will you hold me, when it’s time?

memory’s so treacherous

Gods, he’s a damned fool. Gritting his teeth against any further screams that want to rip from his throat, Finn is suddenly altogether very aware of what has just occurred and what a ridiculous, impulsive, out of character thing it is he’s just done. Tobi is by his side and his vision is too blurred by pain to do anything other than follow her direction, and he slumps against the wall because it’s the closest thing available.

Jaw feathering, he tries not to look at his ruined hand, the Spyglass sheet white and pallid. ”Th-that was n-not a s-smart thing to do, was it?” he manages, trying and failing to stop shivers racking through his body. Blood is streaming down his wrist, staining the clean and pale shirt, and he feels like he might throw up all of that water after all. ”I think I’d l-like to be restrained to the bed... Wh-when we get downstairs.” It’s a plea, more than anything - please stop me from doing these things.

one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights

the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go

FINN

October

when the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long

The wound isn't fatal and it's a long way from his heart, as your mother used to say. Nothing a bit of your ability can't fix, though you wouldn't be able to now, while he's awake. In the clinic though, where you've got a vial of your shavings? Maybe...

Placing your palm against his cheek to steady both his trembles and his gaze, you try to find his eyes. "Finn, you're going to be alright." You say in a gentle, but firm voice. You can smell the sickness on him, the fear and anxiety. The half-shift takes part at the back of your nose where it can't really be seen, but your nostrils flare just the same. You think you can smell something like hurt and sadness as well, though it's harder to define. While animals can absolutely sense emotions, it...isn't always so straight forward. And right now your own mind doesn't know what to think.

Using your hip to balance him, your hand lowers to his shoulder, pressing slightly so that he might slump all the way down to the floor. No use in him trying to remain standing, or worse, falling over while you get the things you need. "You're okay Finn." You whisper again, long fingers squeezing his shoulder. "I'm just going to get my bad from beside your bed. I can't fix your fingers here, but I can wrap them."

and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong

memory’s so treacherous

The hand against his cheek is warm, and he slides to the safety of the ground where the door cant jump out and bite him again - or rather, where he can’t force his body through yet more danger and torment. She says he’s going to be alright, that everything is okay, and it all feels so far from it. But in that moment, Finn believes that if Tobi says it enough, she might just make it all true. Meeting her gaze with eyes filmed with tears, he nods once.

”Okay,” he says, exhaling the word out on a shivery breath and feeling a drop of sweat roll its way down the back of his neck. Suddenly Finn doesn’t want to be in these rooms any more - he wants out of them with every fibre of his waning strength. Hopefully that extends to wrapping his fingers up. ”At least it’s high enough up that no one heard that,” he manages.

one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights

the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go

FINN

October

when the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long

What he says...it worries you. Does he know from experience that these rooms are too high up for screams to be heard? You were okay with seeing his hand shatter and break (well, not okay, but mentally-alright), but this? Offering Finn a shaky smile, you force out a little laugh. "Just because no one has complained about your bed banging against the floorboards, doesn't mean no one can hear."

Offering him another quick smile before quickly jogging across the floor to fetch your bag and the glass of water on his bedside table, you return, plopping down in front of him. Cross-legged, you make quick work of setting up the things you need, placing things easily within reach so that once you begin, you won't need to stop for something. "I don't have anything for the pain." You warn him. "And...I know you know how to deal with pain, but this won't be fun." Gods you wish you could take all of this away. To wrap him up in a blanket of happiness, swaddling him tight until the end of his days. You don't know how to do that though, don't know how to reach him. You're reminded again that it's Falke's jurisdiction, and you kick yourself for not reaching out sooner. 2 days was apparently too long.

There's antiseptic first, and then cotton placed around the bones sticking through. Gauze keeps his fingers apart, and then a good amount of bandage is softly folded around the still-red topography of his hand. You're fully fixed on your task, working as efficiently and painlessly as you possibly can. It will continue to bleed, but that's alright. High up as you are, it shouldn't take too long to get to the clinic.

