[closed]

[totallytrustworthy]

Who: Nathan Drake and Chloe Frazer (Charlie later)
Where: Just a few blocks away from the Cirrane
When: Backdated to July 9th
Warnings: injury patching


[This was wrong. It was all wrong-- and stuck in the middle of a job and a pseudo war zone that involves Zoran Lazarevic on the prowl she'd have been smart to call on someone else. To have asked for help or even for Charlie to turn up sooner (though she's not willing to risk his neck over her own) but the longer she waits, the more likely Drake is to be recaptured or worse...

And something about that doesn't really sit right.

She has her hood drawn well up as she shoves her way through the crowds looking for a sign of red. Blood or his sorry, fiery hair at this point.]

Comments

[cyphered]

[Nate hasn't made it to the medical bay yet -- he had gone straight for the crowds to reduce visibility from Lazarevic, to disappear before anyone he knew could pick up on him and try to intervene. He knows the Serbian is watching for accomplices for leverage against him, and Nate doesn't intend to make it easy.

As such, he has to make himself look less injured than he actually is, a task that is quickly becoming impossible with a broken wrist and how much blood he's lost from the bullet still embedded in his back. Chloe won't find him in the thick of the crowd, but off to the side half hunched against the wall, determined to weave through the few people who slow down to watch him go on his way.]

[totallytrustworthy]

[Spotting him isn't difficult, especially not when the milling crowd slows to give him room, uncertain of how to react: she reaches for his arm first-- hopes to steady him knowing full well he'll likely react badly to it.

At the moment it's honestly the least of her concerns.]

[cyphered]

[Instinctively, he shoves at her with his injured arm before he can think about it or see who's attached to him, making him grunt in pain. Its not difficult to spot familiar eyes under the hood and, if possible, he goes a little whiter.]

What...the hell are you doing here? He's still--

[He's interrupted by exhaustion, stemmed from bloodloss, which interrupts his thought.]

Told you to find someone else.

[totallytrustworthy]

I tried, Nate, trust me-- there wasn't enough time. [All compartmentalized efficiency, her grip stays firm; she moves to try and shoulder his weight before he has the chance to recover his senses enough to protest. If he can recover that much at all, at this point.]

Come on, handsome. We need to go.

[cyphered]

You need to go.

[He tries to fight her, but it makes his vision go white and makes her job that much easier. Nearly losing consciousness is enough to halt protesting from Nate for the moment.

In retrospect, it might have been smoother to just collapse on the hooded stranger, but its hard to have good ideas when you've lost as much blood as he has.]

[totallytrustworthy]

[Correction: It's hard to have anything when you've lost that much blood. And they can't do the hospital right now-- not unless they both feel like taking a trip down solitary lane yet again. The only option she can think of is to get him home and seal up his wounds with the cauterizer.

If he's patched up they can at least attribute his blood loss to some odd, random phenomenon and let the hospital staff scratch their heads whilst saving him.]

Not without you. [Small as she is she climbs ruins and doges bullets for a living (or she would if she was given the chance) and shouldering nearly all of his weight doesn't slow her down much. Her flat's close; climbing the stairs to it is the hard part.]

Hang in there, sweetheart. I've got you.

[cyphered]

Chloe.

[It isn't until they reach the stairs that Nate shows signs of self awareness. He leans a little heavier to try and stop her from taking the first step. Its getting harder to stay conscious.]

You're...gonna blow your cover.

[If it wasn't already blown, anyway.]

[totallytrustworthy]

As if I've ever been amateur enough to get caught. [Yes, Chloe. Yes you have, many, many times.

But she pulls in more of his weight regardless, inhaling sharply as she pulls him up towards the elevator. Keeps him upright by merit of the railings inside it. Drags him, bloody and trailing vivid streaks of it behind them, into her apartment to drop him gently on the couch.]

Just hang in there, okay? No closing your eyes on me.

[cyphered]

This isn't amateur work.

[Nate lays uselessly where he is deposited, happy to simply have his head cushioned for the moment. It might have been smarter to lay him on a hard surface if she had wanted to keep his eyes from closing.

Right now, all he can think of is that he needs a nap.]

Its just a bullet wound. You act like I'm gonna die or something...

[His voice trails off.]

[totallytrustworthy]

You do and you'll regret it. [She's already on her way back, first aid kit in hand with a firm hold on their old friend: the cauterizing gun. His bleeding is her first concern, after all, and if Nate's dealing with the pain of being burned...well, he'll be awake, at least.

Chloe settles on her knees beside him, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, fingers already peeling back his ruddy, soaked-through shirt as she sets to feeling out the deeper gouges.]

Breathe, okay?

[cyphered]

[He's breathing, but he's definitely not very awake. The worst of the wounds is at his shoulder, straight through the trapezius muscle. The bullet itself is still embedded rather deep, and its really a wonder at all that Lazarevic hadn't hit any major veins when he shot.

His shirt sticks the worst there, and he flinches when she manages to get it far enough to make a difference. His wrist lays across his stomach at an awkward angle, trying to take the pressure off the break there.

Its the most movement he can manage. He's lost a lot of blood.]

[totallytrustworthy]

Shit. [She'd hoped for superficial, and all she finds are near lethal misses. The foam's temporarily abandoned after a short, anesthetizing burn on undamaged skin to ease the pain: she tears through his already battered shirt to free up the bullet wound before digging in with tweezers, body braced over his for both her sake and his.]

I need to clear the wound-- try to hold still.

[cyphered]

[It starts off ok -- Nate is nearly unconscious as it is, so he doesn't feel much of anything between dead nerves and the haze of sleep. However, when she digs into muscle, his synapses light up immediately with pain and he makes a pathetic noise into the couch. He braces himself, which causes him to lean on his already broken wrist, but its all out of reflex.

It hurts. It hurts more than anything else he can remember. Being shot so directly into such a sensitive muscle -- its definitely not an experience he would repeat. He would take getting shot almost anywhere else.

But he doesn't have the energy to make that joke. He just weakly grinds his forehead into the pillow in an effort to keep himself from moving too much while Chloe fishes for the bullet.]