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fandomtownies2006-01-01 10:03 pm
ac-brothers.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomtownies2006-01-01 10:03 pm
At the Emporium after closing.
[ooc - Occurs right after At the Blood Gulch Arms. Scene incomplete but going live to keep up with chronofluidity and time line. For ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tooniceuglyties, bens_mikey and mikeys_ben]
Yazoo had been in fights before. He'd been up against powerful enemies as well, none so tough as Tex's armor however. For that, he'd been unprepared as well. He'd have never gone up against something like that alone. An opponent with that kind of advantage almost always required concerted fighting along with Loz at least. Sometimes even with Kadaj.
It had been stupid and now, feeling the warmth running down his side beneath his leather, costly. Fucking hell...at least the pain had stopped for a while, adrenaline and endorphins rushing in pick up the slack. It wouldn't last long. The blood loss was going to drain him of his energy soon.
He stumbled along the streets, leaning against the buildings as he tried to keep to the shadows, in case O'Malley was following him. With the sound of sirens though, Yazoo figured he probably took off as well. That was going to be a mess to clean up.
Rest. His legs were shaking and screaming to just sit down for a minute and while Yazoo had fought the desire up until now, knowing if he sat down, he wouldn't get up again, he didn't think his strength would give him much of an option at that point.
The building that was his support gave way to an alley and by listing to one side, he stumbled into that alleyway gripping along a metal staircase until his legs finally gave way and he landed with a heavy thud against something else metal. In a hysterical moment, he thought he could smell wood.
Sliding down the wall, he landed heavily on the ground, his gunblade finally clattering away from his now nerveless grip. Heh, through it all, he hadn't managed to drop Velvet Nightmare. Not a complete loss, then.
Sitting there, propped against the building, Yazoo looked up at the narrow space between the buildings unable to see the stars. He wouldn't die like this. Kadaj and Loz will know to come. He and his brothers always knew...
He dragged Nightmare over to him and with concentrated effort, picked it up again, holding his gunblade in his lap. Yazoo just hoped his brothers got there before O'Malley found him. He didn't think he'd do so well in a second round with the armor... not without his brothers help.
Ben was still smirking from his husband's last crack as he stepped out the door and onto the landing. He'd spent part of the afternoon in the side alley splitting firewood, and that's what he was heading down to retrieve from the wood box under the stairs. Lantern in hand, Ben was halfway down the steps when he heard a noise and stopped.
"Who's there?" he called. No response. Just a cat, he thought, or some other nocturnal creature. Like a vampire. Anywhere else, that might be a joke; here, not so much. Cautiously he crept down the remaining stairs, freeing up his right hand in case of a fight. There was no one at the bottom of the stairs, or around the corner of the Emporium. He turned to walk back toward the wood box and stopped short. The form sitting against the wall was all too familiar: Yazoo. Rage flooded through Ben as he stepped toward the man. "How dare you stalk us," he said through clenched teeth. "Do you sit here every night watching our comings and goings?"
The sight of Yazoo's weapon silenced Ben's rant. It was then that Ben realized something was wrong. The weapon wasn't pointed at Ben; it rested in Yazoo's lap, his hand only lightly settled on the grip. Even under the distortion of the lamplight, Ben could see that Yazoo was abnormally pale, the sneer that normally occupied his face notably absent. He must be hurt, probably badly.
Unbidden thoughts crossed Ben's mind: He could leave Yazoo here to die. With simple silence he could finish the job someone had started, and Ben could ensure that Yazoo never bothered him or Michael again.
Ben shook his head. As much as it would please him to have Yazoo gone, leaving the man to die would go against what he practiced as a Buddhist, as a human being. Hunter and Michael would not forgive him, nor could he forgive himself. Suspecting Yazoo didn't have the strength to raise a finger against him, Ben knelt down and reached for Yazoo's wrist to feel for a pulse.
Yazoo heard a noise but it sounded so far away. It could have been Tex. However, if it had been, Yazoo still wouldn't be alive.
At the touch on his hand, he jerked, his head connecting with the brick and he brought his gunblade up. Aim was a little off as was his normally steady hand. That was when he recognized Ben.
He couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out. "This is just fucking rich."
Ben winced at the sound of Yazoo's head hitting the brick and shuffled back a step as the weapon swung around. "So you are alive." Ben didn't sound particularly happy about that fact. "Don't point that thing at me, I'm not going to hurt you."
