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

The way Edwin's eyes were so unfocused made Charles want to claw at his suddenly alive skin. What the bloody hell was happening? He pulled back his hand with a wince, despite wanting to touch Edwin just for his own sake. Just to make sure that he was alright but neither of them was.

"I was a little busy for that, mate," Charles hissed, finally taking a look at Edwin. And he didn't look good. "You're- you're bleeding..." And then Edwin did spit blood and Charles once again had to remind himself to stay calm. Probably the only thing that could make him do that was when Edwin was in danger. He had wounds. Wounds! Scratches too, all over his body, and his clothes were torn. And was that a piece of floorboard edged into his shoulder?!

Charles immediately took his backpack without even thinking and reached inside. He yelled in pain when the many pocket dimensions threatened to tear his flesh and bone arm off, just like the very first time he was trying to navigate it. Thankfully he could navigate it yet, though with more difficulty. Charles was carrying around a first aid kit only for the occasion if anything happened to Crystal. If they learned anything from what happened to Niko, it was that he wasn't going to let his living friends down again.

He slammed the box next to him and looked at Edwin a little helpless. Then he reached for him to see, and feel any damage he didn't notice at first. If there were any... life-threatening ones, however silly that sounded.

"Bloody hell, Edwin," he huffed. "What the fuck happened?" The question was more philosophical than not. Charles wasn't expecting an explanation, he was just... saying things with his mouth so he wouldn't scream.

"I'm aware of that, Charles." Was the terse reply to Charles' observation that he was bleeding, it was sharper than he'd meant it to be and he just winced again as soon as he'd said it, shaking his head, ready to apologize for the waspishness only to be startled by Charles' own noise of pain, levering himself upright with a half-startled, half-concerned cry of his partner's name.

The movement jarred his ribs and his shoulder and just left him doubling over with a harsh wheeze, vision going spotty again and trying to force his way through it as he always had before, frustrated that he couldn't do so, or at least not as easily. He hadn't even heard Charles' question -or self-soothing rambling disguised as a question- over the raggedness of his own breath in his ears.

There was, indeed, a decent sized fragment of one of the floor slats from above lodged in his shoulder, and the way that arm was hanging seemed to point to it also being dislocated, though that was something Edwin would probably fix himself in a moment, once he managed to separate that pain from everything else he was feeling.

What he finally managed to grit out between clenched teeth was: "It needs to be banished, Charles. We can't leave it here." Leave it to Edwin to still be on task despite looking like he'd taken a ride in a tumble dryer with a five pound bag of loose gravel and wood chips.

"I'll banish it once I know you're not gonna bloody die on me, yeah?" Charles snapped. And it dawned on him at the same moment. They could die. They... could die? He had the worst feeling that yes, yes they could die and Death could come for them. Again... For real. For... real.

At any other time, the fact that Edwin was always more focused on their case could swoon Charles. It was adorable every time. And it was how they operated. Edwin focused on the case and Charles focused on keeping Ediwn safe. Right now it still was the case but everything was new. They were new.

Charles pursed his lips and took a better look at Edwin, placing a hand on his back. He wasn't entirely sure he was supposed to sit up but on the other hand, he wouldn't want him to stay on this old floor for too long.

"Don't move just yet, mate, you're hurt, we gotta- we gotta know if you're gonna be okay..." Charles licked his lips nervously. Blood on the outside wasn't good, but internal bleeding? He personally knew how dangerous that could be. And judging by how Edwin held onto his side, there could be a case of broken ribs or worse. Something Charles had no idea how to fix. They couldn't go to a doctor, not really. They had healing spells. But the best could be, maybe, to return to their original existence of being ghosts! They knew how to handle ghost injuries.

Edwin paled at that first response, because that was the thing he hadn't been thinking about directly, the thing his thoughts just kind of slid off of whenever he started trying to sort out what was wrong and why everything felt so much more acute than it had before.

That was the one conclusion, obvious though it was, that he'd been ignoring so that he didn't start screaming and not stop. Only sort-of metaphorically.

Charles said it, and Edwin went cornered-animal still, already-shallow breathing just kicking up a fraction, not hyperventilating but not far from it, either, panic well and truly trying to take hold and Edwin fighting not to let it do so. He finally nodded, still tense, but managing a quiet, "Of course. Thank you, Charles."

Charles knew that silence, that stillness Edwin put on. He knew it well, even if it happened very rarely. It was when Edwin was truly afraid, so afraid that he couldn't do anything about it. And Charles' heart broke.

