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Eddie does not do well with blood. He didn’t when he had his first memorable nosebleed and had to go to the school nurse to treat a concussion he’d given himself by fainting. He didn’t when he saw some junior getting beat to a pulp by Billy Hargrove out in the parking lot and threw up on the side of his van. And if anything, his distrust surrounding blood only strengthened when he watched a pig get dissected in biology class and fainted, again, in front of everyone.
All of his skinned knees, bloody noses, and battle wounds accompanied fainting spells, vomiting, and mortification for poor Eddie. Usually it also came with a hug from Uncle Wayne and maybe an ice cream if the embarrassment was really apparent. But throughout his 20 years of life, Eddie hadn’t been able to get over his teeny-tiny reaction to seeing blood.
So really, it was no surprise that his cowardly mind switched to autopilot when it saw blood streaming from Chrissy’s eyes in his trailer. The first sight of blood caused his body to move on its own and the sight of splintered limbs forced him out of the space entirely. It was like he was living an out-of-body experience for the entire week. He saw his classmates bleeding, cracking, and dying. He saw Steve Harrington getting munched on by horrendously horrific creatures and gave him his favorite vest to bleed on. It was like Eddie’s mind had fractured past the point of caring about his fear.
Then he himself got attacked by creatures from his worst nightmares and as soon as he saw the first drop of blood, he was out like a light. His brain had finally caught back up in the face of pain and Eddie didn’t necessarily mind it (the rest of the Party did though when they thought he’d died from some superficial bat bites). When he woke up in the hospital, he was greeted with the delicious sight of a sleep rumpled Steve laying at the side of his bed, his hand wrapped in Eddie’s. Suddenly, the atrocities it had taken to get there didn’t seem so horrific. Not as long as he had Steve by his side.
#Then he sees the bag of blood hanging on the IV stand and his BP plummets#Steve wakes up with a heart attack thinking he’s dying#they’re both fine eventually#Apparently I pass out at the sight of blood now… I don’t like that#this is bad… I’m a medical professional!#stranger things#steddie#ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson
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JAY HALSTEAD
“Nightmare that came true”
Requested: yes
Prompts: none
Warnings: angst
Authors note: /
“Well. Her test results came back negative,” You swipe through the tablet before handing it over to doctor Charles. “She’s all yours.”
A girl came in the ED today, she was bleeding and screaming things about witches and ghosts. You stopped her bleeding and patched her up. Now she’s completely physically healthy and you’re handing her to the chief of Psychiatry.
“Let’s give her some Ativan. Get her to calm down,” Dr. Charles instructs one of the nurses. The nurse hurriedly goes to the screaming patient and injects the medication. Once the girl is calmed down you nod and wish luck to the older man.
It’s a fairly peaceful day at the ED. You had a few patients, all of which went home with a smile on their face. This girl so far was the only one in a need for serious help. You patched her up, now the only problem she has is on Dr. Charles - someone qualified to help her.
“Doctor Y/LN!” You know that the patient that’s about to come in is seriously injured as soon as Maggie calls you by your last name. “Incoming!
You spot the two paramedics rushing in with a GSW patient and you run to join them. Behind them you see the members of the Intelligence unit rush in. When you see their worried paled faces and don’t spot Jay, your fiancé, your heart sinks and your biggest nightmare comes true.
Jay lies on the stretcher soaked in his own blood. The paramedics start to recite his contidion but you can barely listen to them. "Detective Jay Halstead, 27 year old male. Shot on the line of duty. Stats 100, BP 102 over 69, heart rate 110. A little hypotensive and tachycardic. Doctor?”
She pulls you out of your trance, you lead them into the trauma room. It won’t do Jay any good if I don’t focus. “We transfer him on my count. Gently! One, two, three!”
The moment the love of your life is on that hospital bed you swear with everything you have. I swear I’ll help you pull through this Jay. The nurses hang the IV and connect him to the monitors as you inspect his contidion through tears. “Doctor Y/LN,” One of the nurses, Doris, carefully calls out for you. “His stats are lowering. Are you okay?”
Your head snaps to the direction of the monitor, “Let’s get a 16 in each arm and bolus a liter of LR on the rapid transfuser, and 50 of fentanyl for pain.” You put the stethoscope on his chest and listen carefully. The bruises on his neck that appear to be from choking are making it difficult for him to breathe. “I need to intubate to protect his airway.”
Doris nods and reaches behind for the intubation kit and you place yourself at the head of the bed behind Jay’s head. You look at his face and almost break down, Doris places the kid and you grab the laryngoscope and insert it in his mouth, you grab the tube and slowly find the right spot, “Okay I’m in. Give me the bag,” The last step, you connect the bag and start bagging him manually with oxygen until you connect him to the ventilator. “He’s stable. BP is going up, heart beat is getting better.” Doris informs and you sigh in relief.
A 1st year residency student, Noah Sexton looks for the wounds in Jay’s leg. “How’s his leg looking Noah?”
“A likely entrance hole in the upper right thigh. Big hematoma. No apparent fracture.”
“All right, Noah, pop quiz. Let’s see how much you recall. After we figure out where the bullet went in, - what do we do?” You ask, trying to keep your voice stable when you know that you’re seconds away from breaking down completely.
“Count the holes doc. If there’s an even number, it came out.” He answers.
“Okay, good job. We need a an x-ray, ultrasound, CT, and MRI. An endoscopy and blood work just to be safe.” You pull his shirt up to see a big bruise on his abs. His vest saved him from a fatal injury. You move towards Noah, where the bleeding was put in control.
“I think I see an exit hole,” Noah says, “It’s tiny… Too tiny,”
“It’s probably a shrapnel. The bullets still in there. We need to get him to radiology and see where it is. Now.” You say, examinating upper par of the leg.
You get Jay to radiology immediately and request that the results come urgently fast. With every second passing by Jay has a tougher challenge in front of him. You want that bullet out and then you want him transfered to the ICU. Where you could really watch over him.
