“I’ve never been so close to this kind of airship before.” Joan picked up her slowed pace and caught up to the ship’s captain.

“You were here last night,” he pointed out.

“Don’t remind me."

“Isn’t that the current issue?” Slightly irritated, Joan followed the smug Crowe to the Paradise’s starboard, where a metal gangway escalated to the ship’s deck. “Right foot first,” Crowe instructed as they began their first steps. Joan glanced downward, past the gangway, and saw a vast nothing below her. It was just air that seemed endless and faded into cloud, as if the world ended beyond the cliff face. It was unsettling how high they really were.

“Well if it isn’t the hammered doctor from yesterday!” Joan’s head immediately tore away from the endless drop and looked to the top of the deck, where ramp and ship meet. The unfamiliar voice originated from a man leaning on the side of the entryway, where the ship’s rail briefly cut away for easier access. He wore black pants, dark brown boots, brown gloves, and a dark brown leather jacket that zipped up and pulled over to latch at the shoulder. His black hair was neatly coiffed and he had a five o’clock stubble. Joan wasn’t sure if it was there on purpose, or if he didn’t care to shave after their supposed troubles from the night before. One of his legs propped himself up from the railing, boot sole flat on the wood, and his arms were crossed in a pose that exuded a confident certainty. This was Ren. 

“I thought you were going to need my help finding her,” he shouted amusedly.

“I thought you were supposed to be watching Gideon,” Crowe snapped back.

“Valerie’s taking care of it. You know I’m not good with the ‘healing’ sort of thing.” He pushed himself off the railing and took a step to the side to allow his captain and their guest on the ship. She took a close glance at his bright face now that he was closer. He had silver eyes. 

“Besides, I wanted to meet the woman ballsy enough to operate on a guy after a whole bottle of the hard stuff.” Joan felt her stomach sink from the pestering guilt.

“The best part is, she was blackout the whole time,” Crowe replied.

“Now that’s impressive.” The new man wore an excited and cheery face that made Joan worry.

“I don’t think either of you understand the seriousness of the situation right now,” she lectured. Ren looked surprised and impressed at her sudden outburst. “There’s no telling if I actually helped him. He could be having considerable medical complications right now.”

“He’s too annoying to die,” Ren brushed off her concern. They began to traverse the ship’s deck, heading for the bridge.

“You should know by now that there isn’t a hospital in this town,” Joan started. “Why did you look for me? Why haven’t you taken off yet?”

“Ship’s busted,” Ren answered. “Our engineer’s taking care of it right now, but it’s going to take some time.” Joan remembered the impact hole at the end of the ship and wondered how much damage they actually sustained.

“He’s got until this afternoon,” Crowe stated. “I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to.” Joan felt slightly relieved that, below the jabs and complaints, they actually seemed to have some iota of concern for their crew member.

Ren walked up and opened the metal door of the bridge, gesturing Joan inside. She took uneasy steps into the ship. The room looked about as expected, with a large wheel stationed in front of a control panel, dotted with various different buttons, levers, and switches. Nothing looked too out of the ordinary, not that she knew what 'ordinary' meant on an airship.

“Bring back any memories?” Ren smiled as he asked the question.

“Unfortunately, no,” she admitted. Nothing seemed familiar. If this was where she operated, there were no stains on the floor or any dirtied rags left scattered about. However, there was a faint, stale order in the air, almost reminiscent of blood, but it mixed thoroughly with the already existing smells of dust, wood, and oil, so she couldn’t be quite sure. Crowe led the way down the spiral metal stairs, and for a moment Joan wondered if this was a terrible mistake following a strange man back to his very large and transportable airship. They walked down a small corridor, and from the next hallway over, they could hear faint, distant voices echoing. The voices grew louder, and Joan could make out the loud words of two distinct people.

“--completely irresponsible!” It was the hoarse voice of a furious man. “A member of his crew is shot, and that’s the solution he comes up with?!”

“He didn’t have a choice!” The other voice was that of a woman. Crowe walked to the door, unphased by the bombastic yelling, and thrust it open without knocking. “There was no one else who could’ve--” Joan sheepishly peeked from behind the captain to look at the two arguing airshipmen, suddenly frozen in silence from the unexpected intrusion. The woman looked surprised at the group at the door. She had platinum-blonde hair and olive tanned skin with softly piercing amethyst eyes. She wore black pants, light brown heeled boots, an off-white billowy long-sleeved shirt, and a leather corset that hugged her, but not too tightly. The ends of the corset extended to mid-pelvis, and from the back of it, a thin, light purple veil-like material flowed to the middle of her hamstrings. She had two thin, light brown belts strapped to her lower thighs and metal cuffs curled on her upper arms.

