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Post by Kaileena Lovegood on Jul 15, 2010 22:42:52 GMT -5
This is the hospital wing. If you have any injuries, Madam Pomfrey will be more than happy to assist you. in fact, she'll insist on it, so prepare yourself.
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Post by Astin Descartes on Jul 22, 2010 4:28:54 GMT -5
Astin's first thought upon waking was something along the lines of, This is hell. I've died, and I've gone to hell, and this is it.
Every inch of his body was in pain. He'd regained feeling of his left arm, apparently, and he wished he hadn't; it throbbed painfully, much like the rest of his fatigued muscles. The pain in his shoulder was back with renewed fervor, making him wince when he so much as attempted to wiggle his fingers. His entire torso was filled with searing pain, like the hurt from the wound was contagious and slowly spreading throughout the rest of him, an infectious disease. It took him a moment to convince himself that was ridiculous before he started wondering why exactly he was in so much pain.
And then he wondered where Dastan was.
Moving in this condition was the most painful thing Astin had ever done. Having his lung punctured had been nothing compared to the pain he felt now. But he had to see where Dastan was; he hadn't looked too great, the brief glimpse Astin had caught before he passed out again. He wrestled his eyes open and turned his head to the side to find his friend in another hospital bed.
"Dastan," he said, his voice hoarse. He would have to get some water soon. "Das, you alright?"
God, he'd never forgive himself for this. Stupid, stupid, stupid... if only he hadn't complained of boredom. He certainly wouldn't make that mistake again. He just hoped that Dastan could forgive him.
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Post by Dastan Cross on Jul 22, 2010 4:55:30 GMT -5
"Das, you alright?"
The words took a minute to break through the fog that was Dastan's brain. He'd woken up briefly earlier, right after Dumbledore had deposited them in the Hospital Wing, but he'd promptly passed out again when his dislocated shoulder had been popped into place, causing him some of the worst physical pain he'd ever felt in his life. He had actually screamed, something he couldn't remember having done recently. Gasped, cried, and shortly exclamed, yes, but he had full on screamed when the shoulder had been jerked into place. He never wanted to experience that again.
After that, Madam Pomfrey had administered some spells and potions to fix his many broken bones, but healing took a lot of time, even with magical assistance, and it was hard to enter the world of the waking when there was so much pain an discomfort there. But that had been Astin's voice. Astin was awake.
He tried to move, but whatever Pomfrey had given him for pain seemed to have put most of his body to sleep, especially his legs, which he couldn't even twitch. So instead, he twitched a few fingers, turned his head to Astin and when he saw Astin's eyes open, he felt relief flood through him. Astin wasn't dead.
"Been better," he said in response to Astin's question, trying on a smirk that came off looking more like a dreamy, far-away look, as his more-or-less uninjured hand moved to rest between his collarbone and injured shoulder, "How 'bout you?"
Dastan wanted to do more. He wanted to roll out of the bed and be at his friend's side in an instant, holding his hand and seeing for himself that it was warm and life-like again, but that seemed like a very, very bad idea to the rest of his body. Even with whatever was in his system to numb the pain, he could feel a dull, steady ache pulsing through his legs and hands and shoulder and collarbone and head.
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Post by Astin Descartes on Jul 22, 2010 5:33:35 GMT -5
"Been better."
Astin breathed a sigh of relief. Those were probably the most amazing two words he'd ever heard in his life up until now; they seemed to have literally lifted off some of the pressure and the pain.
"How 'bout you?"
"I'd be lying if I said I felt fine," Astin admitted.
He tried to push into a sitting position, but he could hardly move his arms. By the time he had his head an inch off the bed, a dizziness overtook him, and he had to take a break. Chest heaving from the effort, he could no longer suppress a pained cough. It seemed no matter what he did to endanger his life, he always ended up coughing in the end. He hated it. It left his throat raw and sore, and today, it caused the muscles in his stomach to clench painfully.
He breathed more slowly now. Even he had to admit that rushing out of the healing process might not go so well. Last time, he'd gotten lucky; already, his luck was worse this time, however, and he decided that he shouldn't press it.
"You'd think magic would be better than morphine," Astin muttered. That was not the case. He was still aware he had fingers, for one, so already Muggle medicine was winning.
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Post by Dastan Cross on Jul 22, 2010 5:42:01 GMT -5
"You'd think magic would be better than morphine."
"It does heal you quicker, at least," Dastan returned. Even if he still hurt all over, at least he knew it wouldn't be too long before he'd be done with the healing process and back on his feet. "So, what's the damage? How bad are you hurt and how long d'you think they'll keep us in here?"
