Closed; The Final Act - Part II
Terry had never tried landing from a portkey with someone in his arms, let alone someone so fragile and burned. He felt Pansy coming down with them, everyone latched on to each other as he'd never seen before. While he'd been a part of the D.A. he'd never really been on the firing line before. Looking around he saw in slow motion, Cecilia rushing
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Needless to say, he was in full panic mode. His stomach was in knots, questions were piling up in his head, and he wasn't quite sure how he'd even managed to make it to the hospital without splinching himself, knowing only that whatever was happening, he had to be there and he had to be there now.
His gaze flew across the room, scanning bodies and faces (some of them terrifyingly unrecognizable) until - there she was. Whiter still than the sheet she was sprawled against, eyes closed, covered in blood - so much blood, way more blood than should ever be finding its way out of a person's body-
But then she was being rushed through the doors, and he could hardly breathe as he spun on the spot, looking for someone, anyone, to direct questions to, to get some kind of explanation-
-Potter.
"You," he hissed, worry and terror quickly turning to flaring anger as he spotted that damned jackass, equally blood-stained but still very much standing and seemingly unharmed. "What the fuck did you do-"
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"Right this way, Mister Potter-" the one ward said. "Follow-"
"You- What the fuck did you do-"
He spun on his heels, that voice cutting into his gut as he met Reid's face.
He should have known he'd show up.
He gulped, trying to explain everything while managing to stay as calm as he could considering the look of rage in Reid's face.
"She was shot-" he said, raking his hand through his hair, glancing back at the stretcher over his shoulder. "It was the Burning Man- the men- whatever the bloody hell they're called-"
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He was barely even aware of what he was doing, moving purely out of reactive instinct as he reached his intended target and the fist that had been clenching at his side swung up to firmly collide with Harry's cheekbone.
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He could feel the red creeping into his cheek where Reid's punch burned, Harry stumbling a step behind him. He rubbed at his face, cracking his jaw as he blinked his eyes open, taking focus of the very rage he underestimated in the other bloke.
Bloody fuck-
"What are you doing-" he burst out, the mark of Reid's punch shiny on his pale, weathered skin.
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"You said you'd look after her, you practically fucking promised she'd be safe. Is this-" he gestured to the blood smeared down the front of Harry's jacket- "what 'looked after' looks like to you-"
His voice cracked despite himself, words catching in the knot that rose up in his throat. The sight of her laying there flashed behind his eyes, the brightness of the blood as she was taken through the doors, the way her hand had hung limply from the side of the gurney-
His anger fell away as quickly as it had come on, giving way instead to a weary sort of desperation. He couldn't lose her. He simply couldn't.
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"I didn't want her to come-" he said, not being able to help the defensive tone creeping into his voice. "I wanted her to stay but Merlin knows she wasn't going to listen-"
He shook his head.
"I tried, Reid-"
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But he wasn't in any mood to accept that as an excuse. Not right now. Not from fucking Harry Potter. Not when this was where it had landed her.
He raked a hand through his hair, nails scraping against his skull to release the last sparks of anger, turning away from Harry before his temper had a chance to build up again. Arguing with him would accomplish nothing short of getting them kicked out of the waiting room.
"Yeah- you tried-" If his tone was more bitingly snarky and critical than acknowledging, well, it could have been worst.
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Which was entirely true. He shouldn't have even been there himself.
But he knew that with Cecilia Jacobs at his door, that wasn't going to be an option. She was going to go after her friends with his help or not. Frankly, he was shocked she had come to him at all- though he knew George probably had a hand in that.
"She saved my life- though I know that doesn't mean anything to you-"
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"I might be overprotective, but I'm not a complete asshole," he retorted briskly. Merlin knew what something as drastic as Harry dying would do to Skylar, let alone the entirety of the wizarding world. He just wanted the guy out of his life, not ceremoniously buried in Godric's Hollow, after all.
And she would have, of course. Put herself in the line of fire, shoved Harry aside, caused a distraction, whatever it was she had done, it was all too stupidly typical of her. Stupid, brazen, instinctive soldier that she could be-
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He coughed, then, the smoke in his lungs scratching at his throat.
He knew that Skylar shouldn't have been there. He shouldn't have been there, either. But time hadn't been his friend and he wanted to take advantage of the situation as he could.
"She's going to be fine," he said, though it wasn't as authoritative or knowing as it could have sounded, it was more hopeful than anything else.
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Frantic and questioning was one thing, furiously angry and accusatory was another. But here, in this environment, in a room so similar to the one that filled the majority of his recallable memories from his pre-Hogwarts years, there weren't many other emotions he would allow himself to feel. He would pace and jitter and fumble around, but sure as hell wasn't about to open up any kind of emotional floodgates, not here, and certainly not for Harry Potter's sake.
Still, the hopefully offered phrase echoed hauntingly inside his mind. She's going to be fine. Everyone always said that. Everyone had said that. Right up until she wasn't.
He really, really hated hospitals-
He shook his head, crawling back behind his barrier of snark and stern resolve. "She had better be." While intended as a warning, a mild threat of sorts, even, the words came out as more of a desperate plea. Reid could only pace away and back again, arms tightly crossed against his chest to guard against whatever vulnerability he could feel slowly inching into him now that the initial shock of adrenaline following the notification message and his arrival and the subsequent rage the sight of Harry had brought on died down.
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She had better be. He didn't know what he would do, otherwise. He had been the reason she was there in the first place, her stubbornness and concern clouding whatever fear she might have had about trekking into the unknown completely unprepared.
She had been a trooper, though.
And she had saved his life.
He didn't know how he'd ever be able to repay for her.
He slumped his back in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he let his head sink into his hands.
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