Joan’s gaze shifted from the woman, whom she suspected was Valerie, to the absolutely furious man lying shirtless in the bed, who was undeniably Gideon. She immediately noticed the square-taped bandage on his left lateral thorax, and just a couple of inches higher, she saw the thin glint of the long needle poking out from just below the clavicle. It was just a patch job, and about all one could do with the supposed resources on hand.

“How reckless can you be?!” Fully anticipating the brunt of his anger, Joan braced herself, but relaxed a little when she followed his line of sight to the captain beside her. Despite his pitiful state, Gideon deliberately looked to start a fight with the instigating harbinger of his unorthodox medical treatment. “You handed my life over to the hands of a drunken stranger?!” Crowe paused for the onslaught, then turned to Joan.

“You know what, he’s fine. I don’t think we need your help.”

“Fine?!” It was painful just watching the injured man yell in anger and distress. “There’s a needle sticking out of my chest! How do I look fine to you?!” The guilty pit in Joan’s stomach weighed heavily, and her feet felt numb and stuck. She didn’t want to look at the wounded man, much less take a step forward and announce her irresponsible mistake, but as Gideon’s intense eyes turned to Joan, she knew that avoidance was impossible. “And you!” The short accusation pierced her. “What did you do to me?!” Joan could only slowly find the words.

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted.

“You don’t what?”

“Gideon.” Crowe tried to interject, but Gideon ignored his captain.

“How could you not know?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Valerie now tried to assuage his fears, but he was derailing.

“How is this considered ‘okay’?!” Gideon descended into a frenzy laced with concern and distress. Joan just watched him interact with his crew members who tried to step in and calm him down. As she watched, the guilt in her stomach evaporated and her remorseful face relaxed. Something came over her, a remnant of a memory that drained the emotion from her body and left her with a feeling of detachment. Her gaze steadied, and she took purposeful steps toward Gideon. His eyes widened as she approached him, making him more nervous. “Hey! What are you--”

“Be quiet,” she coolly and sedately commanded. Joan grabbed the wooden chair and dragged it right next to the bed, leveling herself with his chest wound. “You could make things worse by yelling.” Gideon hesitated, but bit his lip in compliance. Ren, in awe, leaned over to Crowe.

“How did she do that?” He whispered.

“Let’s take a look at your injury.” Joan pulled down the thin blanket that partly covered his bandage. She glanced up at his pale face, and underneath the poorly suppressed anger, she noticed a deep exhaustion beyond his darkened eyes. Her head turned back to his wound. “So what happened?”

“I was shot.” Gideon answered.

“I can see that,” Joan responded matter-of-factly. “But why did I remove the bullet?” Gideon’s lack of response caused Joan to turn and look at his crew members for an answer.

“It was magic-imbued, and Gideon can’t do magic,” his captain responded.

“Right…” She sat for a brief moment to think, and then continued, “In a first-responder situation like this one, it's best to leave the bullet alone and focus on stopping the bleeding. The bullet's already caused structural damage, and removing it will only make the damage worse. However, this was a magic bullet. Since Gideon can’t do magic, he would have overdosed and died, since his body can’t effectively regulate a sudden absorption of the stuff. That explains why I would have removed the bullet.” She finished her explanation and looked to Gideon, “How does it feel?”

“It hurts,” he spat.

“I bet it does.” Joan’s focus shifted to the long, metal needle above his bandage. “And why is there a needle sticking out of his chest?”

“He couldn’t breathe,” Crowe answered again.

“Pneumothorax, then?” she asked. No one offered a decisive ‘yes,’ so she continued speaking. “A pneumothorax is a ‘collapsed lung.’ It’s when excess air in the pleural cavity starts creating positive pressure on the lung, squeezing it and preventing it from fully inflating. If the lung can’t inflate, you can’t breathe.” She reached over and pinched the top of the needle with her fingers. “I’m going to remove the needle now, okay?” Gideon stiffened as she pulled it slowly from his chest, and replaced it with a piece of gauze within her reach.

