Lord, Hear My Prayer

The fire burned in the belly of an old, rusted out oven. Smoke collected in a cloud on the ceiling, seeking outside through the many holes above. Night was fast approaching and the setting autumn sun cast made the smoke glow a faint gold that reminded Moss of honey. A sight made all the more beautiful once he stepped out of his power armour. 

A line of metal soldiers, all Brotherhood of Steel, stood idle along the far wall of the mess hall. Lined up to block the entrance should any passers by investigate the smoke, but well within sight to prevent funny business.

It gave Moss some relief. He knew this was as dangerous as any other moment, but outside the armour felt different. He felt like a man again. Flesh and blood. 

He left the others to their own devices, slipping away to the old restrooms. Found a mirror in decent enough condition to look himself over. The blood stood out first. Red smeared down his forehead, but it was the deep ache in his left side that concerned him. The explosion those raiders orchestrated nearly did the job. Threw him onto a car and power armour or not, he was lucky to be alive. One piece of metal bent the wrong way could’ve done him in. He grimaced and returned to the squad. 

“Kinsley,” he said, pointing to the gash on his head. “Do you have a moment?” 

“Moss,” she replied in a crisp tone, blinking slow with her hands relaxed in her pockets again. Chowder sat beside her, awake and alert again – knowing that food was next on the agenda. He wagged his tail some.

In the time between, she’d cleaned herself up too. Brushed away the splatters, scooped up her tangles of hair and had wiped her face. Her own wound bandaged over for now. She was as presentable as she could be, given the circumstances.
Outside of his armoured shell, Harper was surprised to see that the man still held all of his stature. He was as strong looking as a Paladin should be, the scar across his face lending an intimidating touch to those who were bothered by such things, and his thin and piercing eyes did nothing to soften that. 

Harper gave him a polite nod and began walking to a quieter area of the mess hall, out of earshot of the others, more importantly. The dog had tried to follow, looking up at Harper with his expecting eyes, but a wave of her hand and he sat back down, his ears flicked back and his gaze shifted to Moss.

“Take a seat,” she said, placing her supplies onto a surface, her back to him as he got comfortable. She knew he was wounded, a quick inspection with her own scrutinous gaze told her all she needed to know, and yet she asked the question anyway, “how can I help?”

With a groan, Moss unzipped the top portion of his jumpsuit. The under armour lowered and revealed purple bruising along his left ribs, as well as old scars. 
“I need to know if this is something I need to worry about. Also,” he trailed off and rubbed his temples. “I’m not sure if you have any advice, but I’ve had this piercing migraine since... well, I got all of this.” 

"Well, you weren't worried enough when it counted," Kinsley replied dryly as she examined his sides, pressing two fingers at the base of the bruise with a thick furrow of her brow and a quiet, contemplative hum. "If it was internal bleeding, you'd have dropped over on your walk," she clarified. "Bruised ribs are most likely, possible fracture," she sighed, closing her eyes as she exhaled. A third semi-serious wound already. 

"What did you fall on?" Kinsley asked, a slight touch of curiosity to the words, her fingers had moved to his neck and worked underneath his jaw. She stood squarely behind him, feeling the tension he was holding. "Try to relax," she offered "any history of migraine or headaches?" She asked him quietly. "Anything else besides the head pain? Sound or light sensitivity? Dizziness? Nervousness? Anything at all…" 

She tried not to think about what she'd heard from Grimshaw, what Brown had expressed… She was trying to listen only to the symptoms, but it was hard even for her to not picture McDowell falling through the earth… How [i]did[/i] she feel about Moss now? 

“Bruised ribs I can handle,” Moss replied gruffly. “Those raiders used the old cars outside the warehouse like booby traps. Caught us by surprise and sent me flying a good ten yards back onto another car. Two rough landings in one day.”

He released a slow exhale, a sharp pain stabbing in his left side. “My head hasn’t been on straight since then. Never been one to feel overwhelmed, but earlier... I wouldn’t call it nervous. Frantic, maybe. Not normal for me. Migraines, sure. Ever since childhood. But that was different. Suppose that’s beyond your training,” he explained, adding point to the last statement. “Bruised ribs. That helps. Anything else I should consider?”

