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pigeonwhumps · 7 months

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Hospital stay

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @whumpinggrounds @painful-pooch

Whumptember day 28: "I never should have let it come this far" | failed hero | hospital stay | begging for help

Set in the future, when Phoenix has been with Kai's team a while. After being kidnapped together and tortured for, Phoenix and Aaron have been rescued, Kai injured while doing so.

Joseph belongs to @i-eat-worlds, from their story Alex and Friends. Please go read it if you haven't yet!

1.5k

CWs: immortal whumpee, hero whump, caretaker turned whumpee, trans whumpee, mentions of superpower overuse, mentions of waterboarding and whipping, past torture, medical setting, coma, low self-esteem, self-degradation, wish to have committed self sacrifice, something that could potentially come across as a death wish but isn't, past self sacrifice, emeto, past temporary character death, past whump reveal (I guess? Idk how to label it)

Phoenix blinks back tears as they watch Aaron, still and silent in the medbay bed in front of them. He's lying on his stomach, trailing with monitors and IVs and all manner of medical equipment, swathed in bandages. They should've done better. They should be there instead of Aaron, but their stupid healing factor, their immortality that's been so useful in the past, means that he was the one who almost died.

It's not fair. He could've escaped if it wasn't for them. But they're stupid and they failed, and now people are worried about them, too.

"They're definitely out of the coma?" whispers Phoenix to the nurse currently taking Aaron's vitals.

"Yes. Just asleep now. They're safe, everyone is."

"It's my fault."

"No. No, it's not, kiddo."

"It *is*. They used me to control him, he could've, um, escaped. And to check they were right. If I'd died quicker then he would've been less hurt, I should've, um, I should've–"

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare talk about yourself like that."

Phoenix blinks, then bursts into tears. The nurse is so fierce.

"Why do you care? Aaron's yours, I got him hurt, you should–"

A hand falls onto their shoulder. "Do you think that after what we've seen of you over the past few years, how much you've helped, how much you've hurt, do you honestly think that we wouldn't care for you too?"

Phoenix cries. They watch Aaron's too-still body and they cry. Everyone else shouldn't care. But as they watch the nurse tend to Aaron, they can't bring themself to point it out again.

"You're sure they'll, um, they'll be okay?"

"Yes. He's recovering nicely. They should be awake in about six to twelve hours."

They're still too bandaged, too still, too too too, too little Aaron in there. Phoenix tries to comfort themself with the thought that he'll be awake soon, but it doesn't help much. What if he doesn't want to see them again? It's all their fault. They're a failure of a hero, a useless, stupid–

"Hey. Whatever you're thinking, that's enough. Joseph's sent you another cat meme if you want a distraction. Are you in pain?"

The answer is yes, everywhere still aches and hurts whenever they shift (and when they don't), but they can't say that. They know why the nurse is asking. But they're a waste of resources and they deserve this anyway.

"No, sir."

"Are you saying no because you really aren't in pain or because you don't want painkillers? I have standing orders from Aaron to remind you that, although you can of course refuse medication, it's perfectly fine to take painkillers or anything else and it's not a waste of resources."

"I'm, um, I'm okay without, sir," murmurs Phoenix, unsure whether they want the nurse to call them out on it or not. She sighs knowingly.

"Alright. Let me know if you need any. Do you want to see Joseph's cat meme?"

Phoenix nods. "Please. And, um, can I move over to Kai's bed? It's, um, it's his turn."

"Of course."

The nurse fetches Phoenix's phone and wheels them over to Kai's bed, then adjusts their saline IV.

"We'll start you off trying to drink again soon. No water for a while yet though."

Phoenix nods, feeling a burning shame. There's no physical reason they can't drink, they're fine. But mentally...

Mentally, they've spent too long without Kai or Aaron reassuring them on anything, and they didn't realise just how much they relied on that. They're useless on their own.

They clutch Mr Frosty to their chest, smiling weakly at Joseph's new message and making sure to reply. They barely see it, but they know now that he'll worry if they don't answer for too long.

It's their daily cat photo. They don't know what they ever did to deserve Joseph.

They slide their phone onto their lap and sink their chin down onto Mr Frosty's head, observing Kai. He's unconscious too, but a lot of that's because he overused his powers. The medics weren't worried about his unconsciousness so much as the stab wound.

Kai looks peaceful. Phoenix isn't sure if that's true.

