Chapter Text
In the chaotic aftermath of the invasion, it took far longer than Link was comfortable with to get a doctor's attention.
He had good reason to be concerned. Less than halfway to the floor where Medical was performing triage, Allen had gone limp, passing out against Link's back while his blood soaked into his clothing, hot and wet. His breath was shallow, and rattled wetly with each pass. Every time Link jostled any part of him, turning too fast or navigating the rubble, his breath caught, like he was too weak to whimper. Then he stopped doing even that, becoming completely unresponsive no matter how much Link tried to catch his attention.
But the casualties during the attack had been catastrophic, and Medical was at their limit, hurrying back and forth just to perform triage. The surviving finders had rallied to look for more people trapped in the rubble, as well as the exorcists and researchers that had fallen below Lab 5. Logistics was running off its feet trying to accommodate everyone in the damaged building, and the Signal and Diplomacy sections were making arrangements to get support in as fast as possible. They needed more medics, more beds, more supplies, more everything.
None of that changed the fact that Allen Walker, who had been grievously injured before his Innocence had wrapped around his semiconscious body and dragged him to his feet, should have been of the highest priority. All questions of loyalty aside, Allen Walker was still an exorcist, and at the moment, they were dangerously close to losing him.
Link failed to get the attention of three doctors before he lost his patience altogether and went straight to Komui, who was, unsurprisingly, within a dozen feet of his sister even as he communicated with the different sections, giving orders rapid-fire as they struggled to minimize their losses.
"Chief," Link said sharply, raising his voice enough to be heard over the din. "Allen Walker requires immediate medical attention. I fear we will lose him if we do not act swiftly. I believe you care about the exorcists?"
Perhaps the jab was unnecessary, but it got his attention. Komui whipped around, eyes widening as he caught sight of the boy on Link's back, and to his credit he responded immediately, turning back to his golem to bark more orders. "Allen Walker has been located. He is unconscious and severely injured. Dr. Weston, you are needed in the operating room immediately; pick as many nurses as you think you'll need for efficient surgical intervention. I repeat, we have an exorcist that is severely injured-"
"Allen!" Nearby, Lenalee tried to struggle upright, but the blood loss and head injury were catching up to her, and she collapsed back down with a moan. "Is he-"
"His condition is deteriorating, but not rapidly," Link informed her, feeling obligated to answer. "No matter what else he may be, he is an exorcist. The Order will do everything they can to keep him alive and in fighting condition."
Lenalee didn't look reassured, but she allowed herself to be pressed back down so the nurse could continue assessing the head injury - Lenalee wasn't as injured as most of the other casualties, but as an exorcist herself, they needed to be absolutely certain she was in no danger before they moved on.
Within a few minutes, three nurses with an empty stretcher made their way toward Link. Two carried it, and the third reached up to carefully help move Allen from Link's back, softening the impact as much as possible - they didn't yet know what injuries he may have taken. Outwardly, Allen had a few injuries, but his waxy appearance and rapid, shallow breathing indicated that his condition was much worse than it appeared.
"Come with us," the free-handed nurse said sharply, all business with a patient in front of her. She was looking at Link. "We're short on hands right now. Yours will have to do."
"...Very well." Link set off at a jog, following close behind as they wound through the crowded conditions.
Link had some advanced first aid training, but nothing close to what Allen would need in the night ahead. The thought bothered him as he chased the stretcher ahead of him, keeping pace with it.
According to Leverrier's sources, the Fourteenth had anticipated his own death and planned ahead, picking a vessel well in advance. The 'pianist' was none other than the Fourteenth himself, something Link had been informed of before he agreed to this mission. Link... was beginning to wonder if Allen knew that.
Would the Innocence have picked a Noah as its host?
At last, they reached the medical ward, where a doctor was already waiting with the door open, looking grim. He held it for them to enter, gesturing impatiently. Once they were all inside, he shut the door and helped Link transfer Allen from the stretcher to a stainless steel table.
"Everyone change," the doctor ordered as soon as Allen was in place, gesturing to some white uniforms stacked neatly to one side. "Then wash your hands. Inspector Link, you as well. And I understand you saw at least some of the fight?"
