Chapter 35

Back in a Flash

As I kept training, I really started feeling confident. I thought I was doing pretty well.

Unfortunately, Batman had another opinion.

"How on earth did you manage to escape those two anyway?" He asked. I got the feeling it wasn't as much a question as it was a commentary on my, apparently, shoddy fighting skills.

I suppose compared to Batman, I wasn't exactly a black belt. Embarrassment rushed through me and I felt my cheeks heat up.

Still, I decided to answer his question anyway. If he was going to be rude, I was going to retaliate by being extremely polite. I grabbed my water bottle and took a large gulp before walking over and leaning against one of the consoles, careful not to touch any of the buttons. I wasn't sure what all these buttons did and I didn't want to accidentally butt-dial the president or something.

"I threw a full teacup at one of them and then hit the other in the face with a broomstick." I deadpanned, crossing my arms casually.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him raise an eyebrow again. At least, that's what I thought that gesture meant. It was difficult to tell when he was wearing the cowl.

Feeling bold, I asked, "So, any updates on the others?"

He didn't answer. I huffed and pushed myself out of my position against the console, walking back to my previous training spot.

I kept going at it, but because of his stupid comment, I was suddenly much less secure and I started stumbling and making mistakes.

Now pretty angry, I narrowed my eyes and gritted my teeth, annoyed that he had the power to make me feel so insignificant.

In my anger, I was stupid enough to try one of the newest moves we'd been taught, a move that was more complicated than the others and that I had avoided trying too much because we'd only tried it once before at training.

And I failed horribly. After executing it, I stumbled back several paces and fell against the wall, all the air knocked out of my lungs.

"Damn it!" I growled loudly and punched the trashcan that I'd landed next to.

I looked up and saw that Batman was facing my way for the first time since I'd entered the room. He was looking at me and then the trashcan. I looked over and saw that I'd dented it.

I'd dented the steel trashcan with my bare hands.

I stood up, and stuffed my hands into my pockets, not wanting him to know that my hand hurt like hell after the punch. I'd just managed to seem a bit cool, and I wasn't going to ruin that.

I heaved a long suffering sigh. "I'll replace it."

He turned back around and refocused on the screens. "Don't worry about it." he said shortly. He paused, seeming to consider something, and then said, "If you want to fight better, you need to loosen up. If you keep your feet planted too firmly on the ground and refuse to move them around, you will lose your balance."

Surprised that he'd spoken more than five words to me and that he'd actually offered me some advice, I stood still for a moment, not entirely sure how I was supposed to react. He kept his eyes on the screen and worked a few buttons and controls, almost like he was pretending that he hadn't said anything. I wrote his sort of kindness down as a momentary lack of judgment.

I walked up and tried to look that the screen. He moved a step back, allowing me to see better, which I took as a silent invitation to join him.

There were several screens all focused on the heroes. One showed Superman and Wonder Woman, one showed Green Lantern and Hawkgirl, and one showed Martian Manhunter and Flash.

They were all engaged in a fight with a bunch of big, muscle-y and ugly guys. All of them looked like a slightly different version of the ones in my apartment. There were something between twenty and thirty guys divided between the six heroes. I could see that none of them were really giving their best, as two dozens of normal people wouldn't normally be able to hold their own against a group of super powered beings.

I briefly looked at Batman, wondering if he felt left out up here. He narrowed his eyes at the screen, as if something was wrong, and I looked back, trying to locate the problem. It took me a moment, but finally I noticed. Flash was missing.

"Where's Flash?" I couldn't help asking. He didn't answer, not that I had expected him to. Instead, he pressed a few commandos on the keyboard-thingy and one of the cameras zoomed out and changed view.

He kept switching between different scenes, until finally we spotted Flash. He was limping towards the small alley Batman had originally beamed them down into. Maybe he was hoping to be transported back up to the space-station again.

"He's injured." Batman said and moved over to another section of controls, the one he'd used to transport the others down onto earth.

He pressed a button and I saw Flash light up and then disappear on the screen.

"Clark said you had some medical knowledge." Batman demanded. It was a statement, but I guess it was meant as a question.

"Erh, yeah, some, I mean, my mom's a nurse and I've read about some stuff.." I said haltingly.

Just then, Flash appeared on the platform, groaning in pain.

"Go and help him." Batman demanded and moved back towards the screen, where he kept monitoring the few baddies that had escaped and where running away.

I ran towards Flash, my eyes trying to pinpoint where the damage was. On his left calf, he had a big and ugly wound that was oozing blood fast.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" I squeaked, my voice high pitched and panicky.

"Peachy." He responded, trying to balance on one leg, and groaned in pain. I ran over and placed one of his arms around my shoulders and wrapped my own around his middle, allowing for him to, rather heavily, support himself on me. I felt my knees almost buckle under his weight.

We walked towards Batman, me fully expecting him to leave the computers and patch Flash up.

