It was the pop that was heard around the ball-playing world- Kobe Bryant tore his Achilles tendon (aka his “Laker maker”). Crushed under the heels of the San Antonio Spurs in four games, the Lakers got swept without the guy that ushered them into the playoffs. If nothing else, the Spurs-Lakers series is a testament to what happens when you lack Mamba.
Kobe has been a force so destructive that no injury (or even a rape allegation for that matter… too soon?) could conquer his ability to consistently dominate the league for 17 seasons. Slaying defenders since he was a teenager, LA’s golden child dropped to the feet of the Golden State Warriors in almost mythological fashion. Kobe’s injury is considered one of the most severe injuries a professional athlete can endure, which has many people believing this may be the Achilles’ heel of the Lakers (pun intended). Will biology catch up to the psychology of a champion? Or will the Bruce Leroy of this NBA shit show the world he’s the “Last Dragon?”
In medicine, the notion of bad things happening in threes is often tossed around. Bryant first hyper-extended his left-knee in the second half of that fateful game. After being examined by Lakers’ athletic trainer Gary Vitti, Kobe shook it off and went back to playing. A few minutes later he sprained the same knee, again. With the clock winding down in the final quarter and the game remaining close, Bryant stayed in the game. Strike three came with three minutes left to play, during a move that he’s done thousands of times—spin, cut, and push off the left foot past some fool to score an easy bucket. He made it two steps before collapsing to the floor and clutching his left leg in an excruciating amount of pain. “I made a move I’ve made a million times, and [the Achilles] just popped,” Bryant said with tears in his eyes and a diagnostic look on his face during the post-game interview. An MRI the following day that confirmed what he already knew- he completely tore his left Achilles tendon.
The term Achilles’ tendon has its roots in Greek mythology. Achilles’ mother, the Goddess Thetis, was given a prophecy that her son Achilles would die soon. In order to protect her son, she took him to the River Styx, whose waters were supposed to confer immortality on anyone who bathed in it. Thetis grabbed hold of Achilles’ heel and dipped his entire body into the river to protect him from harm (also a great mythological alibi for getting caught trying to drown your bratty ass kid). Since Thetis held on to Achilles’ heel as she dipped him in the river, it remained the one vulnerable spot in his body. Though Achilles fought in many battles, he was later killed in the Trojan War, when a poisoned arrow struck his unprotected heel (apparently the Trojans only protected sex). The Achilles’ tendon, anatomically known as the calcaneal tendon, is thought to run in roughly the same location Achilles’ mother held his heel, and as such, has come to be referred to as the Achilles tendon in contemporary medicine.
Tendons are rubber band-like structures that connect muscles to bones, so you can move your sexy self around. The Achilles is the Arnold Schwarzenegger of tendons- it’s the largest and strongest tendon in the human body. Its purpose is to connect your calf muscle (gastrocnemius for the nerd speakers) to your heel bone (thecalcaneus, if you want to be a jerk about it). The calf-Achilles-heel unit let’s people do things like walk, run, and jump. That same unit lets athletic freaks like Kobe take off into flight and posterize fools. Long story short, Kobe has a complete tear of the piece of connective tissue that allows him to jump! This injury brings new meaning to the term “jump off.”
Kobe is no stranger to injuries. In his sixteen years in the NBA, he has suffered his fair share. His arthritic right knee has long been a source of contention. Because of the constant wear and tear, the amount of cartilage in the knee has degenerated, leading to a painful condition in which Bryant’s knee bones rub together. This not only causes swelling and inflammation, but also causes small fragments of bone to chip off and collect around the kneecap. He has had fluid drained from the right knee multiple times during the season as well as surgery to remove the small fragments of bone. During the 2011 post-season, Bryant went to Germany to have an experimental procedure done on his right knee. The German treatment was an offshoot of a procedure known as platelet rich plasma therapy (PRP). PRP is a new, but unproven science that may speed up the repair to damaged tissues. It essentially utilizes the body’s ability to heal itself. In the procedure, blood is taken from an individual’s arm and spun down in a centrifuge to separate the different components of blood. Platelets, which are responsible for healing, are isolated and then injected into the injured area under ultrasound guidance in order to stimulate tissue repair. So can Kobe just shoot up his Achilles’ tendon with this magic PRP stuff and get back to business quicker? Wouldn’t be a good look. As controversial as PRP therapy is for any sports injury, several studies have shown PRP is not at all useful for Achilles’ tendon ruptures.
Maybe all those years of breaking ankles finally caught up to the superstar in one karmic event. The Basketball Gods and human biology finally agreed that Kobe’s Achilles tendon had enough. Bryant’s injury is undoubtedly rooted in overuse after 17 seasons and over 50,000 minutes of playing at 35 years of age.
Treatment for an Achilles tendon rupture depends on the severity of the tear. With partial tears, non-surgical options like a cast or walking boot are considered with the goal of immobilizing the tendon and allowing it to heal by its damn self. However, recovery times are longer and there is an increased risk of re-rupturing the same tendon with this route. In Kobe’s case, the only option was to surgically repair his tendon.
Drs. Stephen Lombardo and Neal ElAttrache of the Kerlan Jobe Orthopaedic Group in L.A. successfully reattached the pieces of Bryant’s shredded tendon last week. Dr. ElAttrache has performed hundreds of Achilles tendon repairs and was the same dude that repaired New England Patriots’ quarterback Tom Brady’s shredded knee in 2008. While details from Bryant’s surgery were not disclosed, Dr. ElAttrache is optimistic that Bryant will return to the NBA, estimating 6-9 months of recovery time before he can play. Several NBA players have come back from Achilles tendon ruptures including Hall of famer Dominique Wilkins, and most recently, Clippers’ star Chauncey Billups. But it has forced other NBA greats into retirement includingCharles Barkley and Bryant’s former teammate, Shaquille O’Neal.
In a recent study of NBA players after surgery for complete Achilles tendon ruptures, players showed a significant decrease in playing time and performance after returning. Almost 40% of the injured players studied over 20 years never returned to playing. In an interview with the L.A. Times, Dr. ElAttrache stated that Bryant’s determination and mental toughness will play a huge factor in getting him back into playing form, saying “I can point to all of the scientific aspects of the repair, but just as important if not more important is, who is that Achilles attached to? In this situation, it’s attached to Kobe Bryant, who has figured out a way to get through some injuries that would ordinarily be career-threatening. Some of the things he’s had go on with him have ended guys’ careers in the NBA.” There is certainly an X-factor when it comes to recovering after injury that is not directly measurable yet, but may very well be implied somewhere in the words of Bryant’s post-injury facebook status update:
“There are far greater issues/challenges in the world than a torn Achilles. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, find the silver lining and get to work with the same belief, same drive, and same conviction as ever.”
During the Lakers’ exit interviews after their disappointing post-season, Kobe was optimistic in his return and the ability of a healthy Lakers core (Bryant, Nash, Howard, Gasol, and Meta World Peace) to make another run at the championship (should they stay together next season). Kobe is hopeful about returning by the season opener, but understands that it all depends the progress he makes with rehabilitation over the next six months. In the press conference, Kobe expressed the reality of his situation by expressing not being sure how much longer he’ll play in the league. “The Achilles kind of threw me a curve ball.” As long as that doesn’t mean he is considering playing baseball like another former superstar who shall remain nameless, Kobe has the potential to lead one of the greatest legacies in all of sports pending one of the most anticipated injury comebacks in recent memory.
