I wanted to crawl in bed beside him and rest my body. I wanted to forget the past twenty-four hours, the Brotherhood, Creed, and Magneto. Wanted and could were two totally different things though. I couldn't ignore the bleeding man that lay on my covers struggling to breathe, and I couldn't ignore the fact I'd just witnessed a battle between two opposing sides of humanity.
I sat down gently on the bed, trying not to jostle him anymore than I had to. Okay, I got him all the way here, I got him up the steps, I could certainly treat his injuries. I reached up unlatching the long flowing cape from his shoulders. Then I had to fight with the shirt, it was glued to his body with sweat and blood. Finally, I gave up taking a step back to look at him.
He was still bleeding in spots, his body was a mess, and he was deathly pale. I had to do this faster or I'd have a dead mutant leader to dispose of. I wasn't keen on that idea, mainly for the fact I'd have to drag his heavy ass back outside. I had to get supplies before I tried again. I went to the kitchen, grabbing a bowl filling it with warm water and my butcher knife. Next I hit the bathroom, towels, bandages, and peroxide. I carried my gatherings to the bedroom, sitting it on my nightstand. I looked at him, running through what he might need in my mind. I went to the closet, digging through until I found the long lost bottle of whiskey. I wasn't a drinker, but during the winter a hot toddy was usually called for.
Okay, was that everything? No, tylenol for the pain. Thread and a needle in case he needed stitches. Could I do stitches? Did I want to? I looked at the man, quickly deciding to grab it. After a mad dash through the apartment, I went back to the bed. Sitting as close to him as possible, I leaned over to grapple with his shirt once again. I reached for my knife, finally deciding to cut through the thick fabric. It was a fight to cut into too!
I nearly said the hell with it! But luckily enough, it started to rip. I grasped both sides ripping it apart. Then I tried to gently pry it from his body, but as it pulled I saw cuts opening. I tried to ignore all the blood, telling myself it was only bluster, but my stomach kept knotting up in protest of even touching him.
His hand grasped my wrists, his eyes flew open, and I nearly screamed in shock. His steel blue eyes met mine, and I immediatly sought to calm him. "It's okay, we're at my place." I whispered reaching up to brush his matted hair from his brow. "You'll be okay."
He relaxed, his eyes still watching me. "I'm gonna have to clean you up, so you want some tylenol while your awake?"
He blinked a couple of times, managing a small nod. I grabbed an old bottle of water that was laying in the floor, wasn't like he'd never drank worse. Then I pulled four tylenol from the bottle. He let me help hold his head, feed him the pills, then he gulped greedily at the water. "Thank you."
I nodded, "Your hurt pretty bad, and I'm gonna try to clean you up, okay?"
He nodded, his eyes following me. I peeled the shirt from his arms, having to move him to get it off. He grimaced several times, but was strangely quiet as I studied the damage. I reached over, dipping the towel in warm water. First thing, I had to get him clean so I could see where the worst problems were. He flinched at the first touch, but held still after I kept steadily applying the cloth to his chest. The blood washed away revealing the already black and purple spots of bruising, the nics and cuts, and a deep gash in his arm. I washed everything I could reach off, but after a once over realized there wasn't much for me to do except for the arm.
"I ain't a doctor, but you got a lot of brusing around your ribs on this side." I barely touched where the large bruise was swelling. "I can wrap it or leave it, your choice."
"Leave," his raspy reply.
"Okay," I squeezed my eyes shut. "I'm gonna have to use something to clean these cuts out, that way you don't get infection. It's probably gonna burn." He just blinked his eyes, and I looked at the arm again. "The deepest cut is here on your arm." I touched beneath it. "I don't know much about stitches, so its up to you if you want me sewing it up."
He looked down, "Needs it. I'll help you." He started to rise, but I lay my hand on his chest.
"Stay still, you'll be more help awake, than passing out again." I curled my shaking hands into fists, hoping he didn't notice. I stood, having to brace myself. I had to do this, there wasn't anyone else and I couldn't call anyone. I had to stitch his arm.
"Use the whiskey." he murmered. I grabbed it, the needle, and the thread before moving to his other side.
"What do I do? Just pour it in?" I questioned.
"Drink..." he shut his eyes, apparently trying to concentrate on speaking. "Me... You... Then pour in and stitch." He opened his eyes again, his face looking ashen and drawn.
I gulped a shot, letting it burn down my throat. Then I held the bottle to his lips, he took a large drink as well, but part of it dribbled from his lips. I leaned over him grabbing the towel and washing the trail of alcohol. He met my eyes and nodded. It was time, I had to do this. I sent him a look of sympathy, then poured the liqour into the still bleeding wound. His body jerked, and he hissed in pain, but he didn't scream.
I hadn't really worried about him getting loud, no one here questioned the other neighbors. There were too many shady dealings to worry about anyone, but yourself. It surprised me though how quiet he was being. If it had been me I'd already been screaming my head off, but looking at the needle in my hand I realized there was still a chance one of us would. I threaded the needle with shaking hands, after managing that I took another gulp of the liquid heat and poured it onto the needle and thread. Didn't know if it would help, but something had to.
He watched as I bent over his arm, his eyes never leaving my face. I had my own personal battle of wills as I pressed the small needle through his skin. It seemed like it should be harder, like I would have to press it through, but it was like it just flowed into the skin. I studied the first stitch wanting to gag in my mouth, finally my mind pulled me back from the brink of sickness.
"Your helping aren't you?" I asked, meeting his eyes.
He smiled softly, his face still covered in dried mud and blood. It took sixteen more of the small loops to close the wound, and I cut the thread before stepping back to allow my nerves to take over. My whole body shook, my mind screamed where my mouth wouldn't move, and over all I felt like it was ready to fall like a limp noodle into the floor. My joints were shaking and as steady as jelly, I wasn't sure if I'd make it much longer.
"Sleep." he murmered.
I nodded, "Yeah, you go to sleep. I'll finish cleaning you up."
He moved his good arm, "Come...Sleep."
I moved to his side, careful not disturb his body. I lay down, barely touching him, my eyes studying his dirty face and hands. I could give him a break, that had been pretty freaking extreme, terrorist or not it had to have hurt.
"Sleep." he murmered again, turning his head to look at me before shutting his eyes. My body gave out before my mind and I was surrounded by the beautiful darkness.