Temeraire (lungtienxiang) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-03-06 10:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, temeraire: temeraire, temeraire: william laurence, the untamed: lan xichen |
healing hurts
Temeraire smelled blood first. It roused him from a nap, where he had been dreaming contentedly of sliced roast beef with peppercorns and mushroom sauce, with a heap of spiced potatoes, and he had been just about to rouse himself enough to look for something to eat for real, when his nostrils twitched. It was not a cooking smell. He lurched to his feet, his great head swinging about. Something was very wrong. “Laurence?” he called in a low voice, guided by pure instinct. There was a faint groaning noise. He whipped round, his tail impacting the wall of the courtyard and knocking a few bricks loose. There was a small bloody shape near the entrance to the inner keep, where ordinarily dozens of men would go in and out every hour carrying bits of leather or boxes of buckles or carrying messages, but here there was no one at all, ever, but Laurence. Temeraire closed the distance in seconds, his breath coming out in a terrible keening cry. “Laurence?” he called again, nudging the prone figure with his nose. Laurence blinked up at him for a moment, and smiled, and Temeraire felt a brief surge of relief - he was all right, after all! - but then his eyes closed and he was still again. “Laurence!” Temeraire liked to think that he had grown up a little over the last few years, and not quite so prone to impulsive, rash action; he had led armies, he had outwitted his enemies, he had even made difficult, very difficult choices where Laurence was concerned - leaving him behind in Russia to go search for the egg, then leaving him behind in France, though thankfully he had not actually had to go through with that, in the end. But there was a significant difference between a logical, no matter how painful, decision to leave him where he would be taken care of, and seeing him hurt - not dead, he could not be dead when he could do nothing, nothing to help. His mind moved fast in his panic. There was no surgeon without shouting distance. He knew there were hospitals in the town, but he did not know exactly where, and he was sure he would not be able to come down anywhere near them anyway. He did the only thing he could think of, which was to scoop Laurence up as carefully and quickly as he could in his foreclaws, and take off with all speed in the direction of the Cloud Recesses. He had never flown so fast in his life. He almost tore his wing muscles with the pace he put on. It was perhaps only minutes, but felt like an absolute eternity by the time he came down in the little clearing he had already started to think of as his own, hoping, hoping that Lan Xichen had seen him approaching and was already coming. He called out in a panicked voice even as he laid Laurence out on the grass, his whole body trembling, his hind claws scraping deep furrows in the otherwise perfect landscape. The approach of a black dragon was virtually impossible to miss, especially in a place so steeped in magic as Cloud Recesses was. Temeraire was easy to spot in the sky, more so once he triggered the wards that would warn of his approach, and absolutely unmistakeable when he began shouting for assistance. As the dragon’s call echoed off the side of the mountain, Lan Xichen was already bounding over rooftops toward the clearing where Temeraire had become accustomed to landing when he visited. He didn’t know for certain what had happened, but Lan Xichen guessed it must be something to do with Laurence; nothing else could put that kind of fear in Temeraire’s voice. Once he got in visual range, he was proved right–that was Laurence, lying on the grass, and if all that blood was his, that was not a good sign. One last jump and glide from the outer wall had Lan Xichen landing light as a butterfly at Laurence’s side, right in front of Temeraire. “Do you know what happened?” The question was directed to Temeraire, while Lan Xichen reached out toward Laurence with his qi to make sure that he was in fact still alive. He looked bad, very bad, but Lan Xichen was accustomed to managing a crisis with absolute calm. A Lan did not panic, nor did a clan leader, especially not in the presence of a junior, and that went double when the junior in question weighed some twenty tons and could do a great deal of unintentional damage if overcome with emotion. “No, no,” Temeraire growled frantically, his ruff standing up so stiff it was painful. “He was just… there, I do not know how long. I was asleep,” he said, with a flood of guilt, and shrank back onto his forelegs with his head close to the ground, close to Laurence’s body as he could be without getting in the way. Shame and self-recrimination turned his empty stomach. He had let his guard down, he had let himself be convinced that Laurence would be all right, and been happily distracted by all the things there were to learn and explore in Vallo. He had been selfish, and Laurence had gotten hurt after all, badly hurt. He should have stayed guarded, he should not have slept or rested until Laurence was home… “Can you help him?” he asked, his voice thick with desperation and his tail lashing beyond his control. “With magic? Or…” The alternative was unthinkable, he both could not think it and also not think of anything else. He had not seen Laurence so badly hurt since he could remember… the crew had hidden him away after the duel, and after the flogging, so that he would not see. He had seen Laurence