#whumpexchange

[altschmerzes]

Let The House Absorb The Blame

@whumpexchange fic for @nywcgirl, had a great time writing it!!

When a case goes wrong, Neal ends up drugged, confused, and he does the only thing he can - he runs. What he doesn't know is where he's run to, and why he's so reluctant to leave.

Which is how Peter finds his missing CI, passed out on the floor of his own living room.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166026

[cutiesonthehorizon]

Resident - Ask and you shall receive

This is a @whumpexchange fic for the wonderful @whumperwriter . The hugest thanks and a hug to @the-wandering-whumper for her beta reading. All mistakes left behind are purely mine. I hope you’ll enjoy. 

Summary: Conrad is having a not so good day. Of course he is too stubborn to ask for help. Whump ensues.

Links: Ao3 and Fanfiction.net (chaptered) or the whole fic below 

He should have just rode the bike after all. It didn't matter he woke up late because his phone's battery died after a week of crazy shifts and an absent charger. The fact the sky was downcast and pouring rain, making his room darker and letting him snuggle against the comfortable pillow way past his wake up time, might've helped with oversleeping too. Or maybe it was just the late night and nightmares. Nic had spent the evening at home, having some type of girls night with her sister, and thus he had no one to get pestered out of bed by. So when Conrad opened his eyes and his watch showed he was due at the hospital in five minutes, he jumped out of bed with a curse. One look out of the window and into the pouring rain pushed the thought of biking to work out of his head. If he was lucky, he could make it to Chastain only a half an hour late. With all the overtime he was pulling lately, that shouldn't be too much of a problem.

 Conrad was lucky in catching the bus after only a few minutes of wait, though he was already soaking wet. Teeth slightly chattering, he squeezed himself against the window between the back of a seat and the stanchion, right next to a big bulky guy who seemed to be just as soaked as him. Well, at least he wasn't going to drip water on some unlucky dude who had been smart enough to take an umbrella.

 Conrad grimaced as the bus lurched to a stop at the next station and a group of loud teenagers stepped on. All the seats were occupied and even the places for standing were bursting. It was anything but a pleasant experience to be squeezed in such a tight place, without his morning coffee or juice and in wet clothes. The fact the driver didn't seem to realize he was actually transporting live beings, thus jumping on the brakes or turning at high speed without regard to his passengers, made Conrad even more regretful about not braving the road on his bike. At least that way he would have arrived at work in a more presentable state.

 "I swear, if the dude jumps on the break one more time..." the bulky guy next to Conrad muttered when he was tossed against the window and one of the teenage boys ended up elbowing him in the stomach in his attempt to keep his balance. Conrad couldn't but agree as someone had just stepped on his foot. This day was turning out to be a nightmare and he wasn't even at work yet.

 "Is he drunk or what?" an older lady called out when the bus suddenly swerved a bit and Conrad tensed. He looked out of the window at the rather busy traffic. He heard the blaring of horns as the bus seemed to veer a bit into the other lane. Not much, but enough that a car passed them with flashing lights and a blaring horn.

 Something wasn't right, Conrad noted with growing apprehension as he felt the bus gaining speed and drifting to the left. It seemed almost as if the driver wasn't even holding the wheel....

 "My God, is he dead?!" the older lady screamed, and panic ensued. Conrad started pushing through the crowd of passengers but he was almost at the end of the bus and people weren't moving out of his way fast enough. Blaring horns from outside became a warning just like the shrieking of a woman in the front of the bus. Conrad turned his head just in time to see that they were heading off the road. People were jumping out of the way as the bus barreled towards a nearby building...

 There was no time. All he could do was brace for impact.

 The air filled with the sound of screeching metal and screams as the driver obviously lost control over the bus, or worse, was planning to killing them all. Conrad didn't much care for reasoning. He felt the bus hit something and then everything was moving. People were flying through the air as the bus came to a sudden stop.

 Gravity took over. Someone slammed into Conrad's back and his hands instinctively let go of the nearby handle. The push sent him flying several feet, until he hit the back of another seat. A wave of pain crashed into him just as all the air seemed to leave his lungs. Several bodies were flying through the air as other passengers were brought out of their seats or standing positions. It was as if someone had taken a large can half filled with grapes and given it a good shake. For a moment up and down made no sense and all Conrad registered was motion, pain bursting through his body, and the screeching of metal. In the next, there was silence.

 For a dreadful second, there was no sound whatsoever and Conrad blearily thought he went deaf or died. There was darkness, then something wet dripped onto his face. Conrad blinked and just like that, the sound was back. Someone was wailing not so far from him. People were shouting and calling for help. There was the incessant sound of rain falling on the metal body of the bus.  Conrad wanted for it all to stop again. He just needed one moment, one measly second to take a breath. His lungs were screaming and his chest felt as though it were on fire. Conrad's eyes went wide as he grasped at his chest, but his hand instead bumped into flesh that wasn't his own. Confused, Conrad looked down and saw he was clutching a heavy leg. Blinking, Conrad forced his other arm to move as well, wincing as a twinge of pain shot through his shoulder. He pushed the leg off of him, ignoring the pained grunt of the leg’s rightful owner. All he could focus on now was the need to breathe. Finally, as the weight was off of him, Conrad turned to the side, curling up as much as the space allowed and took in several gasping breaths. He started coughing and his chest screamed in protest, but at least air was moving into his lungs. Conrad struggled to control his breathing, closing his eyes for a minute, trying to push out anything else. He knew he should move and help the others. With every hitching breath he became more and more aware of all the people crying and moaning, not to mention the blaring car horns and the commotion outside of the bus. He needed to get up and start helping, but first he had to be able to breathe and make sure all his limbs were attached.

 Arms - check, he thought as he used one of them as support and the other to protect his ribs. Legs.... well, he could feel them. An armrest was digging painfully into one. That was going to leave a bruise, he was sure. The other... well, the other leg felt a bit numb. Conrad's eyes widened in panic and he looked down, only to see another passenger strewn across his right leg.  Swallowing, Conrad noted that the man wasn't moving. He didn't look like he was breathing, either.

 Conrad took another cautious breath, and when it didn't make him curl into a ball and cough up a lung, he decided that resting would have to wait. There were people in need of help. With a groan that was lost between all the other sounds, Conrad sat up carefully and took a look around.

 The bus was in shambles. From his viewpoint he saw that the front of the bus was a total wreck. He could see some smoke coming from the hood, but the rain was good at least for something. It was smothering the fire before it could really grow. The bus was lying on its side and that explained why all the people were lying so haphazardly, why there was glass around, and how the rain was pouring down onto them through one of the broken windows. Conrad would have liked to assess the situation more, but there was the man quite literally at his feet that needed attention right now.

 With another groan, and wary of the broken glass around and below him, Conrad managed to extricate his leg and actually get on his knees so he could lean over a bit. His head swam at the change of position and he swayed a bit, but his hand was already reaching out towards the man's neck, checking for pulse. There wasn't one. Conrad cursed and was about to start CPR when he noted the strange angle of the man's neck. He should've noticed straight away. It seemed like the guy was thrown against a seat head first, his neck slamming into it with enough force to severe the spine. Conrad froze, leaning over the body for a precious minute, his mind going numb.

 He was used to seeing dead bodies. It always brought up a whirlwind of emotions, but he could usually deal with them. He had to, he was a doctor. But being part of the event causing so much damage was something else. Conrad felt numb with shock, a bit surprised he was even alive.

 A woman cried out and Conrad snapped back to reality. His head swiveled, looking for the source of the anguished sound amidst the others and his eyes settled on a teenage girl, one of the group that had gotten on at the last stop. She was leaning over a boy, her hands smeared with blood. Conrad somehow managed to get unsteadily up to his feet and maneuvered through the seats until he reached the two.

 "Help, please! I can't stop it!" the girl cried even as her fingers fumbled around a large shard of glass stuck in the boy's leg. He was obviously unconscious, although still alive, if the flowing blood was any indication.

 Conrad pulled her arms away from the wound.

 "Stop!" he hissed, seeing that her attempts were causing the shard to move. "I'll help, just calm down. Listen to me, okay?" The girl nodded, tears running down her face. She seemed unharmed, except for a gash on her shoulder, but Conrad couldn't be sure without checking her over. Right now though, she was conscious and breathing and that meant she wasn't his priority. Looking at the boy, Conrad knew he was a different case.

 "Give me your scarf," he said to the girl, while his fingers checked around the wound. The glass must've hit an artery, but the bleeding wasn't as bad as it could have been. He needed to put pressure on the wound but didn't want to risk moving the shard. The best course of action was a tourniquet.

 Without a second thought, Conrad undid his own belt and wrapped it around the leg, a few inches above the bleeding wound. He pulled it as tight as it would go, then took the scarf from the girl and used it in place of a bandage, wrapping it around the glass shard in a way that would secure it in place for the time being. He looked at the watch and noted the time.

 "8:20. If I'm not here, that's what you tell the EMTs, okay?"

 The girl blinked, confusion and panic clear in her eyes.

 "What?"

 "The time we put on the tourniquet. They'll need to know. You understand?"

 "T-twenty.  What.... where are you going?"

 "I need to check on the others. Just make sure he doesn't move, okay? Don't touch that shard."

 "Please don't leave!" the girl shrieked and grabbed for Conrad's sleeve as he was getting up. He swayed at the motion but caught himself on the seat, hissing.

 "S-sorry," the girl hitched, shaking. "Please, don't leave!"

 "I need to help the others," Conrad said, looking around and seeing more people bleeding and moving around. "I'll be right there. If anything happens, just call for me, okay? I'm Conrad."

 The girl sniffled and didn't look any more convinced, but she didn't dare grab for him again.

 "I'm Lisa," she said shakily. "I don't want him to die."

 "He won't. Just stay with him and if anything changes, call me. Okay? Help is on the way," Conrad told her and was relieved to realize he was right. He could already hear the sound of sirens and some people outside of the bus were also trying to pry open the door at the back of the bus.

 Giving Lisa a smile of encouragement and taking one more look at the boy, ensuring that the tourniquet was holding and the bleeding had stopped momentarily, Conrad left the two teenagers and followed the sound of another pained cry. He felt a stab of pain just under his ribcage but he didn’t have time to worry about that now.  Besides, his breathing was easier now and, except for a few bruises and maybe some cracked ribs, he was okay. There were people who were in much worse shape, so he pushed on, swallowing down a grimace of pain. He knelt next to a woman with a clearly broken arm and gave her a reassuring smile even as he went over the triage protocols in his head. He knew that even when the paramedics arrived, it would take time to get everyone out and treated. By luck, Chastain was the closest hospital, but that also meant they would get the most cases, and they were short a doctor already. He might as well do his job until someone realized he was one of the casualties and benched him.

 The wailing of the sirens came to a halt and Conrad sighed in relief when he saw the first firefighters breaking through the door, shortly followed by a paramedic. Help had arrived.

 xoxox

 It was utter chaos for a while. At least that's how it would have looked for an outsider. But the firefighters and paramedics all knew what to do and they were moving inside the bus with practiced ease, first helping out the least injured and most mobile passengers. The rain was complicating things, but a nearby restaurant had opened its doors and let people hide there, sitting on chairs or making space on the floor. The ambulances kept coming, the nearby hospitals already advised to get ready for an influx of patients. The bus was full and there was over fifty people inside. Not to mention the several people on the street who had to jump out of the way and three more people who suffered cuts and scrapes from the broken glass of a shop window near where the bus had finally stopped.

 Conrad was in the middle of it all. When the medics started assessing the situation inside the bus and getting people out, he was making his way back towards the boy with the glass shard in his leg. As he made his way, someone grabbed his arm to stop him.

 "Sir, please... don't go any further. If you can walk, follow my colleague outside."

 Conrad stopped and turned.

 "I'm not leaving," he said stubbornly. The paramedic opened his mouth, but then frowned a bit in recognition.

 "Do I know you?" he asked and Conrad thought the face familiar as well, but didn't remember the name.

 "I work at Chastain. Conrad Hawkins."

 "Yeah, sure! We've met before. Are you okay, doc?"

 "I'm fine, just bruises. There's a boy over there with a nicked artery and-"

 "I'm sorry doc, but if you were injured I can't let you treat patients. You need to get checked out."

 Conrad growled and pulled his arm out of the paramedics grasp.

 "I told you, I'm fine! But that boy won't be if you don't listen to me." Conrad knew the paramedic was technically right. He had no business treating anyone after such an accident without being cleared first, but he was also stubborn as hell, and knew his injuries weren't serious. He could see the paramedic giving him a once over, doubt clear on his face.

 "I haven't hit my head, didn't lose consciousness. I'm fine. Please. Let me help."

 Somewhere at the back of the bus someone cried out in pain, and it was as if someone had flipped a switch. The paramedic gave a quick nod. "Okay. Just tell me if there's a problem doc, and don't be a hero. They usually end up dead," the man muttered and Conrad nearly smiled.

 "Well, if we survive this, drinks are on me."

 "Deal," the paramedic grinned, then turned serious. "Now show me to that bleeding kid."

 xoxox

 Getting most of the casualties triaged and out of the bus took almost an hour. There were two people who were still stuck inside, but that was a job for the extraction team and the emergency surgeon from County General who had arrived at the scene about twenty minutes earlier. With him on site, Conrad was finally able to step out of the bus alongside a severely injured passenger who was about to be sent to Chastain via ambulance. The paramedic Conrad had met first had already left with another patient but made sure the others at the scene knew who Conrad was. As the time passed by and one ambulance crew was exchanged for another, however, Conrad's presence became normal. The rain had washed away most of the blood from the small cuts littering the back of his neck and head and Conrad had such a commanding presence, taking things under control, that the newcomers didn't even realize he’d been involved in the accident as well.

 As people stopped paying him that much attention and Conrad jumped straight back into the role he was trained for in the army, it was easy to hide the occasional wince or groan of pain when he bumped into things or just moved too fast. But even he couldn't hide the shivering caused by the wet clothes and the constant rain. So when he finally thought he did all he could at the scene and would be more useful at the hospital, Conrad climbed into the back of an ambulance with relief. For a moment, he ignored the patient inside.  The paramedic was doing a good enough job of settling him in as the ambulance took off. Conrad winced, feeling every bump on the road as if it were being transmitted straight through him.

 "Here, put this over you," the paramedic spoke, and Conrad opened his eyes, a bit startled that he’d let them close.

 "What?" he blinked, confused when he saw the shock blanket being handed to him.

 "You're shivering. I would catch hell from the nurses if I let their doctor succumb to hypothermia on my ride."

 "Thanks, but I'm good," Conrad said. While he would have preferred not to be shaking like a leaf upon arrival to Chastain, the blanket wouldn't be of much help anyway. The last thing he wanted was to look like a victim. Nic or Devon would definitely jump on him and bench him if they saw him with one.

 "It's a short ride anyway," Conrad said when he saw the protest forming on the paramedic's lips. The heart monitor started wailing and both the paramedic and Conrad jumped to action, trying to keep the patient alive. That was how Conrad arrived to Chastain's emergency room… running next to a stretcher, barking orders at the nearest nurse. They managed to bring the man back in the ambulance, but his heart still wasn't beating correctly and he had to be intubated.

 The emergency room was a mess, but Conrad noted the triage system was well in place. He gave a thankful nod to Nic when she pointed him to a bed and made sure he had all the help he needed, despite the fact they were a bit short staffed for this amount of casualties. But they had dealt with this kind of thing before and they would deal now.

 "Are you okay? I couldn't get a hold of you," Nic said as Conrad passed her. He gave her a reassuring smile.

 "Yeah. Forgot to charge my phone. Then I got a bit caught up in this mess, sorry."

 Nic gave him a dubious look. Conrad knew she must’ve noted the soaked clothes, but he had no visible injuries. Seeing that Nic still looked like she wanted to say something, Conrad decided the best course of action was to focus back on the patient. Someone called her name and Nic left, but not before telling Conrad to get out of his wet clothes. Conrad gave her a distracted nod and promptly forgot about it.

 Twenty minutes later, when his patient was whisked off for an emergency craniotomy, Conrad decided it was high time to change into something dry and warm. His teeth had started to chatter and the nurses were giving him second looks. Better get presentable before he caught someone's attention.

 The only good thing about the multiple casualties was the fact that everyone was busy on the floor and Conrad had the locker room to himself.  He really appreciated that as he started pulling off his layers of wet clothes. Being alone in the room meant he didn't have to fight back the sounds of pain that managed to escape his lips every time he moved the wrong way. And he also didn't have to explain to anyone just how he got that nasty bruise on his side... or the myriad of small cuts littering his skin. Conrad hadn't even noticed the small glass shards on his clothes before, but with all the motion they managed to get under his jacket and shirt and scratch up his skin. He grabbed a towel from his locker and attempted to dry himself as well as he could. He paused when the towel touched a deep purple bruise on his left side. The pain that shot through him was intense and for a second, he wondered if maybe there wasn’t something more serious going on than just a cracked rib and bruised tissue. He let the towel fall at the bottom of his locker, then softly touched the area. He put a slight pressure on the rib and hissed in pain. It felt more broken than cracked. He would have to be careful about moving around, but so far so good. He didn't have much trouble with breathing and he put down the heavy feeling limbs to the fact he spent the last two hours either climbing over the seats or doing CPR on a patient. Not to mention the constant shivering from the wet clothes.

 Maybe he should just take a break and find himself a place to get a small lie in. Sleep and a warm blanket sounded like heaven. But then he remembered just how busy the emergency room was and how many patients were still waiting for treatment. Conrad forcibly shook off the feeling of lethargy that was creeping on him and pulled on a warm cotton undershirt and then finally his   usual scrubs.

 That's better, he thought, closing the locker and heading back to the ER. He would just have to scrounge up some energy for the next few hours, then he could go home and lick his wounds in peace. Or maybe not. If Nic found out he 'forgot' to mention being in the accident himself, she would give him a piece of her mind. Conrad cringed just at the thought of it. Maybe he would be better of letting her know sooner rather than later, so she had enough time to digest it. After all, while he wasn't a fan of being mother-henned, he definitely preferred it over a pissed off Nic. Resolved to catch Nic for a quick chat, he threw himself into the fray of the emergency room. She was nowhere to be seen, so Conrad did the next best thing. He zeroed in on the first patient that looked in need of help, the twinge in his side be damned.

 xoxox

 Two hours. That was how long it took to get the most serious casualties out of the way. They were either up in surgery or at ICU. The emergency room looked like it had been through a battle, and Conrad seriously felt like he had just fallen and been trampled by a herd of buffalo. He had already forgotten about his decision to catch up with Nic. He saw her a few times, but they were both busy doing their jobs and as time passed by, Conrad knew she would not be happy with him. Right now his own body complained in protest and Conrad winced, his hand automatically going to his tender side.

 He knew that the cracked rib would hurt.  Hll, the bruise must've reached impressive colors by now. But he wasn't expecting to feel so weak and tired. If anything, Conrad expected the pain in his side would keep him on his feet, but the opposite was true. Things were starting to look just a bit off and he was having trouble concentrating. When he had to ask his last patient to repeat himself because he just didn't catch it the first time, Conrad figured a bit of rest would be smart - before he actually messed up with a patient.

 Trying to shake off the lethargy, Conrad grabbed a bottle of water and downed half the contents in one go. He was still thirsty, but his stomach felt full. With a sigh he capped the bottle but kept it at hand. The coolness of it against his skin felt a bit grounding.  Conrad headed for the nurse's station. He wanted to ask after Nic. It was time he came clean and maybe let her find him some nice place to crash for a few minutes. He was just passing by the beds in the ER, not really paying attention, when he spotted a familiar face.

 "Lisa?" he stopped by the bed with the teenage girl from the bus. She had a nasty laceration on her shoulder and Conrad cringed. He totally forgot about it once the boy was out of the bus. Luckily she was adamant and caught a ride in the ambulance with her friend.  

 "Dr. Conrad?" she blinked at him, her eyes teary and a bit scared. Devon Pravesh lifted his eyes from his work. He was just finishing sewing up the wound.  He looked at Conrad curiously.

 "You two know each other?"

 Conrad nodded, stepping next to the bed and taking the hand that Lisa was automatically reaching out to him.

 "I helped her friend, on the bus. I thought you were already taken care of, Lisa, " Conrad said apologetically but the girl shook her head.

 "Everyone was so busy. It didn't hurt.... all I could think of was Jack. Please... do you know if he's alright? I've been waiting for ages, but no one would tell me anything. I just.... need to know. Please?" she begged with huge eyes and Conrad instinctively looked at Devon for answers.

 "I wasn't treating him, I'm sorry. But I'll ask the nurses once we finish, alright?" Devon said calmly and pushed gently on Lisa's shoulder to keep her still just a bit longer.

 "Please, I need to know," Lisa sniffed and Conrad found himself nodding. "I'll check right now, okay?" he said with a smile and turned to do so. The movement was just a bit fast though as his vision swam and Conrad had to reach out to stop himself from swaying, or worse, falling. He managed to camouflage the motion by pretending to check the time on his watch but one quick glance at Devon told him his subterfuge wasn't as successful as he thought. The man had a frown on his face. Conrad cursed in his mind then, as nonchalantly as he was able, proceeded towards the nurses' station. He could feel Devon's glare following his steps and he once again cursed his luck. Last thing he needed was Devon Pravesh hot on his heels. The man could be more stubborn than Conrad himself when he smelt blood.

 Finally he reached the station. He didn't even pretend that he was full of energy and leaned against the desk heavily, giving the busy looking nurse a smile. He waited patiently while she finished the phone call and turned to him. Only when she asked with a tired smile of her own what he needed did Conrad realize that he hadn’t asked for the boy's last name.

 "Hey Eileen. I just need to find out about a patient from that bus crash. His name is Jack... a teenage boy. Was brought in with glass shard in his leg, nicked artery?"

 The nurse was already looking into the computer, nodding her head slowly.

 "Yes, Jack Neals, 16. They took him up for surgery shortly after being admitted. I don't have anything else in here, though. Will have to call up and ask."

 "Can you do that please? I treated him at the scene and would like to know if he made it okay."

 The nurse's eyes softened and with another nod, she picked up the phone.  Conrad let out a sigh and turned around a bit, hoping to catch sight of Nic. Instead he saw Devon approaching him, the frown back on his face. When the man stopped in front of Conrad and crossed his arms on his chest, Conrad knew he was in trouble.

 "You forgot to mention something, Conrad?"

 Game was up. Conrad shot a look towards the bed with Lisa but couldn't see it from this angle.

 "I don't have a clue what you're talking about," he tried, a bit uselessly seeing as he was leaning against the nurses' desk and pretty sure that if he let go now he would just face plant within the next two steps.

 "The little fact you were inside the bus when it crashed?" Devon hissed angrily, arms coming loose. Conrad winced.

 "Are you out of your mind, Conrad?" Devon kept going, although at least he was making an effort to keep his voice down. "You were treating patients all this time. If anything happened, if you messed up-"

 "I didn't mess up!" Conrad hissed back and wanted to keep going, but then Eileen put down the phone and looked at the two of them.

 "The boy is out of surgery, stable. But they are currently pretty busy so if you want more details, you better go up and ask yourself," she gave a slightly apologetic smile.

 "That's all I wanted to know, thanks Eileen," Conrad replied and with a sigh, pushed away from the desk, resolved to tell Lisa the news and then go crash in the first empty bed or chair. If Devon wanted to scold him, he could do so while he slept.

