Oneshots and Other Things

Fire ~ Part 4

"Can we stop – for a minute?" Dec asks faintly.

Stephen can't work out how long they've been walking for – it can't have been long because they're still backstage but he knows they're moving slowly. Without someone to lean on, Ant's top speed has drastically reduced and the way ahead is often blocked by equipment that has been knocked over. It looks like everyone else got out in a rush, far from the controlled evacuations they've occasionally practiced during fire drills.

The smell of smoke permeates the air wherever they go, constantly leaving Stephen with the feeling that he needs to cough, his lungs almost feeling itchy even though he'd never be able to scratch them. None of them have been talking much, not until Dec tentatively breaks the silence.

"We need to keep moving, Decs," Ant replies reluctantly although Stephen notes that he instantly comes to a stop anyway. Stephen takes his momentary hesitation to look Dec over, sure that the other man has lost more of the colour in his face since he last checked. His eyes are too close to drifting closed as well, his forehead ridged with deep lines. Ant manoeuvres himself into Dec's eye line and shakes his arm gently. "Oi, keep your eyes open."

Stephen leans against the end of the box as Dec wearily pulls his eyes open again, fixing Ant with a less than cheerful expression. He knows he can only get away with giving himself a rest when Ant is too preoccupied with Dec to pay him too much attention – even then, he's getting frequent discontented glances fired at him regardless.

"I feel really dizzy," Dec mumbles, his hand trembling as he lifts it to rest against his forehead. Stephen distracts himself by trying to work out the cause – the older man's ankle is clearly causing him pain and the vibrations of the bumpy ride don't seem to be helping but there isn't anything that would lead to this sort of faintness. He scans his eyes over Dec's figure, trying to ignore the light shuddering running through every limb although it never gets far from the forefront of his mind. And then he finds a diagnosis.

"Ant," he says quietly, cutting the younger Geordie off from another round of persuading Dec that they were best to keep moving. Ant looks up quickly, maybe scared by his tone of voice and then looking more concerned as he follows Stephen's pointing finger.

It's hard to tell how they've both missed the cut on the back of Dec's leg. It's the same side as the ankle Stephen has been trying not to jostle too badly but he's never registered the slashed fabric of his trouser leg nor the dark red staining the remaining folds of material.

"Christ," Ant murmurs under his breath, readjusting himself and getting closer to Dec's leg as the other man lifts his head, feebly trying to follow his movements. Ant bends Dec's leg tentatively at the knee and starts to push the saturated fabric out of the way, trying to get a better look at the injury that has so far gone undetected. Stephen hopes in vain that it is just the same as Ant's; painful but not life-threatening; Dec has always been a little funny around blood after all.

His optimism doesn't last long as Ant tilts the wound to a better angle for him to see, apologising at Dec's yelped protest. It's certainly a deeper cut than anything either Stephen or Ant have to contend with, a small piece of metal shrapnel embedded into his skin.

"Don't take it out," Stephen cautions although Ant's hand hasn't even got close to the angry, red skin.

"We really need to move, Declan," Ant says calmly, his voice completely level. His eyes meet Stephen's, telling a far more panicked story that Stephen immediately realises they are not going to be sharing with Dec. Hence Ant's mustered composure and the admirable smile he manages when he glances back down at Dec. "Now, don't make me force you to play a game just to keep you awake. You know us and games don't mix well."