Based on the series Witch Hunter Robin, I do not own any characters in this. I'm not being paid to do this, I just love to write and loved this series and hated seeing it end.
Author's Note: I'm considering making this a series, but it can stand alone. Takes place one week after the collapse of the building.
The sound of the breathing machine was chaos and mind shattering in Amon's ears. The constant kshhh-kshhh...kshhh-kshhh. The machine keeping her alive. It had been a week since Amon had climbed out of the building's wreckage, and pulled Robin out from beneath the rubble. Her tiny body had withstood the crushing impact initially whether by some miracle or by her own powers manifesting in some way to protect her. Either way, Amon didn't care. She was alive, at least for now. No one knew either of them were alive. He'd taken her to a private hospital that he'd been to before, many years ago. He'd lied and said he'd found her and didn't know her. She was a Jane Doe. It was better this way. Better for the group to think she and he had both perished. He had been lucky. Finding an elevator shaft, he'd gone inside, Robin close behind him, but she hadn't made it. The guilt was sickening to him. He should have made sure she had gotten in first. But would she have had the strength to climb out carrying him on her back, as he'd done with her? Probably not.
The nurses had given up trying to get him to leave the room. Out of pity they got him a change of clothing and had laundered his clothing alternating every couple of days. He rarely left the chair, and never without demanding a nurse sit and wait, and watch, and only for showers and bathroom breaks. Everyday, the doctor would come in and say her condition was stable. It was neither improving, or getting worse, but that it was a good thing. Her brain was still functioning. She responded to pain, but not sound. Robin's hair spilled over the pillow on either side of her, out of their usual wrapped ponytails, a breathing tube inserted and taped to her face. Her broken glasses sit off to the side on the nightstand. He had picked them out. They'd been the only pair like them. He had been secretly pleased at how they looked on her...even if she was disappointed by the fact that she had to wear them.
As he sat there holding her hand he looked at the glasses now. Broken, bent, and missing a lens completely. He'd received a concussion, sprained wrist and elbow, and a sprained knee from how he had been kneeling while ducking and covering in the elevator shaft. But it was nothing compared to this uncertainty. Not even a bruise, but she wouldn't wake. It was enough to drive a person insane. Reaching over he presses the call button and explains that he'd like to take a shower. A nurse would come down a few minutes later to sit in his place, and he would get up and go into the room's bathroom. Hot water. He needed it. Standing under it, it would soothe some of his aches and pains that lingered still. Leaning sideways against the shower wall, he lets it run through his hair. He was always able to figure things out but this one was killing him. He couldn't tell the others that Robin was alive on life support. If something happened and she died, they'd lose her all over again. So he had decided to suffer in his own personal hell.
He stressed over this. Whether or not she'd awaken. Why did he fret over it more than he had when others had been hospitalized? He didn't know, or rather, he was still blind. Exiting the shower, he wrapped himself in the towel, dried off, and redressed. He had her necklace on, laying against his Orbo. Frowning as he looks at it, he recalls the moment she had reacted so strongly against wearing one. She's said it was "disgusting." Eyes narrowing in the mirror, he leaves the bathroom to rejoin the nurse and patient.
"Any change?" Amon would ask. He always asked this.
"No, sorry. She must mean a lot to you." The nurse stood and made sure the machines were all proper.
"Don't really know her." It wasn't exactly a lie.
The nurse would offer a smile before telling him to just buzz if he needed anything. He knew the drill. Picking up the forms from breakfast, he would fill them out. They were his dinner choices. He'd filled lunch out last night, along with breakfast. All part of the routine. He sets them on the tray to be taken when the orderlies came. Reaching out again, he takes Robin's hand. It was so tiny compared to his. The girl was barely 16, though, and he was 24, soon to be 25. Still thinking about the Orbo, he sets her hand down and takes his necklace off. He couldn't put it around her neck, so he slides it around her wrist, looping the leather string until it was tight enough not to just fall off, but not too tight. He'd take her hand again.