 His previous assumption was right. He barely made it more than two steps before he was hit by a wave of dizziness. Conrad paused, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop everything from spinning. He swayed on his feet and very likely let out some sound of discomfort, because suddenly there was Devon, clutching his arm and giving him the needed to support to stay on his feet.

 "Conrad?" The reproach was gone from Devon's voice, instead there was the familiar tone of worry. Conrad didn't care anymore.

 "I think something's wrong," he admitted in a whisper, then opened his eyes. The world stopped spinning but he could see dark spots around the edge of his vision. His heart was beating just a bit too fast and breathing was becoming a chore. Conrad didn't even want to think about the blooming pain in his chest and side, though it was the only thing he could really focus on at that point.

 "Yeah, I can see that," Devon muttered, then turned back towards the nurse who had also noticed the problem.

 "Any free beds, Eileen?"

 "Number four," she said without hesitation. "Do you need me to call Nic?"

 "That would be great, thanks," Devon said before Conrad could even protest.

 Seeing that he had definitely lost the fight, Conrad let out a groan of defeat and let himself be led towards the bed.  He was grateful it was without much fuss and Devon instantly pulled the screen shut for privacy.

 Conrad sat down heavily on the bed, swaying. He clutched at the edges of the mattress to keep himself upside even though the pillow was literally calling his name. Devon stepped in front of him, the frown back on his face as he took hold of Conrad's wrist, fingers pushing against the pulse points. By the look on his face he didn't much like what he found.

 "What happened Conrad?" Devon asked and Conrad knew the question wasn't about what happened as much as what was the damage.

 "I just slammed into some seats. No biggie," Conrad said, trying to play it down even though he wasn't sure why anymore. It felt almost like an instinct to play it cool, as if trying hard not to admit he could be also vulnerable. Or a victim. Never a victim.

 Devon snorted and pulled out a stethoscope, gesturing Conrad to pull up his shirt.

 "The fact you're using the words 'no biggie' is plenty enough. Slammed how? Chest first? Back?"

 Conrad let out a sigh and slowly started pulling up his shirt. He managed to lift it a few inches, but then he groaned in pain. A curse from Devon meant he’d already spotted the bruise.

 "Little help?" Conrad asked gruffly, scrubs and shirt half off as Devon observed the bruise.

 "Sure," he said, and helped him with the top. Conrad had to take a second to get his breath back under control as the pain seemed to steal it from him. Devon used the moment to put the stethoscope against his skin, listening.

"Deep breaths," he instructed and Conrad wanted to glare at him, but Devon was currently at his back. So he complied, as much as he was capable without bending over from pain.

 "Okay, lie down," Devon said and Conrad pulled his legs up on the bed, biting down a groan. He was at the same time thankful to be lying down and uncomfortable with being in such a vulnerable position.

 "How's the pain?" Devon asked as he was palpating Conrad's side.

 Conrad hissed.

 "S-six?" Devon had the decency not to roll his eyes, but his face spoke volumes.

 "Out of five?"

 "'s just a cracked rib," Conrad said, trying to convince Devon, though at this point he had his own doubts.

 "Right. You are pale as a ghost, your pulse is racing, skin clammy." As if to prove a point, Devon attached a pulse oximeter to Conrad's middle finger and turned on the machine. Based on the look on Devon’s face, Conrad assumed the reading wasn’t very encouraging. He tried to move around a bit to see for himself, but just then a familiar head popped in.

 "Devon? Did you need some-" Nic paused, taking in the purple bruise that was the size of a large fist now adorning the left side of Conrad's chest. Then her eyes snapped towards the numbers on the machine and Conrad could pinpoint the exact moment when everything clicked. He saw the tensing of her jaw and dangerous glint in her eyes even before Devon could open his mouth and tell her.

 "Unbelievable!" she let out, the anger and worry clear in her voice. Devon cringed and Conrad suddenly wished for the sweet relief of unconsciousness. His heart rate sped up just a bit and Devon must've noted it, because he raised a placating hand.

 "Nic, now's not the time," he said and Nic gave a jerky nod. She took in a calming breath and Conrad watched as her whole composure changed. For the moment she was back in the nursing mood, the anger over Conrad's lie of omission momentarily pushed into the background.

 "What do you need?" she asked and Devon started listing the tests. Conrad was a bit startled when Nic just nodded and left, though it was just for a moment to call in another nurse for help.

 „What am I supposed to do with you?" Nic muttered as she started setting up his IV.

 "Let me apologize?" Conrad said a bit sheepishly just as the needle pierced his skin. Nic looked  at him with a raised eyebrow.

 "You're just saying that because I am currently poking you with a needle," she said and Conrad snorted, but it turned into a grimace. The other nurse was trying to take his pants off, taking him by surprise. Conrad jerked. The movement sent a cascading wave of pain through his side and chest and this time, Conrad couldn't stop the moan of pain. He instinctively curled up around his injured side in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain, but it just seemed to increase the pressure and without warning, Conrad started heaving.

 There was a rush of hands turning him on his side, eliciting another groan of pain, then something cold was thrust under his chin. It was no use really, Conrad didn't have anything to eat since last night so all he was bringing up was water, but that just seemed to hurt more. By the time he finished, he was shaking and his skin was covered in a cold sweat. The effort and the pain robbed him of the last of his energy and Conrad's eyes slipped closed.

 He felt someone tapping his cheek and calling his name, and maybe he even managed a grunt in reply. He definitely made some kind of sound when Devon pulled up his eyelids to check his pupils with a penlight, but it probably wasn't very comprehensible. It surely didn't stop the people around him from poking him and doing things he would have normally at least put up a token fight for.

 When he heard Nic's voice calling his name, talking to him softly, he tried to focus. He really did, even managing to turn his head slightly and open his eyes to a slit. He saw her worried face above him, but she wasn't looking down. She was talking to someone else. Conrad thought it must've been something important, because her tone was frantic.

 She needed help and Conrad wanted to sit up and ask what was wrong, who hurt her and what could he do to make it better, but his attempt to get up resulted only in someone pushing him back down onto the bed.

 "There's definitely swelling in the upper left quadrant. I'd like to do a CT-"

 "CT is fully booked right now. Even if we push him to the head of the line, it'll take at least an hour to get the results," it was Nic and Conrad could hear the monitor give a warning beep even as he felt like the bed was ready to swallow him.

 "His BP is too low-"

 "We'll have to make do with the ultrasound and chest x-ray," Devon said from the distance. Conrad wasn't sure if any time passed or not. Suddenly there was something cold on his abdomen. He let out a choked sound as the pain increased along with the pressure.

 "Sh, I'm here. You'll be fine." It was Nic, squeezing his palm and whispering calming words into his ear. Conrad felt suddenly incredibly guilty even though he wasn't sure why. Whatever was happening to him was beyond his comprehension right now. All he knew was that he messed up and now he was paying for it. All he wanted to do was tell Nic not to worry and apologize.

 "S-sorry," he managed to utter, but he wasn't sure if she heard him. There was an oxygen mask on his face, but despite feeling the rush of air, he was having trouble breathing.  

 Time became irrelevant. Conrad could hear voices all around, felt the draft of air on his skin. At one point he felt something cold flowing through his veins, burning, but at the same time bringing relief from the pain. Things stopped mattering. He knew he should be worried about all the ruckus around, but he only caught a few words. And none of them had real meaning to him right now.

 "Fluid around the spleen-"

 "How's the chest X-ray?"

 "Page Dr. Okafor-"

 Just not Bell, please, Conrad thought. There was nothing else that could complete his humiliation and probably kill him at the same time. Though he might've been mistaken on that point.

 "How is he? How is my son?" A new voice joined the crowd and Conrad winced at hearing the edge of worry in his father's voice. A flame of guilt joined the gnawing pain inside his chest. The last thing he wanted was to worry his dad. Not now. The man was just few weeks out of a life threatening surgery. He should have been enjoying some free time recuperating, not worrying about his son.  The guilt was so strong that Conrad fought the sleepiness and actually tried to open his eyes and look at his father. All he could manage were slits, but it was enough to see his pale-looking father standing by the door, trying to get an answer out of Devon.

 "D-dad?" Conrad croaked but his voice was lost in everything going on around him. Groaning, he tried to move his arm to let them know he was awake, but the motion was too tiring and he gave up. What was the point anyway? It wasn’t as if he could keep up a meaningful conversation, anyway. Maybe letting go of control for once wasn't such a bad idea.

 "We've got you Conrad," Nic said from his side and suddenly there was Mina, adding to the pile of questions and giving out orders. Conrad let out a sigh and his eyes slipped closed. When someone jostled him as he was being moved from the bed to a stretcher, even the sounds vanished. All Conrad knew was white silence and then nothing.

Conrad become aware of noise first; beeping and people talking in hushed tones, as if on the other side of a glass. Shapes began forming, and despite the feeling of dizziness, Conrad finally opened his eyes. He was standing inside the observation room, turned towards the glass separating him from the operation theatre.

 There was a surgery going on, and for a moment, Conrad's heart clenched. He flashed back to the moment when he and Nic returned from the party to find his father being operated on by Bell.  Conrad leaned against the glass, squinting, trying to see the patient's face, trying to see the surgeon. As if on cue, one of the assistants moved, giving him a clear view. Conrad let out a gasp and took a step back. He blinked, then ran a hand over his eyes. That couldn't be.

 "Oh, it definitely is real. And it's you," said the voice Conrad thought he would never hear again.

 Conrad spun around and lay his hands on Lily.

 "What.... how?" he asked, eyes wide. She was standing there, only few feet from him, looking as real as anything. She had her scarf on but she wasn't wearing the hospital gown, but rather her normal clothes, the jean jacket she loved so much.

 "Nice to see you too, Conrad," she said with a smile and there was no trace of pain on her face. Conrad couldn’t remember ever seeing her so relaxed and calm, the last memory of her still haunting his dreams.

 "Aren't you supposed to be.... dead?" he asked, still flabbergasted.

 "Aren't you supposed to be the smart one? Doctor?" she rolled her eyes.

 "This is not possible," Conrad protested, even though this wasn't the first time he’d seen her. It was, however, the first time she hadn’t been giving him a judgmental look, asking for his help or blaming him for what happened. It was the first time she looked real.

 "You can think of me as your subconsciousness being an ass," she spoke with a smile. "Whatever works for you."

 Conrad gave her a long, studious look, then shook his head and let out a sigh. He glanced towards the glass, but looked away the moment he saw himself lying on the operating table. At least it was Mina, and not Bell, who was holding the knife. Small mercies.

 "I don't understand what is going on," Conrad admitted. He was trying to remember what could have landed him there; either on the table or just having a real vivid nightmare. But he was drawing a blank. There was a jumble of memories but they were all connected to patients and work and didn't really explain anything.

 Lily sighed and took a few steps closer to him.

 "What's going on is that you were being a reckless idiot," she said and the gentle tone of her voice was in stark contrast with the words. Conrad blinked.

 "What?" Lily shrugged at his look of disbelief. "I'm just being honest. I thought you of all people would appreciate that."

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about. And what... what is going on over there?" he waved towards the operating theatre.

 Lily pursed her lips, as if thinking about the best answer.

 "They are trying to save your life, because you was a dumb-ass and purposefully ignored an injury."

 "I wouldn't do that," Conrad instinctively protested.

 "What about that bus crash?" Lily asked, all innocent, and Conrad's mind was flooded with images of the crash and the injured people around him.... the relentless pain in his side that was just growing stronger and stronger.

 "Oh," he said as realization hit him. "That."

 "Yeah, that," Lily once again rolled her eyes and Conrad thought she must've been the figment of his imagination, because he never saw her this cheeky while alive.

 "Okay, so you're just a dream... nothing else. The meds to put me out are messing with my head," Conrad stated, feeling better at figuring out what he was dealing with. But Lily wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily.

