I love you, Matt says, and Tim feels his heart stutter in his chest. He wants to say it back, but it gets stuck in his throat. He does, though. He loves Matt so much and the possibility of losing him is so, so real. Suddenly, he regrets spending the last week away from the other. He would've been here every night if he thought they only had a week left together.
"Matt-- Matt, I need you to stay awake, keep your eyes open."
But he's out. Matt's unconscious and Tim's heart is beating in his throat. Matt could die at any moment, and Tim's helpless to stop it. There's nothing he can do. He's not a doctor, he's only barely trained in first aid. All he can really do is hope and pray to a God he doesn't even believe in, and wait for Claire to get here.
He does what he can anyway. He cuts away Matt's clothes and drags out a dozen towels, folding them and pressing them against the large gashes in Matt's body. He tries to hold off the bleeding the best he can, but doesn't try moving Matt anywhere. He doesn't know how extensive the injuries are. When Claire gets there, she doesn't knock. She hardly says anything at all besides giving Tim quick, sharp instructions. Hold this, hand me that, get me this. She has him keep his fingers on the pulse point in Matt's wrist, just to make sure his heart's still beating while she works. She listens to his lungs and examines his ribs once the blood is cleaned away, stitches up the long, deep gashes in his torso, bandages his arms and legs where they've been banged and scraped up. It's like watching a god damn miracle unfold before his eyes.
Finally, after what feels like forever, Claire sits back on her heels and wipes her forehead with the back of her arm, leaving a small streak of blood behind. She looks up at Tim, cracks a half smile and says, "Welcome to the club."
They move Matt to the couch, Tim doing a bit more of the heavy lifting than Claire. She sticks around for a couple of hours, just to monitor, but she's exhausted, and Matt's stable, so she takes her leave. Tells Tim to call her if anything, anything at all, changes. Gives him specific instructions for Matt's care before she slips out the door.
Tim doesn't sleep. He makes coffee, adds some bourbon to it, and stays up while Matt sleeps, now wearing nothing but boxers, since the rest of his clothes are cut apart. Tim sits nearby in the armchair, sometimes reading a battered copy of Alice in Wonderland that he left there weeks before, and sometimes watching Matt breathe.
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"Matt-- Matt, I need you to stay awake, keep your eyes open."
But he's out. Matt's unconscious and Tim's heart is beating in his throat. Matt could die at any moment, and Tim's helpless to stop it. There's nothing he can do. He's not a doctor, he's only barely trained in first aid. All he can really do is hope and pray to a God he doesn't even believe in, and wait for Claire to get here.
He does what he can anyway. He cuts away Matt's clothes and drags out a dozen towels, folding them and pressing them against the large gashes in Matt's body. He tries to hold off the bleeding the best he can, but doesn't try moving Matt anywhere. He doesn't know how extensive the injuries are. When Claire gets there, she doesn't knock. She hardly says anything at all besides giving Tim quick, sharp instructions. Hold this, hand me that, get me this. She has him keep his fingers on the pulse point in Matt's wrist, just to make sure his heart's still beating while she works. She listens to his lungs and examines his ribs once the blood is cleaned away, stitches up the long, deep gashes in his torso, bandages his arms and legs where they've been banged and scraped up. It's like watching a god damn miracle unfold before his eyes.
Finally, after what feels like forever, Claire sits back on her heels and wipes her forehead with the back of her arm, leaving a small streak of blood behind. She looks up at Tim, cracks a half smile and says, "Welcome to the club."
They move Matt to the couch, Tim doing a bit more of the heavy lifting than Claire. She sticks around for a couple of hours, just to monitor, but she's exhausted, and Matt's stable, so she takes her leave. Tells Tim to call her if anything, anything at all, changes. Gives him specific instructions for Matt's care before she slips out the door.
Tim doesn't sleep. He makes coffee, adds some bourbon to it, and stays up while Matt sleeps, now wearing nothing but boxers, since the rest of his clothes are cut apart. Tim sits nearby in the armchair, sometimes reading a battered copy of Alice in Wonderland that he left there weeks before, and sometimes watching Matt breathe.