I can't help feeling frustrated. I feel like I've been kept in the dark. No one bothered to mention to me that he was injured.
Not that we had much, if any, time to consider what to do with an injured ally. Not that we could have done a thing about it until now. Not that he let it keep him from doing his job. . .
Still, I would have liked some warning that Quatre would practically collapse getting out of his cockpit, or that Trowa was going to strip his shirt off, revealing a swath of bandages that I hadn't even known he needed, and drag all of us off to the nearest transportation to get Quatre to a hospital.
Actually he and Heero were too busy with Quatre to be dragging anyone. It just felt that way. Somehow I couldn't just let them run off and be left behind.
I shouldn't really mind that he kept us in the dark. He managed to pull his weight, even injured. I just want him to not be so cheerful about it. Someone who can go into battle wounded and come back without a single complaint, without so much as a mention, should at least be able to show an appropriately stoic and stony face afterward. Not Quatre. He keeps smiling at us.
If he can't even play at being fine well enough to fool us, he could at least just admit that he's in pain and let us get on with helping him. I hate watching that strained smile. It's more difficult watching him struggle to be cheerful for us than it would be if he would admit to us that he hurts. This hurts at least as much as being wounded myself, somehow.
He's concentrating too hard on trying to fool us. He tries to pretend it's nothing, but he's not fooling anyone. He might be able to deal with it better if he would focus on himself instead of us. Doesn't he know we're here trying to help him? What little help we can give, at least.
"Don't you know how to drive!?" Duo demands. If I didn't know him, I'd wonder why he's getting so animated about this that he's attacking Trowa. He just seems to react to everything that way. Unfortunately, I have no distraction from wondering why I'm reacting to this too.
Duo simply reacts. It doesn't seem like he usually stops to consider what he's doing before he speaks or acts. He's too quick. His brash honesty is as frustrating as Quatre's gentle deception in its own way.
"I know what I'm doing."
Out of the four of us, at least Trowa is stable. I admire him for that. Both he and Heero are managing to handle themselves just fine. Or, if they aren't, at least it doesn't show.
Quatre's whispering something to Heero, making him relax his grip, just a little. It's not that he's relaxing from relief. I can tell from his face and posture that he's not relaxed by whatever Quatre said. Maybe he was expecting it, but he's not happy about it.
We get another bad jolt, maybe the worst so far, and I can see Quatre tense, hear him gasp. I can't tell if it's from surprise or in an effort to not be flung out of Heero's lap. Maybe even an effort to sit up. What I know for sure is that I saw him tense the muscles in his stomach, where his wound is.
I curse Quatre's luck under my breath, and move forward to inspect the damage. I don't want to be still any longer, and here is something useful I can do for him.
I'm half sure that there will be blood, judging by the tiny gasp of pain that Quatre couldn't hide. I'd love to wrong, but when I press my hands over his bandages, I can feel it soaking up under my fingers.
I press down, intent on doing this simple thing for Quatre. A worn out pressure bandage isn't enough for this job. Duo puts his hands over mine, a useless gesture, but I won't begrudge it of him.
"You're hurting him," Duo shouts at Heero.
"I'm not," Heero murmurs under his breath, as if to himself.
"Shut up," I burst in, almost on top of Heero's words. Maybe he is hurting Quatre, gripping his shoulders too hard for comfort, but I'm glad he's restraining Quatre now and keeping him from doing even more damage. The feeling of Quatre's blood, sticky through the cloth, on my hands is worse than anything else right now.
I didn't think I would hate to see him injured. I would hold him together if I could. It seems as if he's been torn so deep that he might fly apart without my hands to hold him in. I would draw the pain out if I could, just so I wouldn't have to watch it. Doesn't he even know we're trying to care for him?
He touches Heero's hand and tells him, "It's fine." He's telling Heero it's okay that he wasn't still enough, perhaps. He knows we worry. He just doesn't appreciate it properly.
One last bump and we come up on to paved road. Heero starts shifting Quatre up out of his lap and Duo moves to steady him, pulling him into his own lap. It almost looks as if they choreographed that shift in advance.
I move with Quatre, keeping my hands on him. I'm sure he needs medical attention fast, but already the blood flow seems to be stopping. There's no way he'll bleed to death before we get him to a hospital. Even if it was a possibility, there is no way I would let it happen.
Duo mutters something under his breath at Heero, then looks down. "Quatre?" he says, probably hoping for Quatre to reassure him. I want to tell him not to encourage Quatre's lying.
"I'm fine," Quatre assures us. I feel ill.
"Not exactly fine," I correct him. I'm actually surprised at myself for phrasing it so gently, when he's putting me through so much trouble with his act.
He smiles at me. Such a quiet, weary look. What am I going to do with him?
He's relaxed, at least. Now that he's no longer being thrown around, maybe he won't be hurt any further. He turns his attention to Duo. Maybe he thinks Duo will be easier to fool. Maybe Duo just appreciates his act while I don't.
"You're more comfortable than Heero."
Duo and Heero share a look over Quatre's body. I ignore them, my attention still fixed on Quatre. I'm the only one to see him slip. He really is in pain, and can't avoid showing it, when his eyes meet mine.
I nod, the slightest gesture I can make and still have him see. Somehow, I don't want to broadcast his moment of weakness to the others. He smiles weakly, and this time it's not faked.
Is he trying to let us handle this? Trying to thank me for not making a fuss? Or to apologize for letting his cheerful mask slip in front of me? My fingertip traces a spiral on his stomach. I almost want to tell him that I prefer this vulnerable smile of his to his strained cheerfulness. At least it's honest.
Admitting his weakness, facing it, if only for a moment, seems to make him seem stronger. When Trowa glances back a second later, and Duo and Heero return to their vigilance over Quatre, the vulnerable look has already vanished.