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It was cold when Baptiste woke the next morning. What shelter their ruined dropship had provided during the night against the worst of the elements, wasn’t enough to keep the chill out. As he cracked his eyes opening, lifting a hand to shield his eyes against the sunlight that was making it through the shattered glass of the windows, he could see his breath fogging in the air above him, and there was frost creeping in around the edges of the window and the door. Sighing, he tried to tug the blankets they’d pulled out of the emergency kit closer, aware that they needed to get moving but also wanting to hide from the cold if just for another moment, yawning as he turned his attention to his partner.
Lúcio hadn’t moved yet, curled into his side, snoring lightly in the way he only did when he was truly exhausted. Which wasn’t surprising after the shitshow the day before, a mission that hadn’t so much gone sideways, as crashed and burned from the moment the dropship had been brought down. Talon are always one step ahead at the moment, he thought with another sigh. They’d hoped that with Sombra in the wind at the moment, it might even the odds a little, but Vendetta had tendrils everywhere and it felt like they were clawing their way up an ever-steeper slope. Not that Baptiste would voice that thought aloud, least of all around Lúcio, whose enthusiasm was a balm against that feeling, and not something he wanted to dim.
He smiled, snuggling into Lúcio, deciding they had earned those few extra minutes, before frowning as he realised that Lúcio was cold against him. Not in the way that the rest of the dropship was, but almost clammy, like a weak flame fighting against winter, and now that he was fully paying attention, he realised Lúcio’s expression was drawn into a grimace of pain, sweat beading despite the cold.
“Lúcio?” He called, suddenly fully awake, pushing himself up to sitting as the blanket fell around them. Revealing something he had missed the night before when they had scrambled into shelter, not daring to risk light for fear of drawing more unwelcome attention.
Bloodstains.
The kind that came from fights gone wrong.
“Lúcio!” His voice rose, panic clawing at him when Lúcio didn’t immediately react to his voice. Praying he wasn’t going to hurt him, he reached out and shook Lúcio by the shoulder. “Lúcio, you need to wake up.” Please…
The plea was unspoken, trapped by the panic, but maybe Lúcio heard it anyway because he stirred slightly. Not the usually leap to awake that left Baptiste in his wake, but a slow, sluggish shifting, moving closer to Baptiste and his warmth, the grimace of pain deepening as even that movement caught whatever injuries he was hiding. It was the low whine in the back of his partner’s throat that broke Baptiste’s restraint, and he was up and crouched over Lúcio, before brown eyes crept open. “Where are you hurt? Lúcio, where are you injured?” He demanded, knowing that he needed to calm down, slow down, and give Lúcio – who was blinking at him – chance to absorb what was happening, but the panic had grown claws. “Lúcio…”
“…hurtss…” It wasn’t an answer, which told Baptiste more than he wanted to know. As did the slurring at the end, and it flipped a switch. The panic still had claws, was still tearing him apart from the inside out, but it was encased in ice now. In the calm built over years on battlefield.
He was a medic. Lúcio was hurt.
“I’m going to look, okay?” He murmured, not really asking permission, but giving warning. With everything that had happened recently, they were all a little jumpy at the best of times, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone had lashed out at him or Angela when they were just trying to help. A tiny nod, barely noticeable if he hadn’t been watching Lúcio with such intensity, but he took that valuable permission and forced a smile. “Let me know if it hurts too much.”
His hands were steady. He had done this hundreds of times before. Follow the bloodstains, ignoring the lighter splatters, the ones that clearly came from a different direction; proof of the fight they’d moved through. Easing Lúcio’s top up and out of the way. There were the usual cuts and bruises, some already blossoming in a rainbow down Lúcio’s side, no doubt from their unconventional landing. There was a flinch when he pressed on the edge of a darker bruise, and when he looked up Lúcio was biting hard on his bottom lip. “Don’t do that,” he chastised, reaching up with gentle fingers to rescue the abused lip. “I need to know where it hurts.” Even though I don’t know what else I can do, he added to himself. Lúcio’s music had been playing softly in the background all night and clearly hadn’t done more than take the edge off whatever injuries he was hiding.
