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Leon hisses as Krauser presses harder against the wound in his upper arm, white gauze quickly soaking with blood despite how hard he's trying to stem the flow. Leon grits his teeth, fighting the wave of lightheadedness that washes over him at the sight of his own blood trickling over Krauser's fingers—though, he'd also lost quite a bit of it before Krauser had forced him to sit down. He's not the squeamish type, but he's beginning to feel at once icy cold and burning hot, sweat prickling the back of his neck. There's no backup coming to get them, and there's a very real chance he could die out here.
"We'll have to stitch it," Krauser grunts, interrupting Leon's thoughts. He peels back the wad of bandages, blood bubbling up to stream down Leon's arm the second he pulls the soggy material away. His brow is furrowed, scarred lips twisted into a frown so grumpy that Leon would tease him about it in different circumstances. As it is, he steadies a wave of nausea instead, blinking against a wave of spots to look anxiously up at Krauser. So maybe Leon's a little more than lightheaded—tilting his head up is enough to make him sway in place where he's sitting on a dining room chair in the shell of what once was a house, and fear flutters in his chest as he realizes how close he is to passing out.
Krauser catches him before he can keel over, a warm hand wrapped around his shoulder as the other reaches for the dirty first aid kid splayed open on the table beside them.
"Hang in there, Rookie. Don't let it get to you."
"Pretty hard when I'm bleeding out," Leon mutters, and Krauser sighs.
"You're fine. I've seen worse before, and I'm sure you have, too." Krauser reaches into the kit, icy eyes meeting Leon's as he glances downwards. "Hold it together."
Leon flinches away from the first spike of the needle, damaged nerve endings protesting the new sensation. It stings like fire, the drag of the needle making him shudder as it crawls under his skin and draws the jagged edges of the wound together. It's deep enough that he can see muscle if he looks, and he knows Krauser is right—but this is the first time he's been badly injured since Raccoon City and the memory of the pain and blood and sheer helplessness makes his heartbeat stutter. He's gasping for breath before he knows it, the darkness encroaching on his vision as Krauser jabs him with the needle a second time.
"Major," he whispers, eyes widening. "I'm going to throw up."
"Well, don't do it on me. Deep breaths, Kennedy. Talk to me."
"Major, I—" The needle pierces his skin a third time, sick nausea swirling in his chest. Leon winces, fighting to control his breaths. He needs to get a grip. Krauser's right, it's nothing too serious, but the fourth pull of thread has him doubling over anyway, vomiting on the debris-covered floor. He's trembling by the time he's done, collapsing back against the chair. He can't seem to stop seeing the injury in his mind's eye; all ragged flesh and reddish muscle and blood pouring endlessly down onto clean uniform pants. The sound of boots crunching over broken glass and squelching on bloody flooring echoes in his ears. It's like he's twenty-one again, staring at zombies with exposed flesh and muscle rippling beneath rotted skin, their bloodless hands reaching out to claw into him. Leon feels the phantom pain of the gunshot wound in his opposite shoulder, sapping his strength and bleeding down his arm with every tiny movement. Making him weak. Vulnerable. Useless.
"Rookie." There's a hand on his face, and Leon struggles to focus, lungs aching from how difficult breathing has become. Krauser stands between his legs, a frown on his broad features as he cradles Leon's head between his palms. "Breathe. What's the matter?"
"It's—I—" Leon can't find the words, dazedly reaching up to hold onto Krauser's wrists. His arm twinges, stitches only half-finished, but the pain is a distant pinprick in the wake of the panic washing over him.
"Breathe. Easy, soldier, you look like you're about to faint." Krauser's hands are rough but soothing, jolting Leon slightly as he shakes his shoulders to emphasize. "Remember your training. Pain is just another obstacle to overcome. You're not going to die, Kennedy."
His voice is low, focused, and Leon latches onto the stability in desperation. He forces a shuddering inhale, nodding as Krauser pats him on the shoulder and shifts back towards his injury. Embarrassment flutters in Leon's chest. He's freaking out about nothing, and the wound is relatively small. Krauser says nothing, eyes narrowed as he completes another stitch, and Leon forces himself to relax. The remnants of adrenaline tingle down his spine. He's shaky, out of it, and he doesn't even realize Krauser has finished until he's halfway through bandaging the site in clean gauze.
"S-sorry," he manages, lips clumsy and numb. Krauser meets his gaze with a frown, wrapping an elastic bandage over the gauzier layers and securing it before he reaches up with two fingers to take Leon's pulse. It's getting hard to hold his head up now that he's calmed down, exhaustion seeping down deep into his bones. "I'm good now."
"Uh-huh. C'mon, let's get you lying down."