AN: Robin0203, lol! I loved your review and I loved the request! They're never the same thing,ever! These next three (including this one) are for you!
He spotted him the moment he stepped foot within his Infirmary, after the mission they'd been sent on, the only reason he'd be here was due to injury, and his mind combined the parts of protective once guardian and Healer into one being, and with that he worked forward.
The messenger was shivering, his shoulders quivering before his very sight, and it caused him pause at the sight of it.
"Zaves, what happened?"
Behind him, others were coming up the steps, others from the same mission that needed tending to, and with their injured legion came the Archangels in charge of them, Michael and Gabriel looked concerned for the Captain, but dared not get too close, causing him a great deal of confusion, as they edged around the hair triggered Principality.
The messenger opened his mouth, as if to explain himself, and was cut off by he himself grimacing at whatever caused him this discomfort. It pained him inside, to see one he cared so much for in such pain and him not knowing how to help, he knew a triggered patient when he saw one, he's seen much in his title as Healer, and knew better then to try and force the messenger to move faster then he wanted.
They did this at his pace, or none at all, and he'd bolt before anyone could catch him despite any injuries he may have come to him for.
Others watched them attempt to coralle the distraught messenger, and he knew what they were doing, looking between the three of them with wide alert eyes. He was no fool, he knew exactly what their movements meant, and he knew that they knew what they were doing too.
"At least let me see?"
It was a simple enough request, but still, he thought on it a moment before he succumbed and nodded his assent, pulling his cloak away to reveal the dagger sticking into the flesh right above his left hip.
Gabriel makes a noise that's something akin to a keen of pain at the sight of such an object sticking in his Captain, the Messenger made no misgivings, he had favorites, though he loved his messengers dearly, Zaveriel was one of his favorites.
And their fledgling of course.
It pained the Principality commander to know that there was something so wrong with one of his own and he wasn't able to get close enough to do anything about it.
Raphael stared at the foreign object that should decidedly not be where it was and makes a quick step forward as though to take immediate action, and stops short when the messenger takes a step back in time with him, knowing in that moment that the situation was so much worse then they could have imagined.
He spreads his fingers, holding his hands up for him to see, and nods to his brothers over the messengers shoulder to take a step back, the healers around them, the fellow archangels, all stand at the ready to jump in for the messenger with a dagger impaled in his side. But they don't they stay away, none of them move until the Healer tells them that they can, this is a precarious situation, something akin to treating a startled animal, at one wrong move they could bolt and make things so much worse then they already are.
"Don't touch it!"
It's the first words he's spoken since he's made his appearance there, and its something that they can work with, so the Healer nods, "Alright. I won't touch it." He bows slightly, so as to not tower over the flight risk of an angel, "Tell me what happened?"
"I was at his left."
Confusion is written on more then one face, as the Power Captain comes to stand at his commanders right, and the other at the Messenger's left, Zaves takes a shaky breath and laughs, a good thing to hear, it means he's not too far gone from blood loss.
"At who's left?"
"Nisroc! You'd think for all his training he'd know to cover his own side!" he points to the dagger sticking into his hip, wincing in pain when he shifts involuntarily and it shifts with him "Anywhozle, there I am watching my six and there this beast comes all stealth like at him, and he was too focused on the battle at hand to see it, so I stepped in!"
The Power looks visibly upset that it was him who had caused his dear friend such injury, a mistake in battle that could have been fatal, and it was all on him. The Healer shakes his head at him, there is no fault to be had, things happen in the heat of battle that one cant prepare for no matter how well trained they are.
"I cut his freaking head off!" despite the precarious position, the quiver in his body, the Principality absolutely beams with pride, "No one gets one on my friends but me!"
It's in that moment that the Power raises an eyebrow, behind his back of course, and the Messenger is clearly resisting the urge to snort. Michael looks as though he wants to pinch the bridge of his nose. Even with a dagger impaled into his side, the Principality can still crack as many jokes as he can, they don't know as well as the Healer does, no one knows the lithe little messenger as well as he does, it's a coping mechanism for him. And his personality, he's lighthearted by nature, but it also serves as his coping mechanism. It's what helps him not focus on the pain he feels, and this most certainly has to smart, so anything is allowed so long as it means he can act as he wishes to and help the one that sits so near to his heart.
