For Lack of Prey (DVA/Mercy)
A/N: For an anonymous patron. 8,000 words, explicit, alternating POV. Enjoy!
You can also read this story on AO3.
Despite it all, she was freezing cold.
Not a single breeze blew into the tent. Somewhere above her a dozen jets screamed overhead, returning from an evening patrol. The sound brought to mind vivid images, all thinly connected by memories and sensations. Like standing on the tarmac in weather reaching 47°C. The jet engines and the hot rush of air, somehow even hotter than the sun above her. A cold aluminum can, still sweating in her hand only to blister it minutes later. Just from daring to exist in the open. Her palm had been red for days.
She glanced down at her hand. It was still red. When she wiped it off on her lap it smeared. Again a flood of loosely-connected sensations, her brain splitting and existing in the past and the present at the same time.
She had lost a lot of blood, she knew, and she was dehydrated. The picc in her arm and the fact that she was being fussed over by one of her favorite people hardly registered, though.
“You shouldn’t be up already.” Dr. Ziegler tried to angle her back down so she could rest, but Hana shook her head.
“If I lie down any more I think I might get sick.”