Tristan awoke in a darkened room. A few candles were lit and in their light he could see Galahad watching him intently. He did not take well to being watched and tended to. Tristan fixed Galahad with a glare. Galahad, still unquenchably cheerful, was not put off by his patient's cold look, but seemed more concerned for Tristan's well-being then his own survival judging by the risk he took by trying to aid him. Thankfully, as this danger had been foreseen the scout had been relived of his the knives hidden in his armour.
"Tristan, can you hear me?" Galahad asked worriedly. Tristan nodded slowly, still not liking the idea that he had been brought to the healing wards.
"Tristan, try not to move."
There was a tone of worry in Galahad's voice. Ignoring it, Tristan made to get up, but found a strong pair of hands forcing him down. Gawain was also standing watch over him. "Tristan do you really think I would leave poor Galahad to watch over you when you were liable to wake up." Gawain teased gently. Tristan struggled wildly no longer aware of his surroundings only a burning pain in his arm and chest.
"Let me go!" he gasped desperately, then cried out and fell back. Gawain quickly took the pressure off his shoulder hoping he had not worsened his injuries.
"Tristan are you alright?" Gawain could not hide the tremor in his voice. Tristan nodded weakly, the bruises showed up clearly against his pale face
"I'm a so sorry Tristan I did not mean to hurt you."
Tristan shook his head having not yet caught his breath sufficiently to talk.
Galahad stepped forward, his face white "Tristan, I swear if I ever find who did his to you…" he clenched his fist, shaking slightly "I though you didn't kill for fun." Tristan said softly still regaining his breath. Galahad looked away, sharply regretting his harsh words to Tristan now that he was so near death himself. He nodded to Gawain and left the room..
Gawain took his place he laid a hand on Tristan's shoulder, who froze and glared at Gawain. "Tristan please lie still," he lent back still watching the scout, who nodded and with a last mistrustful look at Gawain fell into sleep.
When he awoke the candles had been extinguished and judging by the fact the Gawain was sleeping lightly, it was night. Tristan spied a goblet of water by his bed. Determined not to wake Gawain he slid his hand out, trying to ignore the cuts that had been emblemised upon it. His fingers brushed against the cool surface and he determinedly dragged it towards him. A soft clang echoed around as he set it down again. Gawain stirred and Tristan winched.