"And….Dad!..It hurts Raph, it really hurts, man!"
"Let me pull it out." He steps forward, and theres another step back, the messenger shaking his head, "Let me help you."
"No!", he curls slightly, an action that causes him to hiss in pain, his face flushing void of all color, "No, don't touch it!"
"Then, why come to me if you won't allow me to help you?"
"I'm gonna do it." That catches more then one of them off guard, "I'll pull it out. I knew you'd be mad if I did it back there, 'Why would you be so foolish Zaveriel', so I thought I'd wait until I was here to do it." He hisses again, going as stiff as a board as his fingers curl around the hilt of the dagger, "You better catch me though, 'cause I know me, I'm gonna go down, dude."
It's his invitation in, and while he loath to sit there helpless as he pulls the dagger out himself, he knows that should he order his brothers to hold him, as he could do, to restrain him so he may do this properly, it would not only damage their relationship, it would damage the actual wound even more with the struggling that would be put up.
So three archangels bend at the knee as he takes a deep breath, ready to bolt forward and catch him when he indeed does fall from the inflicted wound, adrenaline finally wears off and he collapses due to the pain of the injury, and he stares into his former guardians eyes as he yanks the blade free.
It's Michael who catches the small messenger as he collapses, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, scooting him up from the fall as though he's weightless, the oldest archangel's strength knows nearly no bounds.
Now the Healer is permitted to work, and he's in his element, ordering immediately for a pair of shears to cut away at the tunic that blocks the area where the blood is coming the thickest, he sends another healer on hand to gather as many bandages and gauze strips as they can, the Messenger stands at the head of the bed his captain has been placed on, petting his fingers through his hair in worry for the spark of a runt he is proud to call his Captain.
Once the tunic is cut away, two pieces pulled apart, the Healer can see what he's working with, it's a thin line, a clean cut, a bit jagged from movement, but otherwise cleanly in and out. Zaveriel knows that much, there must be no outside movement when pulling a foreign object free, it could cause more bleeding then necessary. He doesn't condone anyone pulling an foreign object free without his say so, but if there was one he would trust to do so on his own, it would be his former charge.
He wipes away any residue from the outside of the wound, and presses a strip of dressing over the incision, applying as much pressure as he can while he rummages through a cart full of different colored bottles, something to staunch the bleeding so he may move on to the next task at hand. When he finds it, at long last, he applies a rather hefty amount to the afflicted area, pressing a bandage over it once more.
"Will he be okay?"
The Messengers tone is light with worry, his golden eyes shadowed by it, and the Healer nods minutely when he pauses to meet his younger brothers eyes. He returns to threading his needle to suture the wide incision closed once more, thanking their Father when the unconscious messenger remains as so, it would be much harder to do with him fighting to get away from the pain of the needled poking in and out of his skin.
"He will be fine. No heavy lifting for a while yet. As light a duty as one can preform for a bit. But beyond that he will be alright." He adds the next in soft humor "Now take a deep breath and calm yourself. You're making everyone antsy with your emotions."
He tucks a thick blanket around the unconscious messenger and lets him sleep through as much of it as he can, he'll wake some time later and demand to know what happened, undoubtedly while trying to sit up as quick as one can and pull on the stitches painfully before he calms back down again.
The Healer washes his hands in a basin of water, rubs a cool cloth over the boys temple to rid him of the sticky sweat that had gathered there, and hums under his breath. His brothers only step back when he steps back, and he gives them both a nod of thanks as he turns his attention to the Power sitting on the bed opposite of them, staring at his friend with hands covering his mouth.
He sets a hand on his shoulder, "Do not beat yourself up over this, my friend."
Nisroc looks up at him, "How can I not?" he looked back to his friend on the bed, "It is my fault that he is in this bed now."
"It is no ones fault but those who mean us all harm.", he held up a hand when the other opened their mouth, to undoubtedly protest, "No, listen to me, you are at fault for this just as much as I am. He cares for you and would jump in front of a blade a thousand times over for you."