Interlude [h.s]

ninety-eight

"Hey!"

In the distance, a deafening boom echoes. The hand on Elijah's shoulder shakes him harder.

"Hey! Get up!"

Elijah frowns; his eyes blink open. Dust swirls in his line of sight, mixing with the shadowy corners of his surroundings. Yet, he remembers it being so bright before.

A face is looking down at him; blond hair nearly grazes his cheeks. Dark eyes wide as void are on him, an expression he doesn't recognise. Upon further exploration, he realises he's lying on his back; the half-shattered floor digs into him. What happened?

"Come on!" the blond-haired being above him urges him, face streaked with dust and something dark red he doesn't want to focus on. He's wearing an all-black uniform, and now Elijah recognises Gray.

"How..." Elijah finds his voice muddled; his tongue doesn't want to roll around the syllables. "What—" He pulls himself up in a sitting position and pain comes to him all at once, like an ocean wave ready to drown him. He barely has the time to turn to the side before puking. It scratches his throat raw and he coughs, heaving between breaths.

Gray's hands are on his shoulders again, but this time they're holding him up against every hit of nausea strong enough to topple him over. He's speaking quickly, but Elijah only catches bits and pieces of what he's saying over the roaring in his ears.

... The ceiling fell...

... found you like this...

... I'm sorry for your leg...

Enough clarity hits Elijah to make him ask. "My leg?"

Gray's lips press together, and he looks down. "It was buried in rubble when I got here. I freed it, but..." He waves in the general direction of his lower half, and now Elijah's fear is so encompassing that the nausea isn't only due to pain anymore.

He follows his gaze down. Dark cloths are tightly wrapped around the length of his left leg—his own jacket and Gray's undershirt, he realises, bloodied and covered in dust. That's where the pain is coming from.

"Did my best, but... I mean, it's broken at the very least," Gray continues, still crouched next to him. "Good thing I found you, we were about to consider this area cleared. Did you talk to anyone from the Shade?"

Elijah frowns, opens his mouth, pukes again.

Gray grimaces. "Yeah, not the right moment." He wraps Elijah's arm around his shoulders to help him up. "Come on, I'll get you out."

He pulls Elijah up with some difficulty. Elijah's head spins and pain thrums against his temples as soon as he's in a standing position, and he nearly falls down again. Nothing but unspeakable waves of pain shoot up from his leg, and Elijah doesn't even dare moving it. Putting his weight only on his right leg, he lets the other drag along with every hopped step Gray forces him to take.

There's something in his mind, strong and demanding attention, like a dream soon after waking up, but he can't seem to focus on it long enough to understand what it is. He can't seem to focus on anything at all around him in truth; all sounds are muffled but Gray's voice at his side, his vision is a narrowing tunnel of black and faded by the dust flying mid-air in front of his nose, every breath feels like sandpaper on his throat. His left leg is a limb hanging off his body he doesn't feel like he has any control over, and he's awfully cold. Elijah doesn't think he's ever been this cold before—it's something deep, coming from inside, as if his lungs were swimming in cold water. He's surprised his breath doesn't fog as it leaves his lips.

"... self?"

"Uh?" Elijah forces his head to lift, even though it's so heavy. It's brighter around them now, and air feels less oppressing when it enters his lungs. He's tripping less, too, because the floor is clear.