Hatchetfield Stories

You Lead The Way

Me coping with my mental problems by writing helicopter crash fics, part I don't even know (like 47 or something?)

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Injury
-Medical stuff
-Needles
-Mild panic attacks

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"You lead the way," Paul said, wincing at Emma's pained scream when he justled her in his arms. They had to go back to the professor's house. It was arguably one of the safest places in town right now, and they could probably find the supplies to fix up Emma's leg.

They could worry about the meteor later. If they survived long enough, at least.

Blood trickled down Emma's chin as she led Paul back to the professor's base, and though she realized that was probably a bad sign, she tried her best to stay calm. Panicking wouldn't help her, or Paul, who seemed to be on the edge of hyperventilating already.

He didn't look at her, looking straight ahead. "Paul, you okay?"

Paul chuckled. "I should be asking you that."

Emma nodded in understanding. It was easy to tell that having to fix an injury this severe was way out of his comfort zone, and to be honest, she wasn't looking forward to it either.

He winced as the gates closed behind them, and it wasn't long before Emma sat on a couch in the professor's lab.

Paul tapped his hands together anxiously as he looked around the room for a medkit, finding a huge bag filled to the brim with medical supplies. He sat down on the floor in front of her, the color draining from his face

"You good?"

"Yeah, I just... It's- I don't like blood."

"You better not pass out on me, Matthews." It was meant as a joke, but Paul looked up at her, pale as sheet, and panic in his eyes.

"I- I'm trying, but there's just so much blood and I don't know what to do and what if I kill you- Oh my god, what if I kill you?!"

"Paul," Emma said sternly. "I'm not going to lie, there's a big chance I won't make it. But if we- if you don't do something, I'm going to die. You're not killing me if I'm already gone. All we can do now is try."

Paul nodded slowly, taking a deep but shaky breath, trying to calm himself down for Emma's sake. "Okay." He stood up, grabbing the medkit and handing it to her. "Okay."

Emma looked through the bag, taking out the things they might need; disinfectant, sterile gloves, suture kits, some bandages. "See that cabinet over there?" Emma pointed at a wall cabinet on the other side of the room. "That's where he used to keep his medicine. See if there's anything that looks like painkillers to you." She tried to keep her voice steady, but deep down, she was terrified.

Paul walked back toward her, a small vial in his hand. "Morphine," he said. "That's for pain, right?"

Emma nodded, grabbing a syringe from the medkit and tearing the packaging open, holding her breath as she filled it, trying to keep her thoughts on the situation at hand instead of thinking about what happened earlier.

"Em... you're shaking."

"I'm fine, give me an alcohol wipe."

Not wanting to pry, Paul watched her as she disinfected the skin and positioned the needle, closing her eyes as she poked it into her arm and pressed down the plunger.

He grabbed her free hand, and she squeezed it tightly, her heart thumping in her chest.

Throwing the now-empty syringe away, she wiped at her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Now comes the difficult part."

"Shouldn't we wait for the meds to kick in?"

"We don't have that kind of time, Paul."

"But I don't want to hurt you."

"I'll be fine. Just carefully remove the tourniquet and then pull out the metal, okay?"

"Okay," he muttered as she laid her head down. "Okay... Bite down on this." He handed her a rolled-up cloth, and she smiled reassuringly, before stuffing the gag in her mouth.

Emma closed her eyes as he began to remove the tie they had tied around her leg in an attempt to stop the bleeding. By the time he tossed the tie aside, his hands were covered in blood.

"You ready?" he asked, putting his hand too close to the injury for her liking.

Emma took a deep breath, humming in agreement.

To say it hurt would be an understatement. Agony washed over her like lava, until every inch of her body was filled with blinding, indescribable pain.

She screeched, biting down on the rag in her mouth, the aching of her jaw a welcome distraction of the agony that just wouldn't seem to fade.

She didn't think it could get any worse than that, but Paul splashing disinfectant over the wounds quickly proved her wrong

Her leg was now bleeding worse than before, and after a minute of trying and failing to calm her down, Paul gave up, grabbing one of the suture kits and getting to work on weaving her skin back together.

Emma only calmed down once the morphine kicked in, and the pain ebbed away to a distant throbbing. It was then that she realized how tired she was.

Barely able to keep her eyes open, she watched Paul work, smiling back at him when he looked up at her as he finished closing the wound on the outside of her thigh, moving her leg so he could work on the other side.

By the time he was done, she'd passed out from blood loss and exhaustion.

Paul rushed to check for a pulse, sighing in relief when he found one.

Maybe, just maybe, they'd be okay.