They look between their two best friends and guilt wells up inside them. Guilt, and grief for something unknown, bubbling over like an old stone well, overflowing and unstoppable. They've both been hurt, everyone's been hurt, because of them.

"I wish I'd been tortured instead of Aaron," murmurs Phoenix, stroking Mr Frosty's fur. "He didn't deserve it. But it's partly so I wouldn't have to watch, so maybe that makes me selfish. What do you think, Mr Frosty?"

"Mr Frosty thinks you shouldn't be so hard on yourself," croaks a voice from the closest bed, and Phoenix looks up, heart in their throat, to see Kai squinting at them.

"Kai! You're awake! Oh." They press a small red button on the side of Kai's bed. "The nurse said to call if you woke."

"How long have I been out?" he asks weakly, as Phoenix helps him with a sippy cup of water.

"A few days? Not entirely sure," they reply quietly. "I was unconscious too for some of it."

Kai tries to sit up, a concerned look on his face, but he can't manage it. "Are you okay? I thought you'd be healing faster, what's wrong?"

"Dehydration, mostly. I'm fine." Kai's gaze flickers pointedly to the IV line in their arm and back, and they sigh. Can't Kai ever miss anything? "I'm... struggling to drink, after... well. It's simpler this way." Phoenix hesitates, and then reaches out a hand hopefully, laying it on top of Kai's uninjured one. Kai turns his own over and squeezes it gently.

Kai's hand is rough, and warm, and large, and it fills Phoenix with relief, to be able to hold it again.

"Where's Aaron? How are they holding up? I don't remember that well but I'm pretty sure they were in bad shape."

Phoenix's eyes dart to the next bed, and Kai struggles in another fruitless attempt to sit up.

"He... he, um, he took the last whipping for me. After everything else he took it, I don't know why, I'm, um, I'm immortal, I'd have been fine, but he– anyway, they're, um, they're out of the induced coma now. Asleep. They're healing. I've, um, been switching between you."

Phoenix is dreading the point where they have to find out exactly how bad things are, how much Aaron hates them now, but they know they deserve it.

"Okay. Phoenix? Firstly, being whipped and waterboarded counts as torture, yes, to you too. Stop being mean to yourself."

Phoenix frowns. "How do you, um, know about the waterboarding?"

Kai squeezes their hand. "They sent videos. To anyone who might care that they had you both. Our team, Joseph, Electrocus, Aisling and Gemma... and Aaron's parents and Alicia. Nobody's told you, huh?"

Phoenix shakes their head, but everything's muted, like they're underwater. They're drowning and they have no idea how to come up for air.

They understand why no-one would tell them. Everyone knowing... that's far too much for their mind to hold.

They gasp, trying to grasp onto something, anything, looking for a lifeline their mind can hold. Everyone knowing...

And they don't even know how much.

"My... my parents?"

"No idea. We haven't contacted them, they haven't contacted us. If they know they're not saying. But no-one can share either of your identities further."

Phoenix takes a deep breath, trying to steady themself. This means Aaron doesn't know either.

Of course he doesn't. Of course he wouldn't. He hasn't woken since the rescue.

"Stop, um, stop trying to reassure me when you were stabbed."

"Then stop claiming you weren't tortured."

"Wasn't bad torture."

They were experiments anyway. That doesn't count as torture.

There's footsteps from behind Phoenix and they cower down, throwing their arm above their head even though it'll do no good. He's going to hurt them, he's going to stretch their limits and kill them and hurt Aaron and–

"Easy. It's just me, I'm here to check on Kai, breathe."

Phoenix does so obediently, blood rushing past their ears still but seeing the medbay as if from miles away, someone in a white coat entering their field of vision.

"Hello Kai," the voice says warmly. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Tell Phoenix there's no such thing as "not bad" torture."

"There isn't. But Kai, I asked about *you*."

"Thirsty, tired, sore. Not dying." He coughs. "What happened?"

"Let me check your vitals and monitors." There's a pause. Phoenix puts their head between their knees, trying to remember how to breathe. "You remember the rescue? Well, you got Phoenix and Aaron, but you had a dagger thrown in your back on your way out. You're damned lucky you were in wolf form. The healers patched you up, but you had a way to go on your own."

"And the others?"

"Lian's been in and out of sleep, Morfydd's in a sensory deprivation chamber, and Santhiya's recovering in a power-blocking room. You all overused your powers drastically, but you'll be okay."

