CHAPTER 19

Chloe tugged and tugged at the hem of her dress but to no avail. In movies, tearing a piece of clothing took but a second, and here her minute of struggling failed to produce even a small tear. Damn it. Couldn't she do one single thing to help today? All she had done while Nitiel had been fighting for their lives was scream and curse at those evil ponies, and now she couldn't even bandage her man.

"Loe, are you... alright?"

She knelt again next to Nitiel, who was sitting with his back propped on a tree. "I'm perfectly fine, but you're not. You're bleeding, and I can't do anything!"

"You don't have… to do anything. Help… will come."

"For goodness' sake, Nitiel, your speech is slurred and you can barely hold your eyes open! You're losing too much blood to wait for help." He had activated his communicator immediately after she had helped him sit, and the badge was flashing red for what had to be an emergency, but who knew when the help would get here. "I'll try applying pressure to the wound. It's going to hurt, but… I'm sorry."

Chloe lifted her skirts, there being enough length to just about keep her butt covered, and pressed the cloth over the huge bite on Nitiel's pec. He bore his teeth in pain but did not cry out. He was staying quiet so as to not attract those nasty cibiris, she supposed. Nitiel was thinking of her safety while bleeding to death.

"Don't you dare die on me, Subcommander," she ordered. Or tried to: one couldn"t sound commanding when sniffling back tears. "You've survived so many battles, you can't let some evil ponies win."

"Those cibiris… are not evil, Loe. Just untamed youngsters… high on gusafana leaves."

"Don't try to defend the drugged hormonal ponies! They were trying to turn you into an alien pancake and bite your head off. If you die because of them, I'll mince them into meatballs, I swear." She brushed a tear off her cheek using her shoulder, both her hands applying pressure on the bite wound. "I cook great meatballs, you know."

He placed a trembling hand over hers. "I have no doubt… You have magical hands… I won't die."

Chloe laughed as she cried. "I wish I could heal you with a touch. Or with a kiss. Then I would kiss you a hundred times until you got better."

"Thousand?"

She laughed again, her eyes blurry with tears. "A million, if that would do it. You can't die, Nitiel. I won't let you."

"I won't die. My wound is… not bad… Just… bleeding. Must be the gusafana… on the cibiri's teeth. The leaves prevent… blood clots."

"Splendid." If she weren't applying pressure on his wound, Chloe would have thrown her hands up. "And you say this station is a safe place to live? There are creatures that lick you in the bathroom, flying ponies that chomp on you in the park, leaves that make you high while also helping you bleed to death… And let's not forget the constant dangers of space, such as dying a popsicle. I prefer the daily commute, thank you very much." She brushed off more tears. "Is my babbling helping?"

He managed a smile. "Your presence is… everything…. I do not… deserve it."

"What are you talking about? You're my hero!"

"I exposed you to danger… Failed to protect you." Nitiel closed his eyes on a pained sigh. "My leg never healed… completely. It acts up… Now it took a hit… I am not fit for active duty, Loe... Have not been for… some time…. Commander Siriniel is helping me… retire with… dignity."

Chloe gasped. "Your appointment as his representative on Earth? Is that why you want the job?"

"The Army is all I know… My parents died when I was… a baby. The Army… took me in."

Chloe bit her bottom lip. She wasn't sure it was a good idea for him to exert himself by talking, but if that could distract him from the pain… "So, you got Spartan training?" she prompted.

"Terra's Spartan… training was… cruel. My trainers… were kind. They did not care for… my lack of… clan. They cared for… effort. I gave the… training… my all. I made it… higher in… rank than any… clan-less Gaenthian. But now… when it matters… most… I failed."

"No, Nitiel, you didn't!" She wanted to kiss him so badly to bring his smile back, to show him how much she appreciated all the times he had saved her in the past days. But that would have to wait until after her hands on his chest weren't the only thing keeping the blood in his body. "You were amazing, and all this talk about clans and ranks and being fit for duty – I don't care about those things. I care about you, Nitiel."

"Niela… " he said on a whisper. That single word was full of so much longing. "I wish… you… were… mine…"

His head lolled to the side.

"Nitiel? Nitiel!"

His eyes did not open. His chest rose and fell, thank God, but he had lost consciousness. He was slipping away!

Just when Chloe was on the verge of full panic, help arrived. Vrixiel and three unknown Gaenthians flew to the rescue, two of them carrying a black metal box each. One turned out to be full of medical equipment, including some type of bandage that they placed on Nitiel's wound. The other box was full of the familiar blue jelly that expanded into a stretcher upon the box's opening. Vrixiel pulled Chloe to the side so that the others could put Nitiel on the stretcher.

"Is he going to make it?" she asked, voice shaking. She knew she had to stay positive, but now that she felt as though her heart was being torn, being positive was beyond her. She was used to seeing Nitiel full of so much energy and strength, not carried on a stretcher.

"It is not a serious wound, Lady Hloe," Vrixiel assured her. "Just blood loss. Subcommander Nitiel will recover in a day or two." He offered her his forearm. "Let me escort you to your cabin."

"Like hell!" Chloe took a step back. "Not a serious wound, my ass! Khal Drogo said the same, and look what happened to him at the end of Season 1!"

"Drogo, my lady? Who–"

"Never mind. I'm not leaving Nitiel's side, period. The only place you'll escort me to is wherever he is being taken."

"That would be the medical bay, but… of course."

Chloe was taken by surprise. She had expected more arguing against her decision. "Um, okay. Thank you."

Vrixiel bowed his head, then he picked her up so they could fly after the medical team carrying Nitiel. If she weren't so worried about her man, she would feel pretty awkward being carried by Vrixiel like some bride on her wedding day. At the same time, being carried that way by Nitiel had felt natural.

What if she was never carried by Nitiel again? What if Vrixiel had lied to her, and Nitiel was badly injured? That would certainly explain why the soldier was giving her guilty looks. The thought of losing Nitiel made all the air rush out of her lungs. Her head spun.

Somehow, in the two days she had spent with the Sumcommander, Chloe had begun to care for him. Deeply.