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Alois let out a sigh as the doors of the airlock closed behind the Ares, piloting it forward into the hanger. The skell was moving as smoothly as ever, but he himself wasn’t doing as well; between fighting Void, getting absorbed, getting spit back out, and all the combat and fleeing that followed, not to mention guiding the White Whale 2 out of Mira’s universe, he was the most exhausted he’d ever been in his life. As he parked the skell and powered it down, he looked out at the hanger around him. The same group of friends and teammates that had joined him in fighting Void were waiting a few steps away, Elma and Cross at the front of the crowd.
Exiting the Ares, he moved to the ladder down. Every muscle ached and shook, and the ladder looked almost as intimidating as Void had a short time before, but he determinedly started to climb down anyway. His legs shook, barely able to hold his weight; that was, until, halfway down the ladder, they didn’t anymore. His hands, not fairing much better, couldn’t keep a grip, and he felt himself tip backwards, tumbling towards the ground. His vision, already spotty, greyed out completely as he heard footsteps running across the deck.
“Woah, easy there Pal!” Doug cried, barely managing to catch the falling pilot before he would have slammed into the deck. Al was limp and paler than usual, and as Doug let himself drop to his knees to absorb some of the impact, Al’s head lolled against Doug’s chest. Doug gently rearranged him, settling him with his lower body on the deck and his torso and head cradled in Doug’s lap. Already, Al was stirring, his eyelids fluttering as Doug pushed the other man’s hair back from his face. The rest of the group had surrounded the two while Doug was getting Al settled, and Elma knelt beside them, reaching for Al’s wrist and checking his pulse. It was fast and weaker than she’d like, but his breathing was steady. The two focused on the pilot as Irina called for medics, not paying attention to her words.
“Come on, Al, wake up,” Elma encouraged, squeezing his hand gently. The pilot’s eyes slowly opened, then clenched shut again as he let out a hiss of pain, the bright hanger lights provoking the headache that had already been building before he’d even left the Ares. He squeezed Elma’s hand reassuringly, making it clear that he was still with them, just not up to much of anything yet.
Doug ran his hand through Al’s hair again, gently asking, “Can you open your eyes again for us, Al? The medics are on their way, and if they see you like this, there’s no way you’ll be let out of the medbay anytime soon.” Al made a face, but opened his eyes halfway, surveying the group surrounding him. Doug was looking down at him, an arm wrapped around Al’s shoulders holding him against the larger man’s chest. Elma and Cross were directly to his right, Elma still clutching his hand, her other hand continuing to monitor his pulse. Gwin, Irina, and L were all hovering around behind the two, and Lin and Tatsu were kneeling by his legs, Lin’s hand a grounding weight on his ankle.
If he’d thought everything had ached before he fell from the ladder, now everything hurt. His head throbbed with a vengeance, and everywhere else felt like one big bruise; nonetheless, he took a deep breath, remembering Doug’s words about getting stuck in the medbay, and tugged his hand away from Elma, bracing it against the deck in preparation to push himself upright.
“Nope, not happening, Pal.” Doug moved his free hand to rest firmly on Al’s shoulder, effectively stopping his plans of sitting up anytime soon. Elma reclaimed his hand again, lacing her fingers through his and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“I know you probably want to go back to your bunk and sleep this off, but the medics need to take a look at you before that option even gets discussed. You went through a lot today, things that we have no way of knowing the consequences of.” Al glared at her, but the pain clear in his expression only worried Elma more; her free hand moved up to his hair, gently carding through it to try to take his mind off it for a few moments.
They stayed like this for a few moments as the footsteps of medics pounded across the deck towards them, Al relishing the last few moments of peace with his family before he’d be stuck getting poked and prodded by medics who would inevitably end up keeping him for far too long, in his opinion. Most of the others backed away, hovering nearby while still giving the medics space to work. Al made a face as the medics swarmed around him, checking vital signs and looking for injuries. Ultimately, they determined that he was exhausted and dehydrated, and that he’d sustained a few bruises when he’d fallen, both after being freed from Void and when trying to descend the ladder, but he’d recover with a few days of rest. The news that this rest would take place in the medbay, instead of his own bed, wasn’t welcome, but he didn’t have the energy to argue much, especially considering that none of his friends seemed to be on his side. When the medics moved to take him from Doug and transfer him to a stretcher, however, Doug did speak up.
“Let me carry him. You said he’s not injured, just wiped out, and I’m sure he’ll cooperate better without the stretcher.” The medics didn’t look pleased, but they didn’t argue with him, and Doug took that as permission to carefully gather the exhausted pilot into a bridal carry. Al let out a hiss, the movement only making the pain worse.
“Al?” Elma questioned, still grasping his hand.
“’m fine,” Al gasped, turning to hide his face in Doug’s chest as he rode out the wave of pain. Elma frowned, but just squeezed his hand before gently setting it in his lap. As much as she didn’t want to let go, there was no practical way for her to keep holding on while Doug carried him to the medbay, at least not without causing him unneeded pain. Doug stood carefully, making sure not to jostle Al any more than absolutely necessary, murmuring quietly to him when he felt the pilot tense in pain again anyway. Once upright, he gave Al a minute to compose himself before following the head medic to the medbay.
Once they’d arrived to the medbay, deep in the White Whale 2, Al was more than ready to be put down. Being carried and held by a friend was reassuring, but the extra movement from being carried was hard to handle. Al clenched his jaw, trying to stay silent as Doug gently laid him out on one of the medbay cots, this one in a private room off of the main medical bay. The xenos who’d been injured when the ship had taken a hit were in the main room, but Al was given a private one due to the attention he’d get in the main room being detrimental to his ability to actually rest.
“Easy, man. Breathe,” Doug reassured, carefully guiding him back onto the pillow. “Bet a nap sounds good right about now, doesn't it?”
Al couldn’t disagree, and did his best to give Doug a reassuring smile as the taller man looked at him with concern. The rest of their friends had followed along to the medbay, but none had been allowed in yet, and the medics proceeded to shoo Doug out as well, wanting space to get Al into something better to sleep in and get an IV going to help with the dehydration they’d found.
Around 15 minutes later, Elma, Doug, Lin, and Cross were let into Al’s medbay room. By this point, the pilot was resting peacefully in bed, an IV in the crook of his left elbow, dressed in loose pants and a soft tank top. Bruises were still developing on his arms, the darkening spots covered in clear, glistening ointment, and he seemed to already be asleep. The dark circles under his eyes convinced all four of the other BLADEs that this was a good thing; as much as they’d love to talk with him, it was clear that letting him rest was the most important thing right now. He probably wouldn’t be awake for them to actually land on the new planet; though since the rest of those involved in fighting Void had also been taken off duty for the next 12 hours, he wouldn’t be the only one missing the first efforts to secure the landing site or survey their immediate surroundings./p>
Elma had hesitated by the door, looking over her friend with concern. It wasn’t until Cross, who noticed her hovering, began to pull her over to the bed that she was able to move closer to Al. She took one of the chairs by the bed, reaching out for his right hand again. The other three hovered briefly, looking over the vitals monitor Al was hooked up to the the IV line helping to rehydrate him before they left the two alone, knowing that the medics wouldn’t allow more than one or two visitors to remain for long. They would all go rest elsewhere, letting Elma rest in the chair beside Al’s bed. They all knew that she’d likely wake up stiff and sore, but they were unlikely to get her to leave without waking up Al in the process.
Left alone with Al, Elma ran a gentle hand through his hair, looking him over more thoroughly. The bruises on his arms had only gotten darker in the brief time she’d been there, and she could see now just how exhausted he looked. At least his skin had lost some of the paleness from when he’d passed out on the ladder, but he still looked like he could use a few days of rest, minimum. Luckily for his health, and unluckily for his desire to be free of the medics, he’d been ordered to remain on bedrest for the next three days at least, with the possibility of longer depending on how he recovered. While the rest of the BLADEs would be out establishing another home for the residents of the White Whale 2, he would remain in that bed, monitored to make sure that nothing went wrong.
With that thought, Elma couldn’t help but be relieved. As annoying as he’d get stuck in bed, and as unbearable as he was sure to find the experience, knowing that Vandham wouldn’t let him back on duty until the medics cleared him fully meant that she didn’t have to worry as much about his health. With that thought, she closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, content to doze off, knowing that the medics were monitoring him.