The wood collecting all but forgotten, Ben held the lantern up, his eyes seeking out injuries. Most were probably hidden by Yazoo's clothing, but the man looked like hell. From experience Ben knew Yazoo was frighteningly strong, so what the hell had happened to him? "Got yourself into a bit of trouble, I see."
"You could say that," Yazoo said. He grimaced when he tried to move and eventually had to drop his gun arm. The pain set up a coughing fit and he could taste more blood in his mouth. "So you've come by to gloat?"
"No." That cough didn't sound good, and Ben knew it. "I came down here to get firewood, but stumbled on you instead." Ben reached into his pocket and felt for his keys. "Can you walk? If we can get you inside the Emporium, at least you'd be out of the cold."
Looking up at Ben, Yazoo squinted hard at the man, his expression one of clear mistrust. Mistrust he was sure Ben shared. Except, the offer to be out of the cold was too hard a pull to resist. "Why?" he asked candidly.
Why would this man even try to help him? If the situation were reversed...
"Because..." Honestly, Ben was wondering why himself. "Because as much as I don't like you or trust you, letting someone die is not something I could carry on my conscience the rest of my life." He paused, frowning. "Hunter and Michael would never forgive me either." Ben held out his hand, ready to duck under Yazoo's arm once the man started to get up. "You can either trust me, or stay out here and die alone in the alley. It's up to you."
He stared at the offered hand, thinking about the possible pitfalls of taking the offered help. Unfortunately, another coughing fit, one that was sounding more liquid than before, helped Yazoo make up his mind.
Extending his hand, gunblade still clutched in his grip, he took the chance because the alternative wasn't something he was ready to consider.
Wary of the weapon, Ben helped Yazoo to his feet, ducking under his shoulder and putting an arm around his waist. Ben wasn't short, but Yazoo was taller and his muscle mass made him heavy. "One step at a time," he said quietly. "If you need to stop, just tell me."
Yazoo grunted when Ben put his arm around him, the wound with the glass sticking out of it was fucking painful. With a scowl, he grabbed the shard and pulled, giving another pained grunt as the glass came out and fell to the ground, shattering further into pieces.
Slowly, he put one foot in front of the other, his coordination in even doing that getting worse with every step. As a result, he literally sagged against Ben and forcing him to bear most of Yazoo's weight.
Ben grimaced as he watched Yazoo remove the glass from his side. He could feel blood, still sticky and warm, on Yazoo's jacket. They stumbled together -- Yazoo from his injuries, Ben from the weight -- slowly to the Emporium door. Fumbling with the keys, Ben finally got the door open and guided Yazoo inside toward a chair near the door.
"Michael!" Ben shouted, his deep voice carrying up the inside stairs and, hopefully, through the door as well. "Michael!"
Vaguely aware he was bleeding all over Michael's store, he might have felt a pang of concern about the clean up. Hysterical thought, he knew. Maybe he'd help later. Right now, Yazoo was so tired. So fucking tired and he ached all over.
He coughed again and it just made the pain flare through his body before smoothing back to a dull throb from head to foot. Sleep. If he could just catch a little sleep, then he'd go find his brothers.
Ben gripped Yazoo's shoulder and squeezed when he saw the other man's head start to bob. "Stay with me, man. Stay awake." He was about to run up the stairs when Michael appeared on the landing.
"What the fuck is going on?" Michael stared, unmoving, at Ben's form hovering over Yazoo. "What the hell..."
"Found him back by the wood box," Ben replied. "He's hurt pretty badly." Ben figured the tight leather might be helping compress the wounds, so he left Yazoo's jacket on and pulled a blanket off the store shelves to cover him. "We've got to call for help, Michael, if he's going to make it."
"Shit." Michael ran his hand over his face as he jogged down the stairs. He wasn't even sure Yazoo was human. Where could they get emergency help? Michael sorted through the scribbled phone numbers and directories underneath the counter until he found the number he was looking for and picked up the phone. "I'm calling Dr. Wilson."
His pager had been quiet for so long that it's sudden chirping caught Wilson off guard and he actually jumped. Then he grabbed his cell phone and returned the call that came across the face of the MegaPager.