"Yes, I was able to see a fair amount of it," Link affirmed. There was no changing room, just a second chamber where the operating room itself was waiting to be used - he focused on the explanation to avoid his embarrassment as he changed swiftly. "Walker took several formidable blows to the chest and stomach, as well as impacting the wall with enough force to crack stone on two separate occasions. After the first one, he was unable to sit up of his own volition, let alone stand. I believe he may have broken his spine."
"If he was unable to stand, then how did he continue fighting?" the doctor questioned suspiciously.
"His Innocence took control of his body," Link answered shortly, turning to wash his hands. It had been one of the most horrific things he'd ever seen - Allen had been nearly unconscious by then, eyelids fluttering as Link tried to rouse him, until his Innocence suddenly activated and wrapped around his limbs. Then it had hauled him to his feet, in a way most unlike how a human would stand, and stumbled a little before launching him toward the Level Four. "It moved him like a marionette."
For the first time, he'd understood why a parasitic Innocence was referred to as such. Walker's Innocence used its accommodator as a weapon to fight akuma, not the other way around.
There was a brief lull as the other humans in the room processed his words. Link used the moment to finish washing and then turn to assess Walker, who had been undressed in the meantime. The sight was far too nauseating to be uncomfortable; the first thing Link noticed was the bone poking out from his ribcage, showing that one of his broken ribs had split the skin, along the edge of a whole section of his chest that appeared caved in. Most of his body was already bruising, the blows of the Level Four akuma making themselves known swiftly and boldly. His left arm, woven intricately into his human shoulder, was bizarrely austere by comparison, like crimson ivory, the only thing marking him as an apostle of God.
From this angle, he could also see the blood pouring freely from several places around Allen's head, the scratches on his face, and several open wounds scattered across his torso. Allen coughed weakly, turning his head just enough for blood to bubble out of the corner, stark red against skin that had gone nearly as white as his hair. His breath wheezed alarmingly.
The doctor shook off the horror. "Innocence is a terrible burden to wield," he murmured, and then, sharply, "Janine, start collecting samples of Walker's blood. If he needs surgery, we'll also need to do a transfusion - he's lost too much blood already. In that case, we need to start working now if we're going to find someone compatible in time."
"Yes, Dr. Weston." The nurse moved swiftly, and took several glass containers to start collecting the blood dripping from the stainless steel table.
Link had heard of blood transfusions, but what did he mean by compatible? "Would my blood be suitable?" He was right here, not strictly needed for this procedure, and he understood intimately that Walker's life was infinitely more valuable than his own, Noah or not.
"We'll need to test it. Fill a vial with a sample and give it to Janine." Weston didn't miss a beat.
Link obeyed, taking a vial from the same cabinet the nurse had retrieved them from, and briskly rubbed open a clotted cut on his hand to fill it. He capped the vial and offered it to Janine, who took it with a nod.
"Maurice, start sterilizing instruments," Weston said to the male nurse, who nodded and went to a machine on one side. "Natalie, disinfect the operating room. Link, we need to wash as much of Walker's body as we can. We haven't lost an exorcist to infection yet, and we're not going to start now."
"Very well."
Working together, they washed the blood and grime off of Allen's body. More blood swiftly replaced it, but as Link understood it, it was the grime from the rubble and the akuma dust that was dangerous. After the second time Allen struggled to cough up blood, red bubbles popping on his lips, Dr. Weston reached down to turn his head, and Allen cried out weakly as it was moved. Weston cursed under his breath.
"His neck is injured," he said to Link, low and frustrated. "Very common in exorcists fighting high-level akuma - but he'll choke on his own blood at this rate. Stabilize his head while I move him on his side."
"Very well," Link said again, moving behind Allen. With great care, Link kept Allen's head as still as possible while Weston gingerly moved Allen to lay on his side - his upper body first, then his lower half. Allen gasped and twitched in pain, and Link gritted his teeth, grinding them together as he forced himself to ignore it. When Allen coughed again, though, the blood splashed harmlessly over the side of his mouth. Weston grabbed a towel and bundled it under Allen's head, trying to keep it stable.
