#trigger tw collapse

@whumpay2022 Day Ten: Trope: I Can Still Fight  (Hidden Injury) / Exhaustion

Also for @trope-appreciation-tuesdays:A whumpee that overworks themselves to complete and utter exhaustion but of course they’re “fine”, even after they dramatically pass out in the middle of something important.

@the-original-sineater called Scott and I wholeheartedly agree.

Trope: An injured character refuses to stay in bed, despite medical advice. And though he says it’s only a flesh wound, we know better. Sometimes the injured party might go to great lengths to hide his injuries from the other characters, knowing that he will get taken off the field. Other times, the character is mortally wounded and fights on regardless.

This attitude is one way to become an annoying patient. If the escape attempt has success, it’s a case of the patient has left the building.

Warnings: Tree, Exhaustion, Hidden Injury

~

The rescue was wrapping up nicely.  It hadn’t been too bad either, a fire that had threatened a small town if it moved in the wrong direction, but the local services had called iR out in time for them to prevent it becoming a major disaster.

Only one thing had gone wrong. Scott had taken on a tree and lost. Well, he’d managed to jump out of the way when it fell, but he had landed awkwardly and it had caused him to fall onto his hands and knees, and a branch had still caught his side. He’d lay there winded for a few seconds before crawling out, embarrassed to have been caught at all.

Fortunately, his brothers were fully engaged elsewhere – even John hadn’t noticed or he would have said something by now - and so Scott got stuck straight back in.

Two hours later One was on her way home when John popped up.

‘Scott, I have another rescue for you, just a solo one. Simple rescue but time is of the essence.’

‘Ok John, what have you got for me?’

‘Caver, twisted ankle, down in Porth Yr Ogof, in…’

‘Wales. Yes, I know where it is. No one else?’

‘No, his buddy raised the alarm.’

‘Ok, John. I’m on my way.’

It had been years since he’d been here, and of course the last time Scott had been a student at Oxford without the correct equipment but an adrenaline need to be filled. Now he had the right equipment, but he’d enjoy it just as much, victim notwithstanding.

Port Yr Ogof was full of twists and turns and the most famous part – The Letterbox – was just one tight place. Virgil wouldn’t have fit through, and as ‘skinny’ (he preferred the term lithe) as Scott was it was tight for him too.

Getting the victim out and to safety took quite a while with all the manoeuvring that needed to be done, but eventually Scott was back in One and once more on his way home.

He’d just entered Tracy Airspace when John appeared once more, this time looking a little contrite.

Just one more rescue, one more easy one. Another person thinking that they could climb a hill in normal clothing without a map of the area and had got caught out by the far colder, wetter weather at the top of the mountain.

Of course, it might be just ‘one more easy one’ but it was the other side of the world. There and back, even in One, still took energy from him.

By the time he had exited his ’bird, showered and changed he was too tired to think about eating or drinking, collapsing face down on his bed before his brain could kick in and scream reports at him.

It felt like he’d only just gone to bed when his alarm was waking him up. Scott yawned and went to stretch, only to find he could barely move. He groaned as he got up and made his way to his bathroom, stripping his t-shirt and shorts off.

The full-length mirror showed a plethora of purple-black bruising up along his right side and across his back. The way his ribs creaked told him he’d obviously done more damage than he’d realised. Nothing broken though, so he swallowed a couple of painkillers down and took an extra-hot, extra-long shower before putting in an appearing in the kitchen.

If Gordon had thought it odd that Scott hadn’t gone for his morning run, well, he kept that to himself and merely smiled as his fishie brother, still damp from the pool, slid a coffee over to him. If he inhaled it more like Virgil than Scott would normally have done, well Gordon merely raised an eyebrow.

‘Scott, are you ready?’

John looked as fresh as he always did, stepping out in his specialist suit. It was his space-case brother’s turn to raise an eyebrow as Scott stared at him.

Oh god. It was the annual board meeting. He’d totally forgot, and his brothers were both quite well aware of that fact by the smirks on their faces.

Scott was not to be outdone though, getting up and pouring another coffee before answering.

‘Two minutes, John, and I’ll be ready.’

‘Good. I’ll get the jet ready.’

Fifteen minutes later John and Scott were heading to New York in full suited glory.

If Scott was achy and tired, he didn’t show it.

Annual meetings were always the worst. Four long hours of debates. Scott sat and listened to the points the board wanted to raise, he and John countered, discussed, moved things around like they were playing chess.

They broke up half way for coffee and those little sandwiches that Penny always seemed to favour for her social events.

Sitting so long had made Scott stiff. Sculling the hottest, strongest coffee he could tolerate, he made his way to their private bathroom and he stretched out.

BIG MISTAKE.

Something pinged, and Scott gasped. One of his ribs had shifted, and not in a good way. But he needed to get back to work. Thank goodness he had a high pain threshold; he’d need it today.

He got his breathing under control and returned to the room, relieved beyond measure that introductions had already been made and he wouldn’t need to shake anyone’s hand. Taking his seat, he waited for everyone to return to theirs.

John, seeing Scott already seated, frowned. It wasn’t like his brother to be ready and waiting. Taking his seat, he leaned in and whispered to Scott.

‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine, John.’

The wince he gave as he reached for a glass of water said otherwise, but it wasn’t like he could do anything with the meeting halfway through.

The second half should have been the easiest part, but the only board member who really didn’t like Scott taking their father’s place put forward a surprise addition. One that had Scott’s nostrils flaring in anger and John clenching his jaw and his fingers flying.

But then Scott, patience pushed beyond his limit jumped up and went to reach across the table…

…gave a gasp and collapsed, gasping for breath and holding his side.

John was already moving before Scott hit the ground, ignoring the concerned cries of the men and women sitting around the large table. Fortunately, the chairwoman was very level-headed and she dismissed them all while John spoke to Virgil and Grandma, who EOS had alerted the moment Scott’s vitals had dropped.

By the time the last person had left Scott was unconscious and John had stripped him of his jacket, shirt and tie.

He cursed at the colours of his brother’s skin and he sat there, cradling Scott’s head in his lap as he waited for the ambulance to arrive.

How had Scott hidden the fact that he had a broken rib, a rib that looked like had nicked something that had slowly bled out?

Scott was going to be in so much trouble when Virgil and Grandma got here.