Unsteady

Characters: Shachi, Penguin, Law. Rating: T. Warnings: blood, injury

No-one was invincible. It was a simple fact of life, but sometimes it was easy to forget. Unbeaten on Swallow Island for years (until a too-small teenager came along), they'd become complacent. Once they'd teamed up with Law and Bepo, and created the Heart Pirates, their emphasis was on running and hiding; avoiding battles and skirmishes wherever possible and fighting with the sole aim of escaping as fast as possible if they found themselves in combat. Injuries happened, of course, some of them painful and bloody, but that was just how life worked. Rarely was anyone injured enough that some quick patchwork courtesy of Law wouldn't fix it within the hour.

If something of greater magnitude did happen, it was always Shachi. The ginger didn't know what he was doing wrong, or why he was the weakest in the crew, but it was fact that he spent more time in Law's care than the other two. It stung his pride, especially with Penguin, his long-time partner in crime, coming out of all their skirmishes with little more than scratches, but when it wasn't true anymore – when he wasn't the one semi-conscious and bleeding sluggishly in the infirmary – all he could think was why isn't that me?

Penguin's eyes were open, but they were clouded with pain and Shachi knew he couldn't see properly. There were streaks of crimson decorating his clothes, but the centrepiece of the spectacle was the deep gash to his side which he was busy pressing a wad of gauze against to stem the bleeding. The blood oozed over his fingers and he grimaced at the sensation of the warm liquid.

"Stay with me," he tried to order the older teen as Penguin's eyes fluttered closed for a moment. It came out less like an imperative and more like a frightened plea. "Penguin." The effort Penguin put into forcing his eyes open was palpable, and he rewarded him with a grin, watery from tears he hadn't bothered to try and curb. "That's right," he encouraged weakly. "You gotta stay awake, Penguin."

Where was Law? The younger boy had ordered them back to the Tang while he finished off their attackers, and it felt like hours had passed in the infirmary while he waited, desperately trying to keep Penguin conscious as the older boy slipped further and further away.

Penguin wasn't supposed to be hurt. Penguin was the strong one, the one who always carried Shachi back when he got a scrape, or more recently when he got something a bit worse than a scrape. Penguin helped patch up his wounds and stayed with him until he recovered. It had always been that way, for as long as Shachi could remember. From accidents playing in the snow as children, like that one time he'd twisted his ankle, to bloody gashes from a blade in their new life of piracy, Penguin had always been there for him.

Now he was bleeding heavily, sweating and chest heaving with pained gasps, and Shachi couldn't stop the tears. This was wrong. Strong, steady, reliable Penguin didn't suit pale skin and eyes closing yet again as he fought to remain conscious. Shachi was the one with pale skin and half-closed eyes, Penguin had no claim to that.

"Hey," he said weakly, for something to focus on other than the feeling of blood between his fingers. "Do you remember when I twisted my ankle when we were kids?"

For several long seconds he thought he'd lost Penguin, the other's eyes once again closed and showing no signs of opening again. Silence reigned as Shachi shifted awkwardly, briefly moving one bloody hand from the gauze wad to brush some hair back from Penguin's forehead, feeling the mild burn of a fever and biting his lip in dismay.

"I remember," Penguin finally replied, his voice breathy and faint. Shachi had to lean in to hear him properly. "You stuck your foot in a rabbit hole when you tried to catch a bird."

"Yeah," Shachi chuckled, his cheeks pulling awkwardly into something that was supposed to be a smile. It didn't last long. "You carried me all the way home."

"You didn't weigh much," Penguin replied, gasping as Shachi inadvertently applied more pressure to his wound. "Still don't." Shachi's laugh was more genuine that time, too relieved to be holding a conversation to remain depressed, even if the salty taste of tears had reached his lips.

"Mama laughed too," he recalled, briefly losing himself in the memory of being scolded for his carelessness while his ankle was wrapped before she'd joined in with Penguin seeing the funny side of things. Shachi hadn't liked being laughed at back then. Now, if Penguin was laughing it meant he was conscious, so he welcomed it.

Except Penguin wasn't laughing anymore, nor was he responding.

"Penguin?" he tried, patting his cheek roughly and trying to ignore the bloody handprints he was leaving. "Hey, wake up!" The older boy didn't move and the tears restarted their race down his face. "Penguin!"

The door to the infirmary opened and Law finally, finally, arrived. He was covered in blood too, and Shachi hoped it was the enemies'.

"How is he?" his captain asked, heading straight for the sink to wash his hands.

"He stopped replying." Shachi's voice shook, and when he looked down at his hands, both back on the bloody wad and staining crimson, he could just about make out a matching tremble. "Law…" He sounded like a lost child, voice small and uncertain. "Help."

The sound of latex gloves snapping against bare skin echoed through the room, almost immediately followed by the blue sheen of Law's Room enveloping the three of them. Sure, steady hands replaced his on the gauze and Law coaxed him to relinquish the pressure as he took over.

"You don't have to ask."

A request for injured Penguin and fretting Shachi.

Thanks for reading!
Tsari