MariaShades asked: Whumptober request- #19, Enough is Enough, challenge to get all three descriptors in there- knees buckling, repeatedly passing out, head lolling- and either dealer's choice or for an extra challenge, make us guess which sibling it is.

Character: ?

Warnings: Unconsciousness, Blood, Collapsed Building, Panic

Ow.

That hurt.

Maybe, just maybe, opening his eyes was not a good idea at the moment.

Yeah. Keep 'em closed.

He peeled an eyelid back.

Nope, still ow.

Not as bad this time, and he had the distinct impression that he must have been unconscious for some of that time.

Ok, all of that time.

Maybe he should keep his eyes open this time and not drift off? That sounded like it was sensible.

Sensible. Huh.

He had half a brain working at least, if he could make logical reasonings.

But…ugh. This was a lot of effort.

Maybe it would be alright if he closed his eyes for just a little bit.

Surely that couldn't be that bad?

This time when he woke up he definitely had more of a brain. Blinking owlishly in the dim light he looked around for the first time to take stock of where he was and what had happened.

It looked like some kind of basement-type-house thing. Ok, brain not quite all there yet. There was bits of stuff all around him that screamed 'home' rather than 'work'. Not being able to see everything was a bind, but what he could see gave him enough.

Rescue?

House!

The ground had given way.

He coughed.

Wait…that wasn't right. He tried to lift an arm up to check his helmet, but both arms refused to listen to him. He grit his teeth. He could do this. He concentrated on moving just his left arm. The effort made his head swim and left him breathless, but eventually he could move it.

There was no glass in his helmet.

That alarmed him. The plexiglass was designed to withstand huge amounts of pressure and he couldn't think for the life of him what was strong enough to break it. He felt around his face for cuts and embedded fragments but there was nothing.

Actually, there was a gash above his left eye that was bleeding sluggishly and now he thought about it he could taste blood in his mouth.

That thought stilled him.

Blood in his mouth was bad. It could mean an internal injury! Maybe he had broken his ribs and one had pierced his lung? Maybe even now it was filling with blood and he was going to drown on it! Maybe…

"GET YOURSELF TOGETHER, TRACY!"

Even though it was an internal scream, he still hurt his own head. He should add concussion to the list of injuries.

"You are not bleeding to death," he told himself. "You're being a little paranoid. You can still breath relatively easily."

Good, good. He was listening to himself. It wasn't like him to panic. He never panicked. Honest.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and hissed in pain. One source of blood in mouth: it felt like he'd badly bitten his tongue. That could definitely be the cause.

Time to take stock of other injuries.

Left arm – good.

Right arm – not good. Can't move.

Maybe he should try harder?

Yeah. Good idea.

He concentrated and did a sharp sudden pull.

He screamed as he passed out from the pain.

Ow.

Don't move his right arm.

Got it.

What was this, the third time he'd passed out?

He was pretty sure that wasn't a good thing, but since he'd mostly had no choice he wasn't going to beat himself up about it.

Recap:

Cut head.

Broken right arm.

Concussion.

Two things occurred to him simultaneously.

One – he had yet to check out his legs.

Two – he was in the basement of a building so he must be on a rescue…so where were the rest of his brothers?

That second thought had him struggling to move while he tried to unscramble his brains into some kind of working format.

He looked down the length of his body to see if anything was there preventing him from moving, but it looked like there was only some light rubble and furniture holding him back. Taking a deep breath, he pushed down with his good arm, stifling a scream as his whole body protested.

But he could and did make it to his knees. The movement caused his stomach to rebel and he stayed on all fours trying to get his breathing under control and prevent himself puking his guts up. Something told him that would be a really bad idea.

Deep breathing worked, although it did highlight that while he didn't think he'd broken any of his ribs, he certainly had some bruising because that really hurt. He shuffled over to the edge of the room and collapsed back against the wall, allowing his head to loll forward.

His eyes closed.

He jerked them open.

Had he just passed out again? Surely not! His head had lolled forward and for one wild moment he began to regret moving without checking for any neck and/or spinal injuries…damnit he was panicking again for no good reason.

"GET YOURSELF TOGETHER, TRACY!"

Yeah, that still hurt. He lifted his head gently, but there was no pain in his neck at all. Maybe he was just exhausted. Yes. Yes, that was it. He's just tired.

The thought had his head dropping forward again and his eyes closing, and he jerked up suddenly. No – he couldn't go back to sleep – he had brothers to find.

Using the wall as a support he hauled himself upright. And paused, willing the nausea back down. Damn, his head was swimming and he was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he was running out of air as well. With the glass of his helmet gone there was no oxygen supply, and he reached up in a futile gesture to pull his suit away from his neck as if that would allow him to breathe better.

Huh. He wasn't wearing a helmet. That explained why he had no small cuts to his face and why there wasn't a metal ring around his neck. Maybe it was here, on the floor! He didn't usually take his helmet off on rescues….

That thought spurred movement, but once more it was too much, his knees buckling under him and depositing him back on the floor. Again his head swam and he blinked sluggishly.

Ok. Concussion. Yeah, he'd forgotten about that one. He shifted so he was back leaning against the wall.

Oh no, he'd passed out again!

His head had once more lolled forward and his chin was resting on his chest. He had to move.

Getting to his feet this time was slightly easier, even with his knees buckling again. He managed to keep upright with the help of the wall.

And that's when he heard it.

There was a faint tapping sound. He listened carefully.

Dot dot dot dash

Dot dot

Dot dash dot

Dot dot

Dot dash dot dot

He shook his head more firmly, clearing the cobwebs away.

Enough was enough. His brothers needed him.

He straightened up, took a deep breath and moved forward – no buckling knees, no lolling head, no passing out.

He was needed and he was going.