Rogue: Untouched by Alisa Kwitney

Author:Alisa Kwitney [Kwitney, Alisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Marvel Heroines
ISBN: 9781839080579
Publisher: Aconyte
Published: 2021-05-04T12:10:23+00:00

Eighteen

Góngora was a terrible patient. The first day he called me in a half dozen times, fretting about the possibility of infection. It came as no surprise that the man was a raving hypochondriac as well as a germophobe, but it was wildly inconvenient.

Each time he called me to check his leg, he inspected me to see that I was properly masked and gloved, even though Tessa was present to help disperse any potential disease-causing microbes. Touching him was not the problem – touching him so there was skin to skin transfer, on the other hand, was going to require some ingenuity.

“Is the leg bothering you? Does it feel warm?”

Góngora winced as I unwrapped the bandage, revealing a porcine limb that was red and swollen. “I can’t tell. I think so.” I probed the skin as gently as I could. It was hard to tell, but I thought there was less swelling under my hand than appeared to my eye. “You know,” I said carefully, “it might be easier for me to tell what I’m feeling if I could remove my gloves. I could wash and disinfect thoroughly, but my bare fingertips would be much more–”

Góngora’s snout wrinkled in alarm. “Absolutely not. I am very susceptible to small infections!”

Great. I smiled and asked if I could sniff the wound for any odor. He nodded, so I leaned over, lifting my mask from my nose.

“Stop that! Do not remove your mask. What are you trying to do, kill me?”

Two strikes. I applied betadine to the affected area and replaced the bandage. The following day, instead of calming down, Góngora grew more anxious that infection was setting in. Every time his leg itched, he diagnosed himself with sepsis. After the third time he called me in, the pigman decided that I might as well just remain in the room, so I could check on the leg every hour or so. As the wall clock’s minute hand moved slowly toward four, my stomach began to growl. I am one of those people who does not forget to eat, and in the late afternoon my body requires either caffeine or chocolate. I glanced at Tessa, who was sitting beside me with exquisite self-possession.

“How do you do that?” I kept my voice whisper-soft.

“Do what?”

“Just sit there.”

Tessa glanced up. Góngora flipped another page of a report and scowled.

“I mentally walk through places I’ve visited in the past,” she said, pitching her voice even softer than mine. “I especially like the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. My grandmother’s kitchen. The rolling hills behind my house, where I used to explore.”

I nodded, taking this in. “But how do you remember exactly how everything look–”

Góngora threw a pillow, which bounced onto the floor, and then winced in pain at the exertion. “Will you two please stop whispering! It is poor manners. And it distracts me.” After that, I just sat and stared out of the window a lot.

At first, it was unbearably boring. Góngora continued reading papers, then clicked through documents on his laptop.

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