technicallyhellbound | for @convincingsmile - Nobody's dying today (probably)

"I'm aware." He replied, dry as ever, "And I've no doubt that both Crystal and the Night Nurse will threaten to kill us for allowing this to happen." He waited then, hating that he couldn't actually help, as he had at least some idea what he was looking for and didn't know if Charles did.

When the answer came he swore, softly, pinching the bridge of his nose and running that hand up over his face and into his hair, "Will you be able to remember them to be able to sketch them out when we return to the office?" He'd seen Charles struggle with the bag now that he was living again, and didn't want to risk his having to use it to find something to write with, if he even had such a thing in there as it was.

"One problem at a time, mate!" Charles yelled. He could handle the Nurse fine, but Crystal? No, better not think about that.

Charles did wish Edwin was there. He had eyes for these things, and he noticed everything. Suddenly he wasn't even sure if what he saw was anything at all... And then the thousand quids question came.

"Don't bloody do this to me, Edwin," Charles muttered, letting his friend know that there was no fucking way he could remember... And he never carried any pen or paper because that was all Edwin! Where he stood, it was supposed to be Edwin! Edwin was the brains, the note-taker, the whole fucking business. Charles was... the other, less important bits. "Right, I can't write it down either, but," Charles huffed again, out of breath. He dipped his hand back into his bag, feeling like it was going to be crushed the next time he would do it again. Then took out Crystal's Polaroid camera. She got it on a whim and banished it into Charles' backpack after a day of having fun with it.

It took Charles a bit to snap the first picture but then he made a few of the half-broken floor and the runes for Edwin to see. He looked around if there was anything, and took a picture of the door and the mirror too. He wanted to take a picture of the used trap too but by then the camera used all of its pictures.

When Charles was done he folded the pictures together so they wouldn't just flap away as he dropped them down to Edwin.

"'S this gonna do?" he asked.

The initial response of: "What?" Before he realized just what it was Charles had dropped to him was quickly followed by: "Charles that's brilliant!" Tone delighted and fond in a way he probably didn't fully realize, but it was a tone -and a statement- that was definitely sincere.

He checked over the pictures, shuffling them into an order he could use -he'd copy the runes down larger once they returned to the office, so they could actually be seen at something close to full size, and he'd even do what he could to recreate the placement and the through-lines of the circle as well, just to see if he could determine what it had originally been for, because it was entirely possible that using the trap for the poltergeist on top of it was what had caused the problem in the first place, if the circle itself wasn't the issue.

He tucked the pictures into the pocket with his notebook to make sure they were secure, "I've managed as much first aid as I'm able, I'll need assistance covering my shoulder before we start back to the office." He did know better than to leave it exposed, especially as they were going to be walking for a while, and that was something he already wasn't looking forward to with the way his chest still felt tight and his breathing too shallow.

When Edwin didn't yell further instructions for him to do, Charles looked around once last time. But there was nothing else in the room. So he jumped down again, hissing as his knees complained. He could see Edwin already thinking, already forming theories and plans and honestly, it was one of the only things that could relax Charles. His shoulders were still tense and he still wanted to punch a wall but at least they were going to leave this bloody place soon.

He knelt to help Edwin up but then he made yet another good point. Right, yes. They had bodies and wounds. And wounds could get nasty if they weren't treated. Charles took a deep breath, looking at the wound.

"Right," he said. "You gotta take off your jacket for me to work," he said. "And the waistcoat, and the shirt. Otherwise, I gotta tear them up," he added.

He winced a little at the solid noise of Charles' landing, the way he could feel it reverberated through the floorboards, just one of many things he'd forgotten about happening as a living being.

His brow creased just a little at Charles' instructions, pausing before remembering that yeah, he was going to have to do that manually. Once again making sure the polaroids and his notebook were secure, he peeled carefully out of his jacket, folding it into quick quarters and setting it aside, followed by the waistcoat, and while it made him pale again thanks to the way the movement shifted his ribs, his hands were still steady as he worked the buttons of his shirt free to shrug carefully out of it as well, lamenting the rip in the shoulder thanks to that initial wood fragment.

"I'm not sure how well I managed to clean it." He commented, voice a little quieter than usual, keeping himself steady, "Couldn't reach it that well."

Once Charles knew that Edwin was going to do as told, for once, he put his bag down next to them. Then he turned back just to see Edwin getting... undressed. And once again Charles' focus was definitely on the wrong places. He had seen Edwin in various undress before, and sometimes undressing too, but that was more rare. This time he could watch an alive Edwin take off his clothes. And when actual skin was revealed, Charles went still.

He definitely had a body alright, and blood, and it was circulating healthily.