Currently, you’re waiting for the MRI results. You’re resting your elbows on the receptions desk, your back facing the trauma room Jay is currently in. You cup your head in your hands and tug your hair, tears are running down your cheeks and you don’t registrate anything or anyone around you. When someone taps you on the shoulder tense and frantically wipe your tears away, you rise your head and look at Maggie. Her eyes take in the sight of you, “The MRI results are done.” she hands you the tablet and you look at the scans.
***
You stand behind the window of the OR. You’re biting your nails as you watch Connor operate on your fiancé. With tears in your eyes you watch the big TV and look at what he’s doing.
The bullet traveled all the way to his abdomen.
***
“Hey,” Connor meets you outside the OR. “You did amazing today.”
“You mean I didn’t break down while I tried to stabilize him and give a diagnosis?” You saw the way everyone looked at you. They didn’t think you’d be able to think straight. They thought you’re going to be way too emotionally involved to think straight. That’s why you weren’t allow to do the surgery or even assist. Jay is now resting and you’re waiting for him to wake up.
“He’s lucky to have you Y/N,” Connor squeezes your shoulder and you give him a smile before he leaves the room. Will had to return to his patient and the rest of the Intelligence was getting food in the cafeteria. You took the rest of the day off so you can wait for Jay to wake up. To be with him when he wakes up.
You watch and admire him. You don’t want to go and eat, Burgess brought you a coffee - you couldn’t drink it. Not until Jay woke up and proved that he’s alright.
Just as Voights about to drag you out to eat something you see Jay stirr. You fall into the chair and grab Jay’s hand and watch his eyes open. Tears of happiness rush down your cheeks as you kiss his hand and squeeze it.
“What happened? Where am I?” He tries to pull himself to sit but your stop him immediately.
“No don’t move,” You say. “You were shot Jay.”
He hated seeing you cry. Especially when he was the reason behind your tears. He knew your biggest fear was him coming into the ED like he did today.
“Y/N I’m sorry… I’m an idiot.”
“It’s okay Jay. You’re okay and that’s all that matters now,” You smile and wipe your tears away before kissing his knuckles once more. You press your lips to his forehead, silently thanking God for taking care of him.
“Don’t ever come to the ED like that again, okay? I’d rather have you in the ED because you need to arrest me.” You try to sound stern but when he gives you his boyish smile that you love so much you crack and smile brightly. “I love you.”
“What would I do without you Y/N Y/LN?” He traces your ring finger where your engagement ring rests.
#jay halstead fanfiction#jay halstead x reader#jay halstead imagine#jay halstead#chicago pd#chicago med#chicago#Imagine
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A Game of Pretend (Revised)
Modern AU. Hiccup and Astrid are having a normal conversation on the phone, or so Astrid thinks. Oneshot.
Revised version, with thanks to @athingofvikings’s contributing.
The cliffhanger is finally resolved!
There wasn't any blood on his face, but Hiccup still felt his vision go blurry. His fingers were touching the sticky hot liquid on his stomach, trying to staunch the flow. With a painful grunt, he slipped away from the wall that had been holding him up, and he fell to the dirty ground; his injured arm took the bulk of the impact and he cried out despite himself, a few tears splashing the ground without his permission.
He laid there for a moment, and them realized that his phone was still in his back pocket. It took nearly every bit of effort he had, but he managed to twist his phone out from his pocket, managing to keep his screams down to agonized grunts.
The screen was cracked, and he managed to wryly comment, “Here goes nothing...” and hit the power button.
Emergency Call hovered in front of him as the screen lit up.
The ambulance wouldn't get here on time. There was no point. This was it.
He wasn't going to bother calling them. Hiccup shakily unlocked the phone, and hit the shortcut labeled with Astrid’s name and a phone icon.
After three terrifying rings, his wife picked up the phone.
"Hello? Hiccup?"
"Hey, Ast," he grit out, not making a single agonized sound, no matter how much he wanted to cry out in pain, "what's up?"
Her voice sounded relieved over the phone. "Everything's fine at the office. How did it go? No injuries or anything?"
Hiccup laughed - it would come out as cocky to her, ironic to him. "Of course not. You know me - careful is my middle name."
"I thought it was horrendous."
They both laughed - Hiccup rested his head against the wall with his blood on it, hanging on to her voice. He was going to die. He was going to die right here.
“Your day doing all right?” he asked. “I went for a walk after the meeting to try out the new prosthetic.”
“How did it go?”
“All right,” he managed, glancing at the broken stump of shattered fiberglass and bent metal attached to his leg. “How about you?”
“Well, I finished up work early, and...”
He kept the conversation going, wanting to hear her cheerful voice. He didn't want to let go of her, but if he was going to, he didn't want to hear her cry. It might make the pain even worse. It was selfish, but he needed this.
His breath started coming out short, so he let Astrid do most of the talking, which he had no problem with anyway. She told him about her day, and Hiccup felt his eyelids trying to close, but he kept them open for as long as he could, until it seemed unbearable and there were tears flowing down his cheeks.
"Astrid," he whispered, interrupting what she was saying, "I love you."
Her laugh was the last thing he heard as the phone slipped from his hand and he slumped over.
"I love you too, babe. I had a surprise to tell you at home, but since you're getting all emotional on me right now, I'll just tell you. I, uh, well, you know the pregnancy tests I bought yesterday? Hiccup - they came out positive! ...Hello? Are you speechless, I bet Fishlegs ten that you would be. Come on, babe, say something. Hello? Hiccup? Hiccup, we're having a kid! Hiccup?"
Astrid dove through the hospital doors almost before they managed to open in front of her and ran, her phone still held to her ear. "I'm here! Where do I go!?"
"Follow the red line on the floor to the ER, Mrs. Haddock," the calm voice of the EMT said, and then there was a moment's hesitation. "And I'm sorry, but I have to ask... since the muggers took his wallet, do you know if he's an organ donor?"
Astrid felt her whole body chill at that question and the implication behind it. Was she too late…? Taking a deep breath, she nodded, and then realized that the EMT couldn't see the motion. "He is. Said that it was important... but that he never expected... Oh god!" She choked, hearing Hiccup's sarcastic comment in her memories. It's like insurance, right? You do it just in case, not because it's actually going to happen...
