crinkling at the corners, even if he's keeping his mouth in check.
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"What's in it?"
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"Alright, now."
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He inspects the spot, then nods. "Any other places?"
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When she had kicked the Iron Bull to make him let go of her staff, she had been suspended in the air at the time and that was not a short drop. She'd taken the impact mostly on her back, and that is exactly the problem with him asking that question.
She can't reach to put the ointment on herself, but she also can't let him do it for her without taking her top off. That's not something she can expect him to be fine with, but she's not going to lie about it either.
"My back. I hit the deck hard, but I haven't looked yet at how bad it is."
And it's under her clothes. Her eyes are still closed when she says it and she's not going to open them until he speaks again, so any reaction he'll have to that will be entirely his, private.
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But it's a problem: if it had been someone else, Furiosa or Rosethorn, he would have told them to take off their shirt and let him help. He isn't squeamish, not when it comes to his friends and his family. But this is Rey, whom he may not have explicitly thought of like that yet, but who is not sexless. He's seen how graceful and strong she is, he's seen how she moves, and he doesn't think anyone could deny she's beautiful.
But her back hurts. Her back hurts because she fought someone three times her size, and Tommy has something that could help her out.
It takes him just a tick to long, but he purses his lips and nods. "If you like, I can leave this with you and you can let one of the women look at it."
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"The only people I know well enough to do that are men and most of them won't speak to me." She opens her eyes now, and she looks directly into his to be absolutely sure she gets across what she means. "It's alright. I've had worse and it'll heal. You got the important one."
She doesn't know any of the women on this ship well enough to let them touch her and at this point, she doesn't want that to change. She'd rather be in pain for a few days than invite someone she doesn't know well to touch her back.
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She'd trust Luke or Han to do it if she wasn't entirely prepared for the possibility of losing them over what she did to Bull, but it's exactly for that reason she won't ask them. She's too devoted to staying strong to cope with that to let her guard down enough to let them see her weaknesses and a bruise that probably takes up her entire back is more of a weakness than she could stomach them knowing about.
It's probably stupid, but she doesn't really care. She watches Tommy for one more moment before she asks him, honestly and softly,
"Who do you think did came to my home in the desert to put ointment on me when I was hurt on Jakku, Tommy? This won't be the first time I heal on my own and it won't be the last time. It's fine."
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He understands. But he wishes she wouldn't. He wishes she'd let people in, so she wouldn't have to carry all that weight around.
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"It's fine, Tommy. I'll put it on where I can reach later and you can have it back after that."
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"Would you let me?" He means it, honestly: does she trust him enough? Would it be alright?
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