Injury Duty wishes Kobe Bryant a safe and effective recovery.
On September 8th 2012, TulanesafetyDevon Walker (21 years-old) was left paralyzed after he fractured his spine in a head-to-head collision with a teammate during a game in Tulsa (video: click here). Since then, we’ve overheard people talking about his injury, whether it be in the hospital or at the grocery store. And, the one big thing that has seemed to connect the conversations: Misinformation. So, we decided take a closer look at spinal cord injuries in football, in hopes that you (both parents and players) might find something here helpful.
SPINAL ANATOMY:Your spinal cord is directly connected to your brain. If you were to remove all that surrounded your brain and spinal cord (all the skin, muscle, bone, etc.) the spinal cord would sort of look like a ponytail dangling from the base of the brain. Now, if you imagine your spinal cord is a cooked spaghetti noodle (which is actually pretty close to its real consistency), imagine putting that noodle through the opening of one of those bendy straws (see diagram below). What you would now have is not some bullet proof protection around the noodle, but you’d definitely have protection around that noodle making it less likely to be cut or torn when it’s being hit. That is essentially what your spinal cord is, a noodle with a thick covering (the nerd-term for the thick covering is the “dura mater”), hanging from the base of your brain.
Thespinal cord itself serves as a “highway for information” that carries information from the “outside world” (for example, pain from touching a hot stove) to the brain and also carries information being sent out from the brain to the rest of the body (for example: the command to extend your arm and reach for something). All of your thoughts that eventually become actions (moving your arms, legs ect.) and even some things you don’t ever have to consciously “think” about (blood pressure, heart rate etc.) are all (at least partly) controlled via commands form different centers in your brain. Those command signals travel down from your brain and to their eventual targets. Being that this cord is such an important structure, you’re body is designed in a way that it tucks your spinal cord behind a lot of protection, mainly your vertebral column (aka your backbone or spine).
The spine itself isn’t just made up of one long bone though, instead it’s made up of vertebrae. Think of the vertebrae as individual building blocks stacked one on top of the other, with padding in-between each block (the pads are called “Intervertebral discs”, in nerd-speak), which are soft gummy-bear-feeling type discs made to adsorb the impact between your vertebrae.
Youractualspinal column is made of bone and is divided in to 3 “sections”:
1. Cervical spine (your neck; you have 7 vertical vertebrae or “blocks”)
2.Thoracic spine (your mid-back; you have 12 vertical vertebrae )
3.Lumbar spine (your lower-back; you have 5 vertical vertebrae )
The vertebrae (the “blocks”) become larger as you go further down your spine, and there are a couple of reasons why this is the case. First, the lower vertebrae have to support more of your body’s weight, so it makes sense that they’d be “beefier” and more heavy-duty compared to the higher vertebrae in your neck, which most often only have to worry about holding up the weight of your head. The second reason the vertebrae in your neck are smaller is because as humans we depend on our eyes and ears to keep us aware of our surroundings, and those eyes and ears are attached to your head (obviously). Each time we turn our heads, a complex network of muscles, tendons and ligaments that are attached to our vertebral column pull on the specific vertebrae we need to move, which in turn helps to turn our head. If those vertebrae were big, they’d require a lot of energy to pull on and we’d be straining ourselves every time we wanted to simply turn our heads.
Now, going back to our bendy-straw and blocks analogy, if you imagine the bendy part of the straw being your neck, you’ll realize that you have a lot of mobility there. But, your neck is a lot thinner than your chest or waist is round, which again, is great for mobility but not so great in terms of protection for your spinal cord. All that freedom to move around makes your neck more susceptible to being pushed or pulled too far, which brings back to Devon Walkers injury.
The Specifics Of Walker’s Injury: Devon Walker suffered a fracture of his cervical spine (a “broken neck”). As of the time this article was written, where exactly along his cervical spine his injury happened has not been made public.
Early Reports:Several news sources were reporting that Devon “stop breathing” after the injury and that he required CPR while on the field. We have not been able to confirm if Devin did in fact stop breathing, or if his breaths only became very shallow (for reason’s we explain later).
Understanding The Injury:As we explained earlier, the spinal cord both caries information from the “outside” to the brain and also sends information from the brain to the rest of the body. Along the spinal cord there are “exits” where “spinal nerves” branch off, think of these as “off-ramps” from the “main highway” (the main highway being your spinal cord). Each spinal nerve, depending on which level it makes its exit, is responsible for carrying signals to things in that general area.
As you now know, the spinal column is divided into three sections (cervical, lumbar and thoracic), and each of these sections have a specific number of “exits” where spinal nerves branch off (see diagram below). In Devon’s case, we know that the injury was to his cervical spine (vertebrae in the neck). As you can see in the diagram, the signals that exit the spinal cord at that level are those that control the head, neck, upper arms, hands and breathing muscles (namely the diaphragm); the diaphragm is a large muscle located “underneath your lungs” that allows you take a deep breath).
Had Devon’s injury only damaged the spinal nerves at that level, he’d most likely have use of his body below the area that was damaged, because the spinal cord itself would have been left undamaged. Unfortunately for Devon, he was unable to move his arms and his legs after the accident, which suggest that the injury was bad enough that all “signals” below the level of his injury were “cut off”, meaning that the actual spinal cord (again, the main “highway”) itself was damaged and not just the spinal nerves.
How Did This Happen?: A lot of changes (in the rules, anyway) have been made in the NFL over the last several years in regards to tackling, and a lot of those changes have centered around limiting the times a player is allowed to make a helmet-to-helmet hit on another player. But, what people fail to mention most of the time is that these rules are not only beneficial to the player being hit, but they’re also beneficial to the player doing the hitting. It’s a lot like boxing gloves in the sense that most people think the gloves were put in place to protect the guy whose head is being punched (and yes, they do help him/her, too), when in reality the gloves were introduced to protect the punchers (relatively weak) bones in their hand to prevent them from breaking.
The NFL and youth football organizations such as USA Football have recently made strides to educate players, coaches and parents about the importance of “keeping your head up” while making a tackle, and here’s the science behind why it’s so important:
When the neck is in its “natural” position it has a (healthy) curvature to it, it’s not a “straight stack” (in doctor talk the cervical spine is said to be “extended as a result of normal cervical lordosis”). When the head is lowered (i.e. when the neck is flexed) about 30 degrees the cervical spine straightens, and that normal curvature is lost. Instead what you have now is a straight line (see figure below), and as it turns out loss of that natural curvature in the neck at the time of impact is crucialto leading to injury.
When players use proper tackling techniquethe cervical spine is able to effectively dissipate (“scatter”) a lot of the energy from the hit off into the muscles of the neck and shoulders, and some of that force can also be used to bend and flex the neck in ways that aren’t harmful to the body. However, when a player decides to “drop their head” to make a hit the curvature in the neck is replaced by a straight-line, and all of that energy that could have been scattered in all the ways we mentioned above, has to now be absorbed almost entirely by bones, the disks, and the ligaments in the neck. With the bones in the neck now stacked one on top of the other, the result is that the cervical spine is compressed between the rapidly moving head on one end, and the force of both the body it’s connected to and the one it’s about to smash into.
With nowhere for all of that energy to go, the straightened cervical spine buckles, and (as in Devon’s case) can break under the pressure. Now left unprotected, the soft spinal cord is susceptible to be being stretched, pinched, torn or even severed (see figure below).
