Chapter Text
"'M sorry, m' sorry, sorry..."
"Yes, good, keep talking- keep talking!"
And as he laid there on the pavement he saw Her. Bright golden lungs warming him in their radiance and he could swear he had felt it all before. Slowly, with a trembling hand slackened from his own blood, he reached out for them with the gentlest of touch - he had polluted them once before, shattered them and used the glass for countless bottles, he'd be damned if he ruined something so beautiful again.
His hand rested on Kim's chest and for a moment, he smiled.
And the world went dark.
-
"Harry? Harry!" Kim shouted. As Harry's hand went slack the lieutenant clutched it to his chest himself, one hand still desperately applying pressure to the wound. Blood was dripping down his face and smearing his glasses, along with something else that stung his eyes and clouded his vision. Frustrated, he pulled them from his face and tossed them aside.
"Wake up. Wake up, dammit!"
The lack of response hurt worse than the pounding in his head as he knelt there on the ground, white-knuckled grip refusing to let go of his hand and hopelessness setting in the wetter his other hand became with his blood.
"Alright, move over."
Kim looked up sharply in surprise; he could barely make out the blurry figure, but Titus's voice was unmistakable. The larger man crouched down with a grunt of effort and studied Harry's body, brows furrowed as he looked between him and Kim.
"Look at me," he demanded gruffly. He took Kim's hand - the one so desperately clutching Harry's - in his own grip. Rough, calloused hands, firm and steady yet with surprising gentleness. As he locked eyes with the lieutenant, he set Harry's hand down and instead guided the lieutenant's to Harry's chest. He put his palm flat against his shirt, then laid his own right beside his.
"He's still breathin'. See?" Titus pointed down as they felt the stuttered rise and fall of Harry's chest. "So we gotta get 'em inside. Sent Cuno in to tell Garte to clear off a table." He withdrew his hand and sat back on his heels. "We got fuck all and a first-aid kit. Hope you cops know how to work with that," he huffed. Titus paused, and reached over, plucking something off the ground. After a moment or two of scrubbing lens against his shirt, he handed Kim's glasses back to him. "Figured you'll need these."
"...Thank you," Kim said softly.
"Anytime. Now c'mon- I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure he shouldn't be losing this much blood." Titus scowled, and with some effort, he carefully scooped Harry up. Kim scrambled to get up at the same time, only to stagger and draw the other man's attention again. "Easy now, Kim. We gonna go slow now, alright? Keep ya hand on 'em..."