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Whumptober 2024 Day 22: Bleeding Through Bandages
No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES
Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."
266 words (a Biggle! Unintentional but I'm claiming it), Algy & Mohamad Khan, Terai-fic
“Will I live, doctor?” said Algy, with a valiant attempt at a wry grin. Mohamad Khan, ever stalwart if occasionally unamused, only shook his head.
“It is not so bad,” he replied. Algy could beg to differ, but in his current circumstances he felt forced to lie still as his rescuer prodded at the now-bloody bandages around his torso. Most of the damage from being shot down was centred on his leg - which Algy tore his thoughts away from with alarming frequency - but the shallow gashes across his stomach were irritating in their tendency to reopen at the slightest motion.
He never thought he might dream of simply being able to sit up unassisted. As it was, he preferred to avoid risking infection every time he broke bread with Khan, so he was stuck accepting the arm around his shoulders and broad chest against his back.
Khan unwound the bandages and had the wounds cleaned and re-covered in only a few minutes. It was becoming something of a routine, with Algy now usually brave enough to look at the cuts while they were being treated. When he first regained consciousness he’d had an embarrassing tendency for lightheadedness and black spots in the vision when he so much as thought about what had happened, but now it was more easily squared away.
He tried not to think, also, about what might come roaring back into focus if - when - Biggles brought him back to England. Instead, he fantasised about a clean-shaven face and freshly ironed sheets on his very own bed. It helped, thinking of what mattered least.
Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."
266 words (a Biggle! Unintentional but I'm claiming it), Algy & Mohamad Khan, Terai-fic
“Will I live, doctor?” said Algy, with a valiant attempt at a wry grin. Mohamad Khan, ever stalwart if occasionally unamused, only shook his head.
“It is not so bad,” he replied. Algy could beg to differ, but in his current circumstances he felt forced to lie still as his rescuer prodded at the now-bloody bandages around his torso. Most of the damage from being shot down was centred on his leg - which Algy tore his thoughts away from with alarming frequency - but the shallow gashes across his stomach were irritating in their tendency to reopen at the slightest motion.
He never thought he might dream of simply being able to sit up unassisted. As it was, he preferred to avoid risking infection every time he broke bread with Khan, so he was stuck accepting the arm around his shoulders and broad chest against his back.
Khan unwound the bandages and had the wounds cleaned and re-covered in only a few minutes. It was becoming something of a routine, with Algy now usually brave enough to look at the cuts while they were being treated. When he first regained consciousness he’d had an embarrassing tendency for lightheadedness and black spots in the vision when he so much as thought about what had happened, but now it was more easily squared away.
He tried not to think, also, about what might come roaring back into focus if - when - Biggles brought him back to England. Instead, he fantasised about a clean-shaven face and freshly ironed sheets on his very own bed. It helped, thinking of what mattered least.