Where To From Here?:Football is a violent game, period. And, there is no amount of Nerf in the world that is going to eliminate all football injuries, we know this. But, teaching the up and coming young players proper technique is one step in the right direction and we hope that by helping you have a better understanding of the science and anatomy behind it all that you’ll feel more confident to step in and correct a player, or even a coach, who is not doing his or her part to protect kids (or adults for that matter). As for those that take the ridiculous stance that all these rules are “making the game boring and soft”, here’s a prime example of a bigandexciting hit being made, all while using proper technique. But you want to know what is most impressive about the hit? Both players got right back up, and lined up to do it all again. Now that’sfootball!
00:00-00:52 - episode 2 (episode time stamp start: 15:15)
qwenthur is pushed off the cliff (saved) and goes unconscious when he reaches the bottom
00:53-1:46 - episode 5 (episode time stamp start: 16:50)
a large wave is created from explosion, qwenthur drowns from the wave collapsing onto him
1:47-2:32 - episode 8 (episode time stamp start: 13:35&14:53)
qwenthur is caught in a building explosion, bleeding from his head and has a metal shard impaled into his thigh, he can’t move
havia also gets caught in an explosion near him and is bleeding from his head and arm
2:33-3:27 - episode 11 (episode time stamp start: 07:15)
their base zone gets bombed and qwenthur is found unconscious afterwards, he can’t move on his own because he has a sprained ankle
note: this continues onto episode 12 where he still can’t really move on his own, and at one point, at the episode’s climax he is in a very dangerous area and gets spotted by the enemy (nothing much really happens to him beyond that)
3:28-3:50 - episode 14 (episode time stamp start: 16:47)
qwenthur is kicked in the face, shot right in the shoulder and yells in pain
note: I find it kind of funny how the enemy tells qwenthur to stop yelling because he only grazed him but if you see the rest of the scene (not shown in this video), you will notice that NO, THE GUY LITERALLY SHOT HIM RIGHT ON THE JOINT OF HIS SHOULDER,OUCH!
3:51-4:28 - episode 16 (episode time stamp start: 05:10 and continues for the rest of the episode)
qwenthur gets slammed against a wall and this keeps on happening throughout the episode to a point where he is bleeding from his head and mouth, gets punched repeatedly until the girl’s (her name is: ohoho) knuckles have blood on them
4:29-5:00 - episode 18 (episode time stamp start: 13:54&21:39)
qwenthur is slammed against a rock wall | head is getting crushed by metal arms
5:01-5:43 - episode 22 (episode time stamp start: 06:23)
qwenthur is caught in an explosion that he created in an attempt to spread the poisonous gas away from his team
5:44-8:42 - episode 24 (episode time stamp start: 00:00 and continues until around the 15 minute mark)
qwenthur and havia are caught in multiple explosions causing their jeep to flip over numerous times and explode, they are both found unconscious and heavily injured (especially qwenthur) and they are both taken for treatment, qwenthur has to go through emergency surgery and his heart stops beating at some point and the medical team had to use the defibrillator to get him back, he wakes up in bed, tries to sit up but is in pain (this happens twice) and barely manages to get up and walk on his own
the last one is honestly my favorite one from the list, like, OH MY GOODNESS, I love me some hospital/infirmary whump, and let me remind you that the whole thing in that episode LASTS AROUND 15 MINUTES… just… chef’s kiss
whump aside, I gotta say, I do love the bromance between qwenthur and havia uwu
HELLO, GORDON! my comic for the HLVRAI E-Comic Anthology is finally out! I had lots of fun making it, and I hope the horror i felt when i first watched this scene came through in my drawing >:] enjoy!
I may or may not own a gecko. We found a little guy stuck in the door with two flattened feet and an injured tail. The full picture is after the cut since there’s blood.
I took him to the vet’s office, where he dropped his tail. They gave me medication and said we’d check back on Friday. Unfortunately, he hasn’t eaten anything yet, even though I offered him crickets and left mealworms in his terrarium overnight. He’s just ignoring them. So right now I’m not very hopeful :(
I’m not really the kind of person who takes in animals. Ironically, my boyfriend is, but he completely disapproves of me keeping this guy. Also, he’s named him even though I said I didn’t want a name until I knew he was going to make it. He is Gecko von Doorjam.
If he doesn’t survive, that’s really going to suck financially for me, given the vet bills. I should be saving this money for the ferrets, or my car, or my own medical costs. And I’m kind of upset over the food situation, because he’s not going to have a chance at all unless he eats. I just keep dropping by his terrarium and begging him, please eat your bugs.
Also, I never thought in my life that I’d spend fifteen minutes at a time begging a gecko to bite me so I could get his medication in his mouth, lol.
WHEW sorry it took so long, but here’s Gentiste origins Ch 9! This was meant to be a beefy fight finale chapter, but decided to split it so i could get at least this portion out in a timely manner. Enjoy! TW for blood, injury, and a healing injection so needles
Captain Cuerva: Lieutenant Augustin, come in! Mauga, have you found him yet?
Mauga: No sign of him here, captain. I’ll head back, Copy. I know you’re not going to shoot me, baptiste. You an put your rifle away. Bap: Why did you do that?
Mauga: C’mon, buddy, What’ll it be? [chuckles]
Bap: I surrender, Mauga Mauga: How sweet. He’s said those sweet nothings to me before, Shimada. Deja vu Sommbra: Want me to hold that for you?
Mauga: Careful, he’s a biter. Sombra: Geez… I wouldnt do that if i were you, sparrow
Mauga: We /must/ stop meeting at piers, baptiste, people will start talking. Why that face? I’ll admit, I was surprised you snuck into overwatch AND got them to truth you with their secrets? Talon would be fools not to let you back in! Now we just have to get the cyborg back to HQ Bap: Genji stays. He isnt apart of this. Mauga: I am a patient man, you know this. As much as I would love to do that for you,
Mauga: You’ve burned me before Genji’s dragon: Genji, you have suffered, you have endured, you have learned patience Sombra: Stop struggling, sparrow, calm down. Genji’s dragon: now you must strike
Genji’s dragon: If your body wont bend to you, Sombra: What?! Genji’s dragon: Lend it to me
Bap: Genji Mauga: Sombra, what’s going on?
Hanzo: Genji…What have you done?
Mauga: Don’t move
Mauga: Have you finally decided to get serious? This is the dragon’s wrath, yes? Hit me with all you’ve go-!
Hanzo: Baptiste, can you hear me?
Mauga: Eyes up here, shimada
Bap: Som-
Genji: [dissonant screech]
Hanzo: Jean-Baptiste /listen/ to me. He’s in pain. You must intervene NOW. He’s lost control of his dragon. Genji’s condition isnt stable! If he can’t be subdued, his body will destroy itself!
Hanzo: Please, Baptiste Sombra: Pull your leg out
Bap: One more Sombra: C’mon, on your feet! Time to go! I’m not able to hack into him, so unless I can shoot, we’re leaving. Hanzo: Fucking answer me, Baptiste Sombra: Are you listening? Bap: Understood
Sombra: What are you doing? Bap: I have to help him. Just trust me. Sombra: If he hurts you, thats it. Bap: Thanks, Sombra Sombra: You owe me, bestie. Oh. Don’t let mauga die either. I don’t want the headache
Starling dropped onto the balcony of their favourite detective. It was disappointing that he’d missed the heist. But right now, not too disappointing. If he’d been there, then he wouldn’t have been home. Then Starling wouldn’t know what to do but wait. It’s not like they could go to the hospital. They were a criminal and they couldn’t risk being asked questions they had no good answers to. At least it’s unlikely anyone saw their fall. Minus their unwelcome acquaintance. Which was bullshit; when they’d started thieving for fun they’d never thought they would get mixed up in someone else’s show. But that was where life led. Now Starling was here, breaking into the apartment of their favourite detective. (Not for the first time, they will admit. The second time. There really was no desire to break into the detective’s home, it wasn’t fun like the heists were, but the first had extenuating circumstances as their detective had been hurt and they’d had no other way to check on him.)