"A sip." You say in a soft voice, holding the glass of water up to his lips.

and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong

Falke

It’s slow work, making it up the steps to the attic. As much as Falke doesn’t want to admit to his disability, things like this make it evident. Clenching his jaw with every other step, Falke makes the slow climb up to Finn’s room while carrying a big bag, having been there maybe twice before. Or was it once? It was probably just once. All in all, it does seem best, The Fixer thinks, to keep him up here if they’re going to keep his appearance a secret and they had missed the time when Doctor Hart said they’d be down.

So he’d grabbed the field medic kit and tossed it over his shoulder and across his chest. Cane in hand, looking for all world like he’s bound for the Outside, the Clinic left in the care of their third in command.

The repetitive tap-shuffle comes up before him, with Falke now sweating at the effort. “Doctor Hart?” he calls out with every full twist, forgetting just how far away the attic is. And yet no more than this - the key to keeping a secret is, after all, not to talk about it.

As far as anyone who may see him is concerned, he’s just looking for clues about Finn. Finn who is sick, which is why he's carrying medicine and a glove, not Finn who has a fucking broken hand on top of all that.

oh we're human, only human

like a moth to a flame, flickering so dangerously

Base Code by Sky!

memory’s so treacherous

”Banging... against the floorboards...?” Finn doesn’t get it, and it couldn’t be more obvious; the Spyglass squints at her as he tries to follow her movements to get her bag and bring it over. His hand is throbbing already, an ache spreading deeply up the length of his left arm, and as she leans down beside him, he gives her a wobbly smile that he hopes doesn’t completely betray his anxiety. ”You could make anything fun,” he grates out.

Finn’s wrong, though, and as Tobi reaches out to set his hand and his fingers, he arches off the wall, biting back a scream and having to remind himself to breathe. His right hand shoots out to grasp hold of his left forearm, having to hold it and brace it in place for her. It feels like it takes years for her to bandage him up, by which time he’s probably ruined another shirt by sweating through it, and has undone all the work that the shower did for him.

Then there’s a voice, distant but recognisable, and Finn cranes his head to try and find the source of it. ”Falke...?” His voice is hoarse, and he doesn’t sound all there anymore. (As if he did in the first place, under these circumstances).

one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights

the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go

FINN

October

when the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long

You don't explain. Why you're making sex jokes right now to a former prostitute is beyond you. Later, maybe, in talking to Falke, you might realize you're more nervous around Finn than you let on. For now though, you just shake your head as you grab your things and get to work.

"Well, that is about to be put to the test." You hum brightly, wishing that his words convinced either of you. As he rallies against you, all you can do is focus and work faster. "I know, I know." Your murmur, your entire demeanour making it seem as though you're treating a wounded animal. Had you more hands you'd have held his arm so that he wouldn't have had to, you'd smooth back the curls from his face, you'd press into the muscles of his shoulders to force them to relax. You don't though, and the two you have are focused entirely on their task, leaving nothing of you available to soothe your patient.

You hear Falke's voice as well and for just a moment you let your hands softly hover in midair, indecision, surprisingly, freezing you in place. There's relief in the pit of your stomach, relief because gods if you haven't let all of this get too far. Whatever you've done to help Finn's body, you've harmed his mind in the process. You aren't even entirely sure how which is indicative of why you shouldn't be the one to treat him now. But you're also worried; not as a doctor, but as a friend.

"Fuck." You sing under your breath, the curse word a heavy and awkward sound in your mouth. Closing your eyes for just a second and exhaling an unsteady breath, you place your hand on one of Finn's shoulders. "It will be alright." You whisper.