Michael calling, Yazoo hurt and it sounded bad. Wilson had assured Michael he would be on his way and instructed him not to do anything to the youth until he got there. It didn't take Wilson long, after all, to get from the Loft down to the Emporium and he pushed through the door, carrying a small black napsack with him.
"Michael?! Ben?!" Wilson called out, announcing his pressence.
Ben heaved a sigh of relief. "Dr. Wilson." He almost offered his hand until he realized it was covered with blood. Gesturing to Yazoo, Ben said, "He pulled a large shard of glass from his side while I was with him, if that's any indication of how bad it is." He moved out of the doctor's way, leaving it unspoken that he and Michael would do whatever Dr. Wilson might need from them.
Wilson frowned as he went down on his knees next to Yazoo. Digging into his bag, he pulled on rubber gloves and began to try to examine the young man.
"Well, that was fairly stupid of him." The oncologist muttered, shaking his head as he tried to get a handle on where the blood was coming from.
"Ben, Michael I need some towels and hot water and you might want to get some sheets to lay out on your floor." Unless they wanted a serious mess of blood all over the store.
"Yazoo? Can you hear me, Yazoo?!" Wilson's voice was sharp but that was only because he was trying to break through whatever fog held the young man's mind captive at the moment.
Yazoo jerked again, blinking hard in an effort to focus. He recognized the doctor and shook his head. "Quiet, or she'll be back," he said softly and his head lolled to the side to see how bad his side looked. If it looked half as bad as it felt, it was bad.
He started to laugh at the sheer humor of it all. That he'd been forced to allow others help him stuck worse than the glass that jutted from his side but there was little he could do at that moment. Yazoo wasn't even strong or coordinated enough to fight them.
Michael raced up the stairs for hot water, while Ben stole sheets and towels off the store shelves. "She," Ben said quietly. "She who?" Not only was he curious, but if the process of speaking helped Yazoo stay conscious, the question served a dual purpose.
Wilson gave Ben a grateful look and let the man concentrate on keeping Yazoo awake as he rumaged about in the kit he'd brought along for items to help him get a better look at Yazoo's wounds, without worsening the damage.
But he was rapidly getting to a point where he was going to have to take the constricting leather off and hope that Yazoo didn't bleed out in the midst of the exam.
"Excuse me, Ben. Yazoo... how do we get ahold of Loz and Kadaj? I need to talk to them."
If for no other reason then to ask if either of them could be a blood donor to Yazoo.
"She...but it's not her," Yazoo said. He frowned and looked up at Michael. "Bleeding on your floor."
"Don't worry about the floor," Michael said hurriedly, far more worried that Yazoo might die in the store instead. "It can be cleaned." He set down the pot of hot water he had brought down from the apartment as he puzzled over Yazoo's cryptic words. "She, but it's not her," Michael repeated. A she who could do that much damage, and whom Yazoo had commented about earlier, pretty much left one person. "Tex."
Michael spoke to Wilson as he went back behind the counter. "I've got Loz's number from when they came to fix my freezer unit." Rummaging for a moment, he pulled out the slip of paper and brought it to the doctor.
By now, Wilson's gloved hands were blood soaked and he gave Michael a pointed look, that was not unkind -because honestly who could be unkind to Michael- but which was pointed.
"Let me know if you get ahold of them. Tell them to come to the town clinic, it's a few doors down from Aziraphale's book shop, they'll be able to find it."
Grabbing at the towels, Wilson began to construct a makeshift compression bandage to help stem the flow of blood.
"Ben, can you help me carry him down to the clinic? We should construct a litter maybe from some sheets rather than open carry him but I need to get him to the Clinic. He's going to need way more stitching than I have yarn for in just this bag."
Michael blushed at Wilson's look. He was flustered, and that made it hard to think straight. Taking the phone with him, he moved off a little and paced as he dialed.
***
Loz was sitting at the bar, watching the few patrons in the pub. Kadaj had taken to pacing back and forth in front of the door, his gaze focused down the street that ran along the front of the pub.
"Something's wrong."
"I know," Loz said, not looking up from his work.
Before Kadaj could say more, Loz's cellphone rang. He frowned at the number that came up. It wasn't one he recognized but did know that it was, at least, a number from the town. He flipped it open, "Yes."
"Loz. It's Michael from the Emporium." Michael used the identifier that he knew Loz would know. Still flustered, he let the remainder of his words burble out. "Yazoo's been hurt, we're going to get him to the clinic in town. It's just a few doors down from Aziraphale's shop. Can you meet us there?"
