(no subject)

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan had been doing better, it seemed, talking with more strength and lucidity and staying awake longer at a stretch.

Not any more.

He's lying on his front again, sweat standing out on his skin, when Sinric approaches the bed, and mutters something unintelligible when Sinric touches him.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal is coming upstairs and stops, deep concern on his face.

"Sinric!" he says. "What happened?"

He reaches out to help Sinric stand.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's eyes light up at the sight of a familiar face. "Sir, you must hurry! It's Athelstan! The fever is on him and he raves. I can looking for help and tripped on the stair. You must go to him! Please, I beg of you. He needs your help!"

His own injuries mean nothing to him compared to getting Athelstan help.

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor pulls out a rather large handkerchief, and kneels down at Sinric's feet.

"I'll bandage your ankle quite tightly," he says, "and then help you downstairs -- he will know you and trust you, even in a delirium."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric shakes his head but doesn't push Hannibal away. "You mustn't waste time on me. Please, he is burning and my foolishness has already cost dearly in time. Please, leave me and go to him." It comes out as a frightened sob.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal ties the handkerchief very tight.

"It may hurt a little, but you should be able to walk with a little help from me."

He stands, puts a strong arm around Sinric's chest, and starts to bring him downstairs again, taking at least two-thirds of Sinric's weight."

[thewidewideworld]

Not at Sinric weighs much. With Hannibal's help he hobbles down the stairs, straining forward to reach Athelstan all the sooner.

Once on the flat ground he pulls away and runs, in a way that can only cause him pain, all but falling again as he reaches the infirmary door.

And finds it empty.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal follows right behind him.

"Where is he?" he asks, taking Sinric by the arm to help him stand.

[thewidewideworld]

"He was here. He was raving but I begged him to stay till I can with help." Sinric's voice is high with panic.

He pulls away from Hannibal's support, almost not noticing the man's arm was around him as he darts to and fro searching all the rooms of the infirmary.

Only then does he notice the bloody footprints, all colour draining from his face. "Oh no!"

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal has been standing by the infirmary door during Sinric's frantic search; when he comes out and sees the footprints, the doctor reaches out to steady him again.

"That would have been Athelstan?" he says. "I am so truly sorry, Sinric."

[thewidewideworld]

"His feet, they bleed. Where they drove the nails-" He swallows roughly, bile rising in his throat. He staggers unsteadily, fearing that he might faint. "I have failed him." He whimpers. "I have failed him and now-"

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal holds him up, and strokes his hair.

"And now?"

[thewidewideworld]

Tears fall freely. "He is in such danger. I swore. To he and Ragnar both." He hides his face in his hands, sobbing. "I have failed them and now Athelstan- he is back with those terrible people."

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor is holding him steady.

"What terrible people?"

[thewidewideworld]

"The men of god," he spits the words, "who did this to him. The Northumbrian king who took him down from the cross." He's shaking now, his whole body. "He is far from home, from people who love him and will protect him."

He falls into Hannibal's arms. "I failed him!"

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal holds him.

"What did they do to him, those men of God?" he asks, stroking Sinric's hair and back as he is sobbing.

[thewidewideworld]

"They beat him." He sobs, his face buries in Hannibal's shirt. "And crucified him. The cruellest torture. His hands," He gasps and clings, his small body shaking. "His hands."

[cook_the_rude]

"They drove nails through his hands and feet?" the doctor guesses, still holding Sinric. "Hence the bloody footprints?"

[thewidewideworld]

He nods against Hannibal's chest, still weeping. "And I have failed him. Failed them both."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal holds him. "You have not," he says, his voice soothing. "You can't tie him down, can you?"

[thewidewideworld]

But Sinric's tears and fears are louder than the sense coming from Hannibal and he doesn't answer. He has no answer to give. He will blame himself, no matter what.

[cook_the_rude]

For the moment, Hannibal simply holds on to him and lets him cry against his shoulder.

[thewidewideworld]

It takes some time before Sinric cries himself out and when he does, it's out of utter exhaustion.

For three days he has barely slept or eaten, always alert for Athelstan and Ragnar's needs. And now he has failed so completely, all the energy has gone out of him and he hangs like a broken doll in Hannibal's arms.

[cook_the_rude]

Also, his ankle is badly twisted.

"I should take you upstairs," Hannibal says, "and put heparin gel on your ankle, and then bandage it properly. We don't want it to swell after all. And you need sleep."

[thewidewideworld]

He dips his tears laden lashes in an assent, throat to rough with crying to speak. He leans mutely into Hannibal, letting the doctor take him wherever he sees fit.

He should clean up the blood, and collect Athelstan's things from the infirmary, and leave a message for Ragnar but he is too worn down to even think so he lets Hannibal lead him away.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal does think about it, at least partially -- holding up Sinric with one arm, he takes out one of those small devices from the future and captures a rapid sequence of pictures of those bloody footsteps, from the infirmary door to The Door; then, he snaps his fingers at a rat and points at the blood.

But as the rat comes with the bucket, he's already scooped up Sinric to carry him upstairs.

"I'll take you to my office," he announces, "as I've got everything I need to help you in there."