Work Text:
Several years after Regarden Graduation
“Is he in there?” Workner asked, striding towards Ed’s room. Clairie ran a little to catch up, hat tipping dangerously with the movement. “Yes, he hasn’t come out, Workner-”
“Why didn’t you call me back?!” Workner snapped, not slowing down. Clairie bristled.
“I know you’re worried, Workner, but Ed is his own man! He didn’t exactly ask my permission or check a schedule! No-one expected the trial to come so fast-”
“Don’t give me that, Serah,” Workner snarled, turning to face the shorter woman as they approached an iron-bound door. “You knew,” gold eyes blazed. “You know everything that goes on around here, and somehow missed the signs? Trials for Magia Vander aren’t exactly something secret.”
Workner didn’t wait for her response, before he placed a hand on the iron handle on the door.
“It’s locked-” Clairie began, then shut her mouth as the handle turned. Workner gave her a look that froze her feet to the floor, opened the door a crack, and slipped into the darkness.
Shutting the door behind him with a soft click, Workner leaned back on the door and took a deep breath. Losing his temper wouldn’t help, here. Neither would a soft approach. Workner knew Ed, and knew the man wouldn’t appreciate coddling. That left…
“Get the hell up, Serfence,” Workner growled as he walked to a figure in a straight backed chair. The figure didn’t move. Workner stopped just shy of the chair, and clenched his fists. The sight before him wasn’t pretty.
Various cuts and scrapes, which he’d expected; Magia Vander trials weren’t known for their safety. Workner catalogued a few rips in Ed’s clothes, and one concerning bandage Workner could make out on the man’s left bicep. Workner couldn’t really assess things properly, since Ed’s signature black would hide any bloodstains. A true mess, but it was the glass-like eyes that scared him.
Workner cocked his head, then stated matter-of-factly, “You look like shit.”
No response. Workner looked around the room, and spotted a basin of water used for distance-viewing. Perfect. Workner sauntered around the room, looking at the various books and materials. Ed didn’t so much as flinch. Workner stopped, then turned. He couldn’t cast much without speaking, but this he could manage.
“Wake up, Ed,” Workner said sweetly. His magic, which he’d summoned as he walked, dumped the half-full basin of water on Edward’s catatonic head.
At first, there was dead silence. Then, a whisper like crinkled sandpaper: “Norgram?”
Haunted eyes flickered to life, and moved to search the dark. Workner stepped closer, so the single lamp would illuminate his face better. Workner kept his face blank.
“You with me, Serfence?” Workner drawled. Edward still hadn’t moved, except his eyes. Now, he shifted a little in his seat.
“Was that…necessary?” Edward’s voice said, still crackly but louder. Workner didn’t answer directly.
“Have you showered recently?” He asked. Edward pondered this.
“What day is today?” the dripping mage asked, idly. Workner kept ahold of his temper. Barely.
“That answers that question,” Workner muttered. “If you have to ask, then the answer is no. In which case, yes. Yes, dunking you with water is completely necessary. Now, get up, Serfence, and get your ass into the shower before I call in Clairie to hose you down where you sit. She’d be more than willing.”
Edward seemed to ponder this, then said in a whisper, “My leg won’t work right.” Workner’s heart plummeted down into his stomach. He strode over, and grabbed the dark-haired mage by the shoulder firmly.
“Hold on,” Workner warned, before he whispered a short spell. Edward levitated into the air, and Workner supported the man into the shower space. Edward had a more traditional setup, with a small but deep tub with an attached shower head. Silently, Workner sat the shorter man down on the nearby toilet seat. Then he turned and started the tap for the bath.
It may have been years since they roomed together, but Workner still remembered where Ed usually kept his first aide. Searching around, he found a heal-all salve and some fresh gauze and towels. A shelf up found an antiseptic wash. Workner turned in the small space and faced Ed.
Edward was watching him, but he still wasn’t really present. Clenching his jaw, Workner knelt and gently began undoing the mage’s black button-up shirt. Ed didn’t seem to notice, even as Workner carefully peeled back the fabric to reveal more cuts and several large, purple bruises that took up half Ed’s right side. Running a wet washcloth over Ed’s chest, Workner made no comment. When he’d cleaned away some streaks of blood, Workner set the cloth aside and turned his attention to Ed’s sleeves.