 "Point for you. But here's the question: why did you let it get this far?"

 Conrad gave her a hard look, then leaned against the glass wall, arms crossed over his chest. It was a ridiculous gesture. He was feeling insecure in his own hallucination.

 "Are you really trying to play shrink with me? Don't you have anything better to do... I dunno.... singing with angels or something like that?" Conrad knew he was being an ass but he was still operating under the impression that this Lily wasn't real.

 She laughed.

 "Really? Becoming defensive in your own mind?"

 "If my mind is trying to psychoanalyze me, then why not?"

 "Ever thought this is the only place you would let that happen?"

 Conrad frowned. Whatever was going on, he didn't like it. He wanted to tell Lily to mind her own business, but she was dead, and it was partially his fault. He still felt the guilt and saw her ghost some nights.

 "Why are you here?" he asked in a whisper, his throat tightening up. "Lane is dead. You got your justice. You can go in peace."

 Lily's eyes softened and she was now close enough to reach out and touch his face. Conrad was surprised to feel her touch on his cheek. It was warm and as real as anything else.

 "If I can go in peace, you should stop blaming yourself, Conrad."

 Conrad jerked.

 "The outcome doesn't change what happened in the past," he muttered.  

 "No, but it should take some of the sting off," Lily said with a smile, then sighed and stepped back.

 "Why are you here, Conrad?" she asked and Conrad gave her a look filled with confusion.

 "Aren't you the one with the answers?"

 "Not unless you tell me."

 "That isn't very helpful, you know," Conrad grumbled, taking a look through the glass wall. The surgery was still running smoothly if he could say so. No one was flat lining at least, and Mina's movements looked sure and precise. Lily cleared her throat and Conrad turned back to her.

 "You knew something was wrong, Conrad. Why did you keep going?"

 "There were patients who needed me."

 "I call bullshit," Lily said with a raised eyebrow and Conrad snorted.

 "What?"

 "The last few patients were minor things. And you know if you'd admitted to being hurt, this all could have been fixed that much faster."

 Conrad sighed. Why was he even trying to argue with this hallucination? He would just wake up and have to do all of that again with Nic and Devon, he was sure of that. As if reading his thoughts, Lily smiled.

 "Maybe it will be easier to face them when you first figure it out yourself, Conrad."

 Conrad groaned.

 "Can't I just, I dunno.... sleep through the whole thing like a normal person? Instead of having to deal with my crazy psyche?"

 "Now I feel offended," Lily said in mock hurt. "You have no better place to be anyway. Why don't you just.... think about it?"

 "There is really nothing to think about," Conrad grumbled and turned away. He would rather watch the operation than keep looking at Lily and being constantly reminded of his failure to save her. The observation room was filled with silence. It inevitably led to Conrad's thoughts steering towards what brought him here.

 Was it really so hard for him to ask for help?

 What did he have to lose?

 Conrad didn't like feeling vulnerable. Not as a child and even less so as an adult. Though, if he had to pinpoint the exact moment when he stopped asking for help, it might've been shortly after his mother's death. He remembered his mother always asking for help, always needing someone or wanting something.  He remembered all the fights between his parents, but also the fact that, despite her asking for help, she never got it. Not where it really counted. What Conrad took away from his mother's death was the fact that, if someone asked for help too often, the one time when it really counted might be just lost in the noise. So ever since, Conrad saved up his complaints and pushed back his needs. If he needed help, the best thing to do was to help himself. That was the only sure way to fix things. While the army taught him to be more resilient and ask for assistance if needed, it was somehow different. He wasn't in combat today and there were others who were priority. And by the time he should have known better, well... he would blame it on his stupid pride and possible blood loss.

 "Asking for help doesn't make you weak," another voice sounded from behind, and this time Conrad froze, his hands curling into fists. He didn't dare to turn around, not until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

 "Mom?"  his voice was choked as he took in the form of his mother; of the ghost she should have been. There were no signs of the injuries that caused her death, nor was she pale or translucent. She was touching his cheek, just like Lily had done before and he reached up, taking her hand in his. She felt warm, and alive, and Conrad thought he might weep. But he caught sight of Lily and he could still hear the noise of the operating room behind him.

 “This is not real, it can't be."

 Lily rolled her eyes, but Conrad ignored her. He only had eyes for  his mother, who was looking just like he remembered her; except now there was worry hidden behind her eyes, worry that for once wasn't focused on his father.

 "You shouldn't be here, Conrad," she spoke and Conrad swallowed.

 "That's.... more my line," he said, then cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the lump that suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

 His mother gave him a small but sad smile.

 "I'm sorry I left you so soon, Conrad," she said with a sigh. "But I'm really proud of the man that you’ve become."

 Conrad had a myriad questions on the tip of his tongue, but somehow he couldn't articulate any of them.  Frustrated, he huffed and took a step forward, touching his mom's face, trying to convince himself that this was indeed real and not just a figment of his imagination.

 "I'm proud of you, Conrad, but you need to take better care of yourself. You need to stay and make things right with your father. I didn't have the chance and it's one of my regrets. Don't let it be yours, too."

 Conrad frowned. He didn't really understand what this was all about. He made a mistake, and he was paying the price right now, but it wasn't like he was planning it to happen. He truly thought he was fine and that he could handle things on his own. Yet here he was, getting a talking to from two ghosts. It all seemed so surreal. They were acting as if he was on the brink of dying, as if there was a choice for him to make. But that wasn't true.... was it?

 "I'm not dying!" Conrad spoke resolutely, the offense clear in his voice, even though there was an edge of uncertainty. His mother didn't help with that loving and sad look in her eyes either and Conrad swallowed. Lily snorted, stealing his attention.

 "You're awfully sure of that, despite the fact you're talking to two dead people."

 Conrad tried to look more convinced than he was, so he shrugged.

 "You're just my subconsciousness, aren't you?"

 Both women scoffed at him. Conrad wanted to say something else, maybe give a token protest about being ganged up on, when he heard a loud beep, so familiar yet so startling.

 Suddenly, pain shot through his chest and abdomen and he bent over, face scrunching up in a grimace as he was trying hard not to scream. He wanted to look over into the operating room, to see what was happening to his body. He wanted the pain to stop, to wake up... but at the same time he was scared of closing his eyes. If all this stopped, his mother and Lily would vanish, too.

 As if in reply to his unspoken thoughts, his mother leaned over and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

 "We will always stay with you, Conrad," Lily spoke and her voice sounded from a distance. Conrad blinked, tears of pain clouding his vision as everything was becoming more and more blurry.

 "Don't.... don't go," he pleaded.

 "It's time you stopped playing around, son. Go back home. There are people who need you and who will be there for you too."

 "Mom?" he could still feel her warm breath on his cheek, but she was gone. The one constant beep suddenly changed and there was a rhythm to it again. Conrad felt as if something was pulling at him. His limbs suddenly weighed a ton and he felt like the floor was trying to swallow him. Opening his mouth he allowed a groan of pain to escape before the room, and everything in it, vanished.

 The world was a spinning whirlwind of pain, coldness, and an annoying voice calling his name. All Conrad could think of was to beg someone to stop the carousel, to make everything come to a still. Instead there was light and a gentle tapping on his cheek. Conrad blinked up into a blurry face of a woman. She might've been smiling, he didn't know. Her face was hovering in the air, swimming from side to side as if it wasn't a slave to gravity. Conrad let out a pitiful groan. The effort cost him though. His throat burned and the sound made his ears ring. Conrad slammed his eyes shut with force and his arms grasped at nothing and anything. Whatever he was lying on felt unstable, like being on a boat. Even though his hands grabbed onto something solid, it didn't help.

 "Stop it," Conrad uttered through tight lips.

 "What's wrong, dear?" asked the voice and Conrad wanted to glare at her for the term of endearment. But opening his eyes was a mistake. Suddenly, the dizziness changed into nausea and he knew he had to turn or risk choking.

 Eyes wide, Conrad made a move to turn on his side, but his body didn't want to cooperate. He could already feel the bile coming up when the person next to him seemed to get the hint. There was a pair of hands helping him into a better position and something metallic slid between his teeth, sucking out whatever his stomach wanted to get rid of.

 The experience wasn't pleasant. If anything, Conrad would rate it as one of the worst in his life... at least for the moment. The heaving was a murder on the stomach muscles, and by the time he finished, his whole chest and abdomen was on fire. And it's wasn’t  even like he had anything to bring up.

 Conrad thought it highly unfair and decided to tell the person next to him. The woman chuckled and Conrad thought the sound familiar but he couldn't place it. It wasn't Nic or Mina, that's all he knew. It also wasn't his mother or Lily, he thought with certain sadness.

 "I'm Tina," the woman said, as if in answer. Conrad wasn't aware he asked the question.

 "It's okay, it's the drugs. Looks like you don't do so well with the anesthesia," Tina said and Conrad grumbled. He could've told her that himself. Of all the surgeries he had for his knee.... coming out of them was the worst part.

 "Is the nausea any better?" Tina asked and Conrad risked peeling open his eyes. The world was still a bit wonky, but the need to puke had eased up, at least for the moment.

 "A little," he admitted and risked a look around. He was in the recovery room, which explained why there was no Nic. Or any of the two ghosts. He seemed to have survived the ordeal.

 "Of course you survived," Tina laughed as she was recording his vitals. "Dr. Okafor made sure of that."

 Conrad blinked. He wasn't aware he had been speaking out loud, but then everything seemed still just a bit off.

 "Can you tell me your name?" Tina the nurse asked and Conrad complied. More questions followed and each one irritated Conrad more and more. He was tired, his throat hurt, and his mouth tasted like something died inside. The last thing he wanted to think about was the current date or president. Finally, when the nurse asked if he knew where he was and what happened, Conrad had just about enough. He closed his eyes, ignoring Tina's request to open them and talk to her. Instead, he grumbled about noisy people not letting him sleep and meddlesome ghosts playing shrinks. Then he swiftly fell back asleep.

 xoxox

 Coming back to reality the next time was a slower process, but also a lot less uncomfortable. The nausea from earlier seemed to be gone, and when Conrad managed to open his eyes, he was pleased to see that the world stayed in one place. He let out a sigh of relief, then grimaced. His chest and stomach were sore. For a moment, Conrad frowned in confusion, unsure what really brought him into this state. His left arm moved slowly up towards his chest. It was a chore and it left him a bit winded, but when his palm rested on a thick bandage across his abdomen, Conrad remembered.

 "Damn," he let out in a breath, just as his eyes caught sight of a blond head resting on the side of his bed. He also felt the warm grip on his right wrist. Nic must've fallen asleep waiting for him to wake up. Conrad debated letting her sleep. He knew that once she woke up he would be in for a lecture... and perhaps rightly so. But he also knew that she deserved to get some rest in the comfort of her own bed. Sitting on the hospital chair wasn't a good idea.

 Biting down the bullet, Conrad gently moved his hand and touched the top of Nic's head. He would have liked to lean over and whisper into her ear, but even just the small gesture made him feel weary.  

 Nic jerked and opened her eyes wide, her first instinct to look at the machines. When there was no imminent danger visible, she looked down and caught sight of Conrad's light brown eyes staring at her.

 "You're awake," she said and sat up, forcing back a yawn.

 Conrad hummed, his hand becoming her touch. Nic squeezed his hand, a relieved smile on her face.

 "Hey," Conrad said, then grimaced at the sound of his voice. It was croaky, as if he hadn't had a drink for a while. Nic understood and leaned over, taking a cup of half melted ice chips.

 "I was expecting you to wake a bit sooner," she said as she gave him a spoonful. Conrad would have loved to just drink the whole cup, but when she put it away he knew it was pointless to ask. Even the few chips felt like heaven on his lips.