“Consider slowing down for a moment,” Kinsley said as a suggestion, even though she knew that wasn’t possible. “Without proper medical equipment, I can’t check for cerebral hemorrhage… Post trauma headache is most likely, Moss.” She stepped back from him, coming back to his front, examining the trail of blood across his forehead to find the open wound. “When we’re in situations like we were today, our body can produce an excess of chemicals that makes changes within us that stick around like echoes…” she explained, choosing her words as best she could to make it easier to understand. “Shrinkage, expansion…”Kinsley added in a murmur.

“All I can do is keep my eyes on you, if you start feeling numb in your face, find me immediately.” She let her eyes meet his for that statement, severity etched into the lines that sat in the corners. 

The way his tone changed did not go unnoticed, and as she moved to her bandages, back to him. “Not really beyond my training, I’d have to know more about it, what made it different — as you said.” She left that ball in his court as she took a dressing from the pack, having no real idea whether or not the Paladin would open up or not. She gave a sidelong glance in the direction of the others - aware of the thick tension still hanging. 

Moss followed the doctor’s gaze and lowered his voice. “Cade is already aware. I didn’t encounter much radiation as a kid. My childhood home was largely spared from all that hellfire. Found out why while out with a few friends. Turns out a bomb did fall, just didn’t go off,” Moss squinted and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It sat half buried in this crater. We must’ve been rough housing or something. Next thing I know I’m tumbling down there. I hear this loud smack and light’s out. Wake up later to find some of the adults dressed in hazard suits hoisting me out. Like some weird parody of angels coming to my rescue. Ever since I’d get these migraines. Usually when traders came around or if I went by the old bomb. A lot more since I left there.”

Whatever spell the doctor had cast thawed a little. The paladin cleared his throat and straightened his back, no matter how much it hurt to do so. But the effect she had on him was clear. If not to Kinsley, then to Moss. 

“Do you pray?” he asked, eyes unfocused and directed at the squad.

Hellfire was an interesting word for it, Kinsley thought, and Angels too. 

Moss's story was interesting enough to conjure a change of expression -- curiosity. She stepped back, and looked him over. Now she was holding a tightness in her jaw. She looked him up and down following that. "I see…" she finally spoke out. That story was worth looking into, worth remembering for later. She had something of a theory of the Paladin’s origin, but really, was it her business to unlock that mystery? She looked over her shoulder to see Grimshaw and Lancer Brown. Maybe it [i]was[/i] her business. Was Moss waiting in anticipation for his bomb to go off? "A knock like that could have gone a [i]lot worse[/i], in many ways… But, still that sounds like quite an experience. You had a lucky escape. I can only theorise on the correlations for now… Again, a post traumatic response to the accident, the following confusion and change…" Harper remarked, rubbing her cheek. 

"Oh, and no. I don't pray. I don't believe anyone listened when I did… So I stopped." She gave a slight shrug, casting her gaze out to their team. Not wanting to talk God with the Paladin, there was really just a bad feeling about it. In that light, it was like his leaving McDowell came from fire and brimstone. "They're good folk, Moss," she said after a pregnant pause. "So were the ones we lost today." 

“The Lord moves in mysterious ways, doctor,” the Paladin countered. “His ways are not our ways. Not an easy example to follow. You need faith.” 

He let the statement hang in the air until the treatment was done. Moss stood, zipped the jumpsuit shut, and nodded. “I appreciate the help. I’ll pray you find your answers.”

“Mysterious indeed,” Kinsley uttered, her eyes narrowing just a touch. She found no remorse from Moss, not yet, just evasion. Maybe Lancer Brown was right. Once more, the doctor turned her back to the Paladin, examining the tools in her kit with a different perspective; scalpels, needles, and syringes lined up in a neat row. “No need to pray for me either, but thank you all the same.”  

“Oh, there’s a need. Of that I’m certain,” replied Moss before taking his leave.