The door was locked. A golden curtain covered the glass, but they could still see light shine weakly through. Pro of being a phantom thief who works at night. Starling got out their lock picks and got to work. There was a twinge in their left shoulder. It made their hand spasm and scrape against the lock- Starling winced at the seemingly loud noise in the quiet night. They shook out their hand, careful not to jostle their shoulder too much, and switched hands. Without having the worry of jostling the bullet wound, the lock clicked much faster. They sighed in relief and opened the balcony door. The pain wasn’t great. Soon, though, Starling could let their detective handle it. And they wouldn’t have to worry about the pain.
Blonde hair peaked out over the back of the couch. It didn’t turn toward Starling. Whether that was because they opened the door so quietly or because the detective didn’t think a threat could come from out here, they didn’t know. It could go either way. Not only did their detective live on a higher floor, he could be rather reckless. (Once, Starling had watched him climb a pipe five stories up to sneak up on a criminal. The detective caught the criminal, but was stabbed in the process. Had it not been for their own interference, well. Starling didn’t wantto know how badly that could’ve gotten. It was bad enough seeing a knife go through their favourite detective’s palm.)
“Hey there, detective,” Starling stepped inside from the balcony.
“Starling? I live on the thir- Starling!” Bright red eyes widened and Starling knew he’d noticed the wound. Good. If he hadn’t, they would be a bit disappointed. It wasfairly obvious. At least, Starling thought so. They’d tried to fix up their wound as much as possible, but there was only so much one could do without a first aid kit. The most Starling could do was staunch the bleeding and attempt to wrap it. Which would’ve been easier if the shot hadn’t hit their shoulder. Blood had run hot in a trail down Starling’s arm and dripped at their fingertips as they pressed the sleeve of their shirt to the wound. Now, the red stained the silver shirt sleeve. It spread like a clasp over their left shoulder. Sun sprang up from the couch and rushed over to them. A hiss escaped through their teeth as the detective touched their shoulder. The hand backed off immediately. A guilty look flickered across red eyes. “Sorry.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Starling smiled. “Barely hurt.”
Sun looked at him incredulously. Worriedly. Then he forced a smile. “Right, it’s just a flesh wound.”
“Exactly. Now, do you think you could help me fix up this flesh wound?” Starling asked. “Not that I couldn’t do it myself but-”
“The bullet didn’t go all the way through?” Sun said.
Starling blinked. “How’d you know?”
“A guess. I’ve seen your disguises enough to know there are wounds you’ve started to hide, but this is the first time you’ve brought one to me which means it must be more difficult to deal with then the others. From the bleeding…” Sun trailed off, fingers ghosting the red on their shoulder. Starling followed his eyes. It really wasn’t as bad as it looked. Or, Starling didn’t think it was. Hoped it wasn’t. … now that they thought about it, they’d never stopped to question if their detective could even patch up a bullet wound. Of course Starling could- this wasn’t the first time they’d been shot. But the other times had been in the thigh, the lower arm, and the side respectively. And all four had gone clean through. All grazes really, except the second shot that had gone through Starling’s side. That had been moderately far into their flesh and definitely not pleasant. “I thought ‘bullet’ would be a good guess. Unless you were stabbed and yanked the knife out before deciding to fly over here?”
“No,” Starling shook their head. “Just shot this time.”
“This time.” Sun looked at them in surprise, practically choking on the first word. The thief smiled. It was cute to see the detective thrown off. And worried specifically about them. Even if Starling was in a bit of pain.
A lot of pain.
Getting shot in the shoulder hurt, okay?
“One of my acquaintances is a bit more archaic than the others,” Starling shrugged their uninjured shoulder, doing their best not to jostle the injuredshoulder.
“Archaic? She uses a sword or something?” Starling nodded. Sun frowned at them. “Anything else?”
“Well, short, stabby, seems to be angry a lot. There’s not a lot about the others,” Starling said. Only one of the acquaintances ever got close to Starling. The short one whose appearance never seemed to be the same- except the size and the anger. It was like Starling could taste blood thirst radiating in the air around the short acquaintance. Whoever said short people are angry because they were closer to hell certainly met her. There were two others, but- all Starling had seen of the tallest was a hat and of the other was their gun. A sniper, because that’swhat Starling wanted following them while they were trying to put on a show and steal a gem. Now Starling actively had to keep an eye out for a possible shooter. Thank Oum the acquaintances didn’t show up at every performance.
Sun nodded, seeming to accept that. Somehow, Starling doubted that was the end of the questioning. Eventually there would likely be more. (Detectives were the nosiest breed, after all.) “You weren’t-”
“Followed? Of course not. I’d only ever let you follow me, dear.” Starling smiled at him. Hopefully charmingly. With the adrenaline draining out, the pain was draining in. Each beat of Starling’s heart pounded it through them. It was like they could feel the bullet where it was stuck. Perhaps they could. The smile has to be stiffer than what Starling had gone for, because Sun’s eyes flickered back to the covered wound and his weight shifted between his feet. For a detective, his tells were glaringly obvious. My detective would likely have no chance on the stage, Starling thought. Though, at least for Starling, the detective himself would distract from however bad his performance might be.
But maybe Starling was being unfair. It was usual for these specific signs to show. As far as Starling knew, their detective rarely got nervous like this. All anxious body movements and quiet mouth. And perhaps that was the greatest poker face of all. Simply not needing one. Sun worried his bottom lip between his teeth like Starling knew he did when he thought, and Starling pushed down the desire to gently remove his lip from the abuse. Wherever the detective’s mind went, Starling needed it back here. The other thieves weren’t Sun’s concern- or shouldn’t be, they were more dangerous than Starling was. Not to mention that thieves were possessive and Sun was their detective, no one else’s- and there was still a more pressing matter. Like the bullet still in Starling’s shoulder.
“Detective?” Starling questioned. Sun startled out of his thoughts. His thumb brushed softly against Starling’s shoulder.
“We should fix this,” Sun said, though his voice sounded mostly far away. Starling reached up to grab Sun’s hand and squeeze it. The detective blinked a few times. Slowly, red eyes focused on blue ones. “You wear contacts.”
The statement startled a laugh out of Starling. Of course they wore contacts. Heterochromia was a bit too rare for a phantom thief to have, so Starling wore a blue contact to all their heists. (Or sometimes a brown one, depending on disguises. But by the time the chase began, Starling’s eyes were always back to blue to match their hair.) “Of course. I can’t make it too easy to figure out who I am, can I?”
“I guess you can’t.” Sun smiled and there were dimples and Starling’s heart gave a singular hard ba-dump. That smile was one of the reasons Starling had started to woo the detective. Wherever Sun had gone, he was back now. His hand threaded with Starling’s and he used it to lead the thief to his couch. “Stay here, I’ll get the industrial kit.”