Once again, Edwin's tone was what brought I'm back to the present. He frowned, looking at the wound. It was half cleaned, it was obvious where Edwin could reach and where he was unable to. So Charles licked his lips and took some of the antiseptic wipes to finish what Edwin started.

"This may sting," he muttered. One of his hands was steadying Edwin, while the other was working. And while he was still scared and worried, he still couldn't stop thinking how warm Edwin was under his touch. When he was done cleaning he leaned closer to check if he could see any splinters. Thankfully, nothing caught his eye, other than Edwin's skin. "Right, hold still. Got some bandages now," Charles muttered, trying to do this in small steps to not get overwhelmed and slip or hurt Edwin somehow.

He just gave a little nod at the initial warning, because that sting was something he was well familiar with now, as he'd been doing his best to clean the rest of his injuries. For the most part the loft floor breaking under him hadn't managed to get through his layers to skin, aside from that one, essentially, stab wound to his shoulder, his hands were scraped up, though he'd managed to take care of that himself, as well as his face, though that hadn't gotten much damage at all.

He hadn't yet noticed that Charles was being unfortunately distracted by the exact same thing he was, the warmth of the other boy's skin against his own, and Charles' step-by-step commentary was only a good thing, as it kept him on track and didn't let his thoughts drift too far, there was another quiet: "Thank you, Charles." At the mention of a bandage, as he'd mostly managed to regulate his breathing again after the way it had caught while undressing. He didn't think it was getting worse, but it definitely wasn't getting better either, and he wasn't sure whether that was actually a good sign or not.

"'S no problem," Charles muttered as he gently covered the wound with gauze, and taped it on. Thankfully it didn't seem like it was bleeding that much, not a worrying amount, but for a ghost to bleed at all was still alarming. "Done," Charles sighed. He looked at the bandage before his hand slipped to the base of Edwin's neck in his back, his fingers pressing on his neck gently. God he was so warm, and so... soft? Somehow. He watched Edwin's skin and adoring how pink it could get under all that pale.

"Sorry for yelling at you," Charles said and before he could have told himself it was a bad idea he leaned in to kiss the back on Edwin's neck. Bloody hell, he needed to get a grip. "Lemme help you dress and then... can we still travel by mirror?"

His breath caught just a little at that brush of a kiss, though before he could collect himself to say anything about it, or to mention that the apology was unnecessary as Edwin well understood that tensions had been running high and they were unfortunately far more corporeal than they usually were, which just wound everything all the higher, Charles' asked his question about travel.

He just shook his head, "No, that's what I was trying to do before realizing I was... this, again." A loose gesture with one hand towards his chest, "I just went right through. I'd been trying to go to the office and back, and that's clearly not what happened. We'll have to walk, I'm afraid." Mostly he was thankful that they weren't that far from the office, and had only mirrored in to start with because it was easier, especially when trying to take a poltergeist by surprise.

Charles looked up a the mirror as if it was personally responsible for everything that happened. But he was just trying to think, trying to keep himself straight but finding that he was getting tired. It was unnerving. Because it had been a while he felt tired because of his body and he wasn't sure if he remembered when his limit was...

"Shit," Charles cursed. Then he took a deep breath. "I'll carry you, yeah? The office is not that far," he said. He was ready to do it. Grab Edwin, on his back or in his arms, however, but take him and drag him back. To take him home. "Want my coat?" he asked already shouldering out of it. He noted how the bandage on the other may not make it possible for Edwin to put back his shirt. Or his pain, for that matter.

"Charles, my legs still work." He replied, already working at getting his shirt back on, moving slowly and carefully as he did, both in deference to not wanting to risk the taped edges of that bandage peeling up or sticking to the fabric, but also because between the shoulder and his ribs he couldn't turn as freely or as fully as he usually did, "I can manage the walk."

He gave the waistcoat a baleful look, because while he wanted the comfort of his usual layers, wanted something to be normal, he knew that he wouldn't be able to manage both that and his jacket, and of the two the jacket was the more important.

It was also why his brow creased a little at Charles' second offer, shaking his head and clasping Charles' elbow gently, "You'll need it. We can feel the cold now after all." He was thankful that in that area, at that hour, there wasn't likely to be anyone else about, which meant they were unlikely to draw attention, either.

"I know, but-!" Charles whined. He would hate to watch Edwin walk while he was in pain. Though he did admit it may have been humiliating for him to be carried. But there was nothing humiliating in it! Charles could show how strong he was! That he could still carry his friend all heroically. He needed to do something with this energy. But Edwin was right he could walk.

"Right, right," Charles swallowed. Then just took the waistcoat Edwin didn't put on and put it in the backpack. One less thing for him to carry. "But lean on me at least, yeah? Could be easier to walk like that," he said as he got up and offered a hand.

