triage
little bonus destroyer scene. set early-ish into the series. ive been wanting to write this for a while im surprised i didnt get to it sooner. martino decent moments?
(Content: blood, seizure, implied dehumanization, medical whump)
The clatter of footsteps over the metal grate of the catwalk made a pleasing sound, one that Paris never appreciated, especially not now. He was at a dead sprint. He didnโt appreciate the feeling of being able to run with both lungs still working as intended. He did not know at the time that he only had a precious few months left to experience this. He didnโt appreciate the sound and the sweet vestibular motion that came with jumping off the platform, into the chaos below.
โWhat the fuck,โ he said as he pushed the doors open. The light inside spilled out โ jetted out, like it wanted to run. All bright blue and hungry. Delta convulsed mindlessly upon the bench.
โWhat the fuck happened?!โ he repeated, yelling this time, which didnโt help to ease the roomโs crescendoing energy.ย
โMy fault,โ Simon admitted readily, a rarity.
โItย isย your fault,โ Martino confirmed.
This clarified nothing. High voltage electricity lashed out at everything metal it could find. It all drew out of the collar. Deltaโs hair fell in loose strands around his face, obscuring his expression, but doing nothing to obscure the shuttering gasp as the lightning wracked him again.ย
One of the med students, doe-eyed and stupid, moved closer to the bench.ย
โAht!โ Martino snapped, physically, stopping her dead in her tracks. He shooed her away. โNo.โ
She retreated. Simon had already moved to the absolute outskirts of the room, practically pressed against the wall for all the calamity. Paris, stupidly, kept his middle distance out of a sheer and morbid curiosity.
Blood was pooling right by Deltaโs head. It stained and soaked through the thin white paper of the medical bench.ย
Cursing, muttering beneath his breath, Martino adjusted the insulating gloves over the sleeves of his white coat.
โStep back,โ he told Paris just as soon as he stepped forward, clearly exasperated that this much even needed saying. The prince did as he was told, though not by much.
The convulsions made Delta helpless, but they did not make himย limp. When Martino wrested his wrists into the cloth to restrain them, he twitched and resisted like machinery pulled out of its resting position. He tried to yank himself free. It was the most resistance Paris had ever witnessed from him. For a second, he thought Martino would try and punish him for that alone. But even he seemed to cut Delta a break this time. He had no control over his body, through no fault of his own.
โWhatโs happening?โ Paris asked again, watching as Deltaโs wrists were tied up at the head of the bench. Another one of the med students dared to approach, trying to be helpful. Martino slammed both hands down on the table.
โOut. All of you. Youโre all nuisances, I canโt even hear myself think, and I donโt need to treat two fucking people if youโre dumb enough to crowd the live wire,โ he yelled. Delta flinched, whining a little. Blood dripped down onto the tile.
It was Simon that ended up pulling Paris away, because heโd frozen, and was never good at following instructions in the first place. But he didnโt look away from the scene, the way the needles and wires were stuck into Deltaโs skin. He watched until the door shut in his face.
โJust a spasm,โ Simon explained later in the hallway. โItย isย my fault. Poor thing.โ
โA spasm?โ Paris repeated incredulously.
โHeโs already a seizure risk. It happens if heโs not warmed up properly. I didnโt prepare him well enough,โ he hummed in contemplation. After a pause, he added: โThe whole work is a lot more delicate than you might expect.โ
When he went to check a few hours later, he was dismayed to find the room still occupied, the both of them in roughly the same arrangement. It seemed to be the tail end of it, though. Paris didnโt knock before entering โ and hardly entered. He leaned against the doorframe as if he didnโt want to be there at all.
Delta had been untied. The convulsions had stopped, and the rubber gloves had been swapped out for the typical nitrile. He was sitting upright, with what was still a fair amount of blood coating his face and his neck and his clothes.ย
Martino pressed the cloth against his patientโs eyes. In an oddly tender motion, Delta clung onto his wrist, as if scared the pressure might let up if he didnโt. Silence was a language they both spoke.
โThat was fucking freaky,โ Paris shattered it. โIs he still, like, crying blood? Is this a normal thing with you?โ
โโฆHeโs not crying. Itโs just blood,โ Martino answered, an odd sort of defensiveness at the bottom of his voice.
Delta took another shuddering exhale.
โCan he hear me?โ Paris asked.
Another irritated sigh, from the both of them, simultaneously.
โYes, he can hear you,โ Martino answered.
Paris tilted his head. As he watched the med student mopping up blue blood from the floor, he realized there was nothing in particular he could even think to say.
