#thread: close call

[miladys-servant-gwen]

Close Call

@flyboypoedameron

“Pfassk! Echuta--kriffing hell--” Profanities spewed from Guin’s lips as she simultaneously focused on running a medisensor over her patient and transferring her own energy to heal the direst of the wounds. The man was bleeding heavily from multiple wounds--worst of which were a blow to his head and a series of gashes along his side and hip, so close to each other as to almost be a single giant wound--and he was fading almost faster than she could work to stabilize him.

And she didn’t have access to a bacta tank--not yet, at least--and a bacta suit--stupid, and inefficient as those ugly things were--they had on hand wouldn’t do any good until after she’d stabilized her patient.

So she was stuck trying to heal him as quickly as she could without overextending her abilities and running herself into the ground.

Thank the Force for the few medidroids who were part of the Resistance’s staff. Their quick work placing regeneration patches and bacta patches on the wounds she hadn’t yet managed to get to was one of the only things keeping the man on the cot alive while she healed as much as she could.

And yet, she was still exhausted by the time they’d managed to get the wounded pilot stabilized and out of the red.

“R’ii’a’s shorts, Commander Dameron,” Guin groaned, slumping onto a nearby crate once the medidroids had been dismissed to tend to other patients in the medbay. “How in Malachor do you manage to keep getting yourself into situations like this?” She dropped her head into her hands, pressing her fingers into her temples. “Kriff, my head's already pounding...”

[wolves-of-etoile]

[ REST ]: the sender places a gentle but firm hand on a weakened/sick/injured receiver's shoulder to push them back into their bed to rest more. (From toothxandxclaw, Arun)

David wasn't entirely sure if that was the event that disturbed and awoke Arun the first time they rested in each other's arms, but damn, last night's encounter came pretty close.

The nightclub had been more packed than usual, on account of the owner of the club throwing his own birthday party. Calling him the owner was understating it. He was more like a crime boss, but he paid well and, unlike most, didn't hassle his employees. And to David, security was just a job.

He knew he should've stayed home that night.

The change in his breathing must have alerted Arun, because the werewolf was by his side in a moment, a gentle hand pressed to his shoulder to urge him to lay back down. The concern in his eyes was palpable. Had he been thinking about that dream too?

"Hey," David said, sounding just as horrible as he felt. He reached to clasp the hand on his shoulder but stopped short with a wince. Ow, that was a cracked rib. He forced a smile through the pain, just so happy to see his lover's face. "I'm still here."

@toothxandxclaw

[nanbarama-blog]

Her vision was blurry, opening her eyes as she felt his hand, her blond hair fell into her face, but she saw him. looking stupid and perfectly fine. Nanaba was so happy. A weak faded smile pulled on her lips, even now he could make her laugh. “He has seen me cry.”  She couldn’t see the concern, the masked worry in his eyes. Everything was slowly dissolving into blurry colorful masses and shapes. She shut her eyes, the hit to her skull wouldn’t let her think about what her blurred vision might mean.

"I’ll, do my best." the soldiers voice was tired, soft -she was grasping at the edge of consciousness. Her mind scrambled to work, to go through everything that happened. Nanaba did as she was told, falling silent as Gerger went around trying to fix her body. Her hip was dislocated, possibly broken, but she was lucky, very lucky. The Titan took more of her gear with it than her actual body.  How long had she been silent? Nanaba felt only numb touches against her cool skin. The muffled feeling her her cloak being pulled from under her and her body let him. Her breath left her lungs as he pressed it tightly against the wound - the last existence of pain making her breath hitch. Once more, his voice pulled her back from the blackness that framed her vision. “I’m…here.” Nanaba coughed, forcing her eyes open once more. He was probably scared, really scared. Nanaba was scared too, she didn’t want to die. In a huge effort, she managed to raise a hand, curling her fingers limply against his own cloak. “You-should get… get out of here.” She tightened her hand around his cloak. They were on the ground, huge trees stretching up above them. If the Titan came back…Gerger would be completely helpless from here.  "Gerg…I don’t want to die…but I don’t want you to…die for me.” She was crying more now, her head fallen to the side and the tears and blood fell over her cheeks, matting her blond hair. He had already shot the signal flare that someone was injured. They would arrive -if they saw it. She hoped to never feel this helpless, this vulnerable. 

[gelgar-blog]

All he could do was tell himself that it could be worse—it could be much worse. At least she was alive. The sound of her breath rushing out of her lungs when he pressed against her wound told him that she hadn't completely gone into shock–wasn't completely numb. For a moment, he had been afraid that maybe she'd been paralyzed, and that wasn't something they'd talked about, before—her wishes regarding things that may or may not be worse than dying. Later, if she made it, maybe he'd tease her about that—about being happy to see her in pain that one time, because then it might be a little funny. Then, it might not make his throat close up with worry or panic or whatever else it was he was feeling, seeing her on the ground broken like a child's toy under a carriage wheel.

He held the cloak against her side and took her hand with his free one, startled at the limpness in her grasp. He more than made up for it, squeezing her hand tightly, unsure if it would help her at all or if it was just some meaningless gesture that the living thought meant something to the dying. He'd done it once or twice before, for others, and they'd died, but he really hoped that wouldn't happen with Nanaba. She had a chance, as long as he stayed with her.

"Hey," he chastised, his voice sounding too breathy; it was hard to pay attention to everything; their surroundings, Nanaba's breathing, her too-soft voice, the sound of things happening beyond the treeline. "You got no faith in me, huh? Hey, now—none…no more of that crying, okay? You're gonna be fine, and I'm already fine, and I've got another flare I'll shoot here in about two seconds if nobody comes. And if nobody comes to that one, well, there's always the black flare, and maybe a team will come to kill the abnormal that must've got you, huh?"

He let go of her hand to fumble in the breast pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a handkerchief.

"While we're waiting, might as well clean you up, right?" he asked, wiping at her tears in some vague attempt to keep her face clean. "And if some piece of shit titan comes back around here to try'n finish you off, well, you can count on me, you got that? Remember who the better fighter is, right? Yeah, it's me. I won't let anything else happen to you."

He pressed the handkerchief against the wound on her head and reached for another flare—his only backup for the medical team. There was a moment of hesitation, but he mumbled an apology and shot it, sure that if the team was having trouble finding them, it might be useful to see it again.

"I'd fix your hip," he said, just trying to talk to keep her awake, now, "but I'd probably make it worse. I don't know much about hips. And besides, jostling it like that might just make you bleed more, and you don't have much more blood to lose right now. I think it's slowing down, though—stopping, maybe. See? You'll be fine if you can just hang in there a little while longer."