bloody before - the ugly head wound after the battle with the smugglers in Xi’an was a prime example - but not while also prostrate like this, not unspeaking, unseeing, unmoving. It was terrible, terrible to see Laurence so still, his chest barely moving so that Temeraire was not even sure he saw it at all or was only imagining. “I can,” Lan Xichen calmly replied. By the time Temeraire asked, he’d already begun transferring qi to Laurence. It wasn’t a long-term healing solution, nor could it overcome but so much of a wound, but it would do well enough to get him stabilized. As worried as Lan Xichen was, and upsetting as it was to see Laurence hurt so badly, he would keep steady for both Laurence and Temeraire’s sakes. He could collapse about it later, when there was time and space for having feelings. Lan Xichen kept his focus on Laurence, two fingertips at his temple to keep the flow of qi going. “We’ll need to take him to a proper healer after I have his pulse steady, but he will recover.” Temeraire made a pained sound that was only half relief. Assurances were very well, but it did little to ease his despair at the sight of Laurence looking so pale and still, like he had sometimes imagined in his very darkest moments. “Where is the healer?” he asked, “Is it far? Should I carry him? Or I could go and bring them here, if he should not be moved…” “Use your phone to send a message to the clinic,” Lan Xichen replied, his voice even and steady as he’d use teaching young students. “They will be able to send someone to help him here or bring him to their facility.” As he spoke, he continued the flow of qi. Hopefully it would be enough to wake Laurence soon. Lan Xichen wasn’t a healer, not the way a master like Wen Qing was, but he knew that the longer a person was unconscious, the harder the recovery tended to be. He was also aware that the longer Laurence was put, the greater the risk that Temeraire would do something drastic. “Oh.” Temeraire would have kicked himself if he could physically bend that way. He had forgotten entirely that he could call for help with technology, his panic having reduced him to his most basic instincts. He spoke hurriedly to the little pouch attached to his breastplate, in terms that were likely to make whoever received the message worry that their building might be flattened at any moment if they did not move immediately. He wanted to know how long it would take, if perhaps he ought to fly out and meet them half way, but he bit back his questions and suggestions. Lan Xichen had to concentrate, and Temeraire didn’t want to interrupt or otherwise do anything that might get in the way of whatever he was doing to help Laurence. Instead he crouched down even closer to the ground and hoped even harder and tried not to lose his mind in the encroaching dark place that threatened to overtake him whenever Laurence was hurt or lost. "You're liable to make them think that you're threatening them more than requesting their help," Laurence said, trying for a light tone, though his voice sounded thick to his ears, the words clumsy and unwieldy in his mouth, though he was still sure that speaking had been the right course of action, even if he didn't sound quite right. His head felt as though it were about to split, and it had taken a great deal of concentration to understand the words Temeraire had been speaking, but once he had he was half convinced Temeraire was liable to fly off, lift the roof off some doctor's house, and pluck the poor man from his parlour if Laurence didn't immediately manage to convince him he was fine. He opened his eyes a crack, and shut them again nearly immediately; it was far too bright, but he'd caught a glimpse of powder blue and knew the man beside him was Lan Xichen. He attempted to push himself up with his left arm, which felt strangely wet, and it took nearly all he had to not cry out. He gave himself a moment to catch his breath, and then instead used his right arm and Lan Xichen's shoulder to pull himself into a seated position, fought down a wave of nausea – nothing, he was sure, would cause Temeraire to panic and Lan Xichen to worry more than if he were to be sick all over himself. He forced himself to open his eyes and to keep them open, despite how much the light made his head pound even more. He remembered the blue dragon, and trying to talk it into letting them work on the puzzles in peace, though the dragon had seemed entirely uninterested. He didn't remember the blow that had left his arm bloody and likely broken and had left his head feeling like it was stuffed, it turns, with both cotton and hot coals. He thought he remembered seeing Temeraire and knowing he was home and safe, but he couldn't be quite sure. He shouldn't have let himself be seen like this, not by Temeraire. "I'm fine, Temeraire, truly. You need not worry; it was only a little bump on the head. Nothing to worry about, I assure you." He hoped Temeraire wouldn't think too much on the thickness or the slow deliberateness of his speech. He removed his hand from Lan Xichen's shoulder, but only long enough to brush his fingertips over his cheek. "It's good to see you again, Darling," he added, and then, "Where are we?" Lan Xichen let out a slow, carefully measured breath to let the relief to wash over him. Laurence was awake, and while he was clearly hurt badly, he would be all right. Lan Xichen was still clearly the only person operating with any sense here, judging by Laurence’s insistence on sitting up and Temeraire threatening the clinic, but he could allow himself that little release of