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than any contact we’ve had since we met.  He slowly unwraps the bit of shirt he wrapped around my leg and takes a good look at the wound.
    “Not gonna lie,” he says, “this is gonna hurt.  You want a drink first?”
    “Will I need one?”
    “Yeah, maybe.”
    “Okay.”
    He gets back up, heads out to the kitchen, and returns with a bottle of whiskey.
    “Take a good drink,” he says, and I do so.  The liquid burns my throat, but I don’t make a face at it.  He sits back down and grabs my foot again.
    He runs the pad of his thumb next to the gash, examining it closely before carefully wiping it off with a cool, wet washcloth.  It stings, but it’s not so bad.  The whiskey is warming my stomach, and I try to concentrate on that feeling.
    “The skin has pulled apart,” he says.  His voice is still soft and calm.  “You need stitches.”
    “Will we have to go to an emergency room?” I ask.
    Falk looks up at me and raises his eyebrows.
    “We passed what used to be the closest hospital,” he says.  “I’ve got what we need here, but I’m not about to claim I’m an expert.  I can get the job done, though.”
    “You mean, you are going to stitch me up?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Are you a doctor, too?”
    “I’m not,” he says, “but I’ve seen it done before.”
    “No!”  I pull my leg away and push the heels of my hands against the floor to scoot away from him.  “No fucking way!  You aren’t a doctor, and there’s no way in hell you are operating on my leg!”
    “It’s not an operation .”
    I’m not listening.  I pull my legs under me and try to stand, which was a stupid thing to do.  As soon as I put weight on my leg, the pain shoots from my calf all the way to my hip, and I scream.
    Eckhart is right beside me, keeping me from falling.  He angles me back until I sit on the edge of the bed.  He leans forward and looks me right in the eye.
    “It has to be done, Hannah,” he says.  “If we don’t, it’s going to get infected.  There is no hospital and no doctor to treat you.  It’s me or nothing, which means it’s me.”
    I blink back tears.  I don’t want to cry, not in front of Eckhart or anyone else.  My leg throbs horribly, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it needs to be treated, but I don’t want it to be done here, like this.
    “So, I’m Hannah now?”  Snark beats fear every time.  “Get one good look at my leg, and we’re on a first name basis?”
    He sighs and stands with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring down at me.
    “Ms. Savinski, you need to let me do this.  You don’t have any other options.”
    “Fuck you,” I growl at him, but he doesn’t change his stance.
    “You are under my protection.”  He separates the words, making each one count.  “I will not let anything happen to you.  Sometimes that means going against your wishes, but it’s always in your best interest.  Now, we can do this with your cooperation or without.  Your choice.”
    “What are you going to do?” I ask, challenging him.  “Tie me down so you can operate on me?”
    “I don’t want to have to do that.”
    “But you would?”  My heart is pounding again, and there’s pressure behind my eyes.
    He closes his eyes and brings one hand up to rub at his forehead.  I watch his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath before looking back down at me.
    “Please, Hannah.”  He drops down to his knees in front of me.  “I don’t want you scared.  I’m not going to hurt you.  I won’t touch you any more than I have to in order to get your leg fixed up.  Please let me do my job.  Let me help you.”
    I look down at him in front of me, and I can’t doubt the sincerity in his eyes.  My heart is still racing, and I can feel my pulse all through my leg.  When I glance down, I see it’s bleeding again.
    “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
    “I’m sure what I can do will be better than nothing.”
    I close my eyes and bite