It did not surprise Starling that he had an industrial med kit. Really, Starling wished it did. But it didn’t. He was a self sacrificial moron, always thinking he had to help everyone. Even when it put him in danger. Starling had seen a few of the scars Sun had gotten because of it. The slit in his palm. The slash across his forearm. The starburst in his side. Of course Sun would do it all again if he had to and… Starling could respect that. Even if they didn’t quite like to see their detective hurt so much. They could still respect it. Starling sat and watched Sun’s back as he went to get the kit. He flicked the overhead light on as he left and Starling blinked a little at the light change. Once the detective was gone, Starling looked around the apartment. Brown walls and open space. It was a fairly tiny apartment. Definitely smaller than the one Starling lived in, though they shared the space with others. Sun’s couch was beaten with age and comfortable. An episode of Dragon Ball Z was on at low volume. Starling moved their legs up onto the couch and leaned against the arm, making sure to leave their left shoulder exposed for Sun.
When Sun got back, Starling actually had a moment to be surprised. Enough that it showed on their face- Sun’s eyebrow raised in response. In Starling’s defense they had not expected a medkit that large. It looked like Sun had stolen it off a paramedic truck. Though, given the amount of injuries Sun no doubt got, Starling thought it likely someone had forced it on him. Honestly Starling could understand.
With Sun’s help, Starling’s shirt was removed so he could get to the hole in their shoulder. “The bullet’s still in here.”
Starling laughed at what felt like the current most obvious statement in the world. The action moved their shoulder and a shot of pain went through it. “Yeah, I can feel it.”
Sun winced. “Right. Let’s deal with that first.”
“Smart.” Probably. At the very least, it will likely be the most painful part of the process and Starling would very much like to get it over with.
Sun talked while he searched for the bullet. He doesn’t stop talking, like if he stopped the wound would magically get worse. Usually Starling only saw the detective on heists, with the occasional case mixed in. Starling forgot how much the detective could talk. Especially when he was nervous. That was the tell Starling knew from the rare moments they’d seen him nervous. It made them want to reach out to Sun. To tell him that it was okay. That they’d be fine- after all, this wasn’t the first wound they’d ever gotten. It wasn’t even the first gunshot wound. Instead, Starling swore as the tweezers hit a nerve. “ Fuck.”
“Sorry.” Sun looked worried again and Starling waved it off.
“It’s fine, you’d be surprised how many stitches I got as a kid.”
“Lots of people shooting at you then?” Sun joked. It was his way to make light of the situation, Starling knew. Though Starling had a feeling it was for his own benefit- not the thief’s.
“Just the normal amount.” Starling smiled at him. He smiled back; too small to see his dimples but enough to make his eyes glitter like the heart of a fire. The bullet is grabbed and removed in the space of more banter. More jokes and thinly veiled accusations of adrenaline seeking that by this point both know are true. Starling denies them anyway. So does Sun. (Perhaps Sun’s denial was a little more fair. It’s no secret between them that Sun finds as much danger as Starling does. Though Sun usually stumbled into it. Like the danger sought him out. And Starling usually searched for or created it. At least, Starling did. Before the first run in with the other thieves.) There’s a light clink as the bullet is placed on a dish Starling hadn’t noticed before with a smattering of blood. It’s both more and less blood than he’d expected. Immediately there’s more pain as Sun presses an alcohol swab against the newly bleeding wound without so much as a word. If Sun hadn’t been holding it, Starling’s arm would’ve jerked. For someone who had been talking the whole time it was a hell of a moment to go quiet. “ Ouch,” Starling said, emphatically.
“My bad,” Sun winced in honest sympathy.
“I thought you didn’t want to hurt people.” Starling pouted at him. In response to their slight overdramatic-ness, Sun rolled his eyes.
“Of course not, asshole. But this is gonna hurt.”
Starling sighed, “I know.”
A needle and thread was sanitized and then the needle began to make its way, stitching up their skin. There wasn’t much for Starling to do except sit there and not wince too much. It was a good thing they were good with pain. Sun mumbled to himself as he worked. There were a few words Starling caught. They were pretty sure the make and model of a gun were some. Which meant they were right, Sun’s mind was partly on the other thieves. A bit of annoyance shot through like the pull of the needle. Right now Sun’s attention should be on Starling, not the three acquaintances. After all, it was their skin he was stitching. Theirwound that he was caring for.
“Why did you come here?” The words were sudden and it took a minute for them to even register for Starling. When they did, Starling blinked. Why? Because they trusted their detective. Because they loved him. Because somehow they didn’t mind the thought of him taking care of them.
“Well, I figured with all the times you get hurt you must be a professional,” Starling said.
Sun paused and looked at them for a moment, thread and needle hovering in the air. “What if I told you I went to a hospital for every injury?” It wasn’t true. Both of them knew it. The needle went back through Sky’s skin.
“I’d say I’d hate to see your medical bills.”
Sun laughed and it pulled at Starling’s skin painfully, but it was worth it to see those dimples and the flash of sharp canines. Thankfully their wince went unnoticed. The needle went through a few more times before the thread was gently pulled on and it was tied off. A bandage was placed over the stitching and gaze wrapped around Starling’s shoulder and chest to keep it in place. Then he packed the supplies back up and… it was done. Starling carefully moved their arm. It was still sore, of course it was, but at least now they didn’t have to worry about it. They stood up off the couch. It was time for them to leave. Suddenly it felt like time passed too quickly. Starling smiled even as they sighed inside and took Sun’s hand. They brought his hand up to their lips and brushed a kiss against his knuckles.
“Thank you, my dear detective.” Starling smiled at the pink on Sun’s cheeks, illuminated by the tv’s light. “But I fear this is where I take my leave.” They bowed and vanished to the balcony. The two of them would meet again next heist. Until then, Starling would have the memory of glittering red eyes and freckles standing against a soft blush.
For just a moment, Starling looked back at Sun and mourned the loss of intimacy. Then they dropped off the balcony and into the night.
being stoic and trying to hide pain is fun and all but consider: having a meltdown because of stress and pain
It had happened so quickly. The gun had been silenced but Heiji swore he could hear the gunshot echoing around his skull. At this point he didn’t know whowas shaking. Hakuba or him. From the feeling in his hands, he was sure it was him. The other detective was always so stoic, of course it was him. He swallowed- he had to stay calm.
Hakuba was hunched over, hands hovering, bangs covering his eyes. There was blood staining the center of Hakuba’s white shirt. It stained Hakuba’s fingertips where they’d pressed into it when he’d staggered back and slid down the wall. He dropped to his knees in front of him to press against the wound. Pressure- it needed pressure if they were to stanch the blood flow. Right now, that was the most important thing. Right now it was all Heiji’s brain could register to do. The blood flow had to be stanched because if it wasn’t then Hakuba would-
No. He had to remain calm. If Hakuba could remain calm during this, then he could too. Of course he could, he was just as good a detective. His hands pressed against the wound. Blood, sticky and warm, oozed out between his fingers and he’d seen so many dead bodies but bile rose to his throat and he swallowed it down. Quiet noises came from Hakuba. Hakuba’s hands clamped around his forearms. Pale fingers- were they supposed to be that pale?- slipped against his skin, created tiny trails of red against it. One of his hands went to Heiji’s shirt and started to pull. Not toward him, though. Away from him. Heiji pressed down firmer. It was weak but still- “Hakuba, don’t,” Heiji said. “Ya gotta stop pushing me off-” The next pull was stronger, he felt the pull of his shirt force him back a centimeter. The fingers against his arm dug in and he winced as blunt nails broke skin. “Shit-” he cursed quietly.
