Caretaker winced, recoiling as they felt their lip split and blood run down their chin. “Why would you do that?” They asked, growing slowly frustrated with Whumpee.
“You bastard! You fucking bastard— you can’t keep me here!” Whumpee thrashed, pulling hard at the cuffs encircling their wrists.
Caretaker wiped the blood off their face with the back of their sleeve. They had been forced to restrain Whumpee and even sedate them at times for the last several days. Whumpee was exceptionally violent and remarkably strong for their size.
“Whumpee, if you kick me again, I’m going to have to sedate you. Please stop it.”
“Might as well do it now, bitch. I’m not just gonna be complacent.”
“Dammit, I’m not trying to hurt you! You need to be rebandaged!”
“Yeah,right. You’re fucking sick! I’m not some doll for you to play with!” Whumpee kicked again, narrowly missing Caretaker.
“I don’t see you as a doll! Whumpee, if you don’t let me take care of your injuries, you’re going to get an infection.”
“Fine by me.” Whumpee spat.
Caretaker grit their teeth. “Damn it all— I don’t want to sedate you! Why won’t you just calm down??”
“Calm down? Calm down?? How about you spend two months locked up by Whumper with them dictating every area of your life! Then we’ll see if you want to ‘calm down’!” Whumpee tugged at the handcuffs and a thin stream of blood trickled down their arm.
This approach wasn’t working.
Closing their eyes, Caretaker took a slow, deliberate breath. “Okay. Okay, fine, I see your point. Allow me to start over.”
“You gonna let me go?”
“I can’t take the cuffs off until either your injuries are healed or you trust me enough to stay.”
“Then it’s not really starting over, is it? You can’t expect to get trust when you don’t giveany.”
Caretaker walked closer to Whumpee and sat on the bed beside them, trying to keep the pain off their face as they were met with a barrage of kicks.
“I want to help you, Whumpee. I know— ouch— I know you don’t trust me. I understand why. Even if you don’t want to trust me, though, you don’t have a choice. I'm— ack— I’m literally the only person you have right now. I can’t make you trust me, but I can hope that you’ll at least let me take care of you.”
Whumpee didn’t answer, only continued to pummel Caretaker with kicks.
Minutes passed. The minutes turned into hours. Whumpee was slowing down. After only a couple hours, they had stopped kicking Caretaker completely.
“Go away.” They rasped.
Caretaker glanced at Whumpee to see they were crying. “Can I please change your bandages?”
Fao’s hands burned across his skin, barely conscious but unfortunately aware enough to feel the pain. His breath hitched, a quiet gasp of pain. The fog was too thick to fight through, unable to force his eyes open.
Fao took a step back, looking Harrison over as he called Steve. Harrison’s clothes were ripped and torn, drenched in blood. His face was swollen, his cheek obviously disfigured. His left arm was pointed in all different directions, and his hand, bloody and bruised, was tucked to his chest. With each breath his ribs shifted in different directions, grating and rubbing against each other. His legs were even worse; while his prosthesis was nowhere to be found, his other leg was so obviously broken, the bone sticking through the skin. There was too much blood, far too much blood.
Steve answered, on a break from theatres. “Fao, morning. What’s up?”
“I’ve found Hars.”
“Is he alright?” Something in Fao’s tone had already given him the answer.
Fao took a breath. “No, he's… He’s a state. He’s got a compound fracture to his left leg, his left arm is broken too. Ribs are… Well, ribs are fucked, and his prosthetic is gone.”
“Shit. Where are you? I’ll get Trauma out to you.”
“On the edge of our land. North edge.”
“Conscious?” Steve asked, turning to gesture at the receptionist as he scrawled instructions down. “Get as many obs as you can.”
“I’ve got no kit.”
“You’ve got your phone.”
“Hang on, then.”
Steve was worried beyond belief. With the trauma team alerted and starting to prepare, he had no choice but to head out to find Fao. He didn’t have all the equipment the team had, but he could do something. The car tyres spun as he rushed out, and he swore quietly, trying to keep the worry from overwhelming him.
On his knees next to Harrison, Fao carefully took as many obs as he could. It wasn’t a lot, and the numbers he was getting weren’t exactly comforting. The younger man was in a bad way, and there wasn’t much he could do about it either. He’d seen patients like this at work, overseas, but not without a kit, or a senior, or someone else. He was all alone, and there was nothing he could do other than try and stop the bleeding. He tugged his shirt off, the only thing he had to put pressure on, and the cool air made him shudder. He just had to hope Trauma found them soon.
Steve found them before the team did, lugging his bag as he ran. He could smell the blood a mile off, and it made his stomach turn. It didn’t smell good at all.
“Steve!” Fao called, catching sight of the other man.
“Fao. Thank God I’ve found you. North edge is a lot of land.” He gave the other man a forced smile as he knelt to assess Harrison. “Fucking hell.”
“Sorry. Was out running, wasn’t exactly keeping track of where I was.” He murmured. “He’s not good, tachy and his resps are shocking. Think he’s just conscious, but he slips in and out. I’ve done my best with the bleeding, but…”
Steve nodded. “Did a good job. Grab some kit and keep going.” He rested a gentle hand on Harrison’s cheek. “Stay with us, okay? We’ve got you. Just hold on.”
Wiping his bloody hands on his shorts, Fao reached for the kit. “How far out is trauma?”
