#burnverse

[nilestiddies]

The next time that Nicky comes to, he’s still blind and deaf. He struggles a little before Nile pulls the couch closer to the warmth of the fireplace. He must be cold- that’s what every website she went to said, alongside the importance of burn wards for victims like Nicky to help them stay warm and heal in a sterile environment to prevent infection. For now, they just have to do the best they can. There are bandages folded under him, of course, but that will only do so much. Besides that, he’ll need those bandages checked and changed often so they don’t fuse with his healing skin. 

“I got into contact with Booker,” Andy says when she comes back. “He’s going to bring some serious supplies. Hopefully we can get Nicky through this until then.”

“Why isn’t he healing?”

Joe throws some wood from outside into the fire to stoke it warmer. “It’s a big injury. It’ll take time. Just so you know, Nile, he’s only alive because he is healing, it’s just very slow.”

Then he takes up a twin vigil with Nile, looking over Nicky’s body. He moves often, seemingly unable to just relax, only stilling for a brief amount of time after each dosage of morphine. Nile has to assume that it’s because he’s in pain, but she cannot give him morphine more often when she can’t guarantee he won’t overdose on it, no matter how much she wants to relieve his agony. Joe left her in charge of the painkillers for this exact reason; he doesn’t think he could be so rational about it. She doesn’t blame him. 

Some four or five hours later, he checks the fire again as it dies down and Nicky begins to shiver. Nile watches him build it up again, to the point that he isn’t careful enough and burns the curve of his thumb. Of course it heals quickly, leaving only a moment of pain, but it was enough for Nile to smell the singe of his skin. Evidently, it was enough for Nicky as well. He cries out and struggles to sit up. 

“Nicky, Nicky, it’s alright! I’m alright!”

Joe tries to soothe him, a futile endeavor when Nicky cannot understand him, but one that is impossible to neglect when they all feel so helpless. He nearly tries to cup Nicky’s face, or holds his hand, before remembering that he cannot touch the raw flesh where skin used to be and pulling back. It seems to cause him pain as well to be unable to comfort him. As he sags back against the couch, burying his face in his hands to try and hide his tears, although his shoulders still shake with the force of it. 

If only there were words of comfort that could actually help, or a single thing Nile could do to speed along Nicky’s healing. Unfortunately, all they can do is wait. The pain will last, as will the guilt, and the haunted look in Andy’s eyes as she takes in the way the light reflects off the wet-looking surface of what had once been Nicky’s kind and capable hands. 

Nile busies herself with research for as long as she can stay awake. Everything from skin graft research to the typical amount of it takes for someone to heal from full body burns. She considers the idea of grafts for perhaps too long, no matter horrific the idea of it is- one or all of them would have to donate the skin to Nicky, and hope it takes. But then again, the grafts would speed up the process, and for all she knows, Nicky’s body will reject or grow over the grafts eventually. 

“Stop thinking so hard,” Joe says to her as the sun rises through the window. “You’ve done enough, Nile. More than.”

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[nilestiddies]

As Joe carries him, he notices several things about Nicky that are different from all the other times he has cradled him to his chest and brought him to safety in the aftermath of a particular awful death or injury. For one, he is lighter, missing parts of his body to the ash and gasoline. And he is sticky, in the awful sort of way that makes Joe want to bathe in bleach until his own skin is read and raw. The burned flesh of what had been Nicky is now wet and bloody, oozing clear fluid that makes it hard to let go and draws pained whines from the part of him that can only be assumed to be his face. His healing also does not kick in. While he had been dead- anyone would be- he has since come back to life, but all of him is still this mess, as though his body gave up. 

“Give it time,” Andy says gently. “This is a large injury. On top of what we can see, the heat would have boiled-”

“I don’t think that’s helping,” Nile interrupts.

Joe nods at her in thanks and brings Nicky closer to his body. They’ll have to go to a pharmacy, or steal from a hospital, for first aid to help him until he heals, or his heart gives out and he doesn’t come back to them. The walk to the car is excruciating. But they make it, and Joe holds Nicky in his lap the whole way. They stop somewhere for Nile and Andy to get supplies, picking out this and that with a mixed knowledge of Nile’s first aid training and a few quick searches on the internet. Four grocery bags join the backseat, and come to rest beside the bed Joe lays Nicky on. For the very first time, he seems to actually relax- it occurs to Joe that it’s because this injury has left him blind and deaf, and the soft bed is a sign that his family has him now.