Even Dastan knew that he was worse feeling than he'd ever been at Hogwarts before. He wasn't sure how close he'd been to death with that minotaur crushing him, but he knew it had been a close call. If Astin hadn't been there, he probably would have died. As it were, he owed his life to the blonde, and it had been his fault in the first place. He felt awful about that, even more awful than he felt physically.
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Post by Astin Descartes on Jul 22, 2010 6:09:31 GMT -5
"So, what's the damage? How bad are you hurt and how long d'you think they'll keep us in here?"
Astin groaned, giving up on moving for now. At least he'd managed to turn his head to be sure tha Dastan was actually there and not just a figment of his imagination. Or at least, if he was, he was more than just a voice in his head.
"I'm not sure. Other than my stomach and my arm, I think it's just fatigue." He frowned. The expression made his face ache; apparently even his facial muscles were tired. "What about you? I don't know how long the minotaur was crushing you before I got there."
Unwillingly, Astin recalled how weak and helpless he'd been to save Das. He'd promised not to let anything hurt him again, and he'd broken that promise. His fingers twitched at his side. If he'd had any more control over his limbs, they would have likely clenched into fists; as it were, they settled for twitching slightly. His unspoken apology tasted bitter on his tongue. He'd let Dastan get hurt.
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Post by Dastan Cross on Jul 22, 2010 6:19:53 GMT -5
"What about you? I don't know how long the minotaur was crushing you before I got there."
"A lot of broken bones, mostly. At least, that's what Pomfrey told me when I woke up the first time and she tortured me by re-locating my shoulder. I don't know how long it was crushing me either, but you saved me, even though you were hurt so badly. Thank you. I think I might've been dying."
Dastan didn't like that admission. He didn't like that he'd been so helpless and had come so close to dying. It was terrifying, to know that he still wasn't strong enough in the face of real danger. He certainly shouldn't have lost his wand; that had been his first mistake, and a really stupid one at that. How could he justify being so weak to himself? To Lord Alex? To Astin? The truth was, he couldn't. He could only apologize.
"I'm sorry, Astin. I shouldn't have taken you down there. I knew I wasn't at my best, and yet I still pulled us headlong into danger. You even told me not to do at least half of the things that got us into this mess. And even when you'd gotten hurt, in the end, you were the one who had to save my ass. I really am sorry."
Dastan swallowed slowly. He wanted to apologize some more, and promise that it would never ever happen again. But he didn't know that for sure. Danger always seemed to find them, no matter where they went or what they were doing. The two of them together were the embodiment of Murphy's Law: Whatever can go wrong, will.
But Dastan hadn't exactly done his best to save them. He'd failed them both, and it had only been a pure stroke of luck that Dumbledore had gotten his message in time. If he hadn't, then Astin might have...
Dastan didn't want to think about it.
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Post by Astin Descartes on Jul 22, 2010 6:38:24 GMT -5
Astin's heart clenched painfully, along with his stomach. He rather felt like he was going to be sick. That would not be pleasant, seeing as he doubted he'd even be able to move enough for that.
"Don't apologize," he said, "I could have stopped you. I didn't. I told you I'd protect you, but I let you get hurt, and I... I'm the only one who should be apologizing here. And I was the one who gave you the painkillers that made you sick in the first place. This is all my fault, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I always let you get hurt and then make you feel guilty about everything. I'm sorry that I couldn't hold my own down there. I'm so sorry that I didn't stop you. And I'd understand if you couldn't forgive me for this, because I don't know if I can forgive me."
He wasn't sure how any of that had torn its way out of his throat. Before Dastan's apology, those words had been firmly inside his chest; the next thing they knew, they'd ripped themselves out and were out in the open air. He didn't like this feeling, he decided. He hated that he'd not only gotten Dastan injured, but also almost gotten him killed. How was he going to live with that? How could Dastan?
Astin turned his face back toward the ceiling and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He couldn't think like that. That was Dastan always did, and those thoughts always ended up hurting both of them. Astin couldn't let himself be drawn into those insecurities or guilt trips, because they would cause even more pain than their causes.
And he couldn't be separated from Dastan again. Even the thought made his heart ache.
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Post by Dastan Cross on Jul 22, 2010 6:53:44 GMT -5
"I could have stopped you. I didn't. I told you I'd protect you, but I let you get hurt, and I... I'm the only one who should be apologizing here. And I was the one who gave you the painkillers that made you sick in the first place. This is all my fault, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I always let you get hurt and then make you feel guilty about everything. I'm sorry that I couldn't hold my own down there. I'm so sorry that I didn't stop you. And I'd understand if you couldn't forgive me for this, because I don't know if I can forgive me."