 "How are you feeling?" Nic asked and went into her nurse mood, even though it was way past her shift. Conrad let her fuss over him for a moment, checking vitals and helping him adjust the pillow. The movement hurt and Conrad let an involuntary grimace set on his face.

 "Have been better," he admitted, then frowned. "What is he doing here?" he asked, his voice dipping into a whisper as he spotted his father, fast asleep on another chair in the corner of the room.

 "How's the pain from 1 to 10?" Nic asked, pointedly ignoring his question.

 "Nic," Conrad hissed. "What's Dad doing here?"

 Nic looked at the man in question and sighed.

 "Waiting for his dumbass son to wake up," came the answer, but it wasn't Nic who spoke. Conrad winced as his father grimaced and extricated himself from the chair. "Though I would have done better if I had just taken a bed in the next room."

 "Dad, you shouldn't...." Conrad started, wanting to point out that his father had just been through a surgery himself.

 "Don't even think about telling me I should be resting!" Marshall grumbled as he gingerly made his way over to Conrad's bedside.

 "But-"

 Marshall gave him a warning glare, then sat down on the chair that Nic had vacated. Conrad looked at Nic, eyes pleading for some help. She smirked and Conrad knew he wouldn't get any help. If anything, he would get a lecture from both of them. With a sigh, he rested his head back on the pillow.

 "I know I screwed up," he admitted, thinking that maybe showing some remorse would get him good points. By the look in Nic's eyes she saw right through him. He received a raised eyebrow from both her and his father. Great. Were they taking lessons from each other?

 "I'm sorry?" he tried, hoping to get this all over while he was still drugged up.

 "I don't think a sorry is enough this time, son. How am I supposed to trust in your abilities as a doctor if you are unable to get yourself the help you need?"

 Marshall's words were harsh and Conrad felt the hurt from the past resurface. He thought they were over it now, but obviously there were still some remnants, hidden deep. And his father thinking him a failure stung deep.

 "It wasn't like that. I would never endanger a patient," Conrad protested, but there was no fire behind the words, only hurt. Marshall must've noticed, because the anger in his eyes vanished just like that. He sighed.

 "I didn't mean...." Marshall shook his head. "I know you care for your patients, son. But you must realize that to be a good doctor, you can't come last either. Asking for help from time to time isn't the end of the world."

 Conrad froze. The words were familiar, but last time he heard them they came from someone long gone.

 "I've already got that lecture from mom and Lily," Conrad muttered, ignoring the startled looks on both his father's and Nic's face. "I get it.  No more running around after a bus crash if I'm involved."

 "Your mother?" Marshall asked a bit dumbfounded, while Nic took offense at the last sentence.

 "Not just bus crashes!"

 "Did he suffer a brain injury? And who is Lily?" Marshall asked and Nic rubbed a hand over her eyes, obviously unsure if she should try to reassure Marshall or call a neurologist to assess possible brain damage. For now, she went with the easiest explanation.

 "It's okay, it must've been the drugs. Tina, the nurse in the recovery room said he was having trouble waking up. Sometimes the anesthetics can cause strange reactions."

 Conrad wanted to protest, to tell them it wasn't just a weird reaction, but with every passing moment the memory seemed less and less real.  He had no proof after all and what would it even achieve, trying to convince them? So he let it go, instead asking the question that was in the forefront of his mind ever since he touched the thick bandage across his stomach.

 "What.... what's the damage?" He knew there must've been something, because he felt the pull of stitches all across his stomach under the ribcage.

 It was Nic who answered the question, but first she sat down on the edge of his bed and gave him an encouraging smile. It instantly eased some of Conrad's worry.

 "What you thought was just a cracked rib was actually also a serious laceration on your spleen. It might not have been as bad right after the crash, but you running around the ER didn't help. You were bleeding heavily. There was no time to get you to CT so we had to do with the ultrasound. Mina decided for exploratory laparotomy, but that quickly changed into a splenectomy. You.... gave us a scare a few times, Conrad."

 Nic finished and even though her voice was rough by the end, she didn't cry. Instead, she gave Conrad a well deserved glare. Conrad grimaced upon hearing the damage. While losing a spleen was a small cost to pay for the stupidity - after all, if he would've just followed his first thought and laid down in some spare bed without telling anyone, he would have most likely bled to death - it meant he would be off of his feet and out of work for several weeks. That was if there were no complications.

 Conrad groaned at the prospect.

 "That's ... several weeks off!" he couldn't hide his despair.

 "Two to six weeks," Nic jumped in with a smirk on her face. "And you better believe that I'll make sure you take all the time you need. In any case, Mina won't sign off on you returning before you are ready anyway."

 Conrad opened his mouth, ready to protest when his father jumped in.

 "Maybe that's for the best. After all, you wanted to mend some fences. What better time to do it then recuperating alongside your dear old dad?"

 Conrad wasn‘t sure what to say. On one hand, spending some time with his father looked like a good idea. After what his mother told him, he felt the need to reconnect even stronger. Not to mention, this way he could make sure his father wasn't overdoing it as well. It seemed like workaholism was the bane of his family.

 "Whatever," he acquiesced with a sigh. Marshall rolled his eyes.

 "I was thinking of visiting that old cabin up by the lake once you're set free. Maybe we can do some fishing. Of course, your friends are welcome to join us anytime. What do you say?"

 Conrad thought about it. The cabin held a lot of memories of both his parents, but it was also a good place to relax, and far away enough to stop him from trying to get back to work. He knew that if he stayed in the city, recuperating in his apartment, he would just become a restless tiger circling the room until he was finally allowed back to work. By that time, though, he would possibly annoy the hell out of all his colleagues; especially Mina and Nic.  Spending a bit of time away would save him from the temptation.

 "That's.... not a bad idea," he admitted and looked at Nic. "What do you say? Would you join us for a few days?"

 "Well, it depends," Nic said with a twinkle in her eyes. "Is there a fireplace?"

 Marshall looked almost affronted.

 "Of course. In every room."

 "Then I'm sold," she said with a smile.

 "Excellent. I'll make the arrangements. And you, son, better listen to your doctor so we can leave as soon as possible.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you in the capable hands of nurse Nevin. I think that chair didn't do me any favors. I need to stretch my legs a bit."

 Marshall patted Conrad's arm. It was obvious he wanted to lean down and give him an embrace, but he was still sore from his operation. Conrad wholeheartedly understood, and gave his father a thankful nod. As Marshall left, Nic gave Conrad a proper glare.

 "You of all people should know better!" Nic said with reproach, and Conrad understood her annoyance. If the roles were reversed, he would have been scared to death for her, then furious. The fact she wasn't yelling in his face was a sign of how much more self-control Nic had. He knew there were really no words to explain his feelings for her in this moment, but he still tried.

 "I love you, too," he said with a goofy smile.

 Nic grunted and not so gently slapped his arm.

 "You are impossible, you know that?"

 Conrad hummed, his eyes slipping closed. Nic sighed.

 "Go to sleep then. You will have enough time to listen to the lecture from all of us when you feel better." She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. For once Conrad decided to listen and let himself succumb to sleep, knowing he was safe.

 The end

[chrisii-the-random-whump-writer]

WINTER WHUMPERLAND 2018

This is my entry for the @whumpexchange this year - it’s been a wild journey and I truly enjoyed taking part in this for the very first time!

Dear @cutiesonthehorizon, you’ve been a gem to write for! Hope you have a Merry Christmas and a blessed new year, and that you enjoy my little gift to you!

Fandom: Chicago Med Whumpee: Connor Rhodes Prompt:  A is sick but doesn't want to admit it, accidents.

Summary:  The last thing he needed was to go trekking through the snow, yet here he was, trying to help out in whatever way he could. He was just so tired... nothing could happen if he just closed his eyes for a moment, right? 

In which Connor is aiding in a major vehicular accident and he ends up lost in the snow.

Teaser:  "Ticking and slightly fuzzy head. Bit of dizziness. General irritability. Lack of motivation to do just about anything. Uncharacteristic clumsiness.

Despite being a surgeon and thus not in charge of diagnosing such trivial things, Connor Rhodes knew that he was currently freefalling into the destructive pit of sleep deprivation.”

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17145860

[costello-music-cr]

Merry Christmas @thebluejayawe! Here is your gift for the winter whumperland/ @whumpexchange. It has been a while since I've seen Young Justice so this has been fun. Hopefully this has fixed the formatting but posting via mobile is apparently a nightmare.

Prompt: bc of previous injury, character A passes out and falls into water, team has to rescue

It was all because he was looking out for Robin it happened in the first place.

Dick knew better. This was not his first rodeo after all and Batman had trained him better than that. But this was Jason’s first mission with the team and he was a bit distracted. A rookie mistake of course but he had promised Batman that Jason would be ok and he at least nailed that.

It was supposed to be a simple mission, not that the team ever knew how to handle them without at least something small blowing up. They were supposed to get in, grab the intel, and make it back out without anyone seeing them. Hence why it was him, Robin, Batgirl and M’Gann to maximise the stealth of the team.

They got in without a problem and it didn’t take long for him and Robin to decrypt the security and transfer all the information they needed. It was sheer dumb luck that one of the guards happened to look up at the wrong time while they were heading back out and had to be silenced. M’Gann and Batgirl had already made it out and Robin was just ahead with the guard directly underneath him. Nightwing saw the guard’s eyes widen and had two seconds to jump down and take him out before an alarm could be raised or the gun he was holding be pointed at Robin.

Taking out that one guard wasn’t that hard. It was the one behind him that was trouble. It was a brief fight, over before Robin had a chance to jump down himself, but it was long enough for the second guard to pull a knife and sloppily slice it through his side. It was only a well-timed aerial that saved him for getting properly stabbed instead of the light scratch he actually received. It was further dumb luck however that the knife happened to find the only weak spot in his new suit and allowed it to actually reach his skin. The guard was out before he could get a good look at who he was stabbing and well before he could strike again.

It didn’t really hurt. He was just mad it happened in the first place. And there was no way in hell Batman was hearing about this. No way, not after all the fuss he just made about ‘being his own hero’ and ‘too old for a mentor anymore.’

“Whoa Nightwing, How’d’ya do that so fast?” Robin half whispered excitedly as he landed with his own little flip.

Nightwing grunted as he stood up from examining the now unconscious guard. “Practice,” he replied stiffly, not annoyed at Jason but very annoyed at himself.

Jason looked like he was about to add way more so Dick cut him off.

“We need to get out of here before more guards come and notice these two. Once they do our cover is well and truly blown,” he said, before adding via the psychic link. ‘Is the ship ready M’Gann? We might have some trouble.’

Nightwing was able to jump back up to the rafter while Robin needed to grapple his way up.

‘Yes. She’s all good to go,’ M’Gann replied.

‘What’s taking you two so long?’ Batgirl added.

Nightwing was ready to ignore them but Jason didn’t give him the chance.

‘There were these guards, and Nightwing took them out before I could even get down. It was so cool,’ Jason replied in a rush as he reached the window that would take them outside. Nightwing could see the outline of the ship just by the window sill, only faintly visible because he knew what to look for.

Nightwing sighed to himself before adding. ‘Somehow we found the one guard who knows how to look up. Don’t worry, they won’t be a problem.’ Out loud he said quietly to Jason. “Be careful. The ship is just there. Wait for M’Gann to open the door.”

He could feel Batgirl’s judgment as he entered the ship. Jason had already rushed up to the window so he could watch the country side as they made it back to the cave.

“So, what happened to make sure nobody knows we were here?” She asked as he made his way past her to sit down.

“He wasn’t investigating a noise. He just looked up at the wrong time. Not a lot I could do about that. He was about to see Robin though. I don’t think either of them saw me as I took them out,” he replied.

“Uh huh,” Batgirl didn’t look convinced but dropped the matter as she took her own seat.

“Everything ok?” M’Gann asked cheerfully from the control panel, ignoring the vague iciness coming from the back of the ship.

