Lenna asked: Day 15 No. 15: "I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself." | Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | "I'm fine." With Scott.

Characters: Scott, The Mechanic

Warnings: Collapsed building, Head Wound, Blood, Medical treatments (stubborn patients)

Of all the people to get trapped on a rescue with why did it have to be him? What god had he so thoroughly cheesed off that he'd been cut off from everyone he loved and left with the second worse person on the planet?

Ok, that may have been an exaggeration, but The Mechanic definitely ranked in Scott's top five.

The rescue had been a disaster from start to finish, but, as much as he would love to pin it on the hulking guy currently squashed into a space far too small for two men over six foot, he could not.

No, this abysmal rescue was all down to mother nature, with perhaps global warming lending a hand.

Flooding had caused the ground to move, and just as Scott stumbled upon the life sign to find The Mechanic – who, he had to say, looked as surprised to see Scott as he was to see him – that shift had taken their building out along with several others he assumed.

Scott had no idea how long he'd been unconscious for but he was supremely glad he'd woken up first. The light from his helmet showed that the basement they had been easily standing in was now just about large enough for him to move around if he stayed crouching. He snapped and threw a couple of mini glowsticks around them to highlight the limits of the room they had.

He looked at his…rescuee for want of better (cleaner) words. The Mechanic had not been wearing a helmet – unlike (miracle of miracles) Scott was – and there was a nasty gash on the side of his head.

It was only as Scott shifted to reach his mini medpack that he realised that he may not have got off so lightly. The sharp pain had him gasp out loud and then, as The Mechanic stirred, Scott bit down hard to prevent any further noise.

He could do this. He'd worked rescues with bigger injuries before.

Gritting his teeth he slowly turned until he was kneeling and pulled out of the medpack some wipes and a bandage and made to move forward to get to work.

Brown eyes, clouded with confusion – and probably some concussion as well – were watching him with a frown, and as Scott plastered on what he hoped looked like a sincere smile the man flinched back.

'I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.'

Scott hissed quietly as he rocked back away from The Mechanic, who was trying to get up. It didn't last long as the man's arm gave way and sent him crashing onto his back.

'You have a bad cut on your head, probable concussion, and, judging from the way you can't put any pressure on your arm, possibly a broken wrist. Stop being stubborn and let me do my job.'

If looks could kill Scott was aware that he'd be a very dead man right now, but he didn't care. The Mechanic held his glare for precisely 35 seconds before giving a curt nod that he immediately regretted and Scott got to work.

Ten minutes later the man's head and wrist were bandaged and Scott's medpack was empty. With another suppressed hiss Scott fell back away to sit on his backside, stretching his legs out a little in the cramped space.

Whatever he'd done to his side was really starting to protest being ignored, and working on The Mechanic's wounds hadn't helped. There was nothing left he could do about it except clamp his hand over it and pretend he couldn't feel warmth seeping over his fingerless gloves.

Damn.

It was Scott's turn to glare defiantly as the Mechanic looked at him. Scott almost barked at the man to try and keep him away.

'I'm fine.'

'Sure you are. And that red stuff oozing all over your fingers is just paint.'

'I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.'

'I wasn't going to offer. Rescuing people is your job, not that you've done spectacularly well today.'

Scott snorted at the sarcasm and then gasped. Ok, maybe he was hurt worse than he had initially realised, but it wasn't like he could do much about it now other than apply pressure and pray that Virgil would come get them soon.

Of course, that thought immediately made known that his comms were silent, and he bolted upright only to crash back down again as the ceiling was unyielding to his helmet.

It was to the sound of ripping material that he woke up.

He blinked and The Mechanic was leaning over him, a wad of material in his hand. The remains of what looked like a sheet was on the floor behind the man. Scott tried to shrink away but there was nowhere for him to go to.

'Stop being stubborn, Commander, and take this.'

'I'm fine. I…'

'Yeah, yeah. You're fine, you don't need any help. God, are you like this with your brothers? You'd drive me insane, how do they cope with you?'

The shock of being spoken to made Scott loosen his grip and his hand was batted away. The Mechanic took the makeshift padding and pressed it hard into his side and Scott gasped. But he held on tightly to the pad as he was helped to sit up a little.

'Good. Now behave while I attempt to bandage you.'

For once Scott did as he was told. Yeah – Virgil would be amazed and Gordon would laugh at him, but Scott did know when to listen to advice about his health.

It was as The Mechanic tucked the end of the bandage in that he felt the familiar vibrations of a mole pod and Scott sat back with a sigh.

He couldn't help but notice The Mechanic looked uneasy, but then again he supposed he couldn't blame the man.

'Thank you, Mechanic.'

The man's eyebrows shot up and he blinked in surprise. Scott found himself wondering when was the last time that anyone had said thank you to the man, and, knowing that he was in league with the Hood, Scott concluded that was…never. The man's gravelly voice spoke softly.

'You're welcome. And thank you.'

Scott threw a grin at him. The Mechanic rolled his eyes.