Loz was in motion at the mention of Yazoo's name, his hand waving to Kadaj. He stepped into the kitchen to wave one of the cooks to behind the bar. "Yeah. We're on our way," Loz said, his voice tight through his clenched teeth.
Motioning to Kadaj, they raced out of the pub and down the street.
As high-strung as Michael was, he added one word -- "hurry" -- before recognizing that it was completely unnecessary. Realizing there was nothing else to say, he hung up to let the brothers get to their bikes.
***
Ben paused. He hadn't asked to find this man on his doorstep, but he'd gotten himself involved and he had to see it through -- as much as he didn't really want to. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. "Sure. Just tell me what you need me to do."
"No." Yazoo said, suddenly emphatic amid his disorientation. "No cutting the leather. 'm fine." He struggled to get up, pushing Wilson off of him...or at least trying to.
Wilson choose just not to say anything, since it would only aggitate Yazoo. Instead, he concentrated on putting together the make shift litter and repacked his kit. Hooking it up over his shoulder, he grabbed one end of the litter and waiting for Ben to take the other.
"I just need help getting him down there, hopefully his brothers will be there and they can help from there."
Ben nodded and picked up his end. He knew his muscles would protest at once again bearing the weight of another person, even though the burden was cut by half this time. "Michael, can you get the door, please?"
Michael nodded, pushing the door open. "Loz said they were on their way," he said, waiting for Wilson and Ben to carry their burden through so he could follow and lock the door behind them.
When Wilson and Ben got to the clinic, Loz and Kadaj were already there and waiting. The outward picture of calm, they both pushed away from the building and went to the doctor taking over from the men to carry their brother.
Kadaj's mouth pulled into a thin line and anger pulled around his eyes when he saw the blood. He wanted to ask what happened but he knew these men most likely wouldn't know. While Yazoo enjoyed pestering Michael and Ben from the store, he thought it unlikey either one of these men did this.
He would find out, though, if he had to burn the entire town down to the ground to find them.
Michael had followed Ben and Dr. Wilson to the clinic, but he knew better than to get between Kadaj and Loz and their injured brother. He watched the two efficiently take over, then put his arms around Ben, hugging tightly in spite of the blood -- some dried, some not -- on his husband's clothes and hands. In unspoken agreement between them, Ben and Michael would wait until dismissed by Dr. Wilson, in case there might be something more they could do.
tooniceuglyties, bens_mikey and mikeys_ben]Yazoo had been in fights before. He'd been up against powerful enemies as well, none so tough as Tex's armor however. For that, he'd been unprepared as well. He'd have never gone up against something like that alone. An opponent with that kind of advantage almost always required concerted fighting along with Loz at least. Sometimes even with Kadaj.
It had been stupid and now, feeling the warmth running down his side beneath his leather, costly. Fucking hell...at least the pain had stopped for a while, adrenaline and endorphins rushing in pick up the slack. It wouldn't last long. The blood loss was going to drain him of his energy soon.
He stumbled along the streets, leaning against the buildings as he tried to keep to the shadows, in case O'Malley was following him. With the sound of sirens though, Yazoo figured he probably took off as well. That was going to be a mess to clean up.
Rest. His legs were shaking and screaming to just sit down for a minute and while Yazoo had fought the desire up until now, knowing if he sat down, he wouldn't get up again, he didn't think his strength would give him much of an option at that point.
The building that was his support gave way to an alley and by listing to one side, he stumbled into that alleyway gripping along a metal staircase until his legs finally gave way and he landed with a heavy thud against something else metal. In a hysterical moment, he thought he could smell wood.
Sliding down the wall, he landed heavily on the ground, his gunblade finally clattering away from his now nerveless grip. Heh, through it all, he hadn't managed to drop Velvet Nightmare. Not a complete loss, then.
Sitting there, propped against the building, Yazoo looked up at the narrow space between the buildings unable to see the stars. He wouldn't die like this. Kadaj and Loz will know to come. He and his brothers always knew...
He dragged Nightmare over to him and with concentrated effort, picked it up again, holding his gunblade in his lap. Yazoo just hoped his brothers got there before O'Malley found him. He didn't think he'd do so well in a second round with the armor... not without his brothers help.