The floor is mostly white with splatters of colour, swirling swirling splatter, and Phoenix throws up on the medbay floor.

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whump-card · 7 months

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Whumptember Day Twenty-Eight

“I never should have let it come this far”

Failed hero | Hospital stay | Begging for help

Chronologically: 6

~1990 words

Masterlist

CW: discussion of past noncon, injury reveal, negative self-talk

~~~

“I’m looking for Sir Driemal, is he here?”

Ren stuck out like a sore thumb in the lobby of the fine inn. He was covered in dust and dirt, his shoes were caked in mud, and his hair was matted. All the result of walking for days and sleeping in ditches or barns. The inn’s attendant unsubtly wrinkled her nose at him.

“No, no Sir Driemal here.”

“Well, well what about…” Ren floundered in desperation, “Sir Cassius? Lady Richard? Any knights at all, are any staying here?”

“No,” the attendant said flatly, “I think you’d best be on your way.”

“But they said they’d be here, It’s only Saturday, they’re supposed to be here…” Ren couldn’t help the tears that sprang to his eyes. “Are there any knights here?”

“Try the poorhouse,” the attendant snapped.

“Ren!”

Ren spun around to see Sir Driemal in the doorway to the dining hall. The knight wasted no time striding forward, and almost seemed like he might hug Ren, before he caught himself.

“Ren, I’m so glad you came. I was so worried you wouldn’t be able to leave her.”

“I almost didn’t,” the words flowed out of Ren so easily when he spoke to Driemal.

“Good job, man!” Sir Driemal clapped a hand onto Ren’s shoulder, sending a jolt of electric excitement through Ren’s body and bringing a smile to his face. The knight turned to the attendant, who looked like she wished she could melt into the floor.

“Prepare a room for Ren here, if you will?” Sir Driemal requested.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we’re full tonight,” she said, and this time it sounded like she was telling the truth.

“No matter!” Driemal squeezed Ren’s shoulder reassuringly, causing another buzz of delight, “He can stay in my room! Take his horse to the stables and have his luggage sent up to mine.”

“Oh, sir, I…” Ren’s smile melted; he wasn’t sure whether to be confused, embarrassed, or scared. “I don’t… I don’t have a horse. Or luggage.”

Sir Driemal blinked at him.

“You… You walked here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“With nothing?”

“Well - yes, sir.”

Sir Driemal dropped his hand from Ren’s shoulder and looked him up and down, as if noticing his ragged state for the first time. His face darkened with concern.

“We… I had no idea, that you… I would have thought you had a horse, I… I’m so sorry, Ren, we should have left money for you.”

Ren shook his head, horrified at the idea.

“No, no! I made it, that's all that matters.”

Driemal managed a guilty smile.

“You did. You did.” He turned back to the attendant, who quickly pretended she hadn’t been listening. “Set up a hot bath in my room, please.”

She chirped an agreement and Sir Driemal led Ren by the arm into the dining hall, where he let Ren collapse into a chair before bringing him mountains of fine food. Ren ate like a half-starved animal, because he was - for days now he’d been eating garbage and charity. Now he threw back meat pies and cheeses and ale with gusto. Driemal watched him with that same guilty smile. Ren flushed when he caught the knight staring.

“I’m sorry, sir. You must think me very ill-mannered.”

“No, I…” Sir Driemal shook his head, “I only wonder when you last ate.”

Ren didn’t answer.

Once he’d had his fill, Sir Driemal showed Ren to his room. Inn employees were just leaving, and a massive wooden tub of steaming water awaited inside, along with washcloths and towels on a side table. Sir Driemal went to his trunk and rooted around in it.

“The only spare sleeping-clothes I have is my summer set, I hope that’s alright.” He offered a bundle of white linen to Ren.

“That’s alright, sir,” Ren accepted them, then looked around. There was only one bed in the room, a massive four-poster. “Where will I sleep?”

“Do you mind sharing the bed? I won’t have you sleeping on the floor,” Sir Driemal said casually, “Besides, look at the size of that thing! We won’t bother each other.”

Too overwhelmed to decline, Ren nodded.

“I’m going back downstairs to iron out our plans with the others,” Sir Driemal said, “Take your time. Don’t wait up for me, I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

Ren was very suddenly alone. He set the clothes down on the side table, and brushed his fingers across the soft, clean fabric. Sir Driemal had no idea how kind he was.

Ren set to work, stripping down. Not wanting to immediately dirty the beautiful tub, he wetted a washcloth and scrubbed himself down twice before getting in to soak. The hot water was immensely soothing to his many bruises and aches. He could hardly believe that such a luxury was his to enjoy.

He stayed in the bath until it was tepid. Once he was clean and dry and able to comb his fingers through his damp hair without them catching, he picked up the sleeping-clothes and shook them out.

His heart sank.

They were indeed summer sleepwear. The top was sleeveless, and the bottoms would only reach his mid-thigh. They would leave countless bruises exposed, as well as his welt-covered shoulders. His hands clenched into fists around the fabric as his breath shook.

He’d just have to wake up before Sir Driemal did, and get dressed quickly. No problem.

He pulled on the clothes and went over to the bed. The far side was slightly mussed, so Ren approached the nearer and climbed under the covers. The bedding was incredibly soft, softer than Lady Twice’s, and smelled fresh and clean.

It also smelled a bit like Sir Driemal - saddlesoap and rosewater - which Ren didn’t mind. He tucked the blankets securely around his shoulders to hide his battered body. He intended to stay awake, to rehearse what he would say to Sir Driemal the next morning, to figure out how precisely to ask to be the knight’s manservant - but sleep seized him instantly.

