tasteofneedles | [for Raven]

There's an old episode of M*A*S*H that deals with the trope of whether or not you hear the bullet that gets you. Or maybe it created the trope; Sean's not entirely sure, now that he thinks about it. All he knows is where his own experiences fall, and so far, he's taken the fact that he's heard it coming every single time as a sign that he's not out of the game just yet.

Not that he wouldn't deserve it after this one. The whole job has been a rushed mess from the get-go, and he has only himself to blame for that. He's been so eager to get back to things after having the general populace up and disappear, taking with them any notion that he hadn't completely wasted his life in Darrow up to that point in building up the reputation of the Banshee. Without any payoff, without the ability to do any real good from within, he's just been another crook. So with everything back to normal (or as near as it ever gets), maybe he's been more pressed than he should be to get back into the swing of things, maybe he's been sloppy, maybe he's been ignoring sketchy cues in the name of expediency and the knowledge that he can handle himself if things go south. Maybe none of that takes into account his distraction of late, between his wedding anniversary and getting to know Theresa all over again and trying to balance the bitter with the sweet of it all in time for a nice family Thanksgiving.

And all it takes is an instant.

The double-cross doesn't even faze him, really, and maybe that's part of the problem. Two Rambaldi representatives (read: goons) waiting in the alley for him instead of the expected one, conveniently darkened streetlamps, no pockets bulging enough for the the envelope he's owed... Sean's already bored by it all by the time a car smoothly pulls up to block off the far end of the alley, penning him in. He's moving to disarm the thugs even as they're still reaching into this coats, too stupid to know he's never penned in as long as there's open sky above, and he's on autopilot, his movements rote, facile. He's better than this, and he knows it; he should be beyond this paint-by-numbers bull. What the hell is he doing?

Pride goeth. It would be the word of a second, not even that, to use his voice, to warp the air around him for that extra bit of protection as the near-silent whir of the car window descending comes to him form the end of the alley, rising above the sounds of the scuffle. But he doesn't bother. Why should he, when it's just as easy to ram his elbow into one heavily-tattooed neck and shove the guy around to put him in the line of fire instead?

As the shot rings out, echoing in the close quarters, it takes a curiously long moment before Sean actually realizes that it's hit him. Because saints, what are the odds of that? But then he catches up to the sudden, blinding pain in his side, connects it to the sound, and the window's rolling back up, and the two gangsters are scrambling to their feet, and...

He almost shouts them down, but he picks now to check his actions, and in that too-late instant, he doesn't trust himself not to just kill them both. Then the instant is past, his knees go out from under him, and he knows he's lost.

He's been lost for a while now.

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"Because your stubbornness isn't going to stop you from bleeding out," Raven says bluntly, clenching her teeth to try to bear her own pain. It's not lethal, though, she's still breathing and there's not been enough time for infection to seep in. It just hurts like hell. Her voice is shaking when she speaks next, focus set on Sean. "Do you know if I'm supposed to apply pressure or not? I don't... I don't want to make this worse."

Sean answers her question in his head instantly (he's losing too much blood on the outside for it to be filling in his guts; means it's all muscle and blood vessels; means pressure), but instead moves only to clarify, his voice slurring.

"Why're ye helpin' me?"

Edited 2014-12-06 09:49 (UTC)

The question is enough to elicit a cry from Raven, something she'll put down to the knife burning in her thigh and not how much it aches to have someone ask why she wants to keep them alive. It's the right thing to do, that's what it comes down to. And even if he hates her for whoever the hell he thinks she is, she can't bring herself to hate him in turn. "I don't want you to die," she answers, though, blunt but true. "I'm calling an ambulance. Now."

Sean can only stare at her, not understanding, as simple a conceit as it is. It just doesn't make any sense.

Then again, he is, admittedly, having a difficult time keeping a thought in his head for more than a passing moment, so maybe his confusion is to be expected. And she's always been predictable only in her ability to be unpredictable.

Wait, ambulance. Wasn't there a problem with that, somehow?

"No," he suddenly snaps, grabbing her wrist out of nowhere. "I... this looks bad."

"Not as bad as if you die," Raven reminds him, even though she's pretty sure that's the exact opposite of what she's supposed to do. She's meant to tell him everything's fine and the ambulance is on its way. Of course, she hasn't called them yet. She frees her wrist – his grasp isn't as strong as it might otherwise be – and fumbles for her phone. "You need a doctor. We both do."