Ben was still smirking from his husband's last crack as he stepped out the door and onto the landing. He'd spent part of the afternoon in the side alley splitting firewood, and that's what he was heading down to retrieve from the wood box under the stairs. Lantern in hand, Ben was halfway down the steps when he heard a noise and stopped.
"Who's there?" he called. No response. Just a cat, he thought, or some other nocturnal creature. Like a vampire. Anywhere else, that might be a joke; here, not so much. Cautiously he crept down the remaining stairs, freeing up his right hand in case of a fight. There was no one at the bottom of the stairs, or around the corner of the Emporium. He turned to walk back toward the wood box and stopped short. The form sitting against the wall was all too familiar: Yazoo. Rage flooded through Ben as he stepped toward the man. "How dare you stalk us," he said through clenched teeth. "Do you sit here every night watching our comings and goings?"
The sight of Yazoo's weapon silenced Ben's rant. It was then that Ben realized something was wrong. The weapon wasn't pointed at Ben; it rested in Yazoo's lap, his hand only lightly settled on the grip. Even under the distortion of the lamplight, Ben could see that Yazoo was abnormally pale, the sneer that normally occupied his face notably absent. He must be hurt, probably badly.
Unbidden thoughts crossed Ben's mind: He could leave Yazoo here to die. With simple silence he could finish the job someone had started, and Ben could ensure that Yazoo never bothered him or Michael again.
Ben shook his head. As much as it would please him to have Yazoo gone, leaving the man to die would go against what he practiced as a Buddhist, as a human being. Hunter and Michael would not forgive him, nor could he forgive himself. Suspecting Yazoo didn't have the strength to raise a finger against him, Ben knelt down and reached for Yazoo's wrist to feel for a pulse.
Yazoo heard a noise but it sounded so far away. It could have been Tex. However, if it had been, Yazoo still wouldn't be alive.
At the touch on his hand, he jerked, his head connecting with the brick and he brought his gunblade up. Aim was a little off as was his normally steady hand. That was when he recognized Ben.
He couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out. "This is just fucking rich."
Ben winced at the sound of Yazoo's head hitting the brick and shuffled back a step as the weapon swung around. "So you are alive." Ben didn't sound particularly happy about that fact. "Don't point that thing at me, I'm not going to hurt you."
The wood collecting all but forgotten, Ben held the lantern up, his eyes seeking out injuries. Most were probably hidden by Yazoo's clothing, but the man looked like hell. From experience Ben knew Yazoo was frighteningly strong, so what the hell had happened to him? "Got yourself into a bit of trouble, I see."
"You could say that," Yazoo said. He grimaced when he tried to move and eventually had to drop his gun arm. The pain set up a coughing fit and he could taste more blood in his mouth. "So you've come by to gloat?"
"No." That cough didn't sound good, and Ben knew it. "I came down here to get firewood, but stumbled on you instead." Ben reached into his pocket and felt for his keys. "Can you walk? If we can get you inside the Emporium, at least you'd be out of the cold."
Looking up at Ben, Yazoo squinted hard at the man, his expression one of clear mistrust. Mistrust he was sure Ben shared. Except, the offer to be out of the cold was too hard a pull to resist. "Why?" he asked candidly.
Why would this man even try to help him? If the situation were reversed...
"Because..." Honestly, Ben was wondering why himself. "Because as much as I don't like you or trust you, letting someone die is not something I could carry on my conscience the rest of my life." He paused, frowning. "Hunter and Michael would never forgive me either." Ben held out his hand, ready to duck under Yazoo's arm once the man started to get up. "You can either trust me, or stay out here and die alone in the alley. It's up to you."
He stared at the offered hand, thinking about the possible pitfalls of taking the offered help. Unfortunately, another coughing fit, one that was sounding more liquid than before, helped Yazoo make up his mind.
Extending his hand, gunblade still clutched in his grip, he took the chance because the alternative wasn't something he was ready to consider.
Wary of the weapon, Ben helped Yazoo to his feet, ducking under his shoulder and putting an arm around his waist. Ben wasn't short, but Yazoo was taller and his muscle mass made him heavy. "One step at a time," he said quietly. "If you need to stop, just tell me."
Yazoo grunted when Ben put his arm around him, the wound with the glass sticking out of it was fucking painful. With a scowl, he grabbed the shard and pulled, giving another pained grunt as the glass came out and fell to the ground, shattering further into pieces.
