Work Text:
"Barbara! Barbara, help!"
Barbara spins on her heels, hands clasped delicately in front of her and with a smile on her face. It's only Bennett—he's probably burned himself again and needs her assistance. He's her most regular visitor for healing purposes, after all.
But Bennett skids to a stop in front of her, almost tipping over from the momentum. "You gotta come, it's an emergency—"
"That's—okay," she says, surer than she feels. She's known Bennett long enough now to know that he minimises how bad things are rather than exaggerating them, so if he's saying it's bad, it must be awful. "Let's go."
Bennett grabs her wrist, and they're on their way, flying between the church pews so quickly that her hat flies off. There's barely enough time to call, "Sister Rosaria, you're in charge!" before they're busting through the church doors and staggering down the steps into the city.
“Bennett,” she cries. “Bennett, slow down!” His legs are longer than hers, and she’s sure she’s going to fall if she has to try and keep up at this speed.
“I can’t!” he yells as they whip past the folks around the Barbatos statue. “It’s Razor! He’s hurt real bad.”
Oh. Oh no. It must be bad if he’s run all the way to the church, and Razor isn’t even with him to be seen. “Where is he?” she asks as they jump down over the stone railing to the lower level of the city.
“On the road to the Whispering Woods,” Bennett answers, breathing hard, and no wonder! If he’s sprinted all the way here and is intending to come all the way back—
“Bennett,” she says it firmly and pulls back with all her body weight to stop him. He teeters towards her; she catches him and places her hands on his upper arms to stabilise him again. “I’ll go on ahead and find him.” This doesn’t seem to reassure Bennett much, but she presses on regardless. “You go get my sis—Jean. Go get Jean, and get Lisa if she’s around. Ask Lisa to bring a selection of healing potions. Please tell them I’ve specifically requested their presence.”
He still looks unsure, like maybe he wants to protest.
Barbara raises an eyebrow at him. “What are you waiting for? Get going!”
He nods as he stumbles away, racing towards the Knight’s headquarters. Barbara takes a deep breath, and starts her run to the forest.
☆
She’s out of breath, her tights are full of rips where they’ve gotten caught on twigs and bushes, and her hair is falling out of her pigtails by the time she finds Razor laying just inside the mouth of the Whispering Woods.
“Oh, Razor,” she breathes, falling to her knees beside him and scanning his body to assess his injuries.
“Miss Bar—” he tries, clearly in pain, but Barbara ‘shh’s him, pressing a finger to his lips.
There’s a hilichurl arrow lodged in the front of his shoulder. His torso is burned, though it doesn’t look too deep or terrible—Barbara summons cool water from the air to cradle the redness and wick away the worst of the heat. There are rips in his clothes and scratches on his legs, too, but again they’re not the main problem.
The main problem is that damn arrow. Injuries like these are rare, in the scheme of things, and normally dealt with by someone who’s deemed to have enough experience. It is a compliment, in some ways, that she had been approached, but she is out of her depth.
It’s just that there’s nobody else in town who could help, either. Razor is skittish around new people, and he’s in pain which would only make it worse. She runs some more water around the room, wiping away the worst of the blood on his skin so that she can see the wound more clearly. It’s still bleeding.
Razor yelps as a shudder rolls through him. He’s hurting—but she can’t do this on her own. “I’m sorry,” she says as she continues to supply fresh water to the burns and clean out all of the scratches. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”
He stills again, breathing hard. “Where Bennett?” he asks. His eyes search the forest—but there’s no sound of footsteps, no yell of ‘over here!’ that would indicate Bennett is nearby again.
“He’s on his way,” she says, with a soft smile. “He’s bringing some help. We’re going to make you feel better, I promise.”
He nods, then winces, biting down on his lower lip to stifle himself.
It isn’t often that Barbara thinks she’s not enough these days, but she thinks it now. All she can do is hold Razor’s hand as tears prick his eyes and hope that her hydro abilities are bringing him some relief. She wipes the sweat from his brow, the tears from his cheeks and the blood from the wound, and she does her best not to cry as well. It will do him no good. She will be strong for him, let him squeeze her hand until all her fingers are broken if she must, and she will bear his pain.
His breathing begins to even out again as they sit there. Perhaps she’s doing some good just by being there—she wouldn’t dare attempt anything more without assistance.
“Barbara?” a voice calls from somewhere in the forest. “Razor? Where are you?”
Razor is already trying to move and look, calling back with a howl that morphs into a cry of pain instead.
“We’re over here!” Barbara shouts, as loud as she dares. “Over here!”
There’s the sound of several pairs of feet crashing through bushes and stepping on branches. Jean is first, and she kneels beside Barbara, taking stock of the situation in much the same way Barbara herself had done.
“What have you done so far?” Jean asks as Lisa settles into place opposite them.
“I just cleaned the wounds and soothed the burn mark here—” She gestures to his torso. “I didn’t want to touch the shoulder until there were other people to help.”
Razor looks up with wide eyes. Bennett paces a few steps away, raking his hands through his hair. “This is my fault,” he announces. “Razor, I’m so sorry. I’m always getting us into trouble—”
“Now isn’t the time,” Lisa interrupts. “Bennett, would you be a dear and fetch us some lampgrass plants? The sun is beginning to set and we will still need to see.”
Bennett stumbles over his own feet in his haste. Lisa watches him with a sad sort of smile. “He needs to get out of the way while we work,” she says, responding verbally to a question Jean had apparently only asked via an eyebrow raise.
“So what do you think we need to do?” Jean asks then, looking to Barbara.
“I don’t—what do you think?”
“I’m not a healer, Barbara. You are.”