"His abdomen is stiff; the internal bleeding must be significant," Weston added, voice grim. He must have assessed while they were washing him. "He might very well be hemorrhaging from the inside. I'm concerned about his lungs as well, with the way he's breathing." He raised his voice. "We'll need an x-ray to gain the most accurate assessment of his injuries. Maurice, have the instruments been prepared? Natalie, is the operating room ready?"
He received two affirmatives in return, and without further ado, they pushed the wheeled table toward the operating room. It took some swift footwork on Link's part to keep pace without either jostling Allen's head or slowing them down. Inside the operating room, Weston directed them towards a massive machine, the likes of which Link had never seen.
"Let go for now, this will only take a moment," Weston directed Link, who reluctantly stepped away from Allen. "Push him inside, then step back."
Uncertain, Link nonetheless obeyed. "What is-" He cut himself off, not wanting to bother the doctor during such important work. Link didn't need to know what was happening; all that mattered was making sure Allen survived the night.
Weston answered anyway. "It's a new technology that allows us to obtain images of an exorcist's bones without invasive techniques. I was terribly impressed that Komui was able to acquire one so soon after it was first demonstrated."
It sounded like sorcery to Link. Then again, the Black Order had access to such advanced technology that Link found it very difficult to tell the difference at times. He chose not to question it now, and instead watched as Weston checked a few things, frowning in concentration, and then pressed a button. Something lit up inside the machine, bathing it in a strange light. Link jumped as an image appeared on the monitor - an image of what appeared to be Allen's entire skeletal structure.
Weston took it more in stride, simply studying the image for a minute with his lips pursed.
"As expected, he has several broken bones," Weston said at last. Link blinked, taken aback, and then refocused on the information the image contained rather than the unnerving image of human bones. Even without training, Link could see the cracks clearly - several bold breaks in Allen's ribs, a large crack in his pelvis, and a thinner one in one of the bones of his spine. There was a crack in his skull as well. "And one of his ribs has pierced his lung, and it's collapsed. We'll need to handle that as soon as possible. Maurice, prepare a pump. Natalie, ether. Inspector Link, get Walker back out of there."
Silently, Link retrieved Allen from the machine, wheeling him to the middle of the room on Weston's direction, then putting on the brakes built into the table. It occurred to him that, despite the Black Order's many resources, it was entirely possible that Allen wouldn't survive this. There was a reason that the Order spared no expense when it came to the exorcists' health; no matter what they tried, exorcists still fell with terrifying regularity. The survival or death of a single one could mean the difference between salvation and the apocalypse.
Allen's white hair was a mess, sticking to his head with sweat where it wasn't stuck with blood. A trail of it trickled from his open mouth down his cheek, the same color as his curse scar, and even unconscious, the strain of his injuries showed on his face. His eyes looked sunken, and sweat gleamed off his forehead.
Dr. Weston slid a needle into Allen's thigh and taped it in place without missing a beat, taking a moment to study the meter it was attached to. "His blood pressure is far too low," he murmured nonsensically, turning toward the cabinets to rummage through them.
"Hold this," Natalie instructed Link, pressing a rubber bag into his hands. Link did, confused, and held it over Allen's nose and mouth as she indicated, cradling his head in his other hand to keep it steady. "Keep a close eye on Walker, take it away when he relaxes, and give him more if he seems to be waking up. He's unconscious now, but that doesn't mean he won't wake during surgery."
"...Yes," Link agreed, throat tight. He focused on Allen as the medical staff moved around him, watching the strain on his bloodless face. After a few minutes, it relaxed, Allen going deeper into unconsciousness. His breath remained short and fast, wheezing wetly. Link pulled the rubber bag away, turning it upright in his hands.
"Janine, how are those blood tests coming along?" Weston asked. Link glanced up. He'd taken his golem out, setting it hovering at head height, but he was still working, setting up the siphon on a short table nearby along with surgical tools Link didn't recognize. His stomach turned.
"We're processing ten possible donors as we speak, sir. Should be done in about twenty minutes."
"Excellent. Bring the first match over as soon as possible." To the room, however, he added, "We can't afford to wait to handle his collapsed lung. I'll be inserting the chest tube immediately. Maurice, prepare IV fluids. They should raise Walker's blood pressure until we can get some actual blood into him."