Slowly, he put one foot in front of the other, his coordination in even doing that getting worse with every step. As a result, he literally sagged against Ben and forcing him to bear most of Yazoo's weight.
Ben grimaced as he watched Yazoo remove the glass from his side. He could feel blood, still sticky and warm, on Yazoo's jacket. They stumbled together -- Yazoo from his injuries, Ben from the weight -- slowly to the Emporium door. Fumbling with the keys, Ben finally got the door open and guided Yazoo inside toward a chair near the door.
"Michael!" Ben shouted, his deep voice carrying up the inside stairs and, hopefully, through the door as well. "Michael!"
Vaguely aware he was bleeding all over Michael's store, he might have felt a pang of concern about the clean up. Hysterical thought, he knew. Maybe he'd help later. Right now, Yazoo was so tired. So fucking tired and he ached all over.
He coughed again and it just made the pain flare through his body before smoothing back to a dull throb from head to foot. Sleep. If he could just catch a little sleep, then he'd go find his brothers.
Ben gripped Yazoo's shoulder and squeezed when he saw the other man's head start to bob. "Stay with me, man. Stay awake." He was about to run up the stairs when Michael appeared on the landing.
"What the fuck is going on?" Michael stared, unmoving, at Ben's form hovering over Yazoo. "What the hell..."
"Found him back by the wood box," Ben replied. "He's hurt pretty badly." Ben figured the tight leather might be helping compress the wounds, so he left Yazoo's jacket on and pulled a blanket off the store shelves to cover him. "We've got to call for help, Michael, if he's going to make it."
"Shit." Michael ran his hand over his face as he jogged down the stairs. He wasn't even sure Yazoo was human. Where could they get emergency help? Michael sorted through the scribbled phone numbers and directories underneath the counter until he found the number he was looking for and picked up the phone. "I'm calling Dr. Wilson."
His pager had been quiet for so long that it's sudden chirping caught Wilson off guard and he actually jumped. Then he grabbed his cell phone and returned the call that came across the face of the MegaPager.
Michael calling, Yazoo hurt and it sounded bad. Wilson had assured Michael he would be on his way and instructed him not to do anything to the youth until he got there. It didn't take Wilson long, after all, to get from the Loft down to the Emporium and he pushed through the door, carrying a small black napsack with him.
"Michael?! Ben?!" Wilson called out, announcing his pressence.
Ben heaved a sigh of relief. "Dr. Wilson." He almost offered his hand until he realized it was covered with blood. Gesturing to Yazoo, Ben said, "He pulled a large shard of glass from his side while I was with him, if that's any indication of how bad it is." He moved out of the doctor's way, leaving it unspoken that he and Michael would do whatever Dr. Wilson might need from them.
Wilson frowned as he went down on his knees next to Yazoo. Digging into his bag, he pulled on rubber gloves and began to try to examine the young man.
"Well, that was fairly stupid of him." The oncologist muttered, shaking his head as he tried to get a handle on where the blood was coming from.
"Ben, Michael I need some towels and hot water and you might want to get some sheets to lay out on your floor." Unless they wanted a serious mess of blood all over the store.
"Yazoo? Can you hear me, Yazoo?!" Wilson's voice was sharp but that was only because he was trying to break through whatever fog held the young man's mind captive at the moment.
Yazoo jerked again, blinking hard in an effort to focus. He recognized the doctor and shook his head. "Quiet, or she'll be back," he said softly and his head lolled to the side to see how bad his side looked. If it looked half as bad as it felt, it was bad.
He started to laugh at the sheer humor of it all. That he'd been forced to allow others help him stuck worse than the glass that jutted from his side but there was little he could do at that moment. Yazoo wasn't even strong or coordinated enough to fight them.
Michael raced up the stairs for hot water, while Ben stole sheets and towels off the store shelves. "She," Ben said quietly. "She who?" Not only was he curious, but if the process of speaking helped Yazoo stay conscious, the question served a dual purpose.
Wilson gave Ben a grateful look and let the man concentrate on keeping Yazoo awake as he rumaged about in the kit he'd brought along for items to help him get a better look at Yazoo's wounds, without worsening the damage.
But he was rapidly getting to a point where he was going to have to take the constricting leather off and hope that Yazoo didn't bleed out in the midst of the exam.