"That, I believe, is going to be a given." Mostly he was thankful that Charles didn't press the issue, because he didn't think he had it in him to argue if he had, because it was definitely a matter of humiliation -even if no one saw it- but also the fact that being picked up and dragged off was something that had happened far too often in Hell, and he much preferred having a say in how or when he was moved, even if he was being carried to somewhere he actually wanted to go.

As it was, he accepted the hand up, though almost reached for it with the injured side at first before correcting himself and using the other hand. He did blanch again, briefly, once he was on his feet, but he didn't sway the way he'd done when just sitting up from where he'd first hit the floor, though it was hard to say if that was a good sign or not.

Once he was steady all he had to say was: "Once we're outside we'll keep the river to our left and we'll be going the right direction."

Charles didn't let go of Edwin's hand until he was sure he wasn't going to fall. Or faint. Oh god, they could faint now... as some living do.

"I know London, Edwin," Charles assured in a sad smile. He sometimes roamed the streets when he couldn't calm down. Without the talent to mirror travel, he would often stick to walking. Sometimes he went the long way, and pretended he was alive. London was bustling and huge, but not to a ghost of thirty years walking its streets and longing for his steps to give a noise on the cobblestone. It shrunk but got further, in a way. "I know you know the map too," Charles added and squeezed Edwin's hand. "We'll be back soon, yeah?"

Oh and he wouldn't let go of Edwin's hand until they were back at the office, safe and sound.

"I know." He replied to the first, "It was a reminder to myself as well." He could keep the map in his head, he often did in fact, he'd honed that sense of direction in hell, but sometimes, when he'd mirrored in somewhere he needed to remind himself of the physical location in relation to the starting point, or end point, in this case.

He nodded at the actual question, returning that gentle squeeze, loath to let go of Charles' hand, and thankful that Charles seemed to be of the same opinion.

He did have to stop to catch his breath twice along the way, both times trying to remind himself to move more slowly afterward, which he managed for a time, but ended up resuming his usual quicker walking pace before long. Upon arrival at the office, all he had to say was: "Not looking forward to the stairs." Before actually managing to slow himself down instead of taking them at his usual speed. He was wheezing faintly again by the time they were actually in the office proper, lowering himself gingerly to the sofa, canted forward, elbows resting on his knees, as if the angle might help regain his breath more easily.

For a while now Charles knew that his mission was to keep Edwin safe. Hell, the moment he told him he would stick with him, he knew. But there was something about them being alive during all that. Suddenly, there were a whole lot of other issues coming with both of them being dead. Suddenly they had bodies, and they could get noticed by people. Charles was still confident in his ability to protect Edwin, but he knew if anyone decided to pick on them that day he wouldn't be able to hold back.

Thankfully they could get back to the office without being noticed. He held Edwin's hand during the walk and helped him up the stairs, and made sure he was fine as he helped him onto the sofa. And then Charles just stood there, feeling a little helpless.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked quietly.

"Ribs." He replied, taking as deep a breath as he could manage, holding it for a moment, trying to pinpoint just where the pain was, but not fully able to because of the lingering ache of everything else, the relocated shoulder, the bandaged gouge, the various scrapes over both hands and up his arms.

He let the breath out slowly again, still wheezing faintly on the exhale, "Back, same side as the shoulder. I landed hard." A little shake of his head, mostly because he knew his hip was probably going to be protesting later, after the fall and the walk, but for the moment it seemed alright.

His brow creased, trying another slow breath, finally shaking his head, "It's a bit like when I had asthma when I was still alive." Another little head-shake, "Alive before, I suppose."

Hearing Edwin breathe was... an experience. Especially hearing him breathe in pain. Charles was too busy trying not to despair to really feel his limbs going cold at it all. He bounced a little on his feet as he was trying to think. At least... Edwin wasn't going to die... not yet, at least. Charles once again had to rub his eyes. They were back at the office, they were fine, safe for now. Edwin was in a good place now.

"You should lie down," Charles said, throwing his bag down. "'S gonna get worse," he added. "If I remember right," he added with a tired smile. Then he went to Edwin, putting his hand as gently as he could on his back. If he could he would have just gathered him into his arms and squeezed the life out of him but that wouldn't do so well for him at the moment. And Charles was dying inside. "I should get painkillers, eh? And water," he frowned.

He gestured with one hand towards the supply cupboard, "Check the cabinet. Crystal's taken over a shelf for 'living girl supplies'," something that she had actually asked about first, which surprised him, but it did make sense if she was going to be working from the office as often as not, "that may be something she's stocked, and I'm sure she'll understand that we couldn't exactly take a trip to the chemist."