"Yes, doctor," Maurice acknowledged.
Without ceremony, Weston picked up a large needle attached to the pump by a long rubber tube and slid it deep into Allen's chest. Link jerked slightly, but Allen didn't react, even as more blood bubbled out of his body. After a couple of moments, a disturbing mixture of blood and air bubbles started to travel through the tube, exiting Allen's body in an unsteady stream and flowing through a bizarre little chamber set into the rubber, then in container on the far side.
"We can't open him up yet, but we should stop as much of the bleeding as we can," Weston said to the two nurses. "Natalie, begin stitching up the external wounds on his torso."
"Yes, doctor."
Link knew how to stitch wounds as well, but his hands were occupied; he consoled himself with the knowledge that the nurses were certainly better at it than he was, so it made sense for him to simply stand by and make sure Allen didn't wake up during what was sure to be a terrifying experience. Link had never seen surgery performed without either chloroform or ether, but he had heard stories.
This was the most useful thing he could do, he reassured himself, and forced himself to focus.
Together, Dr. Weston and Natalie started stitching up Allen's lacerations, Dr. Weston working on his head and Natalie at his torso. Soon enough, Maurice returned to insert a long needle into Allen's right arm, which he taped in place; the needle was attached to a tube, in turn hooked to a bag that hung from a pole - the IV fluids Weston had requested, Link assumed. It seemed dangerous to dispense a foreign liquid directly into someone's bloodstream, but Link bit his tongue. The medical staff surely knew better than he did.
Once Maurice had finished taping the needle into place, he joined Natalie in stitching Allen's torso, all three of them crowding around his inert body to fix him as quickly as possible. Allen, still propped up on his side, remained blessedly unaffected, his breath evening out as the pump sucked blood and air from his chest cavity.
Dr. Weston sighed. "I hate how young some of these exorcists are," he murmured, without faltering in his work. "Fifteen isn't yet old enough to go to war."
"It is the will of God," Natalie said, just as soft and sad. "We can only assume He has His reasons... and Allen is a sweet child, with a noble heart. The way some of the exorcists speak of him, you could mistake him for an angel. They would be devastated if he..." She trailed off, leaning down to focus more on the injury she was closing.
"He's a fighter, Natalie," Maurice said, low and calm. "They all are."
The golem clicked on again.
"None of the donors in this round of tests were compatible," Janine reported, sounding stressed. "We'll need to try again."
Weston cursed under his breath. "Take twice as many samples this time," he instructed. "We can't afford for this to take too long. He's bleeding out from the inside."
"Yes, sir." The golem clicked off, just as swiftly as it had come on, and simply hovered in the air nearby.
"Compatible?" Link asked, sharp and anxious and too late in remembering that Dr. Weston's work was too important to bother him with questions. Allen was nearly gray by now, his breath frighteningly shallow. (His eyelids fluttered, and Link pressed the bag over his mouth and nose again.) And what was wrong with Link's blood? Surely they wouldn't insist on blood from another exorcist, that would be ridiculous-
"We've discovered that donated blood can sometimes cause an infection in the patient," Weston explained anyway, brow furrowed in concentration. "There is a test we can do to make sure it can be received safely... but it is rare for us to be unable to find a match within the first ten people tested. This is troubling, especially as the test takes time to complete."
"I see..." Link didn't completely understand, but then, there was a reason that the Black Order poured a fortune into its Science Department. Such knowledge was vital if they were to maximize the chances of keeping exorcists alive.
As they worked, the wet rattle of Allen's breath smoothed out, although it remained shallow and strained. Eventually, all of the open wounds across Allen's body had been sewn up, and Weston wavered for a moment before coming to a decision.
"Take him back to the x-ray machine," he ordered, jerking his head toward it. "We'll check on his lung and pin his bones back together." Link bit his tongue against another question.
Along with the bag of ether, Link took hold of the pole that held the bag of liquid, then the meter attached to Walker's leg, and kept pace with the wheeled table as it was moved over to the x-ray machine and back inside. Dr. Weston stayed outside of it, at the display, while Natalie leaned down with a set of pliers and some stiff, terrible-looking wires. The machine lit up, and Link grimaced slightly, stepping inside to take up the rubber bag again as Allen's eyelids flickered.