"Excuse me, Ben. Yazoo... how do we get ahold of Loz and Kadaj? I need to talk to them."
If for no other reason then to ask if either of them could be a blood donor to Yazoo.
"She...but it's not her," Yazoo said. He frowned and looked up at Michael. "Bleeding on your floor."
"Don't worry about the floor," Michael said hurriedly, far more worried that Yazoo might die in the store instead. "It can be cleaned." He set down the pot of hot water he had brought down from the apartment as he puzzled over Yazoo's cryptic words. "She, but it's not her," Michael repeated. A she who could do that much damage, and whom Yazoo had commented about earlier, pretty much left one person. "Tex."
Michael spoke to Wilson as he went back behind the counter. "I've got Loz's number from when they came to fix my freezer unit." Rummaging for a moment, he pulled out the slip of paper and brought it to the doctor.
By now, Wilson's gloved hands were blood soaked and he gave Michael a pointed look, that was not unkind -because honestly who could be unkind to Michael- but which was pointed.
"Let me know if you get ahold of them. Tell them to come to the town clinic, it's a few doors down from Aziraphale's book shop, they'll be able to find it."
Grabbing at the towels, Wilson began to construct a makeshift compression bandage to help stem the flow of blood.
"Ben, can you help me carry him down to the clinic? We should construct a litter maybe from some sheets rather than open carry him but I need to get him to the Clinic. He's going to need way more stitching than I have yarn for in just this bag."
Michael blushed at Wilson's look. He was flustered, and that made it hard to think straight. Taking the phone with him, he moved off a little and paced as he dialed.
***
Loz was sitting at the bar, watching the few patrons in the pub. Kadaj had taken to pacing back and forth in front of the door, his gaze focused down the street that ran along the front of the pub.
"Something's wrong."
"I know," Loz said, not looking up from his work.
Before Kadaj could say more, Loz's cellphone rang. He frowned at the number that came up. It wasn't one he recognized but did know that it was, at least, a number from the town. He flipped it open, "Yes."
"Loz. It's Michael from the Emporium." Michael used the identifier that he knew Loz would know. Still flustered, he let the remainder of his words burble out. "Yazoo's been hurt, we're going to get him to the clinic in town. It's just a few doors down from Aziraphale's shop. Can you meet us there?"
Loz was in motion at the mention of Yazoo's name, his hand waving to Kadaj. He stepped into the kitchen to wave one of the cooks to behind the bar. "Yeah. We're on our way," Loz said, his voice tight through his clenched teeth.
Motioning to Kadaj, they raced out of the pub and down the street.
As high-strung as Michael was, he added one word -- "hurry" -- before recognizing that it was completely unnecessary. Realizing there was nothing else to say, he hung up to let the brothers get to their bikes.
***
Ben paused. He hadn't asked to find this man on his doorstep, but he'd gotten himself involved and he had to see it through -- as much as he didn't really want to. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. "Sure. Just tell me what you need me to do."
"No." Yazoo said, suddenly emphatic amid his disorientation. "No cutting the leather. 'm fine." He struggled to get up, pushing Wilson off of him...or at least trying to.
Wilson choose just not to say anything, since it would only aggitate Yazoo. Instead, he concentrated on putting together the make shift litter and repacked his kit. Hooking it up over his shoulder, he grabbed one end of the litter and waiting for Ben to take the other.
"I just need help getting him down there, hopefully his brothers will be there and they can help from there."
Ben nodded and picked up his end. He knew his muscles would protest at once again bearing the weight of another person, even though the burden was cut by half this time. "Michael, can you get the door, please?"
Michael nodded, pushing the door open. "Loz said they were on their way," he said, waiting for Wilson and Ben to carry their burden through so he could follow and lock the door behind them.
When Wilson and Ben got to the clinic, Loz and Kadaj were already there and waiting. The outward picture of calm, they both pushed away from the building and went to the doctor taking over from the men to carry their brother.
Kadaj's mouth pulled into a thin line and anger pulled around his eyes when he saw the blood. He wanted to ask what happened but he knew these men most likely wouldn't know. While Yazoo enjoyed pestering Michael and Ben from the store, he thought it unlikey either one of these men did this.
He would find out, though, if he had to burn the entire town down to the ground to find them.
