(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

[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."