“Yeah,” Dick added, forcing the annoyance out of his voice. “All good.”

xxx

Debrief could have gone a lot worse. They almost got away with delivering their mission report to Black Canary before Batman walked in right at the worst moment. Which was typical of his and Dick’s interactions since he’d become Nightwing.

“We got the files without a problem. Only two guards needed to be subdued on the way out but there were no casualties, and no alarms raised,” Dick finished, unaware that his mentor was behind him. Black Canary nodded as she watched the files transfer from the USB to the Cave’s main computer.

“Are you sure no one saw who you were?” Batman asked with no trace of emotion in his voice. Dick stiffened.

“Fairly. It was a dark corridor,” he replied neutrally.

“It was over so quick B! I didn’t even have time to get to the ground he got them so fast,” Jason added from the other side of the room, barely able to keep himself still.

It was only because Dick knew him so well that he could see the faint tug of a smile at Batman’s lips as he turned to face Jason.

“Is that so?” he added. “Well just in case we will need to monitor their security. I would recommend that anyway, just to be sure they haven’t noticed the security breach. But now it is even more important. Nightwing, you and Mal could keep an eye on that.”

“Of course,” Dick responded.

“Robin, it’s getting late and we have our own patrol to do,” Batman added before giving a brief nod to Black Canary and heading towards the Zeta Tube.

This appeared to be everyone’s cue to leave as Jason started too bound towards the door and Batgirl and M’Gann followed at a more sedate pace.

“One last thing, I take it there are no injuries to report?” Black Canary asked as the team headed towards the kitchen, and in Jason’s case after his mentor.

“No, none to report,” Nightwing replied, having forgotten about the knife that had almost become acquainted with his kidneys not three hours ago.

“Ok then, enjoy the rest of your night.”

xxx

It wasn’t until later that night that Dick remembered he’d been stabbed. He was back in his room, and he could finally relax, and his side started itching. It was more annoying than anything else, he was tired and wanted to go to bed and now he had to deal with treating this. It was a small thing, long but not very deep. So he bound it up and gave it no more thought. It was odd though. It had looked like the slightest scratch but in the morning it appeared to be red and slightly inflamed.

Dick just sighed and decided to ignore it after pouring iodine over it. They had another mission today, one with only original members, which meant chances were low that he’d be that distracted again.

Breakfast was a loud affair. Much louder than it had any right to be. But otherwise nothing noteworthy happened. Even prepping for the mission was relatively mundane. Wally and M’Gann did not need much, and Kaldur always prepared the night before a mission if he could.

He was grateful that it was Black Canary giving their mission brief, he wasn’t sure he wanted Batman to notice anything was off about him. Not that anything was of course.

“How long has it been since it was just us? Pity Conner and Artemis are needed for the beta team,” M’Gann cheerfully said as they boarded the Bioship.

“Well it cuts down on the couples by 200%, so I can only hope the focus will drastically improve,” Kaldur said mildly.

Dick smirked at this, throwing an arm around Wally.

“That’s fine Kaldur. There will still be enough bromance to fill the team quota right here,” he replied, barely managing to avoid wincing as the motion pulled at the wound at his side. Dick had not been so grateful for the psychic link to not be active in a long time.

“Yeah, there’s enough love to go ‘round Kaldur,” Wally cheerfully added, not noticing his friends discomfort.

Taking his seat Dick shivered slightly. The Bioship was normally this cold, but he brushed it off. The trip was going to take a few hours, so if it became a problem he could easily ask M’Gann to turn the heat up.

He almost didn’t notice at first, the pain at first was vague and easy to ignore. But by the time they reached their destination it was a lot harder to ignore. It seemed that the cold he’d felt earlier wasn’t from the Bioship after all. Everything was starting to hurt. One minute he was freezing and couldn’t get warm for the life of him, and the next it felt like he was stuck in the middle of a volcano. There was no in between and there was no relief.

He should say something. He knew he should say something and that it was dangerous not to. But he couldn’t. There was no good way to explain this and if he gave in now it would seem like he’d given up Robin too soon. That he’d made a mistake.

Lucky for him his stubbornness was relieved by Wally.

“Dude, you ok? You seem, I dunno, kinda quiet?” Wally asked, with enough tact to keep his voice low.

“I’ll be fine,” Dick replied as another shiver ran through him. Even through the mask Dick could see his friends’ eyebrow rise in disbelief.

“Yeak, ok. Sure. You wanna try again?” Wally replied.

“I mean I feel kinda crappy, but I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’ll make it through.”

“Ok. You wanna tell me what’s wrong? Before we start?”

“Dude, I’m good. Let’s just catch up with the others alright.”

Dick didn’t give his friend a chance to respond as he went to leave the ship, but Wally was far faster than him. Not that he should have expected anything less. Wally gave a hiss as he grabbed his friends arm.

“Yeah, wow, you’re really warm. I really don’t think you should go now.”

“Wally. It’s cool, I got this. We’ve got to go,” he replied, shooting his grappling hook down.

He was wrong. He was so, so, wrong. He did not in fact have this. This was probably one of the biggest mistakes of his life, and he’d worked while sick and injured before. This shouldn’t have been any different, he couldn’t understand why this time was different. He had to be missing something.

The mission started out fine. He was able to ignore the pain in his side and what was clearly a growing fever. Now that he didn’t have an over excited kid to look out for anyway. They had worked long enough as a team by this point that everyone knew their part well and the main objective went off without a hitch.

The trouble came while they were making their way back to the Bioship. He and Kaldur were skulking along the dock towards the woods where the ship had been left. As she usually did M’Gann had flown ahead to prep the ship, and after a long moments consideration Wally had run after her.

The pain in his side had grown now, and any clumsy attempts he’d made at warding off infection had clearly failed. He was too close to the dock. He wanted to stumble away but he couldn’t see where the solid land was and where the water was. He wanted nothing more than to be in Bioship, or his room at the Cave, but to achieve that he had to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

He couldn’t focus on anything else. He as getting dizzy and lightheaded, and it was lucky for him that this section of dockland had been all but abandoned because he wasn’t feeling particularly stealthy at that moment.

“..wing. … ok?”

He didn’t see the water coming towards him. He didn’t even realise he was falling in until he was in the water and suddenly couldn’t breathe. It was cold, far colder than he had been before, and it dark. He had to kick up to the surface, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out where that was. He was still dizzy, he hadn’t started in the best position and he didn’t think he could help himself. One of his last thoughts before fading from consciousness was that his rebreather was in his belt and his he couldn’t find the surface he should at least grab that. His last thought was, what was the dark glowing shape coming up to him.

The next thing he knew he was staring at the sky. The starts were far brighter than they had any right to be, but he was glad he could see them.

“Nightwing, can you hear me?” a deep voice came from beside him. A very familiar voice. “Don’t move. M’Gann is coming with the ship.”

It was Kaldur. That explained the glowing at least. He sat up, hissing at the pain in his side.

“I’m ok,” he clearly wasn’t but he meant it in a more I’m-alive way then everything-is-good way.

“I don’t doubt that my friend,” he did, but saying that was pointless. “But I think it would be best to get you checked out.”

Nightwing just nodded, beyond the point of caring now.

xxx

Wally hadn’t been the only one to notice Nightwing had been struggling. It hadn’t been obvious at the start of the journey over, if it had there was a good chance Black Canary wouldn’t have cleared him to come in the first place. And he and Wally had been their usually almost slightly obnoxious selves for the first half an hour. It was after that that Nightwing had gradually become quitter and quitter until he was barely saying anything. Kaldur didn’t mind the permission banter, he had long ago gotten over the need for silence before starting a mission, but he did appreciate it when it happened. Wally didn’t say anything about it so Kaldur didn’t think anything of it.

That was until they were making their way back to the ship.

There weren’t many circumstances where Nightwing lost his grace, and any opportunity he got he would show off his acrobatics. But tonight it seemed he was off, and there were a lot less acrobatics coming from him. But they achieved their mission and all they had to do was get back to the ship.

It Nightwing had seem a little off earlier, now he seem completely off. He kept wondering over to the side of the docks and back, and even though this area was allegedly abandoned that did not mean they didn’t need to be vigilant.

“Nightwing? Are you ok?” Kaldur asked when they both paused. Rather than in the shade of the buildings they were beside the water, which made Kaldur a little uneasy by the way his friend was stumbling back. Because he was half paying attention to if anything was coming from behind them, he almost missed it when Nightwing fall into the water.

Even as the splash his friend caused rose from the water Kaldur swore and jumped in after him.

The bay was far deeper than it had any right to be, as shipping bays usually are. Swimming towards him Kaldur could see Nightwing struggle, kicking the wrong way towards the surface and then reaching for his belt. Right as Kaldur got to him he stopped struggling and was limp as he dragged him towards the surface.

As they broke the surface of the water there was a heart stopping moment where it seemed like Nightwing wasn’t breathing. But the moment passed and though he was still limp he was gasping for breath, so Kaldur’s worst fears were not realised.

“M’gann,” he called into the comm link. “I’m going to need you to bring the Bioship to the docks. Nightwing is down.”

“Oh my gosh! Is he ok? I’ll bring it right down,” she replied.

Satisfied with this Kaldur pulled Nightwing onto the dock’s surface. It did not take long for him to regain consciousness, though with the mask the only indication of this that Kaldur got was the soft groan he gave.

“Nightwing? Can you hear me?” he asked, crouching down next to him.

xxx

The wound on his side was a deep streaky red and very clearly infected.

As he had lifted the side of his suit up Wally gave a long whistle. “Wow, where did you get that? And don’t say you didn’t notice because wow,” he said.

“Last mission, I didn’t want the guard to engage Robin and I didn’t see the second one. It was pretty much fine this morning, looked like a scratch,” Nightwing replied as M’Gann came over with the first aid kit.

“So why didn’t you say something yesterday?” Kaldur asked. Nightwing shrugged in response.

“Honestly I had forgotten that it’d happened,” he replied, before groaning. “And this means Robin won’t take me seriously when I tell him to report everything. Batman is going to kill me.”

Wally whistled again.

“Yeah, the new Robin seems, enthusiastic to say the least,” he added unhelpfully.

Nightwing winced as M’Gann dabbed antiseptic over the wound and bound it up. Once that was done he rolled his suit down again. M’Gann was looking at the team thoughtfully, he could almost see the gears turning in her head.

“Well, I don’t think we can hide this from Batman, sorry Nightwing but you clearly need treatment. But I do think we can keep this from the rest of the team. Besides Conner and Artemis, they don’t really need to know,” she said after a moment of silence.

Wally nodded. “Yeah, we got you bro.”

Kaldur nodded. “It would be best to not broadcast this I agree.”

Nightwing smiled. He still felt awful, and he was certainly going to hear about this from Batman. But at least his team had his back.

“Alright,” M’Gann said cheerfully, now that the danger seemed to have passed. “Let’s get you back to the Cave.”

Wally nodded. “Yeah, we got you bro.”

Kaldur nodded. “It would be best to not broadcast this I agree.”

Nightwing smiled. He still felt awful, and he was certainly going to hear about this from Batman. But at least his team had his back.

“Alright,” M’Gann said cheerfully, now that the danger seemed to have passed. “Let’s get you back to the Cave.”

[whumpexchange]

Aaaaaand, we’re off!

Everyone’s emails have been sent out! The email’s subject is “Your Winter Whumperland 2018 Match,” just in case you can’t find it in your inbox and need to check your spam folder.

Reasons to contact me:

You haven’t gotten an email yet despite signing up

Your email isn’t addressed to you

None of the fandoms listed are fandoms you said you’d write for

Something else coming of me fucking up the emails

If none of those apply... 