"Start with his upper back," Weston instructed. Natalie picked up the first wire and moved it along the length of Allen's spine. "Lower... lower... yes, there. Listen closely, Natalie..."
Link had to stifle his horror as Weston walked Natalie through the process of wiring Allen's cracked vertebra to a thin metal plate set against his skin, making sure the fractured pieces stayed firmly in the correct places as they healed. Then he directed her downward, and had her do the same to Allen's cracked pelvis, forcing the pieces together where they'd split. It was sickening to watch, and he was relieved that Allen remained soundly unconscious for the entire process.
He thought of the force with which Allen's body had slammed into the wall after the Level Four's first brutal attack, and grimaced. It could have been much worse.
After that was done, Link and Natalie carefully lowered Allen onto his back again, leaving the chest pump in place. Allen's breath was getting weaker, Link realized with a jolt; it was soft and gasping, far too shallow now, and his lips were beginning to turn blue. His stomach looked distended.
Link should have acted more decisively. What had he been thinking? Yes, Leverrier had ordered him to not use his CROW training if it was at all avoidable, but for an emergency such as what had happened that night, he should have...
Dr. Weston's golem chirped as they were pulling Allen from the x-ray machine.
"Doctor, none of the second batch were a match either," Janine said, panic beginning to creep into her voice. "We've tested thirty possible donors and not a single person has been compatible."
Dr. Weston swore loudly. "Then speak to Chief Komui and gather sixty," he snapped. "Walker is dying. We'll update our protocols later, but he needs blood now. Make that as clear as you have to. Send someone to collect more of Walker's blood if you need it, there's certainly enough."
"Yes."
Weston scowled, gesturing impatiently to indicate where he wanted them to settle the table. "We can't afford to wait any longer," he continued, directed toward them. "The worst of the bleeding is on the inside. I'll open him up immediately to handle the internal damage. Inspector, watch him extremely closely, and open that bag the moment his eyelids twitch."
"Understood." Link swallowed nervously, pressing the bag to Allen's face again as Weston spoke to the two nurses briefly before reaching for a scalpel. A naive, once-faithful part of Link wanted to protest - Allen was one of God's chosen apostles, surely that meant something to Him? But of course, that had never saved an exorcist before. Why would it now? Perhaps Allen, in standing alone against the Level Four long enough for Lenalee to reactivate her Innocence and the generals to reemerge, had fulfilled his purpose. Or perhaps God's hatred of the Noah was greater than His love for His apostles. Link gritted his teeth.
Weston opened up Allen's stomach, setting off a whole new wave of bleeding, and Maurice quickly provided an implement that had been plugged into the wall. A moment later, the smell of burnt flesh told Link what Weston was doing.
"Natalie, siphon," Weston ordered again without looking up, cauterizing the sources of bleeding inside Allen's body. Natalie moved around him, quickly setting up another tube, and it was soon fed into Allen's abdomen, where it started immediately pouring blood into the solution on the other end. Link's heart skipped a beat at the sight.
"Can Walker's blood be fed back into his own body?" he blurted out, panic threatening to overwhelm his steady compliance.
Weston shook his head, because of course he did. "We've tried that before. It's already coagulating, unfortunately, and often contaminated as well. It's as likely to cause infection as blood taken at random from another person."
Link exhaled unsteadily, frustrated. "I... I see."
"It was a good thought," Weston consoled, brow furrowed deeply in concentration. "We did try it."
A knock came at the door, and a finder slipped inside, took a large glass beaker from the cabinet, and quietly explained to Maurice, "I've been sent for a sample?"
"Yes." Maurice took it over to the stomach siphon and briefly switched it over, allowing the blood to pour directly from Allen's body into the beaker. When it was full, he moved the tube back, then disappeared briefly into the other chamber to hand it over, and the finder left just as quickly.
Allen's eyelids flickered, a whimper coming out of his mouth, and Link pressed the bag back into place, waiting for Allen to go still. Once he had, Link dropped a hand to cup Allen's face. He was freezing.
"Just hold on, Allen," he urged, increasingly desperate. "This next round will surely yield results. You will have blood soon, I swear it - just hold on a little longer." Surely at least one person out of nearly a hundred would be able to donate blood to Allen. It was downright unreasonable to think otherwise.