“Andy’s gonna get some space heaters,” Nile says as she pulls up a chair at her bedside. “We need to keep him warm because he can’t do it himself right now, and we can’t just layer him with blankets. This next part, cleaning it up, isn’t going to be fun or pretty, and you might not wanna be here for it.”

He swallows. “How do you clean it up?”

“I’m gonna rinse with some bottled water, and anything that’s- anything beyond saving, I’ll have to remove.”

She starts on one of Nicky’s legs, washing dirt and ash off of him, and carefully plucking out pieces of his charred skin that have turned black with a pair of tweezers. Nicky doesn’t even seem to notice. Some part of Joe recognizes that it means all the nerves are destroyed, and may never grow back. 

“Should we give him painkillers?”

NIle hands him a little vial and a syringe. He doesn’t ask where she got it, or what’s in the vial. Instead he fills the needle and flicks out air bubbles before taking one of Nicky’s arms and finding where the vein should be out of pure muscle memory, borne of a time when heroin was all the rage and Nicky loved lying blissed out across the couch until the high faded. 

“We should move him to the main room once I finish this. We’ll light a fire for him.”

While Nile slowly cleans the wounds and bandages them after, Joe fights the urge to hold the remains of Nicky’s hand.

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[nilestiddies]

“Stare giù cazzo!”

As if he has a choice. All he can do is kneel in front of them, head bowed, wrists taped together in silver so they look like he’s going to pray. Of course, Nicky stopped such a ritual a long time ago, enough so that it feels weird for his palms to lay this flat against each other. He knows that this death will not be permanent. None of them are. But it is not one that he cares to go through, let alone attempt to heal from. Burns have always been tricky. Slow. 

“Uccidi il puttano,” the one in charge says, standing back with a cigarette between her lips. It is her lighter that will do this, and her hand that shoved him down to his knees on the gravel lot. Joe is still out beside him from a shot to the face. It will take too long for him to come back. The others will be even longer. “Mi annoio del suo pianto.”

“I am not crying, signora,” he corrects.

“No? What is this, then?”

She comes closer, intending to brush her fingers through the wet trail on his cheeks, but her proximity allows him to headbut her. Joe would be proud. It gives him time to stand up and subdue a couple of the assholes trying to kill them, but he is sloppy with restraints and gasoline covering his body. He is too aware of its scent and how easy it would be to light him on fire right now. He would be defenseless to a single spark. 

Of course, he is a liability when he moves like this, so no one dares light him up. The most they can do is try and subdue him once more, which proves to be more difficult when he is not kneeling over Joe’s body, trying to coax him awake with soft words and gentle touches. Nicky fights for as long as he can. Buying time, mostly. But eventually, someone lands a shot to his leg that has him dropping, and the woman grabs him by the hair to keep him down. He looks up at her in refusal to submit. 

“Corroto bambino,” she whispers, almost fondly. “È per il tuo bene.”

He spits at her. 

She shakes her head in disgust and flicks on her lighter, bringing it so close to his face that he can feel the gas getting warm. Another millimeter and he will burn. His eyes flick to Joe, who has just begun to twitch on the ground. There won’t be time. Joe will kill this woman, but not before Nicky burns, and perhaps not without getting hurt as well. There is only one way to give him that opportunity, and it is to accept her killing. 

When he dares to try and stand once more, the flame hits his gasoline-soaked skin, and it consumes him. Burns are familiar, but not like this- it is overwhelming, painful, destructive. All he can do is feel it, even as instinct has him moving in a desperate attempt to put it out. It’s already too late. His head is swimming as the temperature inside his skull climbs too high. The pain slowly begins to dull as his nerves die. It will be merciful to pass away. 

“Nicolo! Nicolo, ascoltami!”

That is Joe’s voice, but Nicky cannot do anything about it. He dies, and when his cheek hits the gravel of the lot, he succumbs to the kind release of death. 

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