For strongerwiththepack and the Assorted Injuries prompt: 'Don't move, you're bleeding.' With John. And thanks to Gumnut-Logic for the help and read-through.
The voice floats over him. Ethereal. He turns his face to the sun, or where he imagines the sun would be. For some reason he was cold, and the voice held the promise of warmth.
'Don't move, you're bleeding.'
Huh, bleeding? What was he doing bleeding? That wasn't right. However nice the voice was, it was wrong. He didn't bleed.
'Of course you do.'
The warm voice now held a bit of humour in it, and again he tried to turn toward the source only to find something stopping him.
'I told you, don't move. You are bleeding. You need to keep still so that I can stop that Klingon blood from seeping out of you.'
'Uh, ghay'cha!' was the only response his brain could summon. There was a sigh, and pressure returned to his side. Oh. There was something wrong with his side. Then he realised what the voice said. 'Not Klingon.' There was a chuckle.
'No, you're not. You are a Vulcan. My apologies. Now will you keep still!' The pressure increased.
'Bath'paik!' he swore as pain tore through him, and he wriggled.
'Will you please stay still!' The voice was showing exasperation now. Maybe he should think about doing what the voice said. Maybe it would hurt less… There was rustling beside him, and the pressure left momentarily before returning with a vengeance.
'Nasaktan yan!' he yelped, waving his arms around, only for them to be caught and held, then released. The pressure returned and the sensation of something being wrapped around his middle to a murmured reassurance.
'There. All bandaged. Now, how about you open them eyes of yours, Spaceman?' Open his eyes? Oh. Maybe that would be a good idea.
He opened them to see brown eyes staring into his. 'Isn't that better, John?'
'Ja. Tack.' Virgil rolled his eyes. It would take John a little while to remember that he should be talking in English…
*In order: Klingon: Damn you, Vulcan: Damn you, Filipino: That hurt, Swedish: Yes Thanks.