“Too far.” He leaned back on his haunches. “Do as much as you can. I’ll bring the truck, we’ll get him back to the clinic. It’s not enough, but it’ll have to do.” Steve didn’t have much of a choice. They either tried to get him to the clinic, or he’d die in the dirt. At least they’d know they’d done their best.
“Redirect trauma there? They can meet us.” Fao muttered. “To think I thought Afghanistan was bad. Fucking hell.”
“Exactly. It’s the same distance for them.”
“Saves them wasting time looking for us.”
He nodded as he stood. “I’ll be five minutes. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Keep him…” He trailed off, gave Fao a nod and ran off again.
“Yeah, got it.” Fao replied, not even looking up.
As Fao pressed hard against a wound, Harrison let out a quiet groan, struggling to breathe against the pain.
“I know, Tomcat, I know. We’ve got you.”
Steve returned as quick as he could, backing the truck as close as he could get. He jumped out and lowered the back. “We okay?”
“Well, that depends on your definition of ‘okay’.” Fao muttered. “We’re the same.”
“I’ll take that as okay. Help me get him in?”
“Yeah. Ready?”
“As careful as we can.”
Despite their soft hands, the movement jolted Harrison. He screamed in pain, trying to pull away from them.
They didn’t stop as Harrison screamed, quickly getting him in the back of the truck. Fao kept the kit close by, and then hopped up next to him. “You drive, yeah? I can try and keep him stable back here.”
“Thanks. Just shout if you need anything.” Steve told him, before he started the car and sped off. He kept glancing in the rearview, praying to a god he no longer believed in. He couldn’t lose Harrison again.
It was a job to stay upright as Steve sped through the territory, and Fao tried his best to keep Harrison stable. He just had to make it to the clinic, they had more there, he’d have a better shot at helping him there.
Steve had managed to source a couple of people to help out, some staff already working and others called in for the emergency. They met him at the clinic entrance, trauma board ready.
It was a smooth and practiced transition, getting Harrison into the theatre and everything connected. He barely made a noise, the pain finally too distant to hurt him. As Fao had found, his reps were through the roof, as was his heart rate. His sats were awful, and the blood pressure kept cycling, refusing to give a number.
It was impossible to find a vein through the swelling and bruising, their limited options quickly exhausted. They weren’t left with much else of a choice when Steve grabbed the kit, turned Harrison’s head to the side and apologised to the younger wolf. It was luck, pure luck that he managed it, the cannula flushing back and ready.
“Let’s get him out.”
Fao had been turning the room upside down, looking for meds and kit that they’d need. Induction drugs were already laid out, and he handed them to Steve. They didn’t have a massive stock of human meds, but they kept enough.
“Have we got blood to transfuse?”
“We’re getting it. Has to be wolf.”
“He needs it now.”
“Fluids are up.”
“Fluids won’t be enough.” Fao said. “I can donate, right?”
“I need you treating, Fao.”
“I can do both. Bloods out, fluids in, I can treat.”
“No.”
“How long will bloods take at this rate?”
“Fao, I need a chest drain in.”
“I’m on it.” He muttered, though it was hard. His landmarks were fucked, ribs shifting under his touch, bone grating on bone. Muttering under his breath in a mix of English and Gaelic, he made his incision and hurriedly passed the tube in. It was more blood for him to lose, Fao all too aware he’d need more, and soon.
Steve glanced over at Fao’s work, mentally ticking it off. He gave it a moment to work, blood pouring through the tube, but it didn’t help. Harrison had reached his limit, his body had started to give up and was starting to decompensate.
“Right, fuck it. Fao, blood.”
“I can’t cannulate myself.” He muttered. “I’ve tried.”
One of he techs grabbed him, steering him to a chair. Fao’s veins were shit, everyone knew that, but Harrison’s life was on the line. No time for niceties, they cannulated as quick as they could.
Fao didn’t fuss, and he was glad when everything was in. It was made easier by his run, the way he was completely on edge, still so hot and strsssed. Better warm than freezing cold. He’d managed to throw on a scrub top now, and they set up to transfuse.
Steve wasn’t happy with the set-up, but it was dirty medicine. Not everything could be perfect all the time. As long as it worked, it didn’t matter.
Fao didn’t like it either, but he didn’t have a choice. If it would stabilise Harrison, it would buy them time.
Their hail Mary worked. Finally they got a blood pressure from Harrison. It was terrible, of course, and ready to bottom out again, but it was there. Slowly things started to stabilise again, allowing Steve to take a breath.
More blood was pushed, as was the sedation, and they gradually clawed back some control. Blood was still pouring from the chest drains, and Steve was sure there were more internal bleeds. It wasn’t something he was happy opening on his table, so he just hoped Trauma would hurry up.
With Harrison out, they also put his leg back in place. It was a struggle, and they weren’t sure how long it had been out. He was already at high risk for infection, and that just made it a million times worse. They knew if he made it through all this, it was going to be a long recovery. Nerve damage, chronic pain, and poor mobility threatened his recovery. Steve wasn’t sure he’d make it through it. He wasn’t convinced there wasn’t going to be another amputation.
Sum’:Once again trouble fall upon the peaceful coven, spreading its darkness on each Hook. Only this time only one will remain and with the help of the Savior, will decide the fate of the rest of their secret family…
Everything is pitch black. And cold. A cold that paralyses him, filling his bones with deadly ice. He can’t move and yet he knows, he feels his body being wracked by shivers. How he’s still in one piece after all this time is still surprising to him. Killian is alone and it kills him, even with as much as his ears enjoy the silence. He’s alone and lost inside his mind with no way out.