Michael had followed Ben and Dr. Wilson to the clinic, but he knew better than to get between Kadaj and Loz and their injured brother. He watched the two efficiently take over, then put his arms around Ben, hugging tightly in spite of the blood -- some dried, some not -- on his husband's clothes and hands. In unspoken agreement between them, Ben and Michael would wait until dismissed by Dr. Wilson, in case there might be something more they could do.
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"Put him on the table." Wilson instructed in a calm but intense tone, swapping out his blood soaked gloves for a fresh pair and quickly grabbing the equipment he'd need.
"We need to strip his torso." He directed this statement towards the other two, since leather wasn't easy to cut through and if they could help get Yazoo's torso stripped with the least amount of jarring that would be best for everybody.
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Yazoo hissed an inhale when he was lifted to get his jacket off, leaving him only in his pants and tshirt but already the blood was soaked through on the cotton and their hands came away red.
Once they were done, Kadaj hovered over his brother, gently stroking along his forehead and cheek, whispering softly to him. Loz moved over to Ben and Michael and gave them a grateful look.
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"Are either of you his blood type?" Wilson asked, quickly followed by a nod of his head to Loz. "Put your hand here, press down hard pressure."
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"He mentioned a 'she,'" Michael added quietly. "He was pretty incoherent, but from the sound of it...maybe Tex."
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"Tex?" He asked incredulously even as he finished cleaning the wound and began to set up an IV.
"Are you allergic to any forms of pain killers? In particular narcotic based drugs?"
Regardless of the answer, the fluids were going in, it would just dictate what he added to the lactate ringer bag that he hung on a hook above Yazoo's head.
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Shaking his head, Loz leaned against the wall and watched everything the doctor was doing to his brother, very carefully. "No. No allergies."
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The surgery fell silent then, except for when Wilson issued polite but intense orders to Loz or Kadaj for assistance when he simply ran out of hands to do it all at once. At one point, he asked Ben or Mikey to bring him an extra set of bandages from a storage room across the hall but otherwise, his eyes never left Yazoo as he worked on the young man.
Somehow, Wilson managed to seem to be everywhere at once, slowing the bleeding, taking an X-ray, which he again asked Ben or Michael to pull the film out of the state of the art machine, put it up on the light board for him to review as he stitched.
Yazoo was a mess, the glass having done a number on the boy's flesh and Wilson was at work for quite some time. Though he moved quickly, in all effort to stop the bleeding, he still had to move carefully with the stitches, bringing shreaded muscle and flesh back together to faciliate natural healing.
The urgency began to abate as Wilson was able to get the bleeding stopped but then it was on to the busted ribs and the rest of the damage. The young doctor kept track of Yazoo's vitals, frowning at blood pressure and heartrate but he was also loath to take blood from Loz or Kadaj, unless Yazoo took a serious downward turn.
"All right, bleeding stopped. The rest looks like severe contusions." Wilson spoke as he ran his hands gently across Yazoo's torso, feeling out the damage he couldn't see on the x-ray.
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Kadaj's hand smoothed over Yazoo's hair, the silver stained with pink from his blood. "Can we stay with him for a while?" He looked up at the doctor. Once there was no one around, he would be able to help Yazoo's healing along, he just didn't want to do it when there were people around.
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Wilson checked Yazoo's eye reflexes and he frowned a little, only because he hated sedating anyone witha concussion, but trying to stitch up the wound without the sedation would have been akin to torture.
"Mild concussion as well. Other then that..." Wilson's voice trailed off as he ran his hands over Yazoo and then nodded to himself.
"Other then that, I'd say we've got him stabalized."
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"We're going to head out now, if there's nothing more for us to do," Ben said to Wilson, with a glance down at his own blood-stained clothes. He and Michael would need to clean up the store before putting their clothes to soak and showering. It would be a long night yet. "Thank you for your efforts. We weren't sure who we could turn to, to help him."
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Kadaj, for his part, didn't even acknowledge anyone else was in the room, his attention solely on his brother.
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"Thank you for your help in bringing him here." Wilson knew that Ben didn't need to have helped or Michael for that matter, they had both done so much just bringing the youth the Emporium and calling for Wilson.
He turned then towards Loz and nodded with a gentle expression that reached up into his dark eyes. "Of course. He's stable and asleep and probably will be through the night. I need to step out but I'll just be up the street a few doors and my pager will be with me. You two are welcome to spend the night if you wish."
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