Instead, he turned towards us again, and gave me a short calculating look, like he was sizing me up. "Can you fix him?" he asked.

"What?!" I sort of screeched. "Why can't you do it?"

"If I leave these computers, we will lose these people and we might not get another change to find them again for months." He said, his jaw tight, "Now, can you fix him?"

I let out an incredulous breath of air. "I am in no way qualified to perform any kind of medical attention on anyone!"

"You said you had medical knowledge."

"Because I read about it in a book!" I retaliated.

"You're the only thing we've got right now." He said shortly. Then he turned to Flash instead. "Flash, guide her to the medical bay and help her through what needs to be done."

"Yes sir." He said and started limping away, dragging me with him.

After a moment's hesitation, I allowed him to lead the way, me still supporting him, wondering why on earth he seemed to have such faith in my ability to fix him up. Maybe he just ahd too much loyalty towards Batman.

We walked down a short corridor and he pressed a button on a panel that was situated next to a big metal door. The door slid to the side soundlessly and we entered as quickly as we could with him leaning heavily on me. One quick glance behind us showed a small trail of blood in our wake.

Inside, the room was rectangular of shape, with metal cots placed with a few meters between them, all sorts of extremely high tech and complicated-looking gear surrounding each cot. I paused for a second, knowing that I had no idea how to operate a single one of these machines. I could only pray that they had some more basic medical supplies around here, like bandages and, if it became absolutely necessary, needle and thread.

I started moving again when Flash emitted another painful groan and started sagging even more next to me, almost dragging me to the floor.

"Hang on, Flash, we're there now." I murmured and guided him to the nearest cot, pretending that I was totally calm and had control over the situation, when I was, in fact, freaking out in my head.

He managed to heave himself onto the thing and leaned against the wall behind him.

"Okay, uuh.." I said uncertainly, clasping my hands together, desperately trying to remember what I was supposed to do first.

Stop the blood flow, came a voice in my head that sounded a lot like my mother's.

I needed to wrap something tightly around his thigh to stop the blood flow, or I wouldn't be able to see how bad the damage was.

Looking around the room for something to wrap around his thigh, I came up empty. Letting out a frustrated groan at how high tech this place was, I was almost prepared to give up then and there.

Then I took a good look at Flash's face, which was twisted up an agony, even as he tried to give me an optimistic smile. It struck me again how young he looked. He was probably only in his early twenties, maybe even late teens.

I needed to help this kid. Or he might die, superpowers or no.

A light bulb went off in my head when I remembered my belt. I was wearing a belt!

I reached down and began pulling it off. It was a braided one without holes, which was perfect because I could tighten it was much as I wanted and not worry about not having a hole to lock the belt buckle in.

"You know." He groaned and sat up a little straighter. "When women take their belts off for me, the situation is usually a little different and far more enjoyable."

His poor attempt at humor was actually appreciated, as it showed me that he was faring better than I had thought, and it also helped me fight a bit of the panic back. The panic that was doing its very best to take over my brain and body. I forced it down.

"Funny. Really." I said in a monotone, finding that exchanging banter with him helped me focus.

I wrapped then belt as tightly around his thigh as I could and asked him to pull it the rest of the way, and then slipped the metal pin in between the braided leather strings, the belt now tightly wrapped around his thigh and, hopefully, would help stop at least some of the bleeding.

"I know this probably hurts, but it's necessary if you want to survive." I said sympathetically, my tone sounding a lot like my mom's did when she had slipped into nurse-mode during my childhood injuries. That specific tone of voice had helped me relax when I was a kid, and I hope it was doing the same for Flash now.

"It's fine; I can't really feel anything other than the gaping wound in my calf anyway." He said, trying to be humorous again, but the effect was ruined when he winced and let out a gasp of pain.

"Alright, just a moment," I said, trying to remember what I should do next.

Apply pressure to fully stop the bleeding.

The voice still sounded like my mother.

"Okay, um, do you have any buckets?" I asked Flash, looking around the room again, still feeling like I could scream at all these expensive high tech and highly useless gadgets.

"What," Flash started breathlessly, "What do you need a bucket for? The blood?"

"No," I bit out, "It's for me for when I puke."

He let out a single raspy laugh. "There should be some in that cupboard over there." He said, pointing. I followed his finger with my eyes and spotted a small cupboard tucked away in one of the corners closest to the door.

"Be right back." I said and ran for it.

There was indeed a bucket in there which I quickly grabbed and took with me back to the table where the superhero was still bleeding.

I washed my hands in a sink next to the bed and used some hand sanitizer. I wasn't going to infect a superhero.

"Is there anything here I can use to apply pressure to the wound?" I asked him, pointedly ignoring the wound. I hadn't looked at it yet, scared of what I would see. I didn't want to start throwing up yet. The belt had done some to stop the blood flow, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the gash was still slowly oozing thick, dark red, almost black blood.

