Whumptober #30 
Sport announcer voice: Coming in right under the wire, is another trash story piece! I’m sorry, I know, I know, I tried my best. Forgive me, for I cannot forgive myself.
Embrace the trash, enjoy the trash, be the trash.
Arlin Smiled up at Harris almost condescendingly, there was blood on his teeth, he tried to talk but couldn’t find his voice. Hari laid a hand on his good shoulder fondly for a second, “Don’t try to talk, It’s okay, we’ll figure it out,” he said gently before turning.
“What happened to him?” Harris asked, turning to Ivan, worry plain on his face.
Det. Ivan shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, setting the pliers down on the bedside table, “ I was blind folded, I didn’t even hear anything, I was walking from the restaurant and maybe something hit me? I don’t remember, all I have is a blank until yesterday, when they finally moved me from wherever I was, put me in a trunk and the car drove off, I was in the process of kicking out the lights and signaling for help when the car pulled over, I thought...well, that it was up for me...But then, when my hood was ripped off and my eyes adjusted to the light, Arlin was leaning up against the trunk cutting the zip ties. I thought he did it to me, got me kidnapped just for fun or something, then I saw the blood…” Ivan shook his head, “He could barely keep his feet underneath him, he was muttering something about being chased and to call you to get out of the city…”
Arlin reached up and grabbed Harris’s arm, nodding gently, as Harris turned to look at him, he worked to form the words, finally:
“J-jerid’s lookin’ f-for y-you,” it didn’t sound like Arlin’s voice, his voice was barely above a whisper, weak and raspy and utterly terrifying.
“It’s alright Lin,” Harris said gently, surprise still naked in his eyes, but quickly changing to concern, not so much for Brad who still looked shocked, the morphine injection still in his gloved hand.
“Get some rest Arlin,” Det. Ivan suddenly spoke up from the armchair, “Then you can explain everything, alright?”
The idea of sleep was so seductive that Arlin almost accepted it, having to actively fight his eyeballs from rolling into his head, but instead to everyone’s shock and alarm, he swung himself up to a sitting position, almost folding but managing to say upright. He pushed himself towards the end of the bed with his bad wrist knowing he was causing damage, but also knowing that no one was going to take his advice, even if it was terribly important.
What is this soft world coming to?
Who’d said that? Why did he remember someone saying that to him?
Then there were hands on him, pushing him back, there was shouting, he couldn’t make anything out of it, might as well have been gibberish. Brad was waving some syringe, Ivan was holding him back, Tess looked small and young and terrified, trying to rip the syringe out of Bad’s hand.
Then Harris was there, appearing through the fog in Arlin’s brain, he sat next to him on the bed, then he gently pulled Arlin towards him into a barely-there embrace, both because he knew Arlin didn’t like being touched, and because his ribs were broken. “This place is safe, Lin,” he said gently, “And we’ll figure it all out in a second, but if you keep pushing yourself we’ll never make it anywhere except a hospital--or a morgue.”
“M-may-maybe th-that's all-alright?”Arlin whispered, fading already, still not used to being treated gently, in that the beating had made more sense to him than the hug, “Th-there’s things y’don’t k-know…”
“We can talk about it,” Hari promised, gently laying Arlin back down and pulling the blanket over him, “But Brad is going to save your life right now, and I’ll be right here, just get some rest, it’s time to heal.”
It was too good for Arlin to believe--even if he so badly wanted to.