Time ticked by. Weston finished cauterizing bleeds and switched to a needle and catgut, sewing up damaged organs. Allen's breathing started to slow down, the last of his strength visibly draining away.
"Crown Clown," Link tried. His hands threatened to tremble. "You've saved your wielder before, haven't you? Please, he just needs a little more time. We'll restore his body to functionality soon, he can survive, if you can only help him hold on a little longer."
There was a short pause, and then Allen gasped as if hit. All of a sudden, he started to breathe more heavily, a little faster and a little deeper, but just as labored as before, if not more so. Could Crown Clown force Allen to breathe the way it forced his body to fight? Link tried not to think about it too closely.
Hail, Holy Queen, mother of mercy, our life, our sweetness and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve: to thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn then, most gracious advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us, and after this our exile, show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Oh clement, oh loving, oh sweet Virgin Mary. Pray for us, oh holy Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ. Amen.
Allen whined again without opening his eyes. Link pressed the bag over his mouth until he settled.
Soul of Christ, sanctify him. Body of Christ, save him. Blood of Christ, inebriate him. Water from the side of Christ, wash him. Passion of Christ, strengthen him. Oh good Jesus, hear me. Hide him within your wounds, keep him close to you, defend him from the evil enemy, call him at the hour of his death, and bid him to come to you, to praise you with your saints, forever and ever. Amen.
Allen's head twitched, and he coughed again, more blood bubbling from his mouth. Link hesitated, then returned the bag, just for a few moments.
Remember, oh gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession, was left unaided. Inspired by this confidence, we fly unto thee...
The golem clicked on again.
"We have a donor," Janine announced, voice full of relief. "Is he still...?"
"Bring them here. Now." Weston didn't even look up, too tense for true relief to set in.
"Right away."
Within minutes - long ones that didn't slip by quick enough - the door burst open, and Janine came in with Jerry right behind her, face pinched with concern. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Allen, and then he turned to follow Janine's instructions.
It felt like hours before the two of them finally came through the door into the operating room, and Janine set a stool by Allen's right side.
"Sit here," Janine instructed briskly, turning away to gather some implements from the table. "Put your arm up on the table with him, I'll do the rest."
"All right." Jerry sat down on the stool and set his left arm on the table. With his right, he reached over and ran his hand through Allen's sweat-soaked hair. "You just sit tight, honey, the doctors will have you right as rain in no time."
Moving quickly, Janine set up the transfusion. Link didn't linger on the contraption she used for it; he knew the basics, which was that Jerry would essentially bleed directly into Allen, making up for what he'd lost over the course of the night. Hopefully it wasn't too late. Link gritted his teeth and stayed in place.
Jerry kept his hand on Allen's head as his blood started to filter through the tube. "You'll be okay, honey, ain't no one gonna let you die," Jerry promised the unconscious exorcist, who was still gasping for breath, face grey with blood loss and strain. "You did such an amazing job tonight, everyone's so proud of you, honey. You gotta pull through so you can hear all those thank-yous, okay? They're calling you an angel out there, don't you go making that too literal, now."
It took a few minutes for the results to show, but when they did, Link nearly collapsed in relief. Allen's color started to improve, and his breath strengthened; soon, the blue tinge had left his lips.
I believe in God, the Father Almighty, creator of Heaven and Earth...
He did not cry. There was still work to do. But for a moment, his eyes stung, and he had to blink it away.
Jerry chuckled softly, audible relief leaking into the sound, and relaxed against the table. "Thank goodness," he murmured. "And here I thought I wasn't going to be doing anything useful tonight."
Link knew the feeling intimately.
"If to save an apostle of God is all we can contribute to the world's salvation, then we have done all that we can," Natalie said without looking at him, checking on both pumps and then the meter in Allen's leg. "His blood pressure is improving, Dr. Weston."
"Good, good," Weston murmured, and finished something up in Allen's abdomen. He pulled out and started to stitch the incision shut, still quick and brisk. "Splint his ankle and wrap his wrist and knee."
"Yes, doctor."
Link let out a shaky breath. If Weston was ordering the treatment of such minor injuries, then Allen was surely out of danger.