She found the red line and started to run down the hallway at top speed, her stomach churning from something aside from the morning sickness. Curse the hospital’s inadequate parking; she'd had to find a spot on the other side of the hospital from the emergency room... a spot not far from where her OG-BYN's office was, actually. Now she had to run like she’d never run before.
"Ma'am, it's fine! We just had to know. Just in case."
She didn't have the breath to reply; she was running flat out down the hallway, darting around other patients and doctors like they were opponents on the sports field. At least one orderly or nurse yelled at her to stop running, but she ignored them.
The red line of paint on the worn linoleum of the floor and the phone at her ear were the entirety of her existence.
"How is he?" she gasped out, still clutching the phone to her ear like a lifeline. An hour ago, she'd been ready to share the news with Hiccup that he was going to be a father.
Now... she might be a widow before the nice dinner that she'd left half-assembled on the kitchen counter. The front door to their home was hanging open from her hurry to get here.
"We've got him stable, but he's lost a lot of blood from the stab wounds, and there's internal bleeding from the beating he took. We've got three IVs giving him whole blood, plus saline. We're going to get him into the operating room as soon as the surgeon is ready to deal with the gut wou--shit! Stop that bleeder!"
A flurry of alarms came over the phone as Astrid rounded a corner at speed, nearly crashing into some old grandfather using a walker followed by his IV stand. "Paul!? EMT Emerson!? What's happening?"
The EMT didn't answer, but the talk she was hearing over the phone--Hiccup's phone, which she had still not hung up on since this nightmare had begun forty minutes ago, and she was going to kick his ass for not calling the ambulance as soon as the muggers had left him in that alley--terrified her. Not their tone, but the content hidden among the professional jargon. She understood quite well what a 'crashing BP' meant, or 'internal hemorrhaging.'
The red line terminated in front of a pair of battered swing doors, above which there was a sign reading EMERGENCY ROOM.
She burst through the doors just as the phone delivered a shrill alarm to her ear, and the call for a crash cart.
Fishlegs sat next to Astrid as the machines beeped around them.
Three hours of surgery. Sixteen pints of blood. A nicked artery in the intestines that had torn open as soon as they'd started raising his blood pressure. And six stab wounds to the abdomen for the blood to leak out of, plus broken bones, cracked ribs, badly bruised kidneys and liver, a perforated intestine, and purpling bruises on his skin whose imprints made clear impressions of boot heels and fists.
If they hadn't had him in the ER right at that moment when the artery had burst, he would have died. As it was, the surgeon had told them that it had been touch and go at several points as they’d sutured his arteries shut and had to remove part of his liver.
All over forty dollars and a worn leather wallet and irrational hate over someone who ‘walked funny’.
They'd already caught the three skinheads who had decided that beating up on a guy with a prosthetic leg would be a fun way to pass a little time. The one with the knife--still wet with traces of Hiccup's blood caught in the crevasses--had been charged with attempted murder, and his buddies, who had held Hiccup up to be stabbed, were being charged with aiding and abetting. They hadn’t gone far; just around the corner to a nearby bar where they’d bought some beers and snacks with Hiccup’s credit card.
They were protesting that they were innocent, but that was a little hard to get away with when one of them had been caught with Hiccup's wallet, doing gross things with Hiccup's pictures of Astrid, and another's boots made perfect matches for the bruises.
The fascist symbols on the boot heels that matched the one on the bruise above Hiccup's kidneys were rather a giveaway...
Fishlegs took a deep sigh. Stoick would see to it that the two-legged animals that had nearly killed his son would be prosecuted. Meanwhile, Astrid was finally asleep in the chair next to him.
Now... they just had to wait for Hiccup to wake up.
And hope that nothing else would go wrong.
Meanwhile, she had a death grip on his half-broken phone, which she'd reclaimed from the EMTs during the surgery.
He reached over to take it from her and put it to charge with hers, but her eyes snapped open as soon as he touched it. An instant later, she managed to pull the punch to his gut so that it only hurt, rather than knocking the wind from him.
Staggering back, he wheezed, "You weren't asleep."
"I tried, but I can't. Not with these... things beeping."
Fishlegs held his hand to his aching gut and nodded. "Okay."
The nurse came in as the two of them were looking at each other. Ignoring them, she added something to Hiccup's IV.
"What's that?" Astrid asked anxiously, like she had for every addition to the IV bag in the last six hours.
"Antibiotic for the gastrointestinal perforation--we want to prevent peritonitis from developing," she said professionally.
"And that means?" Astrid asked desperately.
The nurse gave a professionally even smile. "Due to the injuries to the intestines, the bacteria inside could leak out into the abdominal cavity and cause infections," she said. "So we're giving him a standard post-op prophylactic antibiotic."
Despite himself, Fishlegs asked, "What about the chance of resistant bacterial infection?"
The nurse gave him a momentary irritated look, as Astrid asked, "What's that?"
Sighing and shooting Fishlegs another dirty look, she said, "Some bacteria have evolved resistance to the standard antibiotics." She nodded to indicate Hiccup. "If he does come down with such an infection, we'll use the second-line antibiotics." She reached out to Astrid. "Your husband will be fine."
Astrid nodded and then turned green. Staggering over to the room's wastebasket, she managed to get her face over it before she vomited into it.
"Ma'am... are you alright?" the nurse asked, sounding somewhat concerned.
Fishlegs winced, and stepped over to help Astrid, even if that was limited to handing her a bottle of water and holding her hair up out of the way. Even as he did so, it felt wrong for him to be doing so, like he was usurping his friend's place at his wife's side.
Astrid retched again, and gasped out, "I'm pregnant."
"Oh. And..." the nurse glanced at Hiccup. "He's the father?" There was a pause. "Does he know?"
Astrid gave a half-retch, half-sob. "I told him... just as he was passing out from blood loss."
The nurse considered that and said, "I'll be right back."
She left, and Fishlegs helped Astrid, whose legs were shaking, back into the chair, and twisted open the bottle of water for her.
In the background, the machines continued to beep.
