40. Don’t look down Scream AU?
warnings: blood, horror film-typical violence
It had been instinct, jumping into action the second he realized what was happening. The attacker's mask had been a familiar one, nearly identical to the one that had been haunting his nightmares for over a decade and a half, and it was hard to ignore how much he'd overprepared himself for a moment exactly like this. In almost no time at all, he was on his knees next to a far too still body, using both hands to put pressure on a freshly bleeding wound.
Mouse knew that his hands weren't shaking, that he was far too calm considering the fact that he'd just watched a member of his team get stabbed. It was exactly what he'd prepared for, the reason he'd taken the first aid courses and the gun permit, but actually being prepared for it still came as a shock. Even when his movements drew a pained groan from the body next to him, he didn't waver, focusing on the task at hand and his endgame - getting them both out of there alive. It was just like when he was seventeen, only he wasn't the same scared kid, and the person he needed to save wasn't one either. But that didn't make it easier.
"This is going to hurt, okay? Just... don't look down."
Adam let out another pained sound, slumped against the wall while he shook his head, as weak as the movement was. "And why is that...?"
"It's only going to hurt more if you look at it." With a sharp shake of his own head, Mouse glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone before tearing the already damaged fabric under his hands. "Just breathe, alright? I'm going to bandage you up, and we'll make a call, and we can get the fuck out of here. Alive, understood?"
"Yeah... yeah... alive, got it..."
The faint slur in the words made him frown, and he only pulled back to make sure the strip of shirt he'd torn off would be wide enough to work as a makeshift dressing. As soon as he was sure the bleeding was at least slowed by his efforts, and he could grab the service weapon that was still attached to the hip of his injured companion, he turned around and got back to his feet. "Just hold tight, okay? Whoever's doing this won't get anywhere near us again. I'm going to make sure no one comes through that door that we don't know. Don't try to move, okay?"
After that, the room was quiet except for when his thumb tapped the screen of his phone to send out a message. It was a mess, in every sense, and all he could do was wait for backup. Whenever their team came through the door, he would have to give up the gun, no matter how tightly he was holding onto it. It was the only thing he could cling to for a semblance of safety, and he didn't want to let go even enough to make the white leave his knuckles.
But at least he knew that the man on the floor wasn't behind the worst part of his history repeating itself.