The hand in his shirt let go and moved to grab his other arm. The struggle intensified. Both hands dug in till they would likely leave bruises in the shapes of Hakuba’s fingerprints in his skin. He kept his eyes on the wound like maybe if he stared hard enough- maybe if he pressed hard enough- the wound would disappear. The wound would disappear and they’d be two detectives arguing over which direction to take to follow KID. There would be no glass on the ground next to them, no blood on the floor or his hands or Hakuba’s shirt. Already the blood trail against his skin felt tacky. But the blood under his hands still felt warm.
“Hakuba!” Heiji yelled desperately- he wasn’t worried about anybody bad finding them. Afterall, they already knew where they were. If anything, he hoped someone wouldfind them. This was a KID heist. Didn’t Kudou say KID had something in his rules about people not getting hurt during heists? This was a pretty shitty job of it but if only he would find them- Heiji gritted his teeth. Hakuba continued to struggle. “Stop struggling!”
He glanced up and paused. Froze. From here, he could properly see Hakuba. Thin tear tracts were going down his face. His eyes were wide, eyebrows drawn down in pain. The quiet noises finally filtered in properly- sobs. Tiny and choked off and panicked. Hakuba was panicked. It was probably the most sobering picture Heiji had ever seen. He repositioned himself closer to Hakuba and the other detective slid a hand up to grab at his rolled sleeve. “Come on, don’t freak out on me. I’m tryna help ya, yer bleeding-” he pleaded quietly. Gently, he pressed his forehead against Hakuba’s. Golden eyes flickered briefly, but they didn’t seem to register him. The hand against his arm slackened just slightly, though, before it tightened again. “Hakuba, please…”
Both his hands were occupied so he pressed his forehead firmer against Hakuba, hoping the contact would help. Hoping to get him out of shock. Because shock was bad- shock was trembling and bleeding out and not breathing properly. Shock was passing out in his arms. He breathed deeply so his whole body moved and hoped Hakuba would follow even despite the pain. Because he’d been there before. He’d been shot before. And it felt like fire licked up your nerves but breathing kept you aliveand he needed Hakuba to breath for him. “Breathe for me, will ya?” It took time, but the struggle calmed. Hakuba could feel something in him loosen at the first stuttered breath that fluttered over his skin.
Eventually KID does find them and Heiji has to bite down hard on the instinct to shout at him to get somebody, you bastard, heists are supposed to be safe, call somebody, get Nakamori-keibu, get him helpbecause he didn’t think his usual shouting would help right now and the last thing he wanted to do was make it worse. But he doesn’t have to worry. KID sees Hakuba and is off like a rocket. It’s the fastest Heiji thinks he’s ever seen him run, even when all three of them are on his tail.
The haunted look lessened until it felt like Hakuba could finally see him again and he smiled softly. “There ya are, hey. Don’tcha worry. KID’s gonna get ya help, alright? And I’ll stay right here with ya until he does. I’m not lettin’ ya go.”
Hakuba blinked and larger tears formed and welled and overflowed, down Hakuba’s cheeks to pool and drip from his chin. A small hiccup came from him, followed by a wince.
“What’s wrong?” Heiji could feel worry crawl up his throat again and he viciously held it back. He couldn’t get overshadowed by his own emotions. Not when Hakuba needed him. For once, he had to be the calm one. Hakuba’s hair brushed against his forehead as he shook his head. There was no sound, but he could knew the words on his lips- ‘thank you’. “Of course,” Heiji laughed. “I’m not planning on lettin’ ya go anytime soon.”
Once Qrow had gone, Lazuli turned back to him. Apparently she hadn’t really seen the extent of the damage. Or maybe she had and was just echoing previous thoughts. Either way, she gave a heartfelt quiet “cazzo” before heading for the kitchen. Now, Cardin hadn’t actually seen the damage himself. All he’d done was feel it. Frankly at the time that was enough, burning red hot and melting the numb from his legs like they were made of ice as Qrow did his best. Cardin scooted himself up to lean against the arm of the couch so he could look.
Red made four rings around his legs. Two above the knee; two below. The red spread in a wider band then the actual cuts did. They didn’t seem too deep. But Cardin wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to prod them right now. He did anyway. It’s not like it was the first injury he didn’t want to mess with but had to. Though, he guessed this time he didn’t ‘have’ to. A frown pulled at his lips. Was it bad he wished that it was? That he preferred to be alone. To handle this on his own, to not make anyone else have to deal with it. After all, it was his weakness. It was only right he dealt with it himself. As the pads of his fingers gingerly pressed at skin near the cuts, he hissed lightly. At least the pain was duller now. The blood had dried- it was flaky in some areas, likely where it’d been stuck to the fabric makeshift bandages- and it’d have to be cleaned away.
He grit his teeth to stand. Pain shot up his veins, dull like a heartbeat. For a moment he steadied himself on the couch’s arm. Before he could move for the bathroom, Russel’s mamma returned with supplies. A bowl was tucked under her arm, a rag half in the water already, a second rag was over her shoulder, and in her hand she had both a bottle of something that was most likely neosporin and a roll of bandages. The look she shot him was deadly. “Sit.” Lazuli said firmly. Cardin sat. Well, more flopped.
“I can’t believeyou’d get up-” she stopped herself, a hand up, “No, I can. What were you planning? Head to the bathroom, clean up and leave? Before I returned?” She took a breath and Cardin knew she was calming herself. Calm had always seemed her default. And it seeped into those around her. Like just her presence could clear every head in the room. The only time that ever changed was whenever Russel got hurt. (Something that happened both surprisingly often and shockingly seldom.) And… apparently… possibly when he got hurt, too. That wasn’t something he’d expected. The most worry he ever got about any injury was Russel’s concerned eyes when the boy spotted the scars- especially new scars.
Especiallythe burn. The way the brown flecks had swirled in Russel’s eyes. They’d almost changed colour. Bits of gold swirling through a sea of blue. (… no seas, not right now. Later, he’d be able to drift back, but not right now. Just like when he’d gotten the burn and was left unable to make fire related analogies for a short time, the water related illusion grated across his skin.) Gold streaked through a mostly clear sky, painting the undersides of clouds. Almost distracting from the darkness attempting to swirl within. Almost, but not quite. Russel didn’t ask. But he’d seen the way Russel briefly had to bite his tongue against the questions.
“I don’t want you to have to deal with it,” Cardin said, answering all the questions in one. It was odd to see the way Lazuli’s face twisted, trying to figure out whether it wanted to harden or soften. Eventually it settled. The look on her face was soft but the blue of her eyes took on the appearance of tempered glass.
“You’re my kid. I want to do this.” Her voice was as firm as her eyes. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this… with anyof this alone.”
“I’m fine,” Cardin said.
“Maybe,” Lazuli said and set to cleaning Cardin’s leg. It throbbed as she worked, but the pain was at a manageable level. The water was warm against his skin. Slowly, as she washed away dried blood, the water in the bowl tinted more and more red. Until the blood was gone. And the bowl seemed stained red. The pain returned when she used the neosporin. It cut hot tingles across his nerves and he hissed. “Sorry,” Lazuli murmured, blowing gently against it. Cardin shook his head but she ignored it in favour of wrapping clean bandages around the wounds. When she was done, she pat his knee and stood. Like it was a signal, Cardin heard the door open. They both looked toward it. Simin entered with Russel trailing just behind him. Cardin pulled his legs close before Russel spotted him.
