| [Nov. 14th, 2011|02:59 am] |
The fingers of his right hand bumped the floor. He caught his breath on a groan as pain shattered through his shoulder.
“Need t’ ask you a favour,” he managed. “Think you could hold my hand while I put my shoulder back?”
She twisted to give him a worried look, eyebrows pinched together, but nodded. “Wondered when you were going to get around to that.”
“Still working my way up to it,” he muttered, freeing his hand from her grip. He took hold of his hanging right wrist and managed to bring the arm up, gritting his teeth. “Help me get my fingers around the bar? Just need you t’ hold the hand there while I pull.”
She did exactly as he asked, gaze steady and calm, and locked both hands around his wrist when he managed to get a weak grip. He could still feel his fingers, at least.
From across the hall, a slightly plaintive voice asked: “What are you doing now?”
Katsuko’s mouth shaped a fleeting smile. Asuma pulled up a grin that was mostly a grimace, took a deep breath, and nodded.
She pulled his arm up the bar, raising it level to his shoulder. He turned away and leaned his full weight on the arm, stretching it out. He felt the colour drain from his face. Sweat burned down his naked back. Bone grated on bone as the head of humerus dragged across the edge of the socket, fighting hours of stiff swelling. Asuma dragged on smoke and fumes and empty reserves and pulled. Katsuko tightened her hands around his wrist and yanked the other way.
With a dull, popping crack the joint twisted back into place.
“Son of a bitch,” Asuma hissed, while little lights went off behind his eyes. Katsuko loosened her grip. He pulled the arm carefully back, feeling bone slide in the way it was supposed to, and breathed through the rush of shocky -- but fading -- agony. Rested his forehead against the bars. “That tickled my funny bone.”
Katsuko exhaled and gave him an extremely dry look. “Your sense of humour’s still there, so I guess you’re fine.”
Asuma looked at her from under his eyebrows. “Yours seems to be sticking, too, but you’re lit up like a birthday cake.” |
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