Hiccup was alive... stable... and not waking up anytime soon. The damage was just too severe, and his body was focusing on healing itself. If he woke up now, he’d be in agony.
Despite himself, Fishlegs took out his own phone and did a search.
He shouldn't have... because Astrid heard his little hissing gasp, and snatched the phone from his hands without so much as a question.
He grimaced, and a few moments later, she found what he'd searched for.
"One in twenty-five patients gets infected in the hospital!?" She looked up at Fishlegs, her expression one of despair. "Please, please, tell me that he'll be okay."
"He'll be okay," Fishlegs said with as much confidence as he could muster... and resisting the urge to tell her about MRSA, which was his biggest worry.
He looked at the unconscious body on the bed. Hiccup's prosthesis was busted, kicked to pieces by the brutes who had attacked him, and his friend looked so small and broken, his body pierced by tubes and kept alive with machines.
The doctors had told them that if he made it through the night, he'd likely survive.
It was two in the morning.
And Fishlegs wanted to see his friend learn that he'd be a father.
Hang in there, Hiccup. Just keep living. Please.
Snotlout’s face was red by the time he reached the room Hiccup was in. He saw Astrid, looking ill and leaning against the wall, and Fishlegs, rocking back and forth on a chair with his eyes closed.
And then he saw his cousin, looking in the worst condition Snotlout had ever seen him in, with bruises and cuts and surrounded by machines.
Astrid saw him first, and she opened her mouth, but no words came out. He walked over to her and hugged her tightly. Her eyes were red and bloodshot.
“You’re going to be an uncle,” she whispered in his ear.
Snotlout’s eyes widened and he pulled back, looking her in the eyes, and she nodded with her eyes looking at the floor. “You’re actually…”
“Hiccup p-passed out either before or as I was telling him.”
“Holy shit,” Snotlout whispered, sitting down with his head in his hands. Fishlegs clapped a hand on his shoulder.
His cousin couldn’t have just called a damn ambulance instead of his wife. He had to go ahead and be romantic instead. What about romanticizing life? Astrid hadn’t been the one in danger.
But really, what else could Snotlout expect?
He settled in on one of the uncomfortable chairs and held Astrid’s hand as she stared dully at the monitors. Once, he would have done anything to be holding her like this.
Now, he wanted to yell and scream at that younger version of himself with a shout of “Are you happy now!?”
Because he wasn’t.
Beep... beep... beep... beep...
Snotlout hadn’t been in a hospital for anything worse than a broken arm from a bad moment on the field since his and Hiccup’s grandfather had died when they were young.
And his memories kept reminding him of that moment of supreme loss when old Hamish had breathed his last and the beeps... stopped.
He glanced over at Fishlegs, who had gotten here first; the big man looked worn out and tired, and said quietly, “��Legs, head down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. I’ll stay with ‘em.”
Fishlegs looked like he was going to protest for a moment, and then nodded. As he went to the door, Snotlout cocked his head towards Astrid. “And get something for her, too.”
Another nod, and his friend left to get food.
It wouldn’t help Hiccup any for his wife to starve herself... and she was eating for two.
The nurse came by on her floor check, and he introduced himself as a part of the family. He wanted to take her aside and ask, honestly, how bad it was... but there was no way that he was going to leave Astrid alone, or ask that in front of her.
So he watched as the woman in the blue scrubs did inscrutable things to the various machines, bags and tubes--what she was checking for, Snotlout had no idea--and then left.
He handled the nurse the next few times she came to check on Hiccup. Fishlegs just wasn’t handling it, and he didn’t want Astrid to be lingering on every word the woman said, she was already sick to her stomach.
Then he would sit back and try to calm himself down. It was going to be a long night, and Snotlout didn’t know if Hiccup was going to make it.
Astrid watched as the technician unhooked Hiccup from the dialysis machine; his color was much better than it had been before the treatment. The kick to Hiccup’s back had injured his kidneys, and to let them heal and keep Hiccup from poisoning himself, they hooked her unconscious husband up to the machine for a few hours each day.
They were also uncertain about nerve damage to his spine from the same kicks, and his primary doctor had advised her that, despite the liver and kidney damage, it was best to keep him sedated while he healed. He would be in so much pain when he woke--and it was when, not if, she assured herself--that they were trying to spare him that.
And she just had to hope that they knew what they were doing. She’d been educating herself on what all of the various indicators meant... and the answers weren’t good.
He’d lost so much blood--twice what his actual body would normally hold--that he’d be vulnerable to infection while his immune system built back up his antibodies, a thought that terrified her when she’d learned that knife wounds to the intestines were highly likely to become infected.
His ‘intact’ leg was broken in two places and they had needed to use metal pins to put the bones back together, and the skinheads had nearly torn his arm from the socket when they’d been holding him for their knife-carrying friend. Those would take months to heal, and would require physical therapy.
They were cautiously optimistic that he wouldn’t need a kidney transplant and that the injured organ would heal... but the catheter tube that came out from under the sheet was filled with red, a sight that made her heart jump and her throat swell shut with fear every time she saw it.
Her phone rang, and her heart sank when she saw the number.
Taking a deep breath, she answered it. “Yes?”
“Hello, Mrs. Haddock. This is Alvin, with the insurance company? We spoke yesterday about your husband’s treatment.”
“I remember. What about it?”
“Your case is currently under review, but I’m afraid to inform you that due to the circumstances of your husband’s emergency, we are denying your application for the changed plan to apply to his current treatment, as it counts as a preexisting condition.” He didn’t sound afraid. He sounded as if he was enjoying what he was saying.
Her heart sank. They couldn’t afford his treatment without that change to the insurance plan. The deductible was just too much, and Hiccup’s leg was only covered due to his work.
“Please, please, please, reconsider--” she started to say, only for him to cut her off. “Ma’am, you’ll have to apply for an exemption and a review of your case. Good day.”
He hung up.
Astrid looked around the room, at the multiple complicated, expensive machines keeping Hiccup alive...
And hunched her legs up into her chest and cried. And then had to run for the wastebasket again, as the granola bar and orange that Snotlout had gotten her to eat suddenly turned sour in her stomach.