“Cardin!” Russel broke out from behind his papai. Like Cardin had never shown up at night before. Though, he’d admit usually when they hung out at night Cardin came through the window. He didn’t want to disturb Lazuli or Simin so late. And he… didn’t want to answer any questions. Thankfully, Russel was good at not asking. Instead he’d just open the window and let Cardin crawl in next to him without a word. Without making him feel weak. His friend landed on the couch next to him and his eyes immediately locked onto the bandages. Once again, worry swirled golden through hazel irises. Once again, Russel didn’t ask. This time, though, he looked over to Lazuli. Cardin’s heartbeat shot up in response, worried what Lazuli might say. There wasn’t much she could, he hadn’t told anyone how he’d… ended up where he had. Or how he had. She frowned slightly and Cardin had no hope that she hadn’t been thinking about exactly that. It wasn’t often a huntsman showed up at your house, brought you a teen with rope wounds around their legs, and told you he drowned. Or, Cardin hoped it wasn’t often. The feeling- the pain of feeling slowly coming back from pins and needles to skin rubbed bloody and torn- wasn’t something he’d want anyone else to experience. After a moment, Lazuli shook her head and pulled Simin into the kitchen.
“Are you okay?” Russel asked once they were alone.
“I’m tired,” Cardin answered with half a smile.
Russel nodded and left the room. One of the blankets from his bed was in his hands when he returned. It was a thick brown blanket just this shade of the bronze with squares sectioned off by lines of silver thread the same shade as Russel’s hair. The blanket was softer than it looked. But just as warm as its cushy appearance said it’d be. He plopped down on the couch and pulled the blanket over them. Cardin lowered his legs when Russel scooted closer. But that’s the most Russel did. If Cardin wanted physical touch in this moment, Russel was there for it, but he’d have to initiate. A small smile curved his mouth. A true smile- the first of the whole day. Somehow Russel could always tell his tactile mood. Could always tell what he needed physically. Cardin shifted closer to him and settled at his side. For a while, Cardin drifted. He’s not even sure if he falls back asleep. But he knew Russel didn’t sleep. Though he wished he did. Between one moment and the next, Russel’s parents were gone and back. Simin sat on the couch next to them.
“Russel, can you leave the room for a time?” Simin asked.
“I don’t-” Russel looked over at Cardin with a frown. To Cardin’s own surprise, he took Russel’s hand. “want to.”
For a moment Simin just looked at them. Then the tiny smile curled his lip. “Alright.” He moved the table closer and sat on it, Lazuli joining him on its edge. “So Cardin, tell us what happened.”
Cardin looked down at his lap, unable to really meet Simin’s earnest red-brown eyes. There was a squeeze around his hand and he glanced up out of the corner of his eye to see Russel smile small. It was encouraging. Though not in the way Cardin knew he’d meant. It was meant to help gently nudge the truth out of him. “Nothing,” he said clearly, though he still didn’t look Simin in the eye.
“You know.” Simin rested his arms against his knees. “Wounds like those don’t usually come from drowning.” The truth behind those words had Cardin flinch, if just barely. “Whatever it was we won’t think lesser of you for it.” He didn’t say anything, just pulled at the skin between his thumb and forefinger. “Filho. Please.”
He… was really worried about him. A glance up told him they all were. It caused a sensation to creep along his skin, rankling his nerves. All while a very different heat spread out from his chest, different from the instinctual distaste at worryatweakness, filling his stomach and tingling at his fingertips. Embarrassment,
Words slowly clogged his throat.
I was thrown in.
I was tied up.
“I don’t have a semblance.” It came out more tired and less bitter than he’d expect. After all this time, he must’ve accepted it without even realizing. Russel’s parents looked at each other.
“We know,” Simin said.
Cardin looked at them. Vaguely he remembered what Lazuli’d told Qrow. ‘ Low aura. His ma was the same way. ’ (‘Weak.’ Barked. Scoffed. ‘Just like your mother.’ ) “… How did you know about my aura?” How’d you know about my ma’s wasn’t asked, but he thought she heard it.
Instead of answering, Lazuli looked at him. Really looked at him, it seemed. Light blue eyes traced his features. Like she could suss out any lies or half truths. “Is this what thisis about?” She asked gently, gesturing to his knees. Cardin didn’t answer. She sighed. “It’s a part of my semblance. I’m able to track aura.”
Cardin frowned and looked down again. “Then, do you.” There seemed to be a lump in his throat. He swallowed past it. “Do you know what’s wrong with me?”
“Absolutely nothing. Some people are simply born with less aura,” Lazuli said and though the words were soft, they were firm.
“So that’s why-”
“Yes. You just don’t have enough to support a semblance, no matter what happens. And your healing is…” Lazuli gestured to his legs, still under the blanket and tucked close to his chest. “delayed.”
“Like ma,” Cardin said, and he couldn’t help but think of finding out she’d collapsed when she was getting food. About how she’d apparently been sick and how her body had failed to heal. Because she didn’t have enough aura.
Lazuli nodded. “Like your ma.”
And just like that, he’s told he isweak. That he’ll never be strong. Some part of him had already known he was like his ma. That he’d never have a semblance. But it was one thing to feel it inside of you and another for someone to tell you it was true. Before, he thought the weight on his chest would lift with confirmation. He’d be told he’d never get a semblance and the weight would dissipate. It’d fade like it hadn’t really been there, a mess of words untangled to float away. The pain would still be there, of course. With the confirmation it’d probably increase. But the weight would be gone and that’d be enough. Except the weight didn’t leave. It didn’t fade, it didn’t unravel, it didn’t float away to never come back. It simply shifted. Like a cat, finding a new place to settle and get comfortable. A little closer to his lungs. A little snugger against his throat.
A hand squeezed around his. “But that doesn’t make you weak.”
Right. Cardin wanted to scoff, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get the sound past his throat.
“I knew your ma. And she was one of the strongest people I ever knew. Even without a semblance. I’ve also seen you. You’re strong Cardin. And you might not believe me now. Or in years. But it’s true. You’re determined and protective and that’s where your strength lies. Now! That’s enough heart to heart for me, you know that’s more Simin’s thing anyhow.” Lazuli clapped her hands on her thighs and winked before she stood up. “Get some sleep, you were dead on your feet when you got here and you were being carried.”
Cardin stared at her but didn’t argue. There was no point. It was true, he was tired and they both knew it. He tried to hold what she said in his mind and think on it then but it slipped from his grasp. With it, a bit of the weight at his throat.
“Thank you.”
She smiled. “Of course.”
In the morning his body wasn’t on the couch where he’d left it. He wiggled out of Russel’s loose grip, almost rolling off the edge of the bed before he caught his feet under himself. The action hurt his wounds but he gritted past that. Who’d moved him, he wasn’t really sure. (Though he had the feeling it’d been Simin.) Unlike his house, when he woke someone was always already in the kitchen. The smell of bacon wafted out from where Simin stood at the stove. Further down the counter, Lazuli was making chocolate chip waffles. It was Simin who noticed him first.
“Good morning, Cardin,” Simin greeted with a bright smile that he hesitantly, and a bit forcefully, returned.
“You’re awake early,” Lazuli said. “It’s a nice change. Usually I have to drag Russ out of bed.” The smile became a little smaller. A little more forced. This was the first time he’d ever spent the full night. Previously, whenever he visited Russel after the sun had fallen it was through his window and he’d left before the sun had risen once more. As far as they knew neither of Russel’s parents even knew he was ever over at night.
“Though that’s to be expected. You’ve always been an earlier riser, haven’t you?” Simin asked with a twinkle in his eye. He had the feeling those secret nights weren’t as secret as they thought. A bit of panic spiked through him. It wasn’t given time to grow. The spatula waved toward him, flat part twirled in a dismissive circle. “It was never a problem.”