tension. “Please stop trying to move, Will,” Lan Xichen said, keeping his voice low. If light was bothering Laurence’s eyes, it was likely that loud sounds would be a problem as well. He caught Laurence’s hand in his, folding them gently together, and brought them to rest at his shoulder. “You are at Cloud Recesses. A-Xiang brought you here, and he has called for the doctors to come see to you.” “You are not fine, at all,” Temeraire said, torn between his relief that Laurence was awake at last, and anxiety at how strange he sounded. At least he remembered who Temeraire was, this time, but that was less comfort than it probably ought to have been. The tension in his ruff eased by only the barest fraction; he could still taste the smell of Laurence’s blood on his tongue. “You are the very opposite of fine.” he went on, tail lashing. “Oh, see if I ever let you out of my sight again when this is what happens.” He dug his talons into the grass, further ruining the aesthetic, to keep from launching forward and drawing Laurence close under his wing where he would be safe. “Did someone attack you?” he demanded, already planning his revenge; human, animal or homicidal library, he could destroy them all just as easily. Laurence glanced in dismay at the deep furrows Temeraire was leaving in the ground, and shot Lan Xichen an apologetic look. “It is only a little blood, dear heart, I swear, and you’ll remember what we told you of the healing by magic? I dare say I’ll be fit as a fiddle in no time at all. It’s nothing at all to be concerned about.” He wondered, a little, if he should attempt to stand, sure that doing so would go a long way in reassuring Temeraire, but if he tried it and realized only after that he couldn’t manage it, he was sure that it would have the opposite effect. The amount of blood on his clothing and the way his head simultaneously spun, swam, and pounded made him think that he should not attempt it. “And no good can come of worrying over who did this; I dare say he’s likely still trapped in the other dimension, unless the magic that brought us back brought him as well,” Laurence added, and then frowned. He should have found a way to sidestep the question altogether: answering was likely only to work Temeraire up more, and he should be finding ways to calm him. More than any time in the last six months, he wished that Granby or Roland were here; they’d know more than Laurence how to handle this situation, and perhaps would have made sure that Temeraire hadn’t seen him like this at all. He shot a pleading look at Lan Xichen, who had less experience dealing with dragons, but at least seemed to have his wits about him. “Oh, I will find him,” Temeraire said, shuddering all over with rage just to know that there was a him, an enemy, something tangible he could take out his roiling emotions on. He was usually loathe to hurt anyone or anything that wasn’t able to fight him back, even in a battle situation, but any threat past or present to Laurence’s wellbeing was the one significant exception to this personal code. “If I have to find a way into another world I will do it, and he will be very sorry for at least a few seconds before I tear his head off. The surgeon is coming, is he?” he demanded of no one in particular, craning his head over the trees and buildings around. The only thing stopping him from going to fetch someone himself was his reluctance to leave Laurence. “Lan Xichen, do not let him move. He cannot be relied upon to rest when he is ill; Granby is often complaining of it, and Admiral Roland as well - and he had better not aggravate a head wound in case he should lose his memory - he is prone to that as well,” he added, rather accusatory in his heightened state. “He will not be going anywhere,” Lan Xichen said in his most calm and soothing tone. He had a little more faith in Laurence’s ability to be sensible and stay still than Temeraire did, but just to be sure, he shifted just slightly so Laurence could lean comfortably against him, neatly embraced and kept in place all at once. “I’m sure the only thing that would induce him to move right now is worry for you, so you might do well to assure him that you will hold off on your quest for vengeance until he is better, and then look at your phone to see if the clinic has replied. Usually they will respond to advise that they are sending help.” Temeraire made an anxious, frustrated noise. “Of course I will not do anything right now,” he said, low, though in contradiction to his instincts; “I will not leave you, Laurence, only do please stop bleeding. They are coming, I am sure… I never thought I would miss Dorset so much.” He backed off a few feet to mutter in a draconic whisper - which was not much of a whisper at all - at his phone to get it to tell him his messages. Laurence was fairly certain that Temeraire’s criticisms were entirely unfounded, and if Jane and Granby ever criticised him for not resting, it was only because he couldn’t rest, given whatever circumstances were happening. Temeraire’s comment about him being prone to memory loss was concerning though, more so than he would have liked, and he found himself wondering if that was something that would happen, or had already happened, and then he found himself trying very hard to remember exactly how he’d become injured in the first place: all he could remember, really, was trying to speak to the dragon and then he was here, and he wondered how much time, exactly, had passed between once incident and the next. “Thank you,” he murmured, sagging against Lan Xichen, a little more comfortable