“Wait, what if he can’t breathe again?” Valerie asked concernedly.

“He should be fine,” Joan answered. “Another name for his injury is a ‘sucking chest wound.’ The gunshot wound created an opportunity for air to enter his pleural cavity. The bandage over the wound is taped on three sides to prevent more air from entering the lung space, but one side is left untaped as a one-way air release valve. The needle only quickened this process, so his lung shouldn’t collapse anytime soon.” Joan briefly examined the needle and set it on the floor. She continued, “There’s no way of knowing how much his lung has actually reinflated without getting an X-ray, and even despite all this, there could be a chance that he’d need a chest tube when you all finally make it to a hospital.” She turned back to the crew. “He seems stable for now, but you really should get him checked out at the hospital as soon as you can.”

The captain rubbed his face, absorbing the information. “Ren, go help Jasper. We need the ship operational as soon as possible,” he commanded. “Val, you go with him.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” Ren answered casually. Valerie quickly followed him out the door, giving one last glance before disappearing. Joan was ultimately left alone with the ship’s captain and first mate. She looked up to Crowe.

“Does the ship have a medical kit? I want to change his bandage, but I don’t see one here.”

“There’s gauze,” Crowe answered, pointing to the bandage rolls on the table.

“No...” Joan declined. “Can you please bring me the bag?” Crowe hesitated. He looked on in suspicion, unwilling to leave. “I’m not going to hurt him, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she tried to assuage him in a sober tone. His rigid body unfroze and he made his way to the door.

“I’ll hold you to it then, doctor.” He emphasized the last word, as if he were trying to remind her of the immense responsibility associated with the privilege of referring oneself as this word. He left the room and she sighed with eyebrows furrowed. She didn't need the reminder.

“You have me alone, but don’t you think about pulling anything with me,” Gideon weakly threatened. “What do you want with me?” Joan’s face grew soft and her eyes dropped to her hands.

“I’m sorry.” Her apology surprised Gideon. “I wasn’t in my right mind when I apparently agreed to help you last night. And to make matters worse, I don’t remember any of it.” She took a breath. “I wanted to apologize for being so unbelievably careless. I still don’t understand how I could’ve acted so irresponsibly and put you in more danger than you were already in.” She glanced up at his face, serious and pensive, but didn’t dare look into his eyes. “But… please don’t be too critical of your crew members or your captain. I’m not saying that I was the best choice, or a good one, actually, but doctors aren’t looked upon fondly in this town, so the best medical assistance you would have received would have been a homemade magic potion.”

“Magic can’t heal wounds,” he challenged.

“No, it can’t, but that’s what you would have been given, and you very well might’ve died.” She looked into his eyes this time. His fierce look softened, but still looked unconvinced. “I don’t know what the right move would’ve been. I don’t know if there was a better option. But I guess… all things considered, we just kind of got lucky, didn’t we?” She forced a smile of relief, just grateful that everything turned out to be relatively okay. Her name was probably added to another blacklist, but that didn’t matter, as long as the person she operated on still lived and breathed.

A soft chuckle startled Joan. She looked up to see Gideon with a small smile on his face, too, looking just about as relieved as she was. “Sure,” he spoke, relaxing a bit. “Better lucky than good, isn’t that what they say.” He heaved a sigh, grimacing at the pain, and turned to look at Joan. “Then I guess I should be thanking you for saving my life.” Joan shied away from his words. She definitely did not feel like she deserved them- not at all, but it helped ease her worries, if only slightly. It was still too early to tell if there would be unforeseen complications with Gideon, especially during the flight to the hospital, but as of now, it felt nice not having to worry. Despite all this, though; despite the possible argument that her presence was indeed necessary to save him, this fiasco would be something that she’d never try again- sober or otherwise. To her, it was irrevocably decided.

However, a certain someone had other plans. Unbeknownst to Gideon and Joan, Crowe stood outside of the room, just beside the cracked door. His arms were crossed as he leaned against the wall of the ship, eavesdropping on the conversation. He would have stepped in if anything dangerous occurred in the room, but it seemed like he misjudged the ex-doctor. Crowe smirked menacingly and took his first steps down the corridor to fetch the medical bag, his mind scheming with new ideas and possibilities.

Maybe she’s more useful than she looks.