Charles cursed under his breath, fisting his hands for a moment to keep himself focused. As he did he could feel them tensing like they never did since he died. He had bones and flesh and blood and it all clung to his spirit, weighing him down.

"Edwin," Charles started, letting out a breath. "Breathe, yeah? Just breathe for now," he said, and reached for the boy, cupping his face in his hands. He leaned in to press a hard kiss on Edwin's forehead. He was warm under his touch, against his lips... "I'm here, I'll get us out of here, Edwin. 'S gonna be fine, yeah?"

He rambled, taking another look at Edwin as he pulled away, still holding him.

"Think..." Charles said, mostly to himself. They were fine before they got in this space. It could be a trap someone left here. Which means it could be local. Which also meant that they needed to get the pieces of the floorboard out of Edwin before they left, otherwise the trap won't let them go. Right. Yes. That was something Charles could focus on. "Let's get this out of your shoulder first," he said, and reached for the piece of wood.

It only occurred to him when Charles pressed that kiss to his brow that he could feel it, just as solidly as he was feeling everything else at the moment, which meant that Charles was in the same predicament, only less battered for it, which he could spare a brief moment to be thankful for, at least.

Focusing on his breathing was something he could do, it was actionable, it would help keep the panic at bay and allow him to think of a way out of this. He was reasonably sure he'd only become... well alive again after passing through the mirror upstairs, but he was reasonably sure Charles had only come through the door, but any further attempts at figuring out what had happened were derailed again by Charles' statement.

"Get what?" He finally turned to look, blanching again as he did, but nodding, "Yes, that's probably for the best." He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his breathing even once again, "Mind the edges, they might split." And having splinters embedded in his skin wasn't something he particularly wanted to deal with.

Watching Edwin for a few seconds in silence confirmed Charles that he wasn't going to lose it. Not yet. He could later, he could scream and cry and yell and whatever at Charles, but first they needed to get out of here. And alive, however bloody hilarious that sounded.

"Alright, here I go," Charles muttered, eying the piece of wood. He wondered if it was going to do more damage if he took it out but they definitely needed it out before they would even try to get back to their spectral states, for sure. He put a hand on Edwin's shoulder first, squeezing just gently to reassure him. "It's... I think it's gonna hurt," Charles warned. And for some reason that statement made his throat dry. The last thing he ever wanted for Edwin was to feel pain. And now he had a body to experience it with. Charles closed his eyes for a second to focus. Then he grabbed the wood and slowly attempted to get it out.

He just nodded once at that statement, because that did make sense, and even just the pressure of Charles' hand against his shoulder hurt, not badly, but enough for him to realize that the wood shard wasn't the only issue.

He turned his head to bury his face in the bend of his other elbow, just in case he had to bite down on something his clothes were a better option than his lip. Luckily despite the deteriorated state of the slats he'd fallen through, the piece that had lodged in him was solid enough to come out without fragmenting further, but it was still enough for Edwin to muffle a noise of pain, breath shaking for a few long moments before he managed to rein it in again.

He lifted his head a moment later, taking as deep a breath as he could manage, feeling hot bands of pain across his chest as he did, like iron wrapped around his ribs. But what he managed to say, low and still pained was: "I believe my shoulder is dislocated. I can return it to its place, but not without help."

If Charles would still sleep, this here, the way Edwin squirmed and made that noise of pain, that there would fuel his nightmares for years to come. And he could feel his own, living heart wanting to break his own ribcage over just how worried he was.

"Did well, Edwin, you did good," Charles stuttered, reaching up to stroke his cheek. He felt it warm, but not as warm as it was before. And yes, there was blood on Edwin, and some around them but not as much. Which could mean that Edwin was either only scared, or they were slowly returning to their original state, or something worse.

His eyes were wide and wild as Edwin finally looked at him, waiting for a confirmation, a direction, anything. And when Edwin gave it, Charles' gaze dropped on his shoulder. Charles had his shoulder dislocated once. Only once. And he remembers the pain still all too clearly.

"Right, where do you want me?" he asked, licking his lips nervously.

"Right where you are, thank you." He took another slow breath to steady himself, breathing a little easier when it was slow instead of gasping, but even then he knew his ribs were cracked if not actually broken, and he wasn't letting himself think about the kind of problems that would cause in the 'needing to run away' portion of the job, since they wouldn't be able to mirror-portal back to the office.

