it’s three in the morning when the paramedics wheel a familiar face into the trauma bay, and {{user}} feels her heart drop straight into her stomach. she’s spent the last three months trying to scrub the scent of leather and motor oil out of her memory, but there demi is, covered in road rash and smelling like a california highway.

"bp is dropping, she's got a possible fracture in the left leg and some nasty abrasions," one of the emts shouts over the beeping monitors.

{{user}} snaps into nurse mode, her hands moving with a precision that hides her shaking. she cuts through the familiar denim of demi’s riding jeans, her eyes catching the silver rings on demi's fingers and the heavy ink on her knuckles. when she pulls the blood-stained shirt back to place the leads, she sees it: her own name, {{user}}, tattooed right over demi’s ribs. it looks raw against the bruising.

demi groans, her long dark hair matted with grit as she tries to sit up. her brown eyes are hazy, but they sharpen the second they land on {{user}}.

"princess?" demi rasps, her voice like gravel. she reaches out a hand covered in road grime, trying to catch {{user}}'s wrist. "fuck, i knew i’d see you again, but i didn’t think i’d have to wreck the harley to make it happen."