~~~

When Sir Driemal awoke to delicate snores the next morning, he was confused for a brief moment; then he recalled the events of the previous night. Ren had made it. His journey had clearly been difficult - more difficult than it should have been - but he’d made it. Driemal thanked his lucky stars for the dozenth time, and rolled over to look at the man in question.

His breath caught in his throat.

The night before, Ren had been fully bundled under the covers and Driemal had thought nothing of it. Now, the blankets had slipped down, revealing Ren’s bare shoulder and the back of his neck where he lay on his side, facing away from Driemal. Angry dark red bruises, just starting to go green at the edges, spelled out the unmistakable pattern of belt marks on his shoulderblade. Sinister in a different way, brighter fingerprints were splayed across the back of Ren’s neck.

“Ren!” The name left Driemal’s lips before he could think, and as soon as it did he regretted it. He clearly hadn’t been supposed to see this, wasn’t supposed to know, and now Ren would feel forced to explain whatever had happened before he’d even had breakfast. He cursed himself internally as Ren drew in a breath and raised a hand to rub at his eyes for a moment before freezing with awareness; he could feel Driemal looking at him.

“Ren, I, I’m so sorry,” Driemal stammered, “I didn’t mean to see…”

Ren jerked the covers up over his shoulders and rolled to look at Driemal with bright, frightened eyes.

“It was Lady Twice, wasn’t it?” Again, in his barely-awake state, Driemal couldn’t stop himself from talking. “She beat you for us leaving - my god, Ren, this is all my fault!” he sat up in bed, “I should have done more to convince you to come with us. This never should have happened, I never should have let it come this far, Ren, I’m so sorry. I failed you.”

“Don’t say that,” Ren whispered.

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Driemal said miserably, “You were hurt because of our actions. My actions. Is that why you came here with nothing, too? You fled?”

“That - I - I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Ren looked away, fervently mumbling, “I shouldn’t have - I shouldn’t be sharing your bed, it’s disgusting, I… Look away.”

Driemal obediently shifted his back towards Ren.

“What are you talking about?”

He heard the blankets rustle and Ren’s bare feet pad across the floor.

“Sir… Where are my clothes?”

“Oh, um, I sent them to be laundered. I’m sorry, I was just -” Ren sobbed, and Driemal’s heart clenched. “Ren?”

“You can look,” Ren’s voice was muffled, “It doesn't matter anymore.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Driemal turned to look at Ren. He stood side-on to Driemal, his hands pressed to his face. The knight stifled a gasp when he registered Ren’s legs. His knees were scraped to hell, and red handprints marred his thighs. It was obvious evidence of a brutal and sustained assault.

“Ren, what…?”

“There were bandits on the road,” Ren rushed out his words, thick with tears, “And I thought they would let me keep my things if I serviced them, but they tricked me, and I shouldn’t have - I shouldn’t have slept in your bed after that, that was a horrible thing to do to you, sir, I just need my clothes back and then I can leave!”

Silence stretched out as Driemal processed this.

“Ren,” he said softly, and Ren’s shoulder’s tensed, “Ren, I don’t want you to leave.”

Ren shook his head, his hands still glued to his face.