Instead he used his good arm to indicate two places, his forearm and his upper arm, "Hold firm here, and here, if you would, and don't flinch." Any time he'd had to force a joint back into the socket in his multiple escape attempts, he'd wedged it against a door frame, or between rungs on a gate, anything that would hold firm while he moved, shoulders were easier than knees or hips, he remembered that much, but it was still going to be unpleasant, "The sound will be... well, it sounds worse than it is, I promise."

Once he was sure Charles was actually holding tightly, he gave a nod, stuffing the back of his wrist, and the cuff of his jacket, between his teeth before just wrenching his torso to the side, doing his best to bite back the cry and blink through the spots in his vision again, flexing and curling the fingers of that re-located arm just to make sure there was no lingering damage.

Charles was focused. He was silent and focused on everything Edwin told him. He put his hands where he instructed him and held on tight. So tight that he could feel Edwin's muscles, and even his bones under his grip. His expression was blank as he held on, holding the boy as he put his shoulder back in its socket. Yes, it had the worst sound, and yes Charles would hear it for months. But not because it was horrible in itself, it was because it was Edwin's body.

As Edwin was trying to work through his pain, Charles was also attempting to get a grip on himself. He pressed his forehead against the boy's shoulder, as if he could will his pain away. As if he could take it on himself. He didn't let go of his arm, only loosened his grip a little.

"That was a hell of a sound, wasn't it?" Charles remarked in a tense breath, raising his gaze at Edwin. Then quickly wiped his eyes from the tears of tension. He swallowed, then slid a hand on Edwin's back rubbing as gently as he could but trying to let him know that he was there. "We gotta go, yeah? Somewhere safe, somewhere you can..." heal? Die again? Be a ghost again? Either way, somewhere not here. "Our friend's trapped, yeah? It's gonna stay, we can come back to banish it," he said.

"Quite." He replied to the first, it was all he had, really, because it was a horrible sound. While he'd mostly managed to bring himself back to something stable again when Charles' line of questioning followed and he shook his head, "We cannot simply leave it here, Charles, it's too dangerous. Yes, for now it's trapped, but it is also a poltergeist, an angry spirit, leaving it here wouldn't simply be dangerous and irresponsible, it would be cruel."

He was wheezing faintly again by the time he'd finished, he'd forgotten, really, just how much breath speaking normally took, let alone his usual tirades, and cracked ribs didn't make that any easier. He took another deep breath, forcing himself to settle again, "At least if it's banished it's in the hands of the Department, they're better equipped than we are." It wouldn't be the Lost and Found, at least not likely, but there were other Departments, as they'd learned being somewhat-official employees.

"Bloody Hell, Edwin, it also would be cruel to let you die here mate," Charles snapped. "You're in danger too, yeah? For once, just for once think about yourself!" He tilted his head to look into Edwin's face. He was begging. If Edwin insisted he would go and banish that ghost, he would know how. It may take longer without Edwin there but Charles could do it. Only, his heart would break, he wouldn't want to let Edwin go without knowing he was safe, even for those few minutes.

"Charles, it's a couple of cracked ribs, that's all." He wasn't sure that was actually all, he had no way of being sure of that, and of course there was all the external damage from falling through the loft floor, most of it still oozing blood in a way that was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, "I promise you I'm not at Death's door, even in my... unfortunate current state." Which either meant how battered he was or the fact that they were, apparently, living again, maybe even both.

"I will sit, right here, keeping still, until you return if that will make you happy and secure in the thought that I'm not doing anything to injure myself further or aggravate the injuries I've already sustained." It wasn't sharp, it wasn't an argument, it was exactly what it sounded like, an offer, a vow even, because he hadn't fully realized until that outburst just how worried Charles actually was, and it was with good reason, all things considered.

Charles' shoulders slumped. He knew Edwin would insist, he knew it because he knew Edwin. He let go of a trembling breath, looking up toward the floor they fell in from. If he was a ghost he could go up there easily, but with the floor being so unstable, and there wasn't anything to use in the room for climbing, Charles knew he had to find the stairs again. He bit in his lips in an attempt to bite back any curses that would have left him.

"Right," he sniffed, rubbing his nose for a moment. "Right," he nodded. Yes, Edwin didn't order him, he wasn't like that. But Charles knew when to act. It was how they worked. He pushed the first aid kit toward Edwin.

"Here, if anything, like, goes wrong when I'm not here," he said. Then he took his backpack. "I'll get to the stairs, find my way up," he said, to tell Edwin why he was using the door. He didn't look at him, he just couldn't. This all felt like he was abandoning him. After a moment of hesitation, before he would have gone, he reached for Edwin and leaned in for a quick kiss on his lips. Then, he got up before he could have launched them into another argument.