Dastan scoffed, but that caused a distinctly uncomfortable feeling in his aching body so he stopped that quickly. "You couldn't have stopped me. Once I decide stuff, I just do it. You know that. But I should have listened when you advised against things. I won't forgive you, because there is nothing to forgive. In fact, I'd ask for you to forgive me if I felt I deserved it, but I don't. I should have been smarter. I wasn't. That's all there was to it. I mean, I even dropped my wand!" Dastan let his head fall back into his pillow in self-loathing. "I just dropped it. It slipped right out of my fingers, and I thought you were going to slip right out of my fingers, too. I don't ever want that."
Running bandaged hands over his face and ignoring the pain that caused to explode in his shoulder and collarbone, Dastan sighed. He didn't like this situation. It was embarrassing. Why did Astin even put up with him? But still, Dastan had made a pact with himself to try not to run away again. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes as last time. So, unless Astin decided to leave him, and Dastan wouldn't blame him if he did, the blonde was stuck with him.
He just hated that his presence had done nothing but cause the other boy undue pain and injury. This was yet another time when Astin had come too close to death for Dastan's comfort, and it was yet another time that it was his fault. He wondered just how many times he would be allowed to do this before Astin finally saw that he was a bad habit that he needed to quit. The way he saw it, it was well past due.
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Post by Astin Descartes on Jul 22, 2010 20:01:31 GMT -5
"I just dropped it. It slipped right out of my fingers, and I thought you were going to slip right out of my fingers, too. I don't ever want that."
"Das..." Astin wanted to run over to him and let him know it was all going to be okay; they were alive and nothing was going to hurt them anymore, not as long as Astin could help it, even now while he was practically an invalid. He wasn't going to fail at this again. If anything like this ever happened to Dastan again, it would kill him. He'd let his best friend nearly die because he was too weak. How did Das even figure this was his fault, anyway? It wasn't. All the blame was on Astin, because he'd known Dastan wasn't feeling well and he still let the exploration continue. None of this was Dastan's fault at all, and he needed to know that.
"I don't blame you for any of this. It's my fault-- I don't care what you say, because it is. I mean, I just..." Astin took a deep breath. "If I'd have been... I don't know, stronger or better or something, I could have helped you. But I wasn't, and I didn't, and I'm sorry, okay? But don't say that it's your fault, because I don't blame you at all. You saved my life after I put both of us in danger again. So, thank you, and I'm sorry."
There was so much more Astin had to say, but he couldn't. He wanted to remind Dastan that he would always be there; he wanted to remind him of the promise he'd made about not leaving, because he wasn't leaving-- not now, not ever-- and nothing could change his mind. Whether he liked it or not, Dastan was an extraordinarily large part of his life, a part that he couldn't bear to lose ever again. Das was someone he trusted with his whole life; outside of Marcel and his mother, he was also the only person Astin could trust with his whole life. He didn't want to-- and he couldn't stand to-- lose it ever again.
Astin sighed again, a movement that reminded him all too well of the ache in his middle. He didn't want to fight with Dastan over this; this was stupid. They were arguing over whose fault it was backwards.
"Anyway, how long do you think it will take you to heal?"
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Post by Dastan Cross on Jul 22, 2010 20:59:00 GMT -5
Dastan didn't agree with Astin's assessment of the situation, but he didn't push it any. He didn't care whether Astin blamed him or not; he certainly blamed himself, and that wasn't going to change any time soon. As usual, nobody could make him do anything he didn't want to, and he certainly didn't want to forgive himself for what he'd gotten Astin into.
"Anyway, how long do you think it will take you to heal?"
Dastan shrugged and promptly closed his eyes and groaned as that caused him pain. Lots of pain. Definitely not his best moment of common sense. "No idea," he managed to grunt out, massaging weakly at his injured shoulder. "There's really no telling. All of the breaks have been taken care of, but the new bone still needs to grow into place and replace the magic that's in its place right now, and until then it's likely to be painful moving. Well, as soon as I actually can move that is. I can't feel my legs."
As if to test that, he tried to move one of his feet and barely got a single twitch. Rolling his eyes at the pathetic attempt to meet his request, Dastan looked at his companion. "What about you? I tried to fix it as best I could in that cave, but I don't think I did much for you, except maybe make it worse..."
Dastan winced, remembering how badly Astin had been bleeding. It had been terrifying, to say the least. He hadn't known what to do at the time, but sewing the wounds shut had seemed like a good one. He wasn't sure now; he'd overheard Pomfrey and Dumbledore talking about an infection.
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Post by Astin Descartes on Jul 22, 2010 22:12:38 GMT -5
"What about you? I tried to fix it as best I could in that cave, but I don't think I did much for you, except maybe make it worse..."
