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A fiery chain whip would sure be pretty cool (pun not intended) if it wasn't currently being swung straight at Rose, especially after they've already watched it wraparound and melt through a boulder. Dax has a second to hope that his suit will protect him better than that before he shoves his friend out of the way. Sweat breaks out on his skin seconds before it even wraps around his body and then the burn hits.
"Dax!" Rose shouts, and then the monster yanks on the chain and he's flying.
The awful, searing heat is second only to the bone jarring impact with the side of the cliff. His suit sparks and hisses, protecting him from the worst of the double assault, but there's only so much it can take. He needs to get free, can already feel the near molten metal burning everywhere it touches, but he can't quite grasp the thought long enough to put it into action.
Then he's flying again, jerked so hard that the breath whooshes out of him and just barely has time to realize what's happening before he slams into something that gives with a grunt. The chain feels like it tightens and he can't stop the near breathless cry that's answered with a mocking laugh from the monster.
"Let him go!" Will demands from somewhere, but Dax can barely tell up from down let alone any other direction.
"Why do that when I can make him beat his own teammates?" the monster retorts, cackling wildly.
Dax tries to roll off of whoever he was thrown into, but he has just enough time to see yellow before he's once more airborne. Nothing makes sense, the whole world a blur of skin blistering molten metal wrapped around his arms, chest and back and everything's happening so fast, too fast for his muddled brain.
Woulda liked this better as a stunt.
He slams in something else, probably a teammate with how things are going, but the something doesn't give.
Then he's blinking his eyes open and he's, well, he's not outside anymore nor is he morphed. His thoughts a slow, cloudy in the way they almost never are. There's a sluggishness to the world, that he vaguely recognizes from the time he had to have his appendix taken out. He's on some drugs, but not the really, really good stuff, just the stuff they give you when it's bad, but not too bad.
He's going to blame that for how many slow blinks it takes before he realizes someone is holding his hand. With all the speed of a snail crossing a sidewalk, Dax turns his head to see that Rose has fallen asleep in a chair she's pulled up to his bed with his hand lightly clasped in her own. She stirs when he gives it a gentle squeeze, partially because he wants to encourage her to go to an actual bed.
"Hey," she greets him before yawning.
"Go t'bed," he mumbles at her.
"Yeah, yeah, you sound like Spencer."
"S'right, bad f'back."
"Now you really sound like him," she teases, gives his hand a squeeze. "Don't do that again."
"D'wa?"
"Throw yourself in danger for me like that. I can take my own hits."
Dax squeezes her hand, eyes slowly drifting closed. "No promises."
"Dax," there's a soft, barely there warning in her voice.
He just squeezes her hand again. He doesn't have the energy to tell her that he can never promise her such a thing. It doesