[for Lexie]

[manwithoutfear]

Pain blossoms across my forehead and blood runs thick and sticky down my skin. Times like these, I do have to wonder: what am I doing with my life? If the same injury came from a fight, I might be able to forgive myself the mistake (though even then, it's unlikely -- I am something of a perfectionist). But that it came instead from something as simple as maintaining my hut -- the one that rests in the middle of a jungle -- gives me pause.

I shouldn't have ever slipped from the roof; for God's sake, I used to fly across the New York skyline as though it were my own personal playground. Yet home improvement presents its own unique set of challenges, or so I've just learned. I recovered in time to prevent a concussion and a few broken bones, but not quickly enough to spare myself this particular indignity.

A lesson learned, I suppose, against do it yourself projects. The next time I feel a draft, I'll be sure to call someone else up to do the duties. My job description at home was more complicated than most, but I suppose it didn't include carpenter for a reason.

Hissing as I prod at the cut resting on the edge of my hairline, fingers coming away warm and wet, I grimace as I tip my face towards the heat of the sun. It's deep enough to warrant stitches, and while I have a few limited supplies inside, this is a task better left to a professional.

It's just a matter of finding one on short notice.

Comments

[lexiepedia.livejournal.com]

Most of the time, Lexie considers herself lucky (or something like it, anyway; it's not like she actually wishes ill on anyone) if she gets one patient during a clinic shift. Rare as that is, it's even more unexpected to find herself with one, or a potential one, before she even gets to the Compound. There's a half-second where, at the sight of Matt, she starts to smile, but then she takes in the whole picture, and immediately starts frowning in concern. For all she knows, it could be nothing, but it might not be, either, and at least she's well-suited for this sort of thing.

"Oh my God, Matt," she says, making her way to his side so she can fall into step beside him, at least while he's still walking. "Are you okay? What happened?"

[manwithoutfear]

Lexie. I could smile at my luck for running into a doctor, but I don't bring myself to bother. The cotton t-shirt I've grabbed from inside and pressed to the wound is cracked with drying blood, and while I have lived through worse injuries than those caused by my own stupidity (which might very well be every injury I've encountered), I feel as though I shouldn't try to oversell just how fine I am.

This isn't to say I'm about to complain, either. I stop walking when I sense her getting nearer, and turn in the direction of her voice.

"Slipped."

[lexiepedia.livejournal.com]

"Please tell me you were coming to get that looked at," Lexie says, and this time, it's not just because she's so desperate for something to do. Matt seems to be doing well enough, but the shirt held to his head seems to have a good deal of blood on it and she really, really wouldn't want anything to happen to him (and not just because of her admitted interest). "Are you sure you're alright?"

[manwithoutfear]

Let it never be said that I lack in people concerned for my well-being. Lexie, at least, seems less interested in chiding me than others might be. (Natasha comes to mind, though Natalya has had a knack for running into me after my little accidents since almost the day we meet.)

"I'm walking, aren't I?" I point out, tapping my cane once against the ground as though in demonstration. I let the quip sit a moment, then add, "...in the right direction?"

[lexiepedia.livejournal.com]

"In the right direction," Lexie confirms with a useless nod, trying her hardest not to grin. She shouldn't find it amusing when it's more important to be worried for his well-being, but the fact that he can make any kind of retort like that at all is probably a good sign, as is, yes, the fact that he's walking. Despite all that blood, at least he hasn't lost too much yet. "If by the right direction, you mean to the clinic. I was just heading there myself, it's my shift."

[manwithoutfear]

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time I attempt home improvements," I say, slipping my hand through the loop of my cane so that I don't need to hold onto it, and making a best guess as to where her elbow is. (My best guess is accurate. Her skin is sun warmed underneath my fingers.)

"Lead the way."

[lexiepedia.livejournal.com]

It's a simple sort of gesture, but Lexie smiles for it anyway when he takes hold of her arm, again grateful that he can't tell how ridiculous she must look, and again guilty for letting the thought occur to her at all. Regardless of whether it makes her a horrible human being or not, though (it probably does), the fact remains that she likes the proximity, and waits only a moment before starting them down the boardwalk again. "So what were you trying to fix?" she asks. "Just out of curiosity."

[manwithoutfear]

"Roof," I reply, casually. It's the truth, but I say it like a lie, the inflection all wrong. I could be joking. (I probably should be joking.)

What business does a blind man have on a roof? Plenty, it turns out, but the average person wouldn't think it, and I'm meant to be blending in. After the circus that became my life back home, I've come to appreciate my relative anonymity, but I've lived a dual life for so long that it's not always so simple, pretending I'm just the one person.

What is simple is letting Lexie take the lead. I haven't lost enough blood to make me lightheaded, but I'm not entirely comfortable, either, and it saves me the effort of having to think too hard about where I'm going, and why. Besides, I'm sure she knows where she's headed.

[lexiepedia.livejournal.com]

"Roof?" Lexie asks, eyebrows shooting up, a surprised laugh that doesn't quite make its way out evident in her tone nevertheless. It's impossible to tell if he's joking or if he means it; if it's the former, it's funny, and if it's the latter, it's pretty incredible, if seemingly unbelievably dangerous. The response, she thinks, is the only one that covers either possibility. Head turned in his direction even as she leads them down the path (she does know them well, the Compound probably the place she goes most often), she bites her lip. "Wow. That's a, uh, pretty big undertaking."

[manwithoutfear]

"It would be," I agree, maintaining that same ambiguity. It's a fun line to toe every once in a while. An indulgence I've tried to curb myself from enjoying, but never quite succeed in doing. The laughter in her voice certainly isn't doing my willpower any favors.

I wince as I draw the shirt away from my head, and replace it slightly higher to satisfy an itch.

"Wouldn't it?"

[lexiepedia.livejournal.com]

"God, yeah," Lexie says, nose wrinkling slightly. Even she can't imagine trying to do something like that, and she can see perfectly fine, though she also, by some miracle, summons up enough tact not to say so. (It isn't that she doesn't know she says dumb things sometimes, when she gets ahead of herself; it's just that she can't always help it.) Whether that's actually how he hurt himself or not, it's kind of impossible to tell, but she supposes he'll say it if he really wants to. More important is that it get treated, and she can take care of that. "I'm not even sure how a person would go about getting up there, let alone fixing one."

[manwithoutfear]

"Very carefully."

I can listen carefully. Choose my words like a surgeon cuts. But when it comes to my actions, I don't linger on them too long, going with gut instinct and a thirst for an adrenaline rush. When you spend your nights pulling high dives off of buildings with nothing to catch you save your own ingenuity, there's not much time to waste for thinking things through. But my training has been rigorous, and my instincts are more finely honed than most.

Construction is simply not my forté.

"We're almost there."

[lexiepedia.livejournal.com]

"Yeah," Lexie says, managing, somewhat surprisingly, to keep any trace of surprise from her voice. It has to be logical, after all, she reasons. He probably makes this trip all the time on his own, even if it still seems kind of remarkable to her. Mostly, though, right now, she's just grateful for it. While he might be alright on his feet for now, there's still been a considerable amount of blood, and the sooner she can get the cut on his head looked at, the better. "We are. Just a little farther."

[manwithoutfear]

"Good," I say, slipping my hand from her elbow to around her arm, fingers sneaking into the crook where it's slightly bent. With the Compound so near, I allow myself the moment to feel the brunt of the injury. My head's starting to spin a little from the injury, leaving my limbs feeling light. Were my feet not planted firmly on the ground, I might think I was floating.

"Because I... would not be entirely opposed to sitting down soon."

[lexiepedia.livejournal.com]

"You doing alright?" Lexie asks, worry beginning to creep back into her voice at that. Given the amount of blood on the t-shirt held to the wound — and the fact that it's a head injury in the first place — she really can't say she's surprised, but while he's seemed to be doing well enough so far, that doesn't stop her from wanting to be sure, or from being really grateful that the Compound isn't much farther off. "You'll be able to sit down soon, I promise."