in mind, at least, now that it seemed that Temeraire wasn’t likely to go flying off and demanding someone send him alone to another dimension. And then, while Temeraire was busy with his phone he dropped his voice lower and asked, “I’ve not forgotten anything, have I?” “Not that I can tell,” Lan Xichen replied. A brief test was likely in order, though, to make sure. Laurence seemed fairly clear on who everyone was, at least, and he hadn’t asked ‘what’s a Cloud Recesses’ or anything of that nature, but Lan Xichen supposed it possible that there were some finer points missing. “You know me, I can tell, and A-Xiang, and you seem to recall that magic and alternate dimensions exist. You know where you are and where you came from…if there is any damage to your memory, it is minor.” Laurence sighed, relieved and tired and aching, and let his head fall back on Lan Xichen’s shoulder. “This isn’t quite what I pictured when you mentioned clinging to me like an octopus,” he teased, lightly. He found it was difficult to keep his eyes open, but he fought to do it, not wanting Temeraire to work himself up if Laurence fell asleep while he was checking his messages. He waited until Temeraire looked as though he was finished before he said, “I’m sorry I haven’t thanked you yet, Temeraire, but you did well, keeping your head and bringing me here, and even calling for a healer. I’m glad you didn’t do anything rash when you saw me injured.” Like flying off in a vengeance. Laurence was really rather hoping that Temeraire didn’t decide to do that after all, once the healer arrived. Temeraire crouched miserably back down again, having confirmed that someone was in fact coming, though it did little to ease his anxiety. Ordinarily any praise from Laurence would be enough to lift him out of any dark mood, but in this case it only served to make him feel worse. “I have not done well at all,” he countered, “I was not even awake, and you were hurt. I should have waited for you more carefully, or I should have found a way to go after you no matter what anyone said, and not just sat here and waited for you to be injured, and I should have called the doctor right away, and then perhaps they would already be here, only I never thought of it.” He sighed, having said all of this in one breath, making the grass ripple where he had not torn it up. “I am sorry, Laurence.” “Oh Temeraire, no, you have nothing to apologise for,” he said. “You had no cause to believe I’d come back injured, none of us did, and you can’t have been expected to use your phone at all, when you’ve spent your entire life without the technology.” Laurence was, in fact, a little impressed that Temeraire had thought to use his phone at all. “This was the best course of action you could have taken in the circumstances.” Laurence was sure there was at least a hundred ways Temeraire could have reacted which would have been worse. For instance, “You might have brought me straight to the clinic.” That would have undoubtedly been a disaster; Temeraire had no idea where in the city it was located, and likely would have worried half the city flying around looking for it, and Laurence didn’t think there was room enough in front of the clinic for Temeraire to set down without wrecking a building or a vehicle or two. “You did exactly as you should,” Lan Xichen confirmed, though he understood the impulse to claim fault as a way of exerting a sense of control over one’s fate. “Both when Will arrived and while he was gone. Because you did, all will be well. And now, when he receives instructions from the doctors on how to recover, you can make certain he follows them.” While Lan Xichen didn’t think Laurence was likely to do anything extremely inadvisable, he also knew the man was not much for sitting idle. He was equally certain that Temeraire would be very effective at making sure that Laurence did not so much as glance at a screen before it was allowed. If Temeraire felt like he was keeping Laurence safe and Laurence was prevented from aggravating his injuries, then that was a win for everyone—in a long-term sense, anyway. Temeraire was not going to feel better about this any time soon, especially with Laurence still all over blood and speaking so oddly. He wondered for a moment if he ought to have tried to go straight to the clinic, but Lan Xichen’s voice calmed him a little before he could follow that confusing line of thought too far. “Oh I will, he said with vehemence enough to give anyone concern for their freedom. “I will, I promise, and Laurence, I will never, ever let you be kidnapped into another dimension again. What I would say to your mother, or to the Emperor, for that matter, if I lost you; I do not like to think.” He did not say that it would wreck him first, because Laurence already knew, and it hurt too much to say it aloud. Laurence frowned; he’d not spoken or written to his mother since his arrest. It was impossible, really; to do so would put her in the uncomfortable position of choosing between her love as a mother, and her duties of the wife of an Earl. Presumably, if Temeraire had been elected as a member, then Laurence’s own conviction had been overturned (perhaps because of the Chinese legions the Emperor had sent; Laurence hadn’t pressed Temeraire too hard for details of his own future) and it was no longer a choice she was forced to make. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Temeraire left his father out of the equation; even if his conviction had been overturned, he had little doubt that he’d be no less guilty in his father’s eyes. Laurence doubted very much that the Emperor would be very distressed at news of his death either. In fact, he rather suspected that he’d be concerned even less than Lord Allendale, even with the polite fiction that he was Laurence’s father. Or, perhaps his brother, he thought; he remembered Temeraire writing that Mianning had been made emperor. He was ready to tell Temeraire that, “I’m quite sure the Emper–” when he was cut off by an unfamiliar voice, a little winded. “I’m sorry I took so long. All those stairs… I take it this is the patient?” Lan Xichen judged himself the most capable of relaying the situation efficiently to the healer, given that he was neither overcome with guilt and worry nor concussed, so he took the question. “This one, yes,” he replied, nodding to the bloody mess that was William Laurence.“He was unconscious when he arrived, and I suspect much of this blood to be his own, between the injuries to his arm and his head. A qi transfer helped to stabilize him, but more than that is beyond my ability.” Temeraire saw the man - who he realised belated was actually a woman - look up at him - and then up, and then further up - and he instinctively crouched down as far as he could go in a vain attempt to make himself look smaller. “You must treat him,” he said, and then, realising this may have come across as a tad threatening, added, “please.” “Ahhhh… yes, of course,” the healer said, having shaken off her initial shock. She crouched down at Laurence’s side, and Temeraire forced himself not to crane too closely to see what she was doing. Maintaining composure with a dragon the size of a first-rate, who was agitated and prone to sounding more threatening than he was could not have been an easy feat, especially not with the dragons that Laurence understood were more common in Vallo, and he was, distantly, impressed at how well she managed. There was a warmth, similar but different from Lan Xichen’s qi, and after a few moments the pain in his head faded to a dull ache, the pain in his arm disappearing entirely, and he felt some strength returning. He was left with a sort of warm drowsiness instead; the uncomfortable cots of the safe rooms were nothing worse than what he was used to after his long years in the military, but he’d still slept poorly the last ten days, his dreams unpleasant and his thoughts often straying to Temeraire and Lan Xichen. He roused himself. The healer was telling them that he’d be fine, that he just needed some rest and that he should avoid reading or looking at screens for the next day or two, but that he should recover quickly, and then she was departing; perhaps a little quicker than she might have normally. “There you are,” Lan Xichen said gently. He gave a soft smile and looked up at Temeraire. “Shall we get him to his own bed to rest properly?” he asked. It seemed the right thing to do, and he didn’t think Laurence would have much opinion having just been under the influence of powerful healing magic. Quick thinking was not his job at the moment. Temeraire didn’t love the idea of sending Laurence into the castle where Temeraire could not reach him, or help if anything went wrong. But he also knew Laurence was bound to be more comfortable indoors where it was warm rather than sleeping outdoors, and he had no tent nor any way to put it up, so he nodded. “Yes, I will carry him,” he said, gathering Laurence into his talons protectively. “Thank you. Will you come as well?” He was painfully aware that he could not take care of Laurence on his own; someone had to make sure he didn’t fall down any stairs, or get abducted again. “Of course,” Lan Xichen promptly agreed. He hadn’t thought to do anything else; though he wasn’t so anxious as Temeraire could be, he didn’t particularly want to let Laurence out of his sight, either, and of course he wouldn’t leave the man and dragon to fend for themselves. “I can send my family a message once we have Will settled, and I will stay as long as the two of you need me.” Laurence made himself comfortable in Temeraire’s palm, making sure there was space enough for Lan Xichen to join him. He did, for a moment, contemplate whether or not he could get away with sleeping on Temeraire’s foreleg once they returned to the covert. The air was sharp, but Temeraire had enough body heat that with a good jacket and some blankets, it would be a comfortable enough experience, even without much shelter from the wind. But he suspected he’d like rather a lot of sleep, and he couldn’t ask Temeraire to sit still for so long, and he did rather miss his own bed. “Thank you, both of you,” Laurence said, pleased to note that his words didn’t run together so terribly. “Once I’m rested, we might all dine together and you two can inform me of what I’ve missed. I’m glad, very glad, to see you both again, and I’m sorry to have given you such cause to worry.” Temeraire lifted both men carefully and went aloft, setting a much easier pace than on the way in. He let the air currents carry him, scarcely beating his wings more than once every minute. He came down in the courtyard of the covert and let Laurence and Lan Xichen down as close to the entrance as he could reach. “I will be right here,” he promised, noting with concern the way Laurence leaned his weight on Lan Xichen. “I will not go anywhere, Laurence, I promise.” He watched them go inside until the door close behind them and he could no longer see. Then he curled himself into position, watching every shadow that passed over the covert, ready to chase away any threat, magical or otherwise, even if he did not know how, just yet. |