[violentlyred]

My gift for @whumptron, I’m so sorry it’s late!! This is part of the @whumpexchange, and I’m so glad to have been part of it (even if I SUCK at deadlines)!!! P.S. I forgot to post this under my whump blog, @breakthemgood but it's okay lmao

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

“Existing now is like there are strings attached to his limbs, like the puppet in the antidepressant commercial, except it’s actually a commercial for exhaustion and feeling terrible and at this point the strings are just dragging his limp body face-down across a floor.”

Or, Lance is sick, and then captured and tortured.

Heh.

[aravenwhumper]

Merry christmas! This is my Winter Whumperland gift for the wonderful @refractedspectrum. I hope you enjoy it and have a lovely day!

[qixxiq]

@whumpexchange fic for @claracivry  :)

[vshendria]

Written for the wonderful and amazing @cutiesonthehorizon for the @whumpexchange.  

[the-wandering-whumper]

Winter Whumperland Fic Exchange Submission

Written for the amazing @whumpmyworld!  Alicia, I love that we keep getting each other for these things.  There is no one I would rather write for than you, love.  I hope you enjoy the fic!

Title: Let’s See If We Can’t Make You Scream Summary: An unforeseen foe abducts Matt and it’s up to Gabby and the CPD Intelligence unit to find him before it’s too late. Word Count: 10,000+

Read it on AO3 or FF.net

[justwhumpythings]

Here’s my Winter Whumperland fic for @rocanono ! Once again, very sorry it’s incomplete at the moment but once I get over this darn stomach bug I will be sure to do the rest, especially the scene that fulfils the prompt you gave me. Atm it also cuts off in the middle of a scene oops :/

A quick summary of what’s ‘happened’ up to this point:

Altair has been missing for about a week, and Maria and Malik have come to Jerusalem from Masyaf to try and find him. After investigating, Maria learns that many people have been disappearing the in city recently, and tracks them down to a non-descript but heavily guarded building. Infiltrating the building, she discovers that a follower of Garnier de Naplouse has been continuing his cruel experiments on kidnapped patients. She soon locates Altair among them…

Altaïr lay limply on top of the table. His wrists and ankles were bound with coarse strips of leather, so tight that she could see sharp cuts in the red, raw skin around each restraint. His eyes were closed but as she stepped closer she could make out the shaky rise and fall of his chest, and breathed a sigh of relief. Alive. She gently swept the hair from him sweaty forehead and cupped his face. “Altaïr? Can you hear me?” His eyelids fluttered in response but remained closed. At his side, however, his fist clenched and he began to pull against the restraints. Quickly, Maria cut each of the bonds with her hidden blade and laced her fingers in his, squeezing his hand tenderly. “I’m here. It’s me, it’s Maria. Oh, my love,” her voice cracked. “What have they done to you?”

From outside there came a muffled voice. Maria froze. One of the guards was walking towards the room, calling back to someone else in the building. She could hear each heavy footstep thudding closer and closer. Altaïr mumbled something faintly. She squeezed his hand again, silently begging him not to rouse now, not when they were at their most vulnerable. The guard was getting closer. If she killed him, the others would soon wonder where he had gone and she could not move Altaïr in time to avoid a confrontation. But suddenly there was a cry of pain from another part of the building, and then the sound of the guard’s footsteps fading away as he went to investigate that instead. Maria exhaled shakily. They needed to leave, now.

Turning back to Altaïr, she saw that his eyes were open, but clouded with pain and unfocused, gazing blankly at the ceiling. “Altaïr?” she whispered again, leaning close over him. His eyes moved hazily towards the sound of her voice, but his gaze was blank and soon drifted away. What was wrong with him? Looking round in confusion, Maria now noticed several bottles and jars of dried leaves next to his bedside. She didn’t recognise the concoctions but there was a strong smell, like hemp or maybe poppy. Combined with the general odour of death and blood, it was nearly enough to make her gag.

She shook her head to clear it and then leant over Altaïr’s body and slid her hands underneath his shoulders and heaved. He cried out in pain as she hauled him off the table and his legs buckled, dragging them both to their knees. Maria’s hands shot to his sides to steady him, but she was shocked to feel something hot and wet beneath her fingers. She pulled them away with a sickening feeling and glanced slowly down. Her fingers were stained with crimson blood. It was starting to seep from beneath Altaïr’s robes, from some wound in his side. She swore violently. Altaïr slumped forwards against her, his breath laboured at her ear. For a moment she just knelt there, holding him closely in her arms and trying to think what to do. There was no time to try to stop the bleeding; another guard was bound to come through at any minute. If they could make it back to the Bureau they could treat Altaïr’s wounds and everything would be alright.

Decided, she pushed Altaïr away and wrapped his arm around her neck, trying to ignore his wince as she gripped the band of damaged skin around his wrist. Taking his weight on her, she staggered to her feet. His blood had begun to trail down his leg and drip onto the floor. With her free hand she tried to clasp at the wound, causing him to groan in pain and flinch away from her. No time for comfort - she began to stumble towards the exit, half-dragging Altaïr whose head still hung limply. His breathing was ragged as he limped along beside her, but he seemed to be conscious enough now to understand the need for silence, each groan he made muffled through gritted teeth.

The other patients seemed to understand as well, many of them staring pleadingly at Maria as they passed their beds, but remaining silent. Maria only wished there was time to rescue them as well. But Altaïr could not wait - when he was healed they could return and liberate all of de Carreo’s prisoners, but not now as blood continued to drip from his side.

They reached the door and awkwardly negotiated their way through. Outside, Altaïr recoiled at the blinding sunlight, almost trying to push Maria away in his attempt to shield his eyes. She gripped his arms tightly. “Come on,” she whispered, and firmly but gently guided him out into the street.

Navigating their way back to the Bureau was challenging. Where possible, Maria kept them to the back alleys, away from prying eyes. Altaïr soon struggled to stay on his feet, trailing his free hand along each wall as they passed to support himself. Between his moans of pain, he had begun to murmur something, but Maria couldn’t make out what. On several occasions, Maria had to carefully set him down in the shadows, hating herself for it as he grimaced with pain, and eliminate a number of guardsmen who were blocking their path. By the time they arrived at the Bureau they had garnered far too much attention and she was exhausted.

“Altaïr!” Malik shouted. He ran forward to help as Altaïr finally slipped from Maria’s grasp and sunk to his knees. “What has happened?” Malik said breathlessly, alarmed to see the red staining Altaïr’s robes. Altaïr looked up at him as he firmly clasped his shoulder. His eyes were brighter now but still hazy and uncomprehending.

“Inside,” was all Maria replied. Malik nodded. Together they lifted Altaïr back to his feet and carried him inside the Bureau’s sanctuary.

“Lay him on the counter,” Malik instructed as he swept the books and quills hastily to the floor. Altaïr grunted and clawed at his side as Maria did so. His forehead shone with sweat.

“Water,” Malik gestured to the rafiq, who darted off.

“Who did this to you, brother?” Malik asked softly, his hand back on Altaïr’s shoulder. Altaïr was too weak to reply.

[ouchthatwasgood]

Winter Whumperland fic exchange 2017/2018 lol

What’s up @misscrazyfangirl321 I am 6 days (or I guess 7. Happy new year!) late but here is your fic! Sorry for the lateness. 

Title: Head in the Clouds

Summary: Rip comes to terms with what he did to his team and what the Legion did to him. It features some Rip whump and comfort. I hope you like it!

Ao3

:) Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

[costello-music-cr]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17170028

Well the html link thing didn’t work so here is the physical link. Maybe. 

It was all because he was looking out for Robin it happened in the first place. Dick knew better. This was not his first rodeo after all and Batman had trained him better than that. But this was Jason’s first mission with the team and he was a bit distracted. A rookie mistake of course but he had promised Batman that Jason would be ok and he at least nailed that.

Written for the whumpexchange. Prompt: bc of previous injury, character A passes out and falls into water, team has to rescue @thebluejayawe

[whumpexchange]

It’s that time of year again!

It’s once again time to do another whump exchange!

Step 1: Fill out this form!

The form will ask you for your email, you tumblr URL, what fandoms/characters you’re willing to read and write for, if you have anything you won’t read or write for, and if you would like to be a pinch hitter.

This is so that we can match you with someone who has similar interests. We can’t guarantee that you will get matched with someone with exactly the same interests, but you won’t get anything that you absolutely despise. The more fandoms/characters you give me to work with, the more likely it is that I can match you.

Submissions for this exchange will be open until Monday 23 April.

Step 2: Write!

You will get matched by Wednesday 2 May. You will get an email telling you who your person is. You will have from the day you get matched until Sunday 10 June to write a fic based on the prompt you receive and in the fandoms you like. This fic must be at least 1000 words long.

Step 3: Post!

Post the fic in the place of your choosing (fanfiction.net, AO3, Tumblr, wherever). If you’re not posting it on Tumblr, post a link to it on Tumblr, making sure to tag:

the person you’re writing for

whumpexchange

If for some reason you cannot make the deadline, that’s okay! If you need a couple of days to make it work, that’s fine, just be sure to write in and tell me. If you absolutely cannot do it, tell me, and your prompt and fandoms will be given to a pinch hitter.

[that-hurts]

Winter Whumperland fic exchange

I know I’m super late, and I’m so sorry!  I ended up restarting, and then it got longer than I intended.  I may clean it up a little more and pop it on Ao3 eventually, but for now, it’s finished.  Here you go, @blazingcitrine !  Merry Whumpmas! :)

((SORRY NO TITLE))

John had been gone for three hours.  Three hours and seventeen minutes to be precise.  For the last thirty-seven minutes, there had been radio silence. One would think that after some minutes, the edge of panic might dull somewhat.  Harold found that wasn’t the case.  Silence had come with two gunshots, a shout and the crackle of static. Harold had shouted over the connection at first, but it was no use.  He was out of contact, and he didn’t know where John was headed.  Everything had shorted out, leaving him in the dark. The edge of panic that had hit him when he’d received no response hadn’t lessened at all.  Was John hurt?  Was he dead? He couldn’t call for backup because he didn’t know where they were.  Had they succeeded in saving their number?  Right at the moment, if he was honest, the number wasn’t his priority.

Harold sat stiffly and still at his desk, hands set lightly on either side of the keyboard in a state of nervous tension, ready to fly over the keys at a moment’s notice if needed or ready to snatch up the phone if it should happen to ring.  But it never did.

It was a full hour and a half later when he was alerted to a disturbance in the ground level of the library. Bear went bounding out of the room before Harold could even stand up.  He, however, was not too far behind.  He could hear Bear barking and his nails scraping against the hard floor as he came back along the last hallway and slid to a halt in front of him before spinning around to run away again.

“Bear!” he called in alarm, and the dog stilled for e moment.  A red smear dragged from his neck to a few inches down his back.  Was that blood?  Bear whined and fidgeted on the spot before turning away and running back the way he’d come.  Harold had almost made it to the doorway when John appeared there.

His face was ashen pale, his jacket gone, and his shirt was plastered to him with sweat.  A great red stain blossomed across his left side, mirrored on his blood-stained hand which steadied him in the doorframe.  He looked up at Harold and his normally cool, almost stoic demeanor had been replaced by bloodshot eyes and pain-bared teeth.  “Finch…” he said shakily, taking a step forward.

“Mr. Reese!” Harold exclaimed as he closed the distance, fitting himself under John’s right arm, offering what little support he could as Bear ran ahead and back nervously. “What happened, Mr. Reese?”

It was slow going getting back to the computer room, and John needed to stop every so often to gather himself before moving again.  He seemed out of breath despite the slow pace, and Harold could feel him shaking.

“Finch, I need to – “ John broke off and fell to his knees, suddenly vomiting into a partially empty cardboard box, clutching his side so hard that his fingertips went white.  

“Oh,” Harold stammered, “Oh...oh okay.”  He looked around frantically until he spotted an old rag, which he grabbed and brought back to a heaving John, who took it weakly and wiped it across his mouth and nose. “Come on, not far now.”