“Ren,” Driemal started to get out of bed, “Please-”

Ren shrank away a step in reaction to Driemal’s movement. “Please don’t hit me!” he gasped into his palms.

Driemal stared, open-mouthed, his words trapped under his tongue. He was spared having to come up with an immediate response by a knock on the door.

“Laundry!” called a voice from beyond.

Driemal stood and moved slowly to the entry, his eyes trained on Ren. Ren stood completely frozen, still hiding his face. Driemal opened the door, blocking the employee’s view of Ren with his body, and received the bag of laundry with a quick thanks before quietly clicking the door closed. He dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed, and sorted out Ren’s things from his. Scooping them into a bundle, he approached the paralyzed manservant.

“Ren. Look at me, please?” he gently requested. Ren complied, lowering shaky hands and raising his gaze to meet Driemal’s. Ren’s face was red with suppressed tears, and his eyes were wide and his lips pursed with fear. Driemal took a breath.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, willing his rough voice to be soothing, “I’ll go get dressed in Sir Cassius’ room while you get dressed here. Then we’ll all go to breakfast, together. Then you and I will go to a tailor and order you a new wardrobe. We’ll all stay here, in Faville, until it is ready, which will give you some time to recover. Then we’ll ride on, together, to… wherever Lady Richard decides we’re needed. Oh yes, and I’ll be buying you a horse.”

Ren gazed up at him for a long moment, and Driemal was struck with the urge to touch him, to rest a hand on his chest or his cheek, to offer some small comfort. He shifted the clothes in his arms and one hand twitched upward, but it was stalled by Ren nodding.

“Yes, sir,” the manservant whispered, carefully taking the bundle of clothes from the knight and casting his eyes respectfully downwards, “Thank you, sir.”

Driemal wanted Ren to feel safe with him. He wanted Ren to feel comfortable. But, he suddenly realized, that would take a while. He nodded brusquely, busied his overeager hands with gathering his own clothes, and made his exit.

He could wait.

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #whumptember2023 day 28 #whumptember2023 #day 28: I never should have let it come this far #cw past noncon #injury reveal #cw negative self-talk

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its-my-whump · 7 months

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28. “I never should have let it come this far”

Failed hero | Hospital stay | Begging for help

TW: unconsciousness, gore, blunt trauma

"I'm not coming with you."

"But you may die here."

"Probably!... BUT...It.. it's my fault. So I have to pay for that now. I never should have let it come this far." Whumpee shook his head in despair and turned away ashamed.

"Neither should have I!" Caretaker's voice was strong. A whole lot of determination in it made whumpee turn around again.

"I'm not gonna let you sacrifice yourself for these miserable, ungrateful basta..."

The intended hit not only took whumpee by surprise, it missed its target on the back of his head.

Instead caretaker struck him down by hitting whumpee's temple. He went down like a log and Caretaker's heart literally stopped.

Whumpee's limp extremities sprawled out like someone had thrown an unused puppet into the corner. His head met the ground with a sickening wet thud.

Every drop of color left whumpee's face immedately. It looked like it was drained in the same motion the red pool around his head was forming.

"Shit!" Caretaker could only hiss, while he went down to his knees and turned whumpee on his back. The pulse was steady and strong, but not a muscle moved. Even when caretaker forcefully rubbed his sternum, there was no reaction.

Panic was about to overpower everything else. Caretaker needed to fight against his breath hitching and his heart hammering away like an industrial press.

He wrapped his shirt around whumpee's head and got to his feet again, his friend in a bridal carry. The blue cotton had already turned red and made a fearful contrast to the white face.

. . .

On the way to the hospital caretaker was sure he was having a heart attack any second. Constantly one hand was feeling for whumpee's heartbeat or was held under his nose for the certainty of his friend still breathing. The friend he actually wanted to save himself from doing something so utterly stupid, that he in fact was so desperate to knock him out to stop him. 'Nicely done,...not.' He debated with himself.

The amound of blood still freely seeping through the fabric around whumpee's head was concerning, as was his lifeless form.

Finally, with squeaking wheels he annouced their arrival at the E.R. Caretaker frantically honked the horn a few times, before he jumped out of the driverseat and screamed as loud as his panicked body would let him.

"HELP! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP!"

My whumptember2023 masterlist

#whumptember2023 #Whumptember2023 day 28 #day 28:I should have never let it get this far.#begging for help #whump #writing #whump writing #writlr #caretaker turned whumper #whumpee caretaker #caretaker

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