Cardin stared at him, mouth agape. So they hadknown? And said nothing. His mouth clicked shut before they could fully catch his shock. Once again he was hit by just how different his father was from Russel’s parents. He swallowed. If they hadn’t been awake, he would’ve snuck out to return home. Now, though. At least he’d have breakfast before he left. The walk wasn’t far, but his legs still smarted so he wanted to take it slow while he could and it’d be easier to do after eating at least some food.
Russel came out of the room looking wide awake almost the minute breakfast was finished being made. A smile was shared between Cardin and Russel’s parents. The other boy had spectacular timing. “It smells great out here.”
“Thank you, filhinho,” Simin said with a smile and Russel gave him one just as sunny.
“Now that you’re awake, help Cardin get out the juice,” Lazuli said.
“Alright, mamma,” Russel nodded. Cardin already had out the cups, juice, and ice tray which he was twisting to loosen. He grabbed the juice from the table. “You do the ice and I’ll pour?”
Cardin nodded. Together the work went quickly and before Cardin knew it, four cups of juice had joined the plates and silverware. The food was set down right after.
It was… nice, to eat breakfast with others. The table was partly quiet; hazy and soft with the start of the day. The only true noise was Russel’s soft chatter. It filled the spaces between them, made them fluffy with noise. Until Cardin couldn’t really focus on anything but the food and the words and the people. He smiled and breathed easily. Eventually he would have to return to his house. But this was nice while he had it.
‘Eventually’ came with empty plates. It came with helping clear the table and washing the dishes. It came with humming from Simin that eventually morphed into whistling. Cardin looked at the three moving together through the kitchen, a morning dance that each knew, and felt a pang in his heart that he pushed down and away. A part of him didn’t want to leave. He wanted to learn that dance. Wanted to stay for the mornings and the quiets and the colours that weren’t actually there but could be felt in every soft look and unspoken action. But it wasn’t his place. The time had come to go and he closed his eyes. “I'll… go home now.” There’s a pause as Cardin took a moment to get the word out. Because there was more than just this morning. There was last night too. There was Qrow and Lazuli and blood and bandages and half believed encouragements. They’d helpedhim. Lazuli helped him. Simin helped him. Russel helped him. And it was respectable to say after that. It wasn't… out of place here. Not like it would be at his house. But it still wasn’t completely normal for him, not like this when it was basically an admission that he’d been given help. That he’d been weak enough to need help. To accept it without question. “Thank you.”
Worry lit up Russel’s eyes and he averted his own to ignore it, hand still awkwardly gripping the back of the chair. In his peripheral he noticed Simin and Lazuli share a look. “You’re not… going back,” Lazuli said gently. That made him pause, blinking hollowly.
“… what?” His heart started again- it had stopped?- and his first word felt distant, fair from his own ears like it was in a tunnel- but his next were better. Louder; more there. “I have to go back. My father- I have to.”
But did he really?
Of course he had to. It was his father. Since he lived, had an obligation to return home. He’d help the wounds as best he could, wait for them to scar, and continue with training. Just as he always did, nevermind his own desires. The obligation of a Winchester. The destiny of a Winchester. Be strong. Have a strong semblance. Become a strong huntsman.
…
His fingers worried at his sleeve. Of course, he’d already failed at one of those. Failed just by being born, presumably. Too low aura. Not even the capability to develop a semblance. ‘If this doesn’t work don’t bother returning.’ “I have to.” The words sound weak and doubtful, even to his own ears. What would even happen if he returned? Surely he’d still have to follow the rest of the Winchester legacy, even if he failed at one of the most basic steps. Be strong. Become a strong huntsman. But could he even do that, without a semblance? ‘Weak. Just like your mother.’
‘I knew your ma. And she was one of the strongest people I ever knew.’
He breathed.
Even without a semblance, he could still be a huntsman. It wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t the strength he thought he had. But he had to be, so he would be. There was no other choice for him. The name ‘Winchester’ cemented him there. So he would return. He would become a huntsman like it was required of him and then… And then maybe next time he wouldn’t be saved.
“We talked to Oliver,” Lazuli said and Cardin looked up at her. Something passed through his body. But he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. An omen, maybe. A cocktail of worry and fear and questioning why they’d even do that- a sudden wish that he hadwoken up early like he’d planned to. That he was home already, in his bedroom like he’d never left it and mostly ready for the day. Curiosity to what his father even said and a deep dread at what the words might’ve been. “He said we could- keep you.”
Cardin swallowed. What? Just like that he’d been… given up? Given away? A problem that had no solution, that could only be moved and forgotten about. There was a lump in Cardin’s throat. He didn’t even have the choice to return now, did he? Weak. Unwanted. Unusable. Part of him wanted to curl into a ball. Take that stupid cape with him and sink back to the bottom of the lake where he was warm and floated higher and higher, thoughts far away and unnecessary. His fingers dug into his sleeve and his teeth bit into the inside of his lip. He blinked, and his eyes met red. It was like Simin could see past him, yet he didn’t. Simin looked like he could but he chose to look right at Cardin instead.
“It will be different,” Simin said and the words sounded kind. “But we hope it’ll be a good kind of different.”
He blinked. And the other half of the sentence, the other half of the meaning filtered in. ‘We could keep you.’ They- But he was broken and weak. A future huntsman without something as basic as a semblance. Someone who could never even develop one.
A glance over at Russel, who smiled small at him and kicked his ankle under the table. Not meanly, just… there. A simple touch, a small connection, so Cardin knewhe was there.
‘We could keep you.’
They wanted to keep him. Against all odds they actuallywanted to keep him.
“Why?” Cardin asked. He wasn’t sure where to look, who to look at, but he had to know. “Why?”
Simin put a hand in front of Cardin, for him to take if he chose to. Cardin didn’t move. “You’re a part of this família. We care about you, Cardin. And we want you here. For more than just a night.”
It felt like he was reeling. Like he’d been tossed into the sky to fall only to be thrown back upwards before he could hit the ground, again and again. If he hadn’t just woken an hour ago, he’d go back to bed. Russel reached out and this time, he took the hand offered him.
“I think it’ll be nice, to have you. It’ll be fun, we’ll be brothers!” Russel smiled at him and even now, his joy was a bit infectious. Soothing. He swallowed.
“Why would I want to give you more opportunities to annoy me?” Cardin asked, tightening his hold on Russel.
“Because you know I enjoy it,” Russel said. “And because you know you’re not getting rid of me at this point. No matter what you do, you’re stuck with me.”
And Cardin knew it was true. There was no uncertainly there- not with the rare show of stubbornness on Russel’s face. He was stuck with Russel. No choice given. It was comfortable and warm, suddenly. “Alright.”
“Alright?” Lazuli asked.
“I’ll… stay. Past the night,” Cardin said. All three seemed to breath at once, something relieved that still left Cardin confused. But maybe for right now, that was okay. Right now he had someone he knew truly believed he would stick by him. Right now, he believed it too. And maybe that was all that mattered.
Maybe one day, it would be okay. And next time, he wouldn’t have to be saved.
My poor baby girl life seems to be out to get us at the moment
A deep puncture wound means antibiotics, pain killers and bed rest for N Dog. My heart is breaking watching her in pain and not being able to take it away.
Fingers crossed for quick healing and god help us all when I break the news she’s can’t come running with me for the next while….