“Hey, listen, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Ruffnut murmured, taking a glance back at the boys, who were talking in hushed whispers among themselves. Astrid’s eyes were closed, her face was flushed, and she was letting out labored breaths.
“It’s not okay.” Astrid bit her lip. “No one is sure if he’s gonna wake up or not. And even if he does, he’ll be in so much pain, so much-”
Ruff wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her shoulders. “He’s going to live. That’s gotta count for something.”
“Of course it does, but Ruff, how, in what universe, are we going to be able to pay for all of this?” Astrid put a hand over her mouth and released a sob.
Ruffnut and her brother had been about to board a flight when they were given the news. Fishlegs had texted them both multiple times, and, when they were about halfway there, added that Astrid was pregnant. Tuff had broken a lot of speed limits, and no one stopped him, especially not Ruff. That had been a few days ago.
Now, she held up her crying friend, hugging her and rubbing her back. “Listen, we’re all going to help you. We’re your backbone, Astrid, we have been since high school.” Astrid didn’t appear to hear her. Instead, she gasped, “Something’s wrong.”
“Astrid? Astrid!? What is it!?”
Astrid didn’t answer; her face was contorting with pain; she gave a heaving gasp and grasped her stomach like she was having period cramps dialed up to maximum and the knob broken off. Her legs buckled and, most terrifyingly of all, a cry of sobbing pain pain escaped her.
Ruffnut swore as Astrid swayed and started to topple, her eyes rolling back into her head before they closed completely.
“Help!” Ruffnut called as Astrid passed out into her arms.
Snotlout swore and hit the button to call the nursing station, moving so fast and fluidly that Ruffnut would later realize that he’d been waiting to hit the alarm for hours. Tuffnut helped her lower Astrid to the floor, both of them grunting with the effort as the other woman tried to unconsciously curl into a ball. Fishlegs grabbed a pillow and stuck it under her head, and a moment later, the door swung open to reveal the duty nurse.
“What happened?”
Fishlegs said something technical that Ruffnut didn’t understand--it sounded like Sin-cop?--and then Ruffnut noticed that Astrid’s jeans were damp with blood.
She shrieked and tried to tell the nurse, but couldn’t get the words out, instead just pointing frantically.
The nurse understood, though; within a minute, there was a gurney coming in through the door and Astrid was loaded onto it by a pair of orderlies, who rushed her out of the door. The nurse wasn’t looking too hopeful, though.
Ruffnut left with them, trying to understand, while Snotlout and Fishlegs stayed behind.
But part of her understood what had happened all too well, and she was in denial.
An hour later, Astrid’s gynecologist confirmed it, although he used kind, technical terms, like “spontaneous miscarriage”...
Astrid had lost the baby.
Ruffnut didn’t cry often. But tears sprung to her eyes at this news. Hiccup probably hadn’t even heard enough to know Astrid was pregnant, and now he would have to get the news of the baby and the miscarriage all at once.
Ruff sat down, buried her face in her hands, and wondered why it had all gone so wrong so quickly for the Haddock family.
Tuffnut stood by, feeling useless, as Stoick hugged his sobbing daughter-in-law, heedless of the hospital gown she was wearing, crying that she was going to lose him and had already lost the baby. The big man had flown in a few hours ago, and was throwing his weight around. He’d arranged to get both Hiccup and Astrid into a private room, and his lawyer, Gobber, was making sure that the skinheads wouldn’t get off with a slap on the wrist. Gobber had left a little while ago, an ugly and oddly satisfied chuckle in his voice as he’d considered a way to make those three bastards’ lives hell.
Tuffnut wished him the best of luck. Apparently, due to some stupid law on the books around here, it was possible that they might even manage to get the three of them charged with murdering Astrid’s baby.
Meanwhile, Stoick was assuring Astrid that he’d cover the costs. Hiccup wouldn’t like that--he made a big deal about not needing his dad for anything--but, as far as Tuffnut was concerned, Hiccup had given up his right to protest over how they paid for his hospital bills when he’d wasted over ten minutes of time when he could have called the ambulance to make a dramatic romantic call instead, between the time he’d talked to her and the time she’d found where he was and sent the ambulance.
As it was, thank god that he had installed that tracking software on his and Astrid’s phones after they both kept forgetting and misplacing them. Otherwise, the ambulance would never have found him in time.
He shivered at the thought.
Ruffnut came in, carrying the duffel filled with Astrid’s clothes that she’d gotten from their house. Thankfully, they hadn’t gotten robbed when Astrid had left in a hurry, but Stormfly had gotten out again, and Fishlegs and Snotlout had spent an hour using the tracking collar to retrieve the cat from the neighborhood’s park two days ago. Toothless, at least, had stayed.
Tuff cocked his head. There was something... off about the sound that the machine was making. How long it had been going on, he didn’t know; the nurse had last checked maybe fifteen minutes earlier. He listened carefully. It was very subtle, but he was sure that it was there.
He was about to get to his feet and call attention to it when Hiccup stirred.
He was alive.
That was surprising for some reason, but he couldn’t remember why...
Blinking, he moaned, and a hospital room swam into blurry view.
His dad was looking down at him with concern.
He moaned. “What happened?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” his dad asked him.
Hiccup tried to shake his head to clear it, and an alarm went off, making him blink. Bit by bit, his body was reporting in, and the news was pain. Lots of it, in many different flavors. Itchy-burning feeling from his back, a dull ache by his groin, a sharp stabbing pain by his leg, a pulling-tight sensation by his gut, a hot-burning feeling from his shoulder, a cramping sense of hollowness from his stomach...
He wanted to go back to sleep, but he didn’t see Astrid around...
Astrid.
Right.
“I was talkin’ with Ast... but I don’t remember ‘bout what...” he slurred.
There was a rustling of fabric nearby, and a flurry of voices that sounded like Ruffnut and his wife...
Wait, wasn’t Ruffnut heading off somewhere? For a something...? What was she doing here?
They were talking hurriedly, and he strained and managed to turn his head in that direction.
There was one of those privacy curtains there, with a blushing Fishlegs standing in front of it.