“Higher…” It was a soft whisper. A confession. Lúcio refusing to meet his gaze, turning to the side. “On my back…” He was still slurring a little, that last word broken with a hitched breath as he moved, revealing that the bloodstains were worse here, pooling beneath them. Here the cloth was barely held together, edges singed, glass glistening amongst the blood and charring.
“Lúcio…”
“I didn’t think it was that bad…” Not quite a lie, as Baptiste had long since learned his partner’s tells when he was lying, as Lúcio was not blessed with a poker face. Apart from in the worst situations apparently, because even as Baptiste began to carefully peel the material way to get a clear look at the damage, he was running over the previous evening trying to look for any clue he might have missed. They’d both been exhausted and on edge, almost collapsing under the relief of finding the dropship clear of immediate danger even if it was clear that it wasn’t going to be getting them out of there. Lúcio had been moving around and helping clear a spot for them to rest, while Baptiste activated the beacon to let Overwatch know where to find them. Neither of them had eaten more than the bare minimum; and then they had turned in.
His eyes narrowed.
Lúcio had settled first because Baptiste had wanted to do one more sweep to ensure they were safe. When Baptiste had crawled into the space they’d cleared, pulling blankets over them, he’d expected Lúcio to curl into him as he always did regardless of where they were sleeping. Instead, while Lúcio had sidled closer, and clutched his front, he hadn’t turned his back to him.
He knew…
Anger came with that realisation. A hot burst of frustration, at himself for not noticing before this morning and at Lúcio for not telling him. Now he was the one to bite his lip, knowing that was a discussion and probably an argument for later, when they weren’t stranded, and Lúcio wasn’t breathing fast and flinching beneath Baptiste’s gentle hands.
“Do you know what happened?” Baptiste asked, marvelling at how steady his voice was. I am going to kill him later… The material was coming away in bloody shreds now, revealing a tapestry of cuts, some shallow, others deeper with danger glistening in the depths.
“…I went through a window when the substation blew…” Lúcio replied through clenched teeth. Baptiste hissed a curse, he remembered that moment, because it wasn’t Lúcio who should have gone flying. Baptiste had been in the path, shielding a couple and their young child who were caught in the crossfire. He remembered turning, throwing the field generator up above him, intending to use it and his own body to shield them as he saw the spark become something more. Then Lúcio’s voice raised in alarm, music and wheels… and then the explosion, and the world turning upside down for all of them. He remembered now that it had taken Lúcio a few minutes to get to him, although at the time he wasn’t sure if that was because he was dazed and time was moving weirdly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” An accusation, born more of guilt than anything. Lúcio shifted, whining as fresh blood bubbled up on his back, until he could peer over his shoulder at Baptiste.
“There wasn’t time.” True, and that galled Baptiste more than anything, even though he knew better than anyone that if you could move and fight, then other things could wait. “And later…” Lúcio continued, obviously knowing where Baptiste’s ire was going to turn next. “It didn’t hurt that much, and there’s only so much we can do out here. I figured my music would tide it through the night, and…”
“That I wouldn’t notice?”
Guilty silence. Hoped that I wouldn’t… Baptiste answered his own question and scowled at his partner. He loved this infuriating man with every fibre of his being, with all the heart that he had thought had been sealed away after his time on the battlefield, his work for Talon. Yet sometimes… “You’re an idiot.” It came out harsher than he’d intended, but at least it wasn’t as colourful as some of the names and thoughts going through his mind in that moment, Lúcio flinched and ducked his head.
“I know…” The quiet admission, flooded with pain, was a balm against the clawing panic, frustration and worry. Baptiste heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping as he stared at the bloody mess that was his partner’s back, mind racing with what he could do, and how long it would take the rest of their team to get to them, but his fingers were gentle as he rested his hand on Lúcio’s shoulder clear of the damage.
“You’re going to be okay.” It wasn’t forgiveness, not entirely. There were conversations to be had, but for now it was enough and he felt Lúcio relax a little under his touch, hearing the words that he wasn’t ready to say just yet.
I love you.