Part 2

[walk_ins]

There's a stink of gunpowder in the air; too much for the Station's air recyclers to clear out. Blood, too. But things have gotten quiet, except for the rare moan from the blue-handed defenders. Whatever forces are left to protect the Academy have given up on breaking the seige and have fallen back, waiting for the attackers to come out.

Time's running out.

Comments

[key-youth-bert.livejournal.com]

It doesn't hurt all that much, really.

Shock, he supposes. The same reason he can lie here and think about it that calmly.

What hurts is seeing Alain and Susan above him, hearing Susan's scream and Alain's broken whisper.

What hurts is the fact that he's trying to grip Alain's hand, trying to reach out to Susan, and his hands won't obey him.

And while this wasn't the horrible mistake of a loved one, while neither of them is to blame for this, as he was before, he thinks maybe he undertstands now why Alain's dying words were ones of reassurance and love.

"S-Susan--Al--"

It's all he can manage.

[simon_doctor]

It's a little terrifying, how clear his mind suddenly is.

Simon is crouched next to Alain, tugging the bottom of Cuthbert's chambray shirt loose from the belt of his jeans and pulling it aside to get a quick look at the entry wound itself, then wadding the fabric of the shirt, gathering it into a makeshift pad.

He seizes Susan's hand and presses the wadded material under it, against the wound. "Press on that," he tells her. "Hard. Cuthbert, can you move your feet?"

[sai_delgado]

She bites her lip and nods, pressing down as she's been told, obeying blindly, desperately.

(Simon is a doctor)

There's still no room for hope within her. Cuthbert's pale and weak, and there's so much blood. She can't look away from his face.

[key-youth-bert.livejournal.com]

It's mostly through sheer force of will that Cuthbert manages to finally cover Susan's hand with his. Her fingers are sticky with blood--his blood--and he can't find the strength to do anything more than just lay his own on top of them.

Alright, feet. It shouldn't be too hard to just move his feet a bit, right?

...Right?

"Might...need a second to work on that..."

[simon_doctor]

"You do that. Stay with me," he tells Cuthbert.

To Alain: "Help me get him down to the infirmary." To Susan: "I need you to keep the pressure steady. Can you do that?"

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

His eyes are burning.

Cuthbert's hand is limp in his.

A quick shift to glance at Simon -- help him, his face says, fierce demand and broken plea in one -- and then his face sets, and he nods.

Low, "This'll hurt, 'Bert. Keep it from rising. Stay with us now, I beg."

A gentle squeeze of Cuthbert's hand, and then he lays it on Cuthbert's stomach, out of Susan's way, and shifts to slide his hands under his friend's shoulders.

[sai_delgado]

Cuthbert's hand is cool over hers, and he hasn't the strength to grip-- Susan puts her other hand over both of theirs, holding tight, holding true, holding steady-- and looks up at Simon.

"I can, aye. I will--" and her voice breaks into a sob. "Kaylee told me-- ye helped her-- please, Simon, please-- I can't lose him, I can't--"

She looks back down at Cuthbert, and although tears are falling freely now, her words are clear.

"Thee said that ye'd be mine as long as I'd have thee-- and I'm not ready to let thee go, 'Bert. I'll never be ready. Don't-- don't leave me. Don't leave us."

[simon_doctor]

(Kaylee told me, ye helped her --)

He remembers the day Kaylee was shot. And remembers, with a feeling like cold stones in his stomach, rising from beside her

(ài rén)

and threatening to let her die.

(then you know how crucial the next few minutes are)

He meets Alain's eyes, and nods sharply, and together they lift Cuthbert off the floor and start carrying him towards the infirmary.

[key-youth-bert.livejournal.com]

It hasn't hurt much, up to this point. But Cuthbert's still lucid enough to know that it will when they lift him.

He doesn't have a belt to bite down on, but he clenches his teeth together and tries to focus whatever remains of his strength into catching the pain as it rises.

It doesn't entirely work, and a strangled noise that's half cry and half groan breaks loose.

[simon_doctor]

Alain pales but doesn't falter; Susan goes nearly white, but keeps the pressure on the wound. And they keep moving, carrying the gunslinger through the cargo bay as fast as they can safely move, through the crowd of silent students all watching them with wide eyes.

As they slow to maneuver through the door at the far end, a sandy-haired girl with a round face says to Alain in a tone balanced between horror and awe: "You shot the doctor."

Simon throws a look over his shoulder. He can't see Lin's body from here, and that suits him just fine; he's got his handiwork to deal with.

(First. Do. No. Harm.)

His voice is level, and very cold. "That isn't a doctor."

And they move off in the direction of the infirmary.

[walk_ins]

He's dying.

Dr. Lin finds it hard to believe, but that's the way it is. Someone shot him in the throat.

He can't breathe. It's so dark.

Someone's coming.

A dark-skinned man swims into focus, and then a collar.

A Shepherd.

He's always been a religious man. God's work.

Last rites. At least he'll have those.

Shepherd Book leans over him and whispers in his ear, crossing himself.

[book-moshi.livejournal.com]

The words he whispers are short and simple and clean:

"There's a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theater."


"Goodbye, Sergio."

And he turns away.