Since when are you in the habit of giving false hope? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Rising, you move to the door. It's unlocked but closed. Pulling it open, you pop your head out to see Falke standing there. "We've...had an accident. We need to get him down to the clinic." This is said with a bit of a wince, realizing that Falke has just walked all the way up here. But in order to operate on Finn's hand, they'll need everything at their disposal. Not wanting to give too much detail, but needing Falke to know the extent of Finn's mental and physical state, you grimly bite at your lower lip, shaking your head. Your dark eyes are stormy with worry and apprehension. Hopefully he gets the message.

and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong

Falke

Like a duck paddling furiously into triage mode, Falke brushes aside the wince with the truth; they need to get back to clinic. “Okay, then back down we go.” No muss, no outward fuss. “Though I’m afraid I can’t manage Finn, if he can’t carry himself,” he continues with a hushed tone, a grim look on his expression, which immediately brightens into a false sense of positivity when he looks into the room to see the patient.

“Hey there, Finn,” soothing, non-threatening, Tobi had the right of it, exactly the way one might talk to a scared and hurting pet. “Does that hurt? I’ve got something that can help, if you don’t mind a little pinprick.” There’s painkillers in his bag, of course, and he can see that Tobi’s done a good job of wrapping it up with what she’s got. The Fixer might have been able to kneel down to Finn’s level if he hadn’t just climbed a whole lot of stairs. But like many medical professionals, he can push his own pain and exhaustion away when it comes to the dire sort of situations - and like it or not, this seems like the dire sort.

“Can I come in for a quick moment? Or would you like to come out?” Falke lingers on the landing outside the door, pushing himself up against one of the piles of books to leave an empty space for Finn to come in to, if he wants. His eyes dart to Doctor Hart, aware of what she’s said in her note, but without any first hand knowledge, feels like he’s very much playing it by ear. “Or Tobi can give it to you.”

Placing a reassuring hand on Tobi's shoulder, he tries to lend her some non-verbal strength.

oh we're human, only human

like a moth to a flame, flickering so dangerously

Base Code by Sky!

memory’s so treacherous

It feels like someone has thrown fire over him, Finn certain that his skin has cracked and blistered, that the magma of the Climb is leaking out of him and burning holes in the ground. Holes into which he falls, desperate and alone, with the sing-song of voices playing all around. With flushed cheeks and an unfocused gaze, he gazes up at Falke as he appears, his right arm still gripping the bandaged left.

What do you fucking think is what a seldom seen part of himself wants to say, blood already leaking through some of the thinner layers of the dressing. But he merely jerks his head in a nod - yes, it hurts. And Finn has to get out of here, suddenly. His walls dance with the faces of the people he knows, and there’s a stain on this once-sanctuary. Its defences have been breached; Finn is homeless again.

Bracing hard against the ground and using the wall behind him as leverage, the Spyglass forces himself on his feet. His stomach churns and a wave of nausea threatens to throw him back to the ground, but he manages to totter outside where they are waiting. ”I don’t mind,” he says regarding whoever will deliver this pin-prick, wanting desperately for unconsciousness to take him. But their journey isn’t over yet.

one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights

the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go

FINN

October

when the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long

You'll apologize to Falke after for the pain all of this will have caused his hip. You'll even offer to help with his physio; massaging muscles is something you do quite well. For now though, all you can think of is Finn and the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Gods if you could only syphon all of the strength that the doctor is offering you, you just might be able to bear this. As it is you want to throw up and cry all at the same time—both incredibly unprofessional and inappropriate responses to this situation. This is precisely why you don't make house calls.

You know better.
You should have done better.

Nodding to Falke that he can administer the painkillers,  you hold an arm out for Finn that you might sidle against him to help with the journey downstairs. Part of you is fully expecting him to stubbornly (protectively?) make the journey himself, though.

So it is that after pain medication is administered the three of you manage to make your way back down the stairs and into the clinic. You're all sweating and tired by the end of it, but at least Finn is somewhere he can receive the medical attention he needs for his hand, and Falke can properly assess whatever damage you might have done by allowing him to remain on his own for these past two days.


~FINnishurt

and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong