Patton was getting changed out of his uniform when they appeared. It started as a dark red smear on his left temple that slowly trickled down the side of his face.
He felt the breath leave his body as he stared into the floor length mirror in the room he shared with Logan and Roman, shirt in hand. As he watched, a red handprint appeared on his chest, and from the way it was positioned, he knew that Roman's hand had caused this on Virgil's chest.
That was the only logical conclusion.
It wasn't Logan.
Logan was in the living room, and Roman wasn't back yet.
He couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
A bruise blossomed rapidly on his left shoulder, spreading down the entirety of his arm.
There was more red on his face.
And his arm.
A deep purple and red bruise blossomed on his chest, a two-inch-wide strip from his right shoulder diagonally to his left hip.
"Lo..." He gasped out, his voice trembling and ragged. "Logan!"
His voice sounded absolutely wrecked. Breathless and ragged and desperate.
His eyes teared up as he fell to his knees, his shirt falling from his grasp.
He couldn't hear anything.
Couldn't see anything aside from the mirror in front of him.
The bruises on his skin.
The red splotches and streaks.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
Logan was there.
He heard their gasp of shock, and didn't bother chastising them when they swore.
Loudly.
Strong, sure hands gripped Patton's arms, lifting him to his feet and leading him across the room.
The mattress shifted when he was sat down on it, and again when Logan sat beside him.
"What happened?" they whispered, afraid of the words. "Are you okay, Pat?"
He shook his head. "Not me."
Logan was on their feet in an instant, surging out of the room, tripping over their feet. Patton tore his eyes from the mirror as Logan returned, phone in their trembling hand. They handed Patton a marker, having been unable to find a pen in their hurry, and pointed his arm as they dialled Roman's number.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
And rang.
He didn't pick up.
Logan cursed again.
And called again.
And again.
And again.
Their body trembled violently and they kept their eyes on Patton, gripping his hand with an iron grip in an attempt to.... To what?
Steady themself?
Calm Patton?
Both, maybe.
Patton wrote in large, scribbled letters on his arm, coating the bruises and red splotches in words.
"Virgil Roman please answer are you okay please be okay please Virgil Roman Virgil Roman Virgil Roman Virgil"
He was crying now, sobbing violently, his body shaking with each gasping, ragged sob.
"He's not answering. Get a shirt on, Patton. We have to... to..." Logan stuttered desperately, getting to their feet. "We have to find them."
They knew they shouldn't drive like this.
Not when they were shaking and emotional and barely able to see through their tears.
But they had no choice.
They had to find them.
The hospital was cold. Everything was cold. Why was Virgil so cold?
He was wheeled into the hospital on a stretcher that he insisted he didn't need, carefully pulled into the emergency room. Nurses surrounded him and though he tried to look over their shoulders to see where Roman was, he couldn't. They pressed closer, checking his vitals, and a door closed somewhere. He shoved them aside, surging off the stretcher and onto his feet.
He stumbled.
Of course he stumbled.
Every inch of his body was numb and tingling and cold.
He found himself at a window, looking into a trauma room at Roman. Well, looking at the doctors surrounding Roman and getting a few glimpses at him. The world blurred and spun as he stared at him, his jaw slack in shock.
His chest burned.
It was his fault.
His fault.
His.
Fault.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
Roman.
No.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Roman.
He was babbling, tears pouring down his cheeks in an endless stream. He snatched a pen from a cart and rolled up his sleeve, ignoring the burning pain that spread across his chest and neck when he moved. His head was throbbing, his eyes aching.
His arm was covered in black ink. Patton's handwriting. Incoherent scribbles that he was somehow able to decipher. They were worried.
Of course they were worried.
With shaking hands, Virgil scritched on his arm, "Help Roman in hospital car crash" before the pen fell from his fingers.
His knees buckled as the world went black, sending him crashing to the floor.
YOU ARE READING
Finding The Write Words
Fanfiction//I do own the cover. You can find me on tumblr if you're interested @probablynothumanish I'm better at uploading on there than I am on here, so if you're interested in this story, I try to upload on tumblr every night. Whatever happens on your skin...