Astin tried again to push into a sitting position, but his body wasn't taking that too well. He eventually ended up simply leaning on his left elbow while his right arm lay uselessly by his side. Everything in him protested at even that, but he wanted to evaluate his stomach for himself. After a bit more maneuvering about like a fish flopping on dry land, he was finally able to peel the collar of the stupid gown away from his chest. However, after all that work, all he could see was white bandages.
Astin groaned in frustration, flopped back on the bed, and then groaned again, this time in pain; flopping hadn't exactly been the best idea he'd had all day. Actually, he hadn't had many good ideas lately, to be honest. Gallivanting about in the catacombs beneath the school had only been one item in a series of bad decisions; it was perhaps the worst decision, admittedly, but it was certainly not the first.
"Well," he said in response to Dastan's question, "I seem to be covered in bandages, which either means my condition isn't hopeless or Madam Pomfrey doesn't wish for me to bleed all over the bed. Personally, I'm rather hoping for the first option," he said, hoping to lighten the atmosphere even the slightest. The room felt too dark and heavy, especially with all the things already weighing on Astin's mind; it felt suffocating, and he had to get out of it one way or another. If that meant dragging himself physically out of the room, he was sure he would do it.
But then again, he couldn't make very good use of his left arm, and his stomach was hurting in ways he hadn't ever imagined. Perhaps the suffocation wasn't so bad.
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Post by Dastan Cross on Jul 22, 2010 22:36:03 GMT -5
"I seem to be covered in bandages, which either means my condition isn't hopeless or Madam Pomfrey doesn't wish for me to bleed all over the bed. Personally, I'm rather hoping for the first option."
"I'm hoping for the first one, too," Dastan said, shifting a bit so that he could look at Astin better. "I hate seeing you hurt, you know. It drives me crazy. Me being hurt, I can deal with. I've had worse. But, whenever I see you hurt and unable to move and hear you make a pained noise, I just feel so helpless. And since my legs don't seem to want to move, I can't even be near you the way I want to. Is that weird?" Dastan's mouth seemed to be working without his consent, blurting out random things. It had to have something to do with the concussion the bloody minotaur had given him.
"And every time I close my eyes, I keep on seeing you the way you were in there, all pale and covered in blood and it kills me because I feel like I should have been able to prevent it. But I can't go back into the past. I want to, but I can't change it. And Merlin, there are so many things that I should want to prevent more than that, but there isn't. I just keep seeing it, over and over again."
Dastan swallowed. Yes, definitely the concussion speaking. He didn't say things like this. This stuff was all too honest, all too...Un-Slytherin of him. It made him seem human. Too human, in his opinion. He had high standards of himself and the way he carried himself. This was well-below those standards. But he couldn't take back anything, and it was the truth.
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Post by Astin Descartes on Jul 23, 2010 2:07:12 GMT -5
Astin's heart swelled; Dastan's worries quite accurately mirrored his own. He couldn't help but feel warm that he was cared for so strongly, and yet he also hated that he'd made Dastan feel guilty or anxious or anything unpleasant. He just wanted Dastan to be safe and happy.
"Dastan, do you understand, then?" he asked after a while, "That's why I want to protect you so much. Seeing you hurt or in danger is what kills me more than anything else. That's why I can't blame you; I'm getting hurt of my own free will. I know what I'm getting into, every time, and I don't stop because your safety is worth so much more than a few injuries to me. So long as you're okay, I'll live, no matter what. But now, you're hurt, and it's my fault for not being stronger. I told you I'd protect you. I wish I had been able to."
Astin wished he had something else to say. His previous attempt at lightening the mood obviously hadn't worked too well. Seeing Dastan upset and hearing the pain in his voice hurt him even more, and he hated that. He just wanted Das to smile and be happy, not constantly fret or be angry or dwell on the past, whether Astin himself was or not. So, that in mind, he resorted to the old stand-by.
"Life-or-death situations makes your hair look even worse than normal."
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Post by Dastan Cross on Jul 23, 2010 2:36:10 GMT -5
"Life-or-death situations makes your hair look even worse than normal."
Dastan laughed. Even though it sent a shockwave of pain rippling through every muscle in his body, he laughed, because that comment was so out-of-place but at the same time, so predictable. His hair was always the default. If Astin needed to lighten up a situation, that's how he did it, and it worked, Merlin take it. Dastan found it very hard to be his usual morose and angry self whenever Astin said something so completely ridiculous as that.
"I...thought you liked...my ridiculous hair?" he said between gasps of laughter and pain. Trying to calm himself to prevent further injury to his already wounded body, Dastan finally managed to get a hold of himself. "Besides, you haven't seen bad until you've seen my hair first thing in the morning after a long sleep."
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