driftfleet | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Erik, Charles, Hank and Raven
Broadcast: nah
Action: the Blameless. warning for injury treatment, probably.
When: June 7th, shortly after this

[This is the second time in the span of seven days that Erik has had to pilot a shuttle while his vision isn't a hundred percent. It's almost a pattern, he thinks blearily to himself. Different causes, though. As the shuttle docks with the Blameless, he can't help but blow out a breath.

First step done. Now to get out.]

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[ It takes him a few minutes to answer. ]

Just painful. He kicked me a few times.

[he's quiet for a moment, before he shifts to sit carefully on the edge of the table, still grasping his hand]

Alright. Keep taking those slow breaths - did Raven give you anything for the pain? And has it kicked in yet?

[ He struggles to organize his thoughts, as snatches of Winter's memories bleed through. ]

Y . . . Yes. I believe it has.

[this is the absolute worst. He's decided on that much]

You're not going to like this, but I have to - poke around to see how bad it is. I'll be as careful as I can, okay?

[ He nods. ]

Of course, Hank.

[welp.

Time to poke at some ribs. It sure was nice of Winter to leave all these bruises marking where Hank has to push and poke to see how bad the damage is, wasn't it?]

[ He hisses, biting on his lip. It's been a while since he's been severely injured. Charles tries to breathe normally, knowing it's important not to choke right now. ]

[he's as quick and gentle about it as he can be, given that they had both said Charles' ribs are broken. He doesn't wince at the reactions until he's done, drawing his hands away and patting Charles' knee apologetically]

Sorry, I'm done. [he hates this] It doesn't feel like anything's broken, at least.

[ He smiles faintly. ]

That's good news. Don't look so down.

Don't tell me how to look.

[there's no bite in it] I'll check them again later, once you've had a chance to rest. But if that's the extent of it, then it's ice packs and painkillers until you heal up.

Thank you.

[ He relaxes against the table. ] How's Erik?

[carefully, he rests the ice packs back over the bruises. And then he sighs, because of course Charles would be more concerned about Erik than himself. He reaches up to turn Charles' face so he can look at the bruising there]

Did I say I was done with you? Honestly. [a weak huff] He'll be alright. You two can commiserate over the headaches I'm sure you're both suffering from.

[ He doesn't nod, but he huffs softly, careful with his breathing. Erik was all right. They were all right. It was frightening to remember that there were no quick fixes after a battle, no recovery after death.

He could have died ]

[we're not thinking about that. But in the back of his mind, far enough that he can't dwell on it, he's making parallels; a game early on, where he died and still came out better than either of them, Charles emerging with his lips stitched shut and broken, their last game, where he'd been weaker than ever and still dragged their bodies out so they could be revived.

A beach in Cuba.

He drops his hand for a moment and takes a careful breath before he picks up Charles' hand again in both of his, squeezing it] You're okay, Charles. So is Erik. You're both safe here.