(no subject)

[make_it_hurt]

It hurts. He hurts. Ste-- the target was there. A few feet away. But the Soldier can't even stand. He's curled on his side, gasping for air around the pain in his gut, his shoulder, his entire body. 

But one of his handlers would come for him. This was where he was supposed to meet them, if something went wrong. They were supposed to be here, so all he had to do was wait. 

But in the mean time, he was dying. The schedule had been burned into his body and mind - after too long out of the ice, he'd start to break down. He was already remembering. He <i>knew</i> the man still unconscious on the floor a ways away. He knew him in a way that made the soldier fear his handler's retribution. He flinched from a phantom slap, then shuddered out a breath into the concrete. 

They gave him the shots, and the shots burned, but they made everything else... less. This is too much. His hands curl into fists, then open, then close again in a fistful of hair. 

Comments

[doesntrunaway]

Steve wasn't in much better shape, really, and the shock of hitting the water had been one shock too many and had finally been what knocked him unconscious.

But now, now that he'd had a chance to just be still for a while, for his body to at least start trying to repair itself, he was also crawling closer to consciousness. He didn't want to, not really, because he knew how much pain he was in even in the half-haze of fading-unconsciousness, and knew that it would only be worse if he was fully awake.

The only problem with staying asleep was that he also knew he was in danger, they were in danger. The memory of someone pulling him out of the water, realization that he wasn't alone, was what finally pulled him fully awake, biting back a wave of nausea and trying to take stock of individual pains.