"I'm sorry, I don't know. I'm very rarely in here." He said, and I felt my stomach drop.

Whatdoidowhatdoidowhatdoido-

I'll tell you what you are going to do: you are not going to panic and you are going to save this man!

The voice of reason in my head that now sounded like my father snapped me back to the task at hand. I unzipped my blue hoodie and, before I could worry about ruining it – it was my favorite after all – I pressed it onto the wound, still doing everything I could to not get a good look at it.

Flash let out a small shout, half in pain and half in surprise.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I know it hurts, I'm so sorry but I have to." I told him, doing everything I could to ease his pain and save his life at the same time.

After ten seconds, the blue hoodie grew a small, purple, wet stain, which slowly grew larger and larger. I pressed the cloth harder onto the wound, making Flash twitch in his seat, but he honestly took it like a champ. He was dealing with it far better than me, actually. My heart was racing and I could feel sweat form on my forehead and temples. My breathing was uneven and fast.

After horrible, horrible minutes, the blood flow slowed down, and then eventually stopped.

What now?

Inspect the wound for anything that could cause an infection and then wash it as best as you can.

I wished there was some way to tend to a wound without having to look at it. I couldn't look at it.

"Oh god, oh no, nonono – I can't do it, I can't do it." I gasped, the words leaving my mouth in a steady flow. I felt tears press at the corners of my eyes. I turned away from the wound, my back to it so I was halfway facing Flash, who was growing paler by the minute.

Pull yourself together George! Said a voice like Diana in my head. I shook my head and took several deep breaths, trying to tell the voice that no, I couldn't do it.

You can do it, Georgie. I believe in you.

The voice was Clark's, and he was talking to me in a soothing but trusting manner.

I took another deep breath and turned around to look at Flash.

"I need water. Where can I get water?" I asked myself.

I realized that I had been washing my hands in a sink a mere ten minutes ago. I ran for the cupboard and grabbed a new bucket, which I filled with water. I dragged it back to the bed, water sloshing over the edge and forming small puddles on the floor.

Flash let out a gasp and a pained groan, his hand reach down to the wound.

"Shhh, don't worry," I grabbed his hand fiercely in mine, speaking in soothing tones. "I'm here, don't worry. You'll be fine." I slowly took his hand away from the wound, and placed it across his stomach. "We'll be fine." I murmured.

I felt like crying again when I realized that now I would have to look at the wound.

My hoodie was still covering the wound, now more purple than blue.

I took hold of it, fabric gathering in my clenched fist. It was warm, and my hand was now stained with blood.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled the hoodie off.

"Oh god," I groaned, leaning over to the side and puking into the bucket I had placed there.

My whole body shook as I got back on my feet again and forced myself to refocus on the gash on his calf.

It had been done with some very crude weapon, as the wound was more of a horrible tear than a cut.

"Okay, okay okay.." I whispered breathlessly under my breath.

I put my shaking hand on his calf. I would have to remove part of the fabric around it if I wanted good access. "I need a knife. Where can I get a knife? Or a pair of scissors?"

"In that drawer." Flash said, motioning for a drawer that, thankfully, was next to the cot he was on. I ripped the thing open, getting blood on the handle, and pulled out a pair of scissors that looked wickedly sharp.

"I'm really sorry, but I have to cut off part of your suit." Before he could protest, which he actually didn't, I started cutting all the way around his calf until I could just slip the whole thing off his foot.

I forced myself to look at the wound again. "Do we have any bandages?"

"Same drawer." Flash forced out through gritted teeth.

I looked over at the drawer I hadn't bothered to close and saw that yes indeed, there were a whole lot of white, clean bandages in it.

I also found clean cloth, which I could use if I had to clean the wound.

Soaking one of the clean cloths and placing two rolls of bandages next to Flash's left arm, I turned back towards the wound.

It was easier to look at the second time.

I washed away all the blood around it and did what I could so clean the wound too, but I wasn't sure what I was doing and I didn't want to cause more harm than good.

And I couldn't stand the gasps of pain Flash was emitting every time I touched it.

Finally, the wound was sort of clean, I could see whether it was going to need stitches or not.

Please don't need stitches, pleasepleaseplease.

It didn't. I could've cried with relief.

My glasses had started to slide down my nose, and I pushed them back up again, knowing that I was getting blood on them.

"I'm going to bandage the wound now. We're done soon." I soothed him. He seemed to let out a small sigh of relief at that.

"Can – can you do me a favor?" he asked after a second's hesitation.

"What?" I asked, wishing to do anything I could to help him.

"Can you take off my helmet?" He asked, his eyes closed. "It's suffocating me."

I was going to post this like, twelve hours ago, but 's been having trouble with the doc manager all day, which really pissed me off

but not as much as my cliff hanger is bound to piss you off, no doubt :D