Everything went well until Workner came to the bandage on Ed’s left bicep. It was fresh, but poorly done. Workner summoned a gust of razor-wind and cut the shirt off above and below the bandage, then used it to delicately cut the old bandage off. He was no medimage, but he knew basic field first aid.
He kept his instinctive hiss behind his teeth as he got a good look at the slice. Edward, or someone, had added some bridging bandages to encourage the wound to stay shut. Otherwise, it would have needed stitches. Using his supplies, Workner cleaned it up and reapplied the new bandage.
Next, Workner efficiently removed Ed’s trousers. He was forced to use his razor wind again, when he came to Ed’s severely swollen right knee. He took a good look at it, and finally did swear.
“By the wands, Edward, this thing is dislocated. Didn’t you see a healer?” Workner hissed. He gingerly ran his fingers over the swelling and bruising. Edward didn’t reply.
Workner assessed his options, then gritted his teeth. Ed wouldn’t leave the bathroom, and Workner doubted the man would tolerate another person in his space. Workner still wasn’t sure how he’d even opened the door, honestly, but questions had to wait.
“This is gonna hurt,” Workner warned, then he set his teeth and grabbed Ed’s thigh. With a huff and a crack, Workner twisted the joint back in place.
Edward flinched, and his eyes went wide. He didn’t scream, but he did bite his lip hard enough to draw blood. Workner didn’t apologize. Instead, he proceeded to rip down Edward’s old shirt into strips to bind the joint in place. Now that Ed was down to his underwear, it was time to get the mage properly clean.
Workner turned off the tap on the tub. Then, he gently lowered Ed into the half-full basin. He’d kept the temperature warm, since he knew Ed took his showers scalding back in their academy days, but not hot enough to cause any wounds discomfort. Propping Ed’s left arm on the edge of the tub, he took another washcloth and soaked it before wringing it out over Ed’s head. He repeated the motions until Ed’s hair was wet, then sighed. Getting up, he moved to Ed’s various hair creams. The man wasn’t given to excess, but he took special care of his hair. Workner had always thought it was ridiculous, but had also found it somewhat endearing.
Now, as Workner worked Ed’s shampoo into a lather in Ed’s long hair, he thought the man may have a point. Even though Workner didn’t sense magic in the mix, he could see dried blood and some grime begin to float away in the water as he rinsed the mess. Unfortunately Ed’s long, thick hair had tangled badly under Workner’s efforts. Looking at the various labels, Workner identified a conditioner and began to work the cream through Ed’s hair from root to tip.
“I hope you appreciate this, you idiot,” Workner muttered as he worked. “You’re lucky I don’t just cut this all off and be done with it.” Edward twitched under Workner’s hands, and Workner smirked. The other mage must be feeling better, if he’d heard that last quip. Good.
After rinsing the conditioner as best as he could with the use of the previous basin and some fresh water from the tap, Workner drained the water. He helped Ed up so the other man wouldn’t slip and fall, but Ed did seem more alert and alive now that he was clean.
“I had a feeling a nice bath would cheer you up,” Workner drawled as Ed took the towel he offered. Edward began to pat himself dry as Workner took yet another towel and began to dry Ed’s hair. Ed tried to bat his hand away, but Workner continued.
When things were more damp than wet, he rummaged around in Ed’s wardrobe. Workner found a set of soft sleep shorts and a loose shirt that looked promising, and threw them on the bed. After seeing Edward’s blank stare, Workner pointed at the set and said, “Change into those. I’m going to ask Clairie for some bandages for your knee, and you know she’ll try to peek. Save your dignity.”
Workner saw Ed give a short nod, before he turned to the door. Workner opened it a crack and saw a small black cat sitting in the hall. Workner smiled. “He’s fine, Clairie,” he addressed the cat. “He’s got a few scrapes, one bad cut, and he dislocated a knee. Can you get some bandages and maybe a poultice or two? I’d give him something for the swelling, and maybe to help with the pain.” The cat nodded, then trotted off.
Workner closed the door and turned back. He found Ed changed and sitting on the bed. Workner rolled his shoulders, and took the vacated chair after wiping it down with Ed’s towel. Silently, the two settled in to wait; Ed, staring off into space again and Workner, biting his tongue against the tirade he felt rising in his chest.