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He's not going to die.
If he dies, Shado is going to get herself killed, keeping Oliver and his new blonde alive all by herself.
So Slade isn't going to die.
It's that simple, he tells himself, sets his teeth against another round of shaking. It's exactly like going through Basic, back when Basic was the hardest thing he'd ever done.
Slade realizes he's laughing when Shado's hand starts stroking the left side of his face, soothingly. She's making calming noises but Slade can hear the fear in her voice. He doesn't want her to stop but that's no excuse to scare her. He sets his teeth, bites the sound off.
Shado had dosed him up with a combination of her daddy's herbs and what she'd found in the abandoned Japanese sub. It had caused Slade's fever to sink against his bones, gnawing at his joints. His burns are a solid sheet of agony across the right side of his face, his right shoulder, and everywhere else feels like his muscles are ripping themselves apart. But he isn't dead and by rights, he should be.
"Do you remember when Basic was the hardest thing you'd ever done?" he asks, didn't let himself laugh again. Several beats later, he remembers that Shado isn't military.
"I remember when pulling an all-nighter was the longest I'd ever gone without sleeping ," she answers after a moment. She uses the same tone of voice as when she was teaching Oliver, her voice smooth and sly. "My test started at 11:30 in the morning, and I spent the night studying in a diner a few blocks from my apartment. I drank cup after cup of black coffee. The hardest part of that test was making my handwriting legible."
"I'm pretty sure doctors are supposed to have bad handwriting," Oliver says, poking his head around the hatchway.
Shado's lips quirk up but her hand is still resting against Slade's face. Slade closes his eyes, tried to focus on the feel of her skin - soft palms, the calloused tips of her finger - and ignore everything else.
"I can stay with him if you want to get some rest," Oliver offers after a bit longer, something uncertain.
"I'm fine," Shado says.
"But–"
"I'm not leaving him," Shado says, her words quick. Slade thinks there's a pause, or maybe he drifted off, because it seems like a long time between that, and Shado politely and in the most circuitous way possible, telling Oliver to go keep an eye on Sara. So Slade isn't the only person who doesn't trust her. Good.
When he's sure Oliver's out of earshot, Slade says, "Aren't you going to go fight for your man?"
Shado pulls her hand away from his face. That'll teach him.
"Why would I fight for a man who doesn't know his own heart?" she said lightly.
He listens to her footsteps cross the room. She comes back, brings a cup to his lips.
"You need to drink," she said, and Slade does, even though he's not thirsty. He's smart enough to know that's a bad sign.
"Bet you do," he mutters between sips.
"I know what my heart is hiding from me," Shado says, "which isn't the same."
If he dies, Shado is going to get herself killed, keeping Oliver and his new blonde alive all by herself.
So Slade isn't going to die.
It's that simple, he tells himself, sets his teeth against another round of shaking. It's exactly like going through Basic, back when Basic was the hardest thing he'd ever done.
Slade realizes he's laughing when Shado's hand starts stroking the left side of his face, soothingly. She's making calming noises but Slade can hear the fear in her voice. He doesn't want her to stop but that's no excuse to scare her. He sets his teeth, bites the sound off.
Shado had dosed him up with a combination of her daddy's herbs and what she'd found in the abandoned Japanese sub. It had caused Slade's fever to sink against his bones, gnawing at his joints. His burns are a solid sheet of agony across the right side of his face, his right shoulder, and everywhere else feels like his muscles are ripping themselves apart. But he isn't dead and by rights, he should be.
"Do you remember when Basic was the hardest thing you'd ever done?" he asks, didn't let himself laugh again. Several beats later, he remembers that Shado isn't military.
"I remember when pulling an all-nighter was the longest I'd ever gone without sleeping ," she answers after a moment. She uses the same tone of voice as when she was teaching Oliver, her voice smooth and sly. "My test started at 11:30 in the morning, and I spent the night studying in a diner a few blocks from my apartment. I drank cup after cup of black coffee. The hardest part of that test was making my handwriting legible."
"I'm pretty sure doctors are supposed to have bad handwriting," Oliver says, poking his head around the hatchway.
Shado's lips quirk up but her hand is still resting against Slade's face. Slade closes his eyes, tried to focus on the feel of her skin - soft palms, the calloused tips of her finger - and ignore everything else.
"I can stay with him if you want to get some rest," Oliver offers after a bit longer, something uncertain.
"I'm fine," Shado says.
"But–"
"I'm not leaving him," Shado says, her words quick. Slade thinks there's a pause, or maybe he drifted off, because it seems like a long time between that, and Shado politely and in the most circuitous way possible, telling Oliver to go keep an eye on Sara. So Slade isn't the only person who doesn't trust her. Good.
When he's sure Oliver's out of earshot, Slade says, "Aren't you going to go fight for your man?"
Shado pulls her hand away from his face. That'll teach him.
"Why would I fight for a man who doesn't know his own heart?" she said lightly.
He listens to her footsteps cross the room. She comes back, brings a cup to his lips.
"You need to drink," she said, and Slade does, even though he's not thirsty. He's smart enough to know that's a bad sign.
"Bet you do," he mutters between sips.
"I know what my heart is hiding from me," Shado says, "which isn't the same."
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But yes, this. <3
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