Paranoia ran high. She had become a target, but she wasn't a seed...he had to believe that. A craft user, yes, but not a seed. Not like his mother, and not like so many others. Though even if she were one, he was hoping it would never make itself known. He didn't want to leave for two reasons. He wanted to be there if she woke, and was worried someone would come hunting her down. That had been one of Robin's fears. That he would hunt her. And while yes, he had been assigned to that specific job, he couldn't.
As he sat there musing over whether or not either of them would ever be able to return to STN-J or not, it seemed highly unlikely that they could, he looked up to Robin's face. If it weren't for the intubation tube, she'd look asleep. Standing, he takes a seat on the side of her bed, fingers drawing the hair off of the sides of her face.
"Robin, you need to wake up." It was half plead, half demand, but spoken softly.
Lifting his cup of water from the side rolling table, he takes a drink, trying to avoid swallowing the pieces of ice floating in it. It was bitter cold, but felt wonderful. His throat was scratchy from the dry air in the room. He'd half been tempted to demand a humidifier, but they assured him that their she was breathing was humidified. Dipping his finger into the icy water, he trails it over one of her lips avoiding the tube. The heart rate monitor's steady pattern would beep and deviate briefly. He looks over at it, but it returned to normal just as fast. They'd said she responded to pain, so perhaps to cold as well, he assumes.
"Well now if you didn't like that, know that if you don't start beating this, I'm going to dump a bucket of ice water on you." He smirked, joking, but there was a part of him who partially considered this. What if it worked?
Sitting back down in the chair, he leans forward, his elbows settled on the bed, resting his face in his hands. He felt exhausted since he'd barely slept since Robin was admitted. The sounds of the breathing machine were nearly hypnotizing, and on more than one occasion he'd found himself drifting off, snapping up to stay awake, but he was drifting again now. Suddenly, a beep on one of the machines starts to sound. Amon sits up, looking at the machines, then to Robin. Her eyes were open, terrified, looking around and she reaches out grabbing his hand as he takes her's. Amon hits the call button yelling out that she was awake as Robin struggles. It was a very unsettling feeling having a breathing tube in and she was fighting the machine, closing her eyes again. Her heart rate monitor was going off as well, signaling her heart was beating faster, though she was just panicking.
"Robin, stop! Just calm down, you're in a regular hospital. You have a breathing tube in." Amon tried to explain. "I only have a moment and you need to listen." He leans over toward her ear, lowering his voice. "I told them I didn't know you; you're a Jane Doe. So you're protected, don't give your real name."
She was calming, trying to remain calm, and trying not to fight the machine which was a strange sensation. A nurse and doctor would come in quickly, working fast to get the tube out. It made Amon cringe. He'd been intubated before and it hadn't been pleasant. Before they could notice, he took the hand he'd wrapped the Orbo around and slips it off and back on, under his shirt, wondering if it had been the Orbo, or the cold. Either way he was relieved. They had to check all of her vitals and by the time they were done, she was done. She was agitated and impatient for them to leave, and ended up hoarsely whispering for them to leave her alone. Amon stood and told them to let her calm down, and they left only when satisfied she wouldn't slip back into a coma. The door would close and she looks over at Amon, assessing him a moment.
"Amon..." She couldn't speak, only whisper and it hurt to do that. Her hand comes up and settles on her throat.
"Don't speak, you've had a tube in for a week." He poured her some water and helps her to sit up so she can drink. She drank some of the water, though and shook her head to him.
"Amon..." She wanted to ask him a hundred things, but couldn't will herself to speak like this.
He hushed her and slides an arm around her, pulling her into a protective hug. She settles her cheek against his chest sighing, letting her eyes close. The nightmare she'd been in unending for a week was over and she couldn't tell him what she'd seen. The visions were fading being erased from her memory. It was probably for the best, she figured. For now she was safe, and that's what mattered, and here was Amon, and he was protecting her.