Barbara blinks, looking down at Razor and squeezing his hand before she sets it gently on the grass. “Lisa,” she says. “Did you manage to bring any pain relief potions?”
“I have a few,” Lisa says, retrieving small little vials from her pockets. “Some of them will be strong enough to knock him out.”
Razor’s eyes go wide, but Lisa pats his leg reassuringly. “Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll wake right back up. It will be the best sleep you’ve ever had.”
Barbara nods, firmer than she feels. “Do it,” she says to Lisa, who uncorks the green solution. She looks to Razor next. “When you wake up, we’ll be back in Mondstadt. I’m going to stay with you the entire time, okay? I promise.”
Razor nods. “Okay. Promise—good.”
Lisa cradles Razor’s head and holds the vial to his lips. He swallows the solution, and no sooner has it hit his tongue than his eyes are slipping closed.
“Now what?” Jean asks.
“Now we get that arrow out of his shoulder." She has made up her mind. Barbara decides. “Lisa, what other potions do you have?”
“More painkillers,” Lisa answers. “A slightly experimental one that seems to stop bleeding, but I can’t guarantee it will work. Several for burns or reactions to plants. I wasn’t sure what we were going to be dealing with.”
“Prepare the one that stops bleeding. Jean, can you prepare to pull the arrow out? I’m going to try and make sure there’s nothing left inside the wound.”
It’s not the best plan they’ve ever had, but it’s the best she can come up with. If they do nothing, this is never going to heal. The worst case scenario—
—well, the worst case scenario doesn’t need to be thought about.
Jean and Lisa nod, and all three of them shift their positions accordingly.
“Ready?” Jean asks.
Barbara tears the large fabric bow off the front of her uniform. She needs something to mop up the blood when she applies pressure.
“Ready,” she finally confirms.
Jean pulls on the arrow. It comes out with a spurt of blood following it, but Barbara is there with her Vision aglow, swiping the blood away as fast as it can pool into the wound and flushing it out as best she can in the circumstances.
“We’re clear,” she says, grabbing the fabric and shoving down on Razor’s shoulder. It starts to turn red, soaking through, and she shakes her head, frantically, calling, “Lisa, Lisa help—”
Lisa is there in a flash, ripping the fabric away and drizzling a clear, thick liquid over the wound while reciting an incantation.
Barbara watches because it’s all she can do. Lisa replaces the fabric and presses down on the wound with her entire body weight, still mumbling the same words, over and over and—
When they pull the fabric away again, the blood has stopped. Barbara smoothes water over the area to check, but it really has stopped, and she breathes a sigh of relief, slumping sideways onto Lisa. “Thank goodness,” she says. “Thank goodness you both were able to come.”
But Jean shakes her head. “No, Barbara. That was all you and Lisa.”
“We’ll need to stitch him up once we get back to the infirmary,” Barbara murmurs, fingers circling the wound. “And we probably don’t want to jostle him too much on the way—”
She looks around, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Jean, do you think you’ll be able to use your Vision to float him back to the infirmary?”
Jean blinks, then looks down at Razor. “Well—maybe. Is that best?”
“Yes, I think so. The only alternative is Bennett carrying him.”
Bennett chooses this time to come crashing back through the bushes, clutching a handful of lampgrass flowers. “I’m back! I’m ba— oh.” He falls still as he sees Razor, fast asleep and peaceful. “You’re all finished already, huh?”
“We’re all finished,” Lisa confirms. “We’re going to take him to the infirmary now. Please join us.”
“Oh—okay,” Bennett says, like nobody's ever asked him to join them before.
They stand back from Razor’s sleeping form. Jean raises both her hands, takes a steadying breath and—Razor is up in the air. “This is… difficult,” Jean admits. That means it’s very hard indeed. Barbara knows she doesn’t like admitting to having trouble with tasks.
“Then let’s be quick,” Barbara says. “Bennett, lead the way.”
☆
Barbara sits in a chair by Razor’s bed, and Bennett sits beside her. Barbara focuses on the knitting in her hands, something to occupy her mind while they wait for Razor to come around. The early morning light filters through the window—the potion Lisa had provided was apparently much more potent than expected.
“It’s my fault,” Bennett says with a sigh, holding his head in his hand. “I accidentally alerted the hilichurls to the fact we were there. Razor dived in front to stop me getting hit.”
“It’s not your fault,” Barbara reassures, reaching over to pat Bennett’s free hand. “Anybody would do that to help a friend. It means he cherishes you.”
“But I have such bad luck—”
“You have very good luck to have a friend like Razor,” Barbara says, much more firmly. “He cares about you, and you care about him. Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t do the same if he was in danger.”
“But I—”
“Bennett!”
“Okay, okay,” Bennett relents, running his hand through his hair. “He’s the best, I know.”
Barbara nods, and they return to silence. She’s not sure how much longer they sit there—only that it’s enough for her to get ten rows further ahead in her knitting—before Razor wakes.
He wakes with a groan, a pathetic little noise.
“Razor,” Bennett breathes, scrambling forward to hold onto the hand that isn’t attached to his injured shoulder. “Razor, can you hear me? Are you okay?”
He blinks several times, looking in Bennett’s general direction but seemingly without managing to focus. “Bennett,” he manages. “Bennett, safe?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m safe. You’re safe too.”
Barbara watches with a smile, leaning forward and waving at Razor. “Your shoulder might hurt for a while, but we can get you medicine for it.”
Razor nods, looking between his two friends and back again, and then closing his eyes as he lays back on the pillows. “Friends,” he says. “Thank you, friends.”
And it’s the most wonderful thank you Barbara has ever received.