He shook his head at the suggestion of lying down, fishing the polaroids out of his jacket pocket, "I can't lie down just yet, I should at least start looking for these, the sooner I can figure out the array and the purpose of it, the sooner we can return to ourselves."

Edwin didn't have to say it twice, Charles was already roaming the cabinet, already writing an apology letter for Crystal in his mind. But yes, she would understand. He also found a bottle of water with the painkillers. He put the bottle next to Edwin on the sofa and he was about to take one pill when Edwin spoke again. Charles huffed.

"Edwin," he started and stepped in front of his friend, grabbing his hand that held the pictures. "You gotta rest first, just a tick, yeah?" he said more gently than he felt about it all. "The pictures won't go away and what if you make yourself worse?"

"What if waiting makes it worse, Charles?" For something that could easily have been Edwin's snippy, terse tone, as it often was when presenting a counterpoint, it just sounded defeated, "What if we wait too long and it... sets? If this is it and we're alive for good now?"

It only occurred to him after he'd said it that wasn't necessarily an issue for Charles, who admittedly hated being dead and his expression folded in on itself a little, along with the rest of him, just sagging forward, dragging a hand up over his face and through his hair, "I'm sorry."

Edwin's tone wasn't snippy but it didn't make a difference for Charles. Right, yes... he enjoyed being alive again. He liked how his steps had weight, he liked the feel of Edwin's hand in his. He liked that he could smell the air, that he could feel his lungs burn as they took the stairs. He liked to feel the breeze in his hair. But that wasn't what Edwin wanted to hear now.

"No, mate, don't be," Charles smiled sadly as he got to his knees in front of Edwin, holding onto his hand still. "I get it, yeah? You're always thinking of the worst-case scenario. But there was nothing you and your brain couldn't figure out." He smiled and kissed Edwin's fingers. He knew Edwin was fine as a ghost. His afterlife was much better and less lonely than his life. And just as Edwin could understand how Charles wished to be alive, Charles... could somewhat understand how Edwin preferred his spectral existence.

"I told you I don't mind being dead with you, but I also don't mind living the rest of my new life with you either..." he added. "But for both of those, you gotta rest."

His fingers twitched at the kiss, the sensation familiar to -and still different from- how he was used to it feeling, "It's hardly the worst case scenario this time, Charles." He shook his head, "I was hardly good at it the first time I was alive, and we both know I'm worse at it now."

He wanted to argue for at least getting the books set out so he could start researching as soon as he was rested, but he also realized he was too physically exhausted even for that, didn't think he'd actually be able to get up again now that he was sitting. His brow creased a little, catching at Charles' hand more firmly, "Just... if it's obvious I'm having a nightmare, please wake me up? Don't let me sleep just because you think I need it?"

There were other things to worry about, certainly, like the possibility of his ribs actually being broken and not just cracked, that they might be causing actual damage to his lungs, but Charles had seen the shape Edwin's nightmares were likely to take, and Edwin would much rather suffer the physical pains than go through that again.

Charles felt himself sigh, deeply. Edwin was afraid of being alive. Because of all the things that it brought to him. He didn't see the good side of it all, all he saw was the horrors. And that... broke Charles' heart a little. He wished he could show Edwin how great life was. All the food, and things to do, and things to experience... That having skin was a great way to enjoy each other too... But it was truly Edwin's luck that he had to be alive while his body was battered and broken.

So Charles just smiled, sniffing, and leaned in to kiss Edwin's lips again.

"Yeah, I won't let the Dreaming torture you," he assured. "I'll try to get some books for you for when you wake up, alright?" Maybe not the right books but he can make some guesses on what Edwin would want to check first.

"And, I think you'd do great being alive, Edwin," Charles added, as he offered the pills.

His breath caught a little at the kiss, not in pain as it had been doing, but still a sort of surprise, swaying forward into it a little and once again wondering what he'd done to deserve Charles as a partner.

"Thank you." It was quiet as the apology had been, but he still meant it. It took him a moment to get the right leverage to get the bottle of water open, but he did so, accepting the pills and swallowing them down easily enough. That done, he went about shedding his jacket, more careful of the injured shoulder than he had been before. He situated himself on the sofa, the way he usually sat when reading, half propped up against one arm because he did remember that laying flat only aggravated his asthma when he'd first been alive, and couldn't imagine that would be any different now.

"Intermediate runic arrays to start, and advanced alchemy, I think?" His brow creased, trying to determine what else he might need even as he was already feeling the pull of sleep tugging at the edges of his mind, "The Hendrick's Encyclopedia, the old edition, not the new." He blinked slowly, realizing he was already fading fast now that he was mostly comfortable, "There's another one. I can't think of it right now."

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