"Thank you, Charles." He replied, sagging forward again, he could have done it himself if he'd been able to see the thing from where he was, and he would have tromped up the stairs to do it himself except that he didn't trust his stamina -or his voice after having done so- with the cracked ribs.

That and the fact that they might be fully broken and not just cracked, in which case it was probably even worse.

He swayed forward reflexively into that kiss once Charles was drawing away, blinking slowly, surprised by it, but Charles was already off and moving before he could come up with an actual response. He did pop the first aid kit open to get at a packet of antiseptic wipes so he could at least deal with the scraped arms as well as daubing at the place where his shoulder had been pierced by that shard of wood, he couldn't fully see the injury himself and couldn't determine whether it would need stitches or just a bit of gauze and tape.

Charles wiped his eyes angrily as he was running down the corridor toward the stairs. He got out of breath by the time he got there but he didn't stop. In some ways, he welcomed the sensation of his lungs feeling like they were on fire. So it was true... they were alive. He was alive. And Edwin was alive. Could this the true? Was this permanent? But as he ran up the stairs and tried to look down the next corridor on which room the poltergeist was trapped in he pulled his focus back. Edwin needed him and he was hurt. And he wasn't going let Charles take care of him until the bloody case wasn't job jobbed. Charles could scream out of frustration.

It took him long minutes to find the room, as the howling of the poltergeist was very disorienting but in the end, Charles hurried into it. He almost stumbled into the gap Edwin's fall made, pulling back at the last moment. He took a second to check on his friend, seeing him trying to patch up a wound. The sight was surreal, and that was an understatement. But Charles once again forcefully had to remind himself to focus.

Yet again, he was hissing in pain when he had to dip his hand into the backpack to get the necessary items, black salt among them. The banishing ritual wasn't that intricate, as a trapped poltergeist didn't pose as much of a treat as one reining free. The banishing, though, took him longer than time than when they did it together. Now he had to say the spell, mind the salt, make sure the poltergeist didn't escape through the cracks... and try not to go too fast and get back to Edwin. Charles messed up the words many times as he had to read them and with each time he grew more and more impatient.

But when the ghost was finally banished to whichever department, Charles looked down at Edwin, spreading his arms as frustrated as he could get.

"Banished, yeah? Happy? Now can we please go?"

Edwin's first instinct was to snap back, more short-tempered than usual himself thanks to the lingering pain, because that was something he'd forgotten about as well, even iron burns eased after a few minutes, and any of the torments of hell were gone along with the destroyed self, which of course meant that they were fresh and new every time, but that was an entirely different sort of torture to the constant, exhausting, lingering ache.

Which was why he took a breath before responding, "Yes, thank you Charles." And then, "Before you come back down, would you please check for anything odd, markings or symbols about the lintel on the door or about the mirror?" Another breath, frustrated again that even just that small amount of talking took so much air, "I'd do it myself, but I don't think I can manage the stairs." And given the way the floor had disintegrated before, he doubted it would hold both their weight even if he did manage to get up there.

Realizing belatedly that Charles probably needed an explanation, he added: "It's only that I went through the mirror, and you didn't, and yet we're both suffering the same effects." He had, indeed, gone through it, he'd meant to return to the office and come back once he was sure the poltergeist was trapped, but he'd gone through the mirror itself as if it were an empty frame, and that was what had landed him -by way of going through the floor- back on the ground floor of the building.

Watching Edwin struggle to speak did not help Charles' mood at all. He was already ready to drop down again when his friend spoke. Charles huffed.

"Edwin, I hope you know you're alive now and I can strangle you," he said. "You just stay there, yeah?" He got up, kicked the used trap the poltergeist was in in his helpless fury, and started to pace around. He only made his steps a bit more careful when he heard the floor creak once again. The last thing he wanted was to fall down, maybe on top of Edwin even. His body hurt. All over. He knew this pain so well, it was the pain of exhaustion. A nostalgic sensation. And he hated that it made him excited, on top of everything...

"There's nothing here!" he exclaimed, even without checking properly. Though that venting was needed for him to really check because if Edwin was to nag him again, he would... maybe regret his words. And the explanation helped. Right, they needed to figure out what happened. "I mean," Charles started looking around. "No signs on the mirror, or the door," he reported. "Some runes on the floor, I think it was a circle," he frowned.

"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.

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