After he finished sewing up Allen's abdomen, however, he moved to the caved-in portion of his chest, which Link had somehow forgotten about in his panic. He cursed under his breath, and Weston glanced up, unexpectedly sympathetic.
"We can't risk his chest healing this way," he explained, making another careful incision along the affected ribs, before starting to rearrange them with something that looked like a pair of pliers, straightening them out. "After I've affixed these, we'll sew up the final incision and bandage him up. He'll be able to rest properly then... and you as well, Inspector. I'm sure you've had a long night."
"Not you, Doctor?" Link asked without thinking, feeling exhaustion pressing down on him. Allen's face tightened, and Link administered more anesthetic until he relaxed again.
Dr. Weston chuckled. "When the work of battle ends, mine is only just beginning," he said, reaching for a drill that Link hadn't previously noticed. His stomach turned as Dr. Weston started drilling holes in Allen's ribs. "I'm afraid I won't rest until morning at the earliest."
After a few more minutes, though, Link found that his hands were shaking too badly to hold the rubber bag steady; the post-battle crash was finally setting in. Natalie took pity on him and took the bag from his hands, nudging him toward one of the empty stools nearby. Link collapsed into it with a few mumbled words of gratitude, and quickly found that he could barely keep his eyes open.
The next hour passed in blinks. One moment, Weston was still working on Allen's ribs, wrapping wire around a screw. The next, the transfusion was being stopped, Jerry getting up to stumble out of the room on unsteady legs. Then someone else was there, bleeding into Allen while his chest was stitched shut.
Each time Link closed his eyes, he saw the silver face of Allen's Innocence, meeting his eyes for just a moment before it turned Allen away to face the Level Four.
"Inspector Link, could you perhaps help us to bandage young Allen Walker?"
Link blinked awake again, his head foggy and slow, and it took him a moment to process Dr. Weston's request. Then to register that it was over, and Allen was fully closed up, and had even been washed again, right down to his hair, which was still wet. The chest pump was still in place, working steadily.
"...Of course," Link said at last, rising to his feet.
His muscles cramped and trembled, and he forced them to remain steady as he helped move Allen's limp body around. The nurses and doctor did the actual bandaging; Link simply held Allen as requested, letting them wrap bandages around his back, head, neck - nearly everywhere. His left arm alone remained completely untouched, still eerily serene and smooth, spines inlaid into Allen's shoulder like a possessive grip. His breathing, at last, was slow and strong.
"Can you retain instructions in this state, Inspector Link?"
Link blinked again, and then turned a small frown on Dr. Weston. "Of course." His training had involved following orders in much worse condition than this; he was simply a bit tired.
Dr. Weston looked skeptical, but he didn't argue. Instead, he handed Link a small bottle and a dropper. "This is a mixture of laudanum and morphine. Give him ten milliliters by mouth the first time you notice him waking, and five more each time he wakes after that or whenever the pain returns. Do you understand?"
"Yes." Link accepted them, relief spreading through him again. "Thank you for everything, Dr. Weston."
Dr. Weston shook his head, looking tired but satisfied. "To save the lives of ordinary people is my job; to save an exorcist is an honor." He nodded at the door. "Natalie, take these two and get them settled in Mr. Krory's room."
"Yes, doctor."
Still somewhat dazed, Link followed Natalie through the halls, taking just a few turns before they arrived at the room Krory was still occupying, as unconscious as the day he'd been carried out of the Ark. Natalie turned down the sheets of another bed nearby - rumpled but clear of the debris that was scattered across the rest of the room - and the two of them moved Allen to the soft, clean bed, settling him down at last, and then Natalie pulled a blanket over most of his body, leaving the chest tube exposed.
The sight loosened something in Link's chest. "Thank you, Ms. Natalie. You've done the Order an immeasurable service."
Natalie cast him a weary smile, looking as tired as he felt. "That's my job. Rest well, Inspector Link. You've both earned it."
Link wasn't at all sure that he had, but he didn't have the energy to argue. Instead, he sat down hard on a chair beside the bed, set the laudanum and dropper on the nightstand, and leaned against the wall. The moment he closed his eyes, he was out.