Huh?
Stoick leaned in. “Do you remember what happened to you?”
“Yeah... I went for a walk to try out the new prosthetic...”
He squinted, trying to catch sight of Astrid. A moment later, the curtain pulled aside and Astrid stepped forward.
Hiccup drank in the sight of her. She was wearing a light blouse, which was half-tucked into her third favorite pair of jeans, like she had dressed in a hurry...
And looked like she had barely slept in days.
“Ast...?”
She fell forward and hugged him, kissing him in a flurry all over, gasping out ‘Oh god,’ and ‘thank you’ over and over.
Despite the pain, he awkwardly hugged her with the arm that hurt less, and a vague memory bubbled up. “You said that you had a surprise for... me...?”
He caught but didn’t understand the significant looks being shared all around him, and then Astrid seemed to decide something and said, “It’s nothing important.” She poked him in the nose a little bit hard. “And that’s for doing something stupid like calling me and pretending that everything was alright instead of calling an ambulance!”
Hiccup made a brief sound of pain, even as he knew what was coming next.
She kissed him solidly on the lips, and then broke apart. “And that’s... for everything else.”
“I’m sorry...” he said, remembering that moment of decision.
“I know,” she said, and then looked up. “Snotlout, could you get him something to eat if the nurse says that it’s okay?”
Hiccup’s stomach rumbled. “God, I could eat a horse.”
“Given that you haven’t eaten anything in almost a week, yeah,” Astrid said wryly.
He got a good look at her eyes; she’d clearly been crying.
“How bad was it...?” he asked weakly.
She hesitated, and said, “Really bad. Don’t you ever do that to me again, Hiccup Haddock!”
“Promise. I won’t.”
“Good. Rest. We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.”
“Okay.” He closed his eyes and fell back asleep.
Epilogue: Sixteen months later
Looking at Astrid curiously, her daughter wrapped her hand around the offered finger.
Astrid closed her eyes for a second, and then held her daughter tighter, kissing the top of her head.
They were in the hospital again. She hated the place--she wanted out, but unfortunately, they’d be there for a few more days for her to recover. Astrid wanted to scream at the nurses that she’d recover much faster at home, at least mentally. But she kept her mouth shut, just relieved that her baby girl had been born, healthy and in great condition.
Astrid looked at her husband, who was watching them, with a kind of quiet admiration in his eyes. He didn’t look relaxed, per se, but he wasn’t tense either. He too, must have just been relieved.
She had never told him about the first pregnancy.
She had pleaded for anyone who knew not to tell him. There was no point, no point at all in telling him something so painful, and then waiting for the inevitable self-blame. Hiccup was horribly noble, and she just wasn’t ready to talk about her unborn child as though it was anyone’s fault. It was a child, a baby, and it had passed away before knowing life.
So Astrid pretended like the baby had never existed. She pretended like one of the happiest moments in her life, when she had seen the positive results on the pregnancy test, had never happened. And she pretended like all the pain she had been in when she lost the baby was just something out of a story. Hiccup was left in the dark, and she preferred to keep it that way.
Her baby, her pain, her secret.
Hiccup looked at his wife and daughter as the newborn got her second-ever meal and smiled. The scars from his assault still twinged occasionally, and he got reminded of ‘the time you were a stupid selfish romantic idiot’ on a regular basis from everybody. He’d never live it down, but that was okay. He, at least, was going to live.
Unlike their first child, who everybody pretended never existed around him, and he pretended that he didn’t know, as if he had never found out from the court documents. He’d caused Astrid enough pain; he wasn’t going to force her to relive those horrible moments. It was the least he could do, after how he had pretended that all was well when it had begun.
So Astrid acted as though it never happened, and he acted as though he knew nothing of it.
It was their little game. A game of pretend.
#httyd#modern au#hiccstrid#hiccup#astrid#snotlout#fishlegs#ruffnut#tuffnut#collab#athingofvikings#valkyrie stories
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Search and Rescue Chapters 14-15 Review!
Search and Rescue (Word Count: 77228): Chapters 14-15
Chapter 14
This chapter opens with Arthur dancing his troubles away.
He is sweaty and gross. “Afallach is the first to stop. ‘Must we...’ He doubles over as he pants. ‘Must we go on much longer?’” That one’s a double hitter, ya’ll!.
“’No, we don't.’ Arthur's exercised enough for the day and is on duty starting at four.” Ohhhh he’s “exercising.” I legitimately thought he was dancing in a club from this description of him, “Pounding the ground with his feet, Arthur keeps the tempo of the music wafting into his ears. Pumping arms and legs, he goes faster and faster, till sweat covers all of his body and his hair's drenched. Perspiration dripping from his elbows and from his nose as well as his eyelashes, he looks ahead, head tipped up, so it won't get into his eyes.” That seems like dancing, yes? Maybe he’s running? Also, that is not a response to the question you were asked, Arthur. You ought to learn better listening skills if you’re going to run a country.
Arthur has helicopter duty in four hours and he is nervous about seeing Merlin at work again. “He won't be so petty as to ask to change teams, but working side by side with Merlin today won't be easy.”
Nope. That’s not petty at all. If fact, it would solve ALL your problems because you and Merlin would be able to get back together. Why are people stupid in these things? I know we have to have drama but it could at least be believable.
After worrying about facing Merlin, Arthur randomly answers Afallach again, “No, it's enough, we're going back.” Well, at least that one makes more sense as an answer. Isn’t this person supposed to be Arthur’s bodyguard? Why isn’t he in better shape? I feel like Arthur should look into getting someone more capable to look after him.
Pictured: Arthur’s Highly Trained Body Guard
Apparently.
When Arthur gets home, Morgana is there. She is furious because she’s called Arthur 20 times and he didn’t answer. “Arthur points a finger at his sister. ‘That's exactly why I didn't pick up. The last thing I need is frantic anything.’”
I thought Morgana was his cousin? Well this is European royalty we’re talking about so I guess she could be both.
Need I say more?
Morgana was clearly worried about Arthur and Arthur tells her he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Wtf, Arthur? If your sister-cousin calls you 20 times you could at least text her back to make sure no one died. He’s super bitchy to her so she leaves.
After he showers and he changes into his uniform, he thinks about how he usually changes at work but he can’t make himself today because changing in front of Merlin would make him think of sexy times. Do these places not have bathrooms or something? Or he could just go in early.
“At work he runs into many familiar faces. Though he doesn't feel like it, he greets everyone with a kind word. Partly because he can't be rude to people without a scandal happening.” Or maybe you shouldn’t be rude for no reason because that’s just not how anyone should behave ever?
Arthur goes to wherever Merlin is hanging out. “All in all, he still looks great, as beautiful to Arthur as he is impossible to reach out for. And isn't that a pain on top of all the other ones?”
It’s been like three days, Arthur, not three years, or even three months. How much could you have possibly expected him to change?
“He's saved from doing anything stupid by Gwen entering. ‘Merlin, Arthur, we've got a code blue.’” Is it actually a Code Blue this time? “’We're on our way,’ Merlin says, taut, serious, focused on the job at hand. He oozes professionalism like the Saxe-Coburgs drip old-world stateliness. ‘We'll get him to hospital in under twenty.’” That is in no way enough time to save someone in a Code Blue. They get into the helicopter and Arthur turns on their communication stuff. “Here Foxtrot Hotel, we have a major trauma, Helimed 54. Gunshot wound.” So not an actual Code Blue.
“Even though he means not to watch over them, Arthur strains to see overboard. He needs to know that Gwaine and Merlin are landing safely. He doesn't stop clutching hard at the controls until after they've touched ground.” I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s a job requirement for you to watch them to make sure they are safe, but ok.
“Gwaine reads them out quickly. ‘Sats are 82, going down. BP 110 over 95. He looks stable.’” An O2 saturation of 82 is NOT stable, Gwaine. Merlin tells Gwaine to bag the patient to get the O2 Sat up (see: not stable) and Merlin tells Arthur to land and come help them because the patient is not flailing all over the place. THIS IS WHY YOU NEED MORE THAN TWO PEOPLE ON A RESCUE TEAM.
“Arthur can't really do anything but, not only because Merlin's team leader, and as such has a right to order them about, but because he can't leave Merlin in the lurch like that. It's an instinct stronger than he is. Though that won't change how things are between them, this is a natural reaction to him, one he can't put a stop to. It doesn't mean he's going soft on Merlin. It won't happen ever again. But this he must do. For Merlin. For the patient.” What the hell? Why are people so dramatic? Your teammates and a victim of a gunshot are in trouble. OF COURSE YOU WOULD HELP THEM. If not, that makes you a terrible person.
Oh.
Drink.
Arthur goes and holds down the patient so Merlin could do whatever it is that he does. Incorrectly. As per usual. Why aren’t they sedating him? Just give him some Ativan, IM and he’ll calm down.
Merlin has Gwaine get IV access and for some reason, makes him set up a transfusion of O- blood. Merlin does another GCS and I disagree with his assessment but I don’t care to be specific about it.
“’Gotcha. There's a small exit wound consistent with a gunshot. He's not bleeding profusely and I can see no evidence of a haemorrhage…’” So… why did Merlin set up a blood transfusion when the patient isn’t losing blood? There is such a thing as having too much blood in a person’s system and that’s not a good thing. Fluids would have been a much better decision but for some reason, Merlin has an aversion to giving them. Like Professor Cave Fiasco. Dude was hemorrhaging like crazy and Merlin didn’t set up any IV fluids. That would have even been a time where a transfusion would have been an option but Merlin didn’t do that either. Merlin is literally the shittiest doctor ever.
And then… “A shadow moves over them. When Arthur looks up it's to see a man standing over them. He's young, so much so that a goatee struggles to grow on his chin. He's got a baseball cap on his head, a gun in his hand. ‘Stop it,’ he says. ‘Let him die.’” Why are there no police on the scene here? A gun fired in the middle of a protest and the police don’t show up? REALLY?
Merlin of course talks to the gunman, “don’t throw away your life, blah, blah, blah.”
He already did that when he shot this dude, Merlin. Keep up.
“Arthur's convinced the madman's going to shoot. Heir to the throne or no, he's preparing to place himself in front of Merlin, when the gunman curses, tosses the gun away and takes off at a run. Gwaine skids off to get the pistol. ‘How the hell do you engage the safety on this cursed thing?’” Every time it’s mentioned that Arthur is the prince, I kind of think, “Oh yeah. I forgot about that…” Which I kind of like because it means we see more of Arthur the person rather than The Prince of Wales. I don’t know why but Gwaine’s response is actually killing me. Thanks for the laugh in the middle of all this nonsense, Gwaine. I appreciate it. Oh and just want to mention Arthur willing to plant himself in front of Merlin and get shot for him. That just proves my point from earlier that them breaking up solved nothing and just served to give us some angst.
“’Give,’ Arthur says, toggling the lever to off. ‘I'll radio the police.’” Why has this not already been done though? Someone started shooting up a protest and the police aren’t there? What? Damn though, take charge, Arthur.
“’Hyper-resonance on the left side,’ Merlin says, auscultating the wounded man. ‘I suspect a pneumo.’”
NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS CORRECT. YOU CANNOT AUSCULTATE HYPERRESONANCE. THAT’S NOT A THING. Hyperresonance is heard with PERCUSSION in a pneumothorax. ABSENCE OF SOUND is heard with auscultation of a pneumothorax. I don’t get how the author has clearly spent time researching but still gets super basic things incorrect that would have come up in their googling of this stuff.
Merlin places a chest tube. I hate those things. I’ve never seen one in real life before and I hope not to.
Arthur takes them to the hospital and has a crisis, imagining Merlin as the patient. Sure. Whatever happened to the gunman? Did the police ever show up?
After they get back to base, there’s a tense moment between Merlin and Arthur and then Arthur runs away for sadness reasons.
Chapter 15
Merlin and Gwaine are at a party. Merlin is slamming beers. Anne Rice pops in for her usual, “He's lost, adrift, purposeless. There's a sadness that tears at his heart day after day, gnaws at it till nothing but bloody stripes of flesh and muscle remain.” Merlin tells Gwaine he is only there for Finna. How many retirement parties is this chick going to have? One and done, Finna. One and done. Arthur is also there even though I don’t think he’s ever met Finna and Merlin is bitchy about it, asking why he’s there. Which is a fair question to me. “’Same thing you're doing.’ Gwaine rounds on Merlin, eyes narrowed. ‘Since when you've got a beef with the Swan Prince?’” Is this supposed to be a Swan Princess reference? If so, I approve.
“’Don't be silly.’ Merlin stands. He needs a drink, be it one of alcohol free ones Finna keeps for those of her guests who prefer not to cloud their senses. As an ex pilot, she's sensitive to those things. ‘You're talking rubbish.’” Or maybe she’s just a regular person throwing a party and knows that not everyone drinks? That has nothing to do with being a pilot.
“He's upending empty cans of cola in search of a full one, when a hand lands on the same one he wanted, touching his into the brgain. He looks up and then his whole palm burns. ‘Arthur.’” Of course it’s Arthur. IDK what “brgain” is a typo for but it’s making me laugh all the same. Arthur tells Merlin he was going to give the soda to Gwen. I’m calling it now: Merlin is going to misinterpret their friendship for a romantic relationship, drama and angst will ensue.
Behind the scenes fun fact: I was originally going to go for a more “dramatic, throwing one’s self on their bed, angst” sort of gif but this one is more representative of how I feel about my prediction.
“He did this to protect them, to cut things off before his feelings for Arthur could take such seed he couldn't extricate them from the weave of him, to shield himself from a loss that would be unbearable. Arthur is so dear that losing him for good, to death, would put an end to Merlin too. ‘She... she deserves it.’”
Oh and I’m calling that a win for my prediction because Merlin is clearly not talking about the soda when he says that.
Gwaine is following Merlin around asking him what the fuck is going on with him. He thinks Merlin is just super stressed out and suggests he takes some time off work. “’Gwaine.’ Merlin takes Gwaine's hand in his and clings tight. His work is vital to him, the threat of it being taken away makes him tremble with near fear. ‘Gwaine, I'm fine.’” Calm yourself, Merlin.
No one is taking your job away from you but if you’re impaired, you can’t work. Think of your patients.
“Gwaine holds his gaze. ‘That's exactly what people say before they have a breakdown.’” LOL I love Gwaine in this. “’I'm not having a breakdown.’ At least not a mental one.” You’re having a physical breakdown, Merlin? You need to get to a hospital ASAP then. You’ll die.
Merlin and Gwaine continue their conversation and Arthur comes in from nowhere, “’It looks to me as though Gwaine was being a bit too rough,’ Arthur says, eyes wide and full with emotion. ‘I won't have that.’”
Oh fucking hell. I was hoping to get through this without Caveman Arthur protecting poor defenseless Damsel Merlin. Gwaine figures it all out because he isn’t a total idiot.
Merlin wants to “explain” and Gwaine says there’s no need because, duh. I have to paste this entire next part because holy crap the unnecessary drama:
“’I acknowledge it openly.’ Arthur's voice is firm and decisive. ‘There's no need to hide—‘‘Arthur!’ For himself, Merlin has no wish to hide anything. It's true that all questions will be painful, like fire under skin, but he can bear that now's the cat's out of the bag. He's a big boy. Besides, Gwaine's mischievous but never malicious. Any joke he might aim at Merlin would be well meant in the end. All Merlin's concern is for Arthur. For him a fling would mean being splashed on the front pages of more than one rag. It would be a scandal. It would also be for nothing because they're not together anymore. It would do all the damage without any of the perks. Merlin doesn't want that for him. ‘You can't.’ ‘I can and I will,’ Arthur tells him with a pointed glance that softens the more he looks. ‘It may be in the past but I don't intend to hide like a thief in the night.’”
This is so weird. It’s just admitting it to Gwaine and he already knows so I don’t get why Merlin is being all, “NO YOU CAN’T!!!” And, “It may be in the past but I don’t intend to hide like a thief in the night.” What? Just… what? IT’S GWAINE. Not a press conference. These people are way too dramatic about everything. This is just so excessive.
“Merlin knew that talking about it would flay him open. But the experience of it is exquisitely more hurtful than any prediction might have suggested. Eyes getting heavy with a sheen of tears he doesn't mean to shed, he says. ‘Yeah.’”
I’m actually laughing at this quote. What? Gwaine excuses himself from this nonsense, like anyone would.
“’Look, I'm sorry about the Gwaine thing.’ Arthur places a hand on Merlin's shoulder and gets him walking. ‘I didn't mean for him to guess. If I could, I would have safeguarded your privacy with all that I had.’” So Arthur is doing the thing he accused Gwaine of doing earlier by putting his hands on Merlin to move him the direction he wants him to go. But it’s ok because it’s Arthur. No. I hate this. I hate this trope so fucking much.
They start to have a conversation about their relationship. It’s dramatic. I don’t care. Then Gwen comes in like a wrecking ball, as she should, to stop this nonsense.
Thanks, Gwen.
“’Arthur,’ Gwen calls out from among the crowd of party goers. She's got a newspaper in her hands. From the splash of red on its front page it's clear it's The Sun. ‘I've just got this from Drea.’ She points at their colleague. It's about you, Arthur.’ Arthur snatches the paper from Gwen. Reading over Arthur's shoulder, Merlin makes out the words: Exclusive: Ex Con Nearly Kills Heir to Throne.’”
GOOD
That’s it for this post. I hate this excessive drama. It really bugs me because it’s over something so easily solved. Merlin continues to be the most incompetent medical professional ever. I love that Arthur’s personal body guard is terrible at physical exercise. He’d never be able to save Arthur if someone ran off with him. Did we ever actually find out what Finna’s party was for? And why Arthur was there?
Until Next Time:
#merlin#bbc merlin#merlin fic#review#rotrude#everyone is incompetent#Finna needs to stop having retirement parties#we get it#you don't work there anymore#angst#Anne Rice Language#must
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