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collapse-and-comfort · 13 days

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🤕✨🤕 The prodigal blogger returns! May I present a two-in-one prompt fill for @lurkingwhump. Caretaker finds Whumpee in a warehouse -> Whumpee wakes up in the hospital and is comforted by Caretaker -> Whumpee wakes up in a panic and there is more comfort! I hope you enjoy! 🤕✨🤕

Taylor skidded to a halt by Hatcher’s body and sank to their knees beside them on the filthy concrete floor in a far corner of the warehouse.

They’redeadThey’redeadThey’redead. And it’s all my fault.

Nothing in Taylor allowed for the possibility that Hatcher was still alive, that they weren’t too late, that the weeks of searching for Hatcher, and hoping and fighting hadn’t been for nothing. This was the eventuality Taylor had prepared themself for since Hatcher hadn’t returned from their last mission. Taylor knew that the person responsible for this would not have left Hatcher alive. No, this was a final sick jest, leaving Hatcher’s body among the debris of an abandoned warehouse among rusted, defunct machinery.

What did you think was going to happen?

They were not fast enough, they weren’t strong enough, and this was the price. It was of no consolation to Taylor that their enemy didn’t live to see the dividends of that abuse.

I’m so sorry, Taylor thought as they reached out and touched Hatcher’s shoulder. I’m so goddamn sorry.

But there was feverish, living heat beneath Taylor’s palm instead of cold rigor.

“Hatcher?!”

Hatcher flinched and wheezed. They tried to curl away from Taylor, but that small effort was too much; they groaned and went still. Hatcher’s right eye was only open a slit, but it tracked Taylor hazily. Their left eye was completely swollen shut.

“It’s okay, Hatcher! It’s me! I’m here. I’m here. I’m gonna get you outta here.” Taylor was aware they were a hair’s breadth from blathering like an idiot, but it was better than breaking down amidst apologies for everything that Hatcher had endured.

Hatcher’s left leg was bent at a grotesque angle. Bruises in various stages of healing littered their exposed flesh and their hair was bloody and matted. Taylor didn’t dwell on what other injuries might be lurking under Hatcher’s filthy, tattered clothing. Yes, being action-oriented was preferable, and if Hatcher was in any state to do so, they’d agree.

“I’m gonna get you home, Hatch.”

Hatcher whimpered and their body went lax again.

The dank, earthen air was also saturated with the sharp scents of fear and pain. Taylor drew in a deep breath of that air, gripped their radio hard, and found command of their voice again.

“I need medics at my location! NOW!”

—

Everything was off. Not quite real. Hatcher was unsure if they were floating or weighted down with unseen lead. One of their eyes was open, but they couldn’t recall opening it in the first place. The light was dim, and they were lost, as though their mind, body, and senses were scattered across an eternal twilight. They could hear things, but the sounds had no particular meaning.

They groaned; they were only vaguely aware the sound came from them.

An intake of breath came from their left, then something like a pleasingly manic chuckle.

“How are you even awake?” asked a familiar voice. Care, affection. Safety. Something creaked, and then there were footsteps. Hatcher opened their mouth to say something, but the jumble of feelings remained stuck in their throat, and they were left with a gormless expression on their face and the feeling that their body was, indeed, weighted down with lead and their head was stuffed with cotton.

Taylor’s features, exhausted but full of warmth, swam into their limited view.

“Hey,” they said.

Hatcher blinked at Taylor and tried to reply, but their words must have evaporated in their horrifically dry mouth. Their right eye didn’t have the same problem, though. The prickle of tears stung there. The surprise of the sensation - why should they be so emotional, so confused? - made them blink. They swallowed hard and tried to speak again. They weren’t lucid enough to be embarrassed by the choked noise that escaped them, or to be overly concerned with the fact they couldn’t see out of their left eye. Their already limited vision swam and their head spun.

“Shh,” Taylor said, their voice barely straining the bounds of a whisper. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

Hatcher was unspeakably grateful for the warm weight of Taylor’s palm on their shoulder and the brush of their fingertips on their forehead. It kept them from breaking apart and spiraling away.

“I’m not sure how you’re awake, Hatch, but you really, really don’t have to be.”

Hatcher tried to answer - at least they thought they did - but they closed their eyes as Taylor’s fingers brushed over their forehead. Something felt off, but Taylor was there, so what could be wrong? The realization that their hair was gone trickled in, but their muscles were relaxing, their breathing was deepening and they couldn’t bring themself to care.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Taylor said as they patted Hatcher’s shoulder. “Get some rest, now.”

Hatcher began to argue - force of habit, they supposed - before being tugged mercifully beneath a tide of distant pain and chemical interference.

—

The outdated Fish and Game magazine in Taylor’s lap was of no particular interest to them. They attempted to read the same paragraph for a fourth time before folding it shut and setting it aside. Rain pattered lightly against the window, a gentle reminder the world outside still existed. Taylor rubbed their eyes with their fingertips until they saw stars and shifted in their bordering-on-uncomfortable seat. They stifled a jaw-cracking yawn when they heard the tiniest hitch in Hatcher’s breath.

Then came a whimper that jolted energy through Taylor. They stood and walked over to Hatcher’s bed and in the few steps it took them to get there, Hatcher was looking at them - or perhaps beyond them - in wide-eyed terror.

Hatcher was gasping for air as the heart monitor's pace accelerated.

A month of searching for Hatcher. A month of planning and stopping and starting and running into dead ends, then starting over again. Taylor had thought it was going to tip them and the rest of the team over into madness, but they had recovered Hatcher, in body at least. Hatch would have to reunite with themself, but until they could do that, Taylor would happily mediate. To that end, they took decisive, loving action.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Taylor said as they gently caught both of Hatcher’s flailing hands, the casualties of which would surely have been their IV, nasal cannula, bandages, and incisions. “That is a bad idea. Even by your standards.”

Hatcher groaned as they fought weakly against Taylor, their eyes dim and unfocused; their unbroken leg shifted beneath the sheets.

It rained a little harder outside.

“Shh, Hatch. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“Nuh-no,” Hatcher rasped as they tried to roll toward the door. “Stay ‘way.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You…you don’t have to fight anymore, Hatch, you don’t. You’re safe.” Taylor kept their voice low, as though they risked alerting an enemy. They knew that at worst, they’d disrupt another patient, or interupt a night nurse from their other duties, but the quiet seemed kinder, felt necessary as they pressed Hatcher’s shoulders down. “Look at me, Hatcher. Shh, shh, can you look at me?”

Hatcher’s unbandaged eye - their poor, bruised, bloodshot eye - glistened as they shook their head. (The doctors said the other eye would, in time, heal. Same with the rest of their body, though who knew how many more surgeries that would take?)

“No,” Hatcher murmured as they scanned Taylor’s face, uncomprehending. “P-please dont. No more.”

“Shh,” Taylor interrupted quietly. They knew all too well who Hatcher thought they were talking to. And they knew that that person was no longer a problem. Whatever power vacuum was left behind could fill itself at its own convenience and their team would be there. All of them. ”I’m here, Hatch.”

Taylor covered both of Hatcher’s hands with one of theirs and rested their other hand on Hatcher’s jawline. They moved their thumb on Hatcher’s cheek in slow, steady strokes; they didn’t allow their hand or their voice to shake as they tried to calm and comfort Hatcher.

Hatcher drew a breath, in and in until Taylor thought Hatcher’s lungs would surely burst.

“Easy, Hatch! Easy, easy! Breathe out now, breathe out.”

Hatcher released it with shaky difficulty. They groaned and tried to pull away as they exhaled, but they pulled their next stuttering breath in with less desperation.

“That’s good, that’s right,” Taylor quietly praised as they tried to keep Hatcher still without hurting them worse. “Just breathe for me. I’m right here.”

Taylor couldn’t have said if it was from exhaustion, medication, or because they were getting through to Hatcher, but Hatcher’s breath slowly came with more ease. As the pad of Taylor’s thumb moved softly over Hatcher’s face, Hatcher’s eye widened as they looked at Taylor. Really looked at them.

“T-Tay?”

Taylor nodded solemnly and grasped one of the hands they’d been restraining.

Disbelief on Hatcher’s face followed quickly on the heels of recognition.

“Taylor?” Hatcher asked as though they were expecting to be made the butt of a cruel joke.

“Yeah,” Taylor said, nodding and smiling, the tightness in their chest loosened, but the lump growing in their throat grew. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Hatcher’s eye strained from corner to corner.

“Where?

“You're in the hospital. You're safe.”

Hatcher's breathing began to settle and they nodded, but they dropped their gaze and frowned deeply.

“Probably doesn’t feel that way, huh?”

Hatcher huffed out a breath, a haggard, pitiful sound masquerading as grim humor. They shed a silvery tear and swallowed hard.

“Oh, hey,” Taylor murmured. They squeezed Hatcher’s hand and then brushed away the tear, ridding them of what they knew Hatcher would view as an indignity. They could do that small thing for them and pretend for the moment that the future didn’t hold deluges of tears.

The sound of the heart monitor became less insistent.

The muscle in Hatcher’s jaw tensed and something blazing and hard-headed flickered in their eyes. And Taylor knew - it was almost premonitory in its suddenness and certainty - that Hatcher was going to be okay. They would be a pain in the ass. They would reinjure themself. It would be a long goddamn haul, but Hatcher would heal. And Taylor wouldn’t leave their side.

“You are, though,” Taylor said, tracing their fingertips over Hatcher’s temple. “You’re safe.”

—-

Hatcher filled their lungs then exhaled. It steadied them, though they felt disconnected from the action. They weren’t used to breathing without pain anymore. Their heart wasn’t lodged so firmly in their throat now and the nightmare that chased them out of their drugged slumber was now being kept at bay by the brush of Taylor’s fingers.

The muscles in Hatcher’s neck were beginning to relax and their head sunk back onto the pillow. They watched Taylor above them. It was far better than taking inventory of their body - or what was left of it. Taylor’s face was as kind as always, but there was a harried tension in their eyes and at the corner of their mouth that Hatcher could recall seeing only rarely. Through their disorientation and the drugs coursing through their system, a thought cut through that made Hatcher wish they had the strength to wrap Taylor into a hug.

Please, they pleaded in their mind. Please don’t blame yourself for this. I made my choices. Nothing to be done about it now.

“Do you need anything?” Taylor asked.

Don’t leave me, Hatcher though as their eye slipped shut and they made a noise in the back of their throat that they felt constituted a “no.”

Taylor’s palm moved placidly in a pattern over their heart.

" 'kay," Taylor said.

“Hair?” Hatcher inquired.

“It had to go,” Taylor lamented. The sadness in their smile was there and gone, though Hatcher wasn’t the wiser. “But bald is a good look on you.”

Hatcher was dimly aware of a smile on their face as they drifted.

"Get some sleep, Hatch."

#prompt fill #lurkingwhump #hospitals #waking up #guilt #face touching #disorientation #released into the wild #random character names are random #feels good to post again!

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