KIT TAYLOR | kitaylcr
Several times Kit tried to stand or at least get onto his knees, but he felt as if he were falling into quick sand. Foolishly, the man had no form of self defence on his body other than his own hands. Perhaps he had subconsciously been waiting for such an event to happen just so he could feel something. At times he would feel everything or nothing at all, depending on the level of narcotics burning through his veins. But this was tangible, this he knew was real, and not something his brain has conjured up. Kit’s mind willed himself to fight, but his body couldn’t keep up. He felt as if he were two seconds behind and every swing of his fist felt sloppy and uncalculated. Granted it was five men against one, but they always seemed to have one up on him and it wasn’t long until he felt his fire to survive whither away into ashes.
Time felt as if it had slowed as Kit hit the floor for the final time, dismally accepting his fate and waiting for the beating to be over. Maybe he deserved it, maybe this was sweet sweet karma for all the shit he had put his friends through over the past few months. Another kick to the abdomen, another punch to the jaw. There was blood from something somewhere, and Kit felt a surging pain in his side that was only worsened by another brute force. He silently begged to slip away into unconsciousness, knowing that way it would be over soon a whole lot quicker. His vision began to blur as his surroundings felt dizzying, but with three harsh bullets piercing the air, Kit fiercely blinked himself awake, wondering if that was his saviour or just someone coming to finish the job.
Any other time, the sight of Andy would cause Kit’s stomach to turn and he would immediately find the closest exit. But in the situation he had found himself in, Andy’s presence brought about a wave of relief. Everything was going to be alright. He was a man who held grudges - clearly - but he had never been a man to turn his back on the club or its members, regardless of the strains between them. Although Andy was more than a club member to Kit, he was family, and Kit hoped that had also influenced the man’s decision to step in. Knowing that the men were hastily fleeing the scene, Kit’s head fell back against the floor as he closed his eyes, his arms wrapping around his torso as if he were holding himself together.
“Hospital.” Kit barely even whispered as any small inhale caused a stabbing pain in his side. He winced and wheezed as he scrambled to roll onto his side, and with several groans through gritted teeth, he barely made it onto his knees. Kit paused there, his head hanging low as his body screamed out in pain. “Take me to the hospital.” he managed to exhale as he tirelessly clambered to his feet, almost putting the entirety of his weight onto Andy just to help him stay upright.
--
Honestly, Andy’s surprised this hasn’t happened before with the two of them. Kit is on the short list of people he knows would get in over their heads and need back up. And while they’re not really on “speaking terms” per se, Andy’s not about to leave him behind. Plus, the other man is part of the club (even if he doesn’t /want to be/). Kit’s patch may not mean much to him, but to Andy — It means he’s going to help keep the man afloat, even if the idea of just turning him on his side and leaving him on the sidewalk crossed his mind. Eyes roll as Kit speaks, glad he’s at least got enough sense to bring up going to the ER instead of popping some pain killers and insisting on “sleeping it off”. “Yeah, no shit.” Andy huffs as he helps Kit roll onto his side and regain his footing. An arm wraps around from under Kit’s shoulder to help hold him up, and so that he can lean his weight on Andy.
“C’mon,” he begins to move, pulling Kit along with him, slowly but surely making their way back to the truck. The obvious question looms over them, and admittedly, Andy’s curious as to what happened. He can only assume it’s some sort of revenge plot — whether it be because Kit got into it with the wrong group of guys at the bar, or something that has to do with the Club. Either way, it’s thrown off the rest of Andy’s night. After practically dragging the man to his truck, he somehow manages to get Kit into the passenger seat. He buckles the man in, feeling like he’s carting around an overgrown toddler.
Once he’s back in the car, Andy sends a quick text to Rowan to let her know what’s going on, with a promise to further explain when he gets back home. “I’m makin’ you pay for new seats, just so ya know.” He grimaces, eyes drifting to Kit’s half conscious form, knowing there’s going to be a blood stain or two left behind. He makes a mental note to not let Rowan see the truck until it’s properly cleaned — Andy can already see the conversation in his head, and more insistence on getting rid of the poor excuse for a tow truck. Wordlessly, he starts the truck back up and does a u-turn, so that they can make their way to the hospital. Or well, Andy can dump Kit on the front steps of the ER. While he may be willing to come to his friends rescue, he’s not about to sit at his bed side holding his hand. “You conscious enough to tell me what the fuck happened?” He asks after a few minutes of silence, giving Kit an unimpressed look.