There's a counter-argument to be made, Sean is sure, but she shakes him off and his thoughts are growing slippery, just as difficult to keep hold of. Whatever he meant to say, it's gone, and as time begins to stutter forward again, the moment is lost anyhow.

"'S nae the right doctor," he instead mumbles under his breath, thoughts cycling back around to a previous absurd tangent as his tenuous grasp on consciousness finally begins to fail him.

"I'm sorry, Sean," Raven says, sure this is another reason that he'll come to hate her but unable to stop herself from dialling emergency services and pleading for help. It's only when she's finished the phone call that she realises she forgot to mention herself. They'll see what's wrong soon enough, and she lets her body slump not too far from his, hand pressing over the wound in a way she hopes helps more than hinders.

She's not all that far from giving into the pain herself when she realises what they'll see when they arrive, a blue monster next to a maybe-dying man, and that's the last thing she wants. Whatever strength she has left goes into making herself blonde haired and beloved again, and then all she can do is watch the knife while she hopes what she's done is enough to save Sean's life.

Ah, the sweet oblivion of sudden, massive, blood loss. Nothing in the world like it.

One minute, Sean's lost in the fog of it all, blissfully unaware for who knows how long. The next, he's fighting tooth and nail to stay there, because sounds are starting to filter in, the squeak of canvas shoes on linoleum, the beep of machinery, he's hurt and bewildered and somewhere he want doesn't to be and experience says that this is the part where Meredith shows up.

In the minute after that (or ten later, or fifty, he has no way of really knowing), he can't get out of bed quickly enough, to the protest of fresh sutures. He'd been carrying no ID, but it's just not that big a hospital, and he has no idea what information, if anything, Raven would have given. The fact that he woke up alone, without a cop posted anywhere, means that he's not immediately on the hook for anything, but he's also not about to stick around and fill out paperwork.

"Time t'go, boyo," he mutters through clenched teeth as he pads over to the door on unsteady feet, briefly glancing out into the hall to get the lay of the land before going back to look for his jacket.

They've given her pills to ease the pain, but Raven hates the way they make her feel dizzy, like she might lose control of all of her senses at any given moment. She can't afford that. So instead of the two they offer her, she takes half of one, the biting edge barely taken off.

It's enough that she's able to walk about a little, though it's with a pretty profound limp. The nurses want her to stay where she is but the second she's conscious enough to head out the doorway, it's straight for Sean that she goes. She's not expecting to encounter him standing, searching for something in his hospital room. "Oh, no you don't," she says, breath of a laugh making everything ache. "I didn't get stabbed for you to waltz on out the second you came to. Get back into bed."

Sean whirls around at the sound of her voice, but he's still too foggy to actually tense up too much. This is probably a good thing, all else considered.

"Aye, I'm still nae entirely clear on why ye did, either, so if'n it's all the same to ye..." he says, sparing her a nod before returning to his search and coming up with a pair of bloodstained jeans and his jacket folded neatly away in a plastic shopping bag. He never turns his back entirely on her, though.

"I dinnae have time for this."

"You could have died, Sean," Raven shoots back. She's mad, she can't help it. It's not like she magically expected him to grow fond of her when she saved his life, but it stings nonetheless and angry, angry is easier. "So it's not the same to me. You need to slow down. Sit down. And get better before you run off to do whatever it was doing that got you shot in the first place."

"I can do all that once I'm out o' here," Sean stubbornly counters, awkwardly clutching the side of the bed for leverage and the illusion that he isn't almost ready to collapse. "Don't ye get it? I wasnae simply some bystander in that alley like yerself. Folks are going t'be askin' questions as soon as they realize I'm awake, an' I've no good answers to give. So if'n ye truly did care about me well bein'," he goes on, those last five words said with a sarcastic sneer, "ye'd be wheelin' me out the front doors yerself rather than tryin' to keep me in."

The sneer hurts. It always will, but it's something Raven's growing all the more accustomed to. What she wouldn't give to be as indifferent or as callous as he seems to think her, right now.

At the very least she can pretend. Raven steps aside, though still leaning against the doorframe for support. It would be easy to forget she's injured, too, in the wake of Sean's behavior, but she's not going to make things worse for herself just because he doesn't seem to give a damn about himself. "I'm not wheeling you out," she says. "I've done more than enough to keep you alive today."

[for Raven]

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