John struggled back to his feet, and as he did, Harold noticed a quarter-sized charred mark of shirt and skin.  If he was right, and he hoped he wasn’t, it looked like an electrical burn.  He didn’t try and get any more information out of John as they walked.  When they were finally within sight of the small cot Harold kept in the library, they found Bear already lying at the foot of it, looking very unsettled.  In the back of his mind, he wished he could put down some sort of protective sheet or towels, but as he helped John to sit at the edge of the bed, he forgot about it.  Just buy another.  John mumbled something he didn’t catch.

“What’s that?” he asked, leaning down slightly.

“I don’t know what it was” he repeated quietly with his eyes closed.

“What what was, Mr. Reese?”

He took a deep breath and held it a moment before speaking.  “She injected me with something.” He pressed his thumb to a spot on his thigh.  

Harold couldn’t make out a mark, and a thousand possibilities ran through his mind.  He’d have to call someone.  In the meantime, “What happened out there?  Why did I lose you?”  

Suddenly, John slapped his hand over his mouth and pointed aggressively toward a trash bin a few feet away.  Harold grabbed it and only just got it to him before he doubled over, retching.  When he was done, he slowly straightened up again, wiped his mouth and coughed wetly.  “I shot at her, but missed.  She got me with some sort of live wire in the warehouse.” He shifted to indicate his shoulder, where Harold had seen the burn.  “I lost the signal then.”  John seemed to be getting more pale by the minute.  “Caught up, but she got me with something in the leg.”  He paused and spat into the bin at his feet.  “Slashed me with a knife.” He nodded toward where he was clutching his side.  Harold’s eyes went wider and wider as more details were offered up to him.  A long pause before John spoke again.  “The number is safe.”

“Well done, Mr. Reese.” Harold said crisply, attempting to hide his unease over John’s situation, though he was pleased to hear that the mission had been a success.  “I’ll get you a clean towel and a glass of water.” John nodded slowly as Harold turned to locate those things.  Who could he call?  Who could treat electrocution, poison, and stitches without asking questions? Maybe if-

“Harold?  I- ”

Bear whined behind him and Harold turned in time to see John’s eyes roll back as he slumped backward, hitting his head against the wall before sliding sideways limply.” Mr. Reese!” he exclaimed, struggling to get back to the cot quickly.  He leaned forward, gripping John’s arm and shaking him slightly.  “Mr. Reese?” No response.  He shook him harder, but nothing changed. “Mr. Reese?”  he could feel his panic rising again. “John!?”

***

He thanked the doctor as he ushered him out the back door with a sizable bag of money.  It had been hours since John had passed out, and if the doctor was right, it would be hours more before he woke up again.  But he would wake up. The doctor hadn’t been able to identify what John had been injected with, but whatever it was had likely been less than a full dose.  It would take time, but the effects would wear off.  The wound in John’s side had been long and bloody, but wasn’t as deep as it looked and proved fairly straightforward to stitch up.  The burn at his shoulder was cleaned and dressed and would only take time to heal.

Harold made himself busy in the meantime.  He made tea, straightened his already straight books and papers, let Bear out and fed him, changed clothes, and tried to clean, though there was nothing to clean. Every so often, he would go in to check on John, whose condition never changed.  Eventually, when he had run out of tasks to distract himself with, he simply sat in the chair by the cot with a book.  He fought the heaviness of his eyelids the best he could, but without the kick of adrenaline in his system, it was a losing battle.  He only barely registered the book sliding out of his hands as he slipped into an exhausted sleep.

***

“Harold?”

John’s voice woke Harold immediately from sleep and he straightened in his chair, wincing at the pain in his neck and back from falling asleep in such a position.  “Mr. Reese, you’re awake.” Hs voice was slightly hoarse.

“I know,” he said quietly, but with a smirk in his voice.  

Harold smiled to himself. There he was.  “How are you feeling now?”

Bear had happily nudged one of John’s hands up and was enjoying a weak ear scratch.  “Better, I think.”  He lifted the blanket with his free hand and peered beneath, where he would be able to see the wide bandage on his side.  His shirt was long gone, far beyond hope of repair or cleaning.  “Who patched me up?”

“Oh, just an old acquaintance who was more than fairly compensated for his work.”  He paused before going on, gesturing to the glass on the small side table.  “Drink that. Slowly.  You need to stay hydrated.  He gave you something for the pain, but it may have worn off by now.”

John nodded and moved gingerly as he worked to sit himself up.  “Ah!” he gasped as he lost his balance slightly and his arm slipped a few inches.  Harold stood, reaching toward him, unsure how to help.  “I’m fine, Finch.” His words came out through his teeth, but there was no heat in them.  By the time he was fully upright, he was panting slightly and sweaty again.  With the blanket fallen away, Harold could see that his bandages were in need of changing as well.  John took the glass with an unsteady hand and drank about a third of the water from it.  “Do we have a new number yet?”

Harold’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief.  “Not yet. And when we do, you’re in no shape to work the case.”

“Finch, I’m fi-“

“Don’t tell me you’re fine, Mr. Reese.  You are not. You need to recover before you return to work.”  His voice was stern, but he knew nothing would stop John if he was determined.  He hoped this was one of the times when his advice would be heeded.

“If I can’t get out there, who’s gonna work the numbers?”  

“Well, we have Carter and Fusco for that.”

John frowned, unconvinced. “Finch…”

“This is not a negotiation, Mr. Reese.”  He used his most commanding voice, which was never that effective in the first place, but John huffed and broke eye contact.

“I’m going to keep tabs on them.”

“Of course.”

John made a few attempts at getting himself back down onto the mattress before giving up.  “A little help?”

Harold did his best to lower him gently, though his own strength was not what it had once been, and he was less help than he’d have liked to be.  When John was laying as comfortably as possible again, Harold pulled the blanket back up over him and squeezed his shoulder a moment.  “Make sure you don’t do this again, Mr. Reese.”

John smiled weakly. “Of course not.”

[goesaroundcomesaroundwhat]

Here is my whump fic for graphite-katanas

Sam and Dean were settling down after a torturous hunt. A young ghost had been haunting a college student’s off campus apartment. At first they wondered how a young girl with long brown hair had met her death in the home of a fairly new complex that was made for students of the local college. She would bother the recipient, a young man with a misguided haircut and too much oil on his face, by the usual ghostly matters. She got increasingly violent the more he ignored her, knocking him into a wall of his unopened textbooks. He got some of her antics on video and uploaded it to Youtube, bringing in hoardes of comments proclaiming “FAAAAAKE!” and two demon hunters.

They started with research, becoming more disturbed as they found records of a young girl, matching the description they had gotten of the apparition, who had gone missing a decade before in a neighboring town. She was never found, but they did find horrific photographic evidence hidden in a box far beneath the student’s room. It was mentally taxing to talk down a vengeful nine year old who had been mutilated in life, with no idea of how to placate her. They had no leads on who had killed her, and she didn’t seem to know who it was either. Her sobbing tore right through Sam’s heart as he burned the remaining photo of her, hoping she could find peace. He was silent through Dean’s attempts at conversation on the way back to the motel.

Currently, they were deliberating on what to do for the next couple days.

“We don’t have any leads, Sam. You know I want to find this bastard as badly as you do, but we did our part.” Dean explained, as he shook off his boots and fell back onto the tacky mattress cover, sighing and putting his hands over his face. “It isn’t right but we’ve got other things to hunt that need our attention more.” He continued.

Sam stood by the cabinet in the room with his arms crossed, sweat and dirt covering his softened face. He answered back “Dean, you know this isn’t right. I want to see this through. It’s not like we haven’t overstepped our lines before. The police couldn’t finish this and we owe it to her…” He put his puppy eyes into play “You know we do.”

“Dammit, you pulled out the big guns for this, the puppy eyes. Fine.” Dean laughed “You are one manipulative bastard, you know that right?”

Sam smiled,

“You know I do.” ​

After getting his way, Sam offered to grab food from the McDonalds down the street. They were planning on calling it an early night, it was already getting dark outside, the sun faded as Sam stood in line waiting for their food. One Big Mac meal for Dean, and a salad for Sam. In his mind, Sam pondered how unhealthy the salad still remained, it was still from McDonalds. After grabbing the food he made his way out of the establishment, and plodded to the Winchester’s home for the night, exhaustion seeping into his bones and making him struggle with each step forward.

Sam almost didn’t hear his phone ring, being so lost in his thoughts. He pulled it out of his pocket, sighing.

“Dean, I got you extra ketchup, don’t worry.” He answered

“Two packets isn’t extra. I will not let you in if I see anything less than seven.” Dean retorted, recalling the last time he sent his health freak brother out for food.

“I know…I know, okay? I got you eight. You’re gonna die of high cholesterol one day.” Sam said, his voice trailing off as his ears picked up movement behind him on his right. He turned to the source of the shuffling.

“Yeah, well better than being smashed to death by a…” Dean stopped speaking as he heard a grunt come from the other end of the phone. “Sammy?” Dean’s heart started to race as the phone call got cut off.

Sam didn’t even see what hit him, the blow hitting him square on the cheekbone and making him land in a heap near the entrance of an alleyway. Dean’s ketchup packets spilling over the dusty sidewalk and his salad scattering tomatoes across the cracks in the ground. Sam looked up at his assailant and was startled to find that his instincts had been off, it wasn’t just one man, it was two. While Sam was tall, they were muscular and almost matched his height. One held a gun in his hand and pointed it at Sam’s face. Sam figured he would be able to take them, but he knew that Dean knew something was wrong and wasn’t far away. He could stall and wait for backup.

One of the men, with a sleeve tattoo of what looked like a conglomeration of dragons, reared his foot back and kicked Sam in the ribs, making his eyes water and eliciting a cough from his throat. He heard the man with the gun speak.

“This is the guy then? He knows about the photos? You said no one would ever know. Where’s the other one?”

Sam chuckled, realizing he had gotten a lead without even asking for it. He just had to wait it out. It would take Dean another minute or two to get to his location if he had taken off running when the call ended. Which is what Sam surmised he would do, he couldn’t handle not being there to protect his little brother. As Sam thought this, the pair seemed to settle onto an idea, nodding at each other.

“Alright.” The gunman spoke up, tilting the gun toward Sam’s stomach “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

Sam only had a moment to shout “Wait!” before he felt a fiery pain burst into his side. He couldn’t help but moan as his vision darkened, the pain making him exhausted. He briefly entertained the thought that the ground beneath him felt softer than the mattress back in the motel room. Sam heard shouting and felt a panicked voice yelling his name above his prone body on the earth. The blood pooled on the ground and he grasped at his stomach, felt the warm blood running over his shaking hands.

The last sensation he felt was a gentle hand running through his long hair.

Sam woke up slowly, his eyelids straining to open and see the bright world around him, illuminated by fluorescent lights. He coughed and immediately felt the air shift as a figure moved to his side.

“Sammy, hey Sammy…You need anything? Water? The good stuff?” the worried voice of his brother echoed in the small hospital room. Dean called out the door “Hey! He’s awake! Can I get someone in here?” A blonde man in a white coat entered the room. After checking Sam’s vital signs and gauging his sense of awareness he explained the situation they found themselves in.

Sam had been shot in the stomach, missing vital organs but he had bled enough that the fast response from Dean had been crucial in his brother’s survival. He would have to rest up for a while, but he was going to make it out just fine.

The same couldn’t be said for his assailants. When cornered by police, they had committed suicide by cop, refusing to be taken alive for their crimes. Sam and Dean weren’t sure how many victims they had, but the fact that they had been hiding in plain sight in the town had told them enough about the hunt for the girl’s killer. After speaking to the local officers, the boys were given offers of arrangements to stay in town so that the case could be put away for good and their involvement recognized.

They slipped out of the hospital ward the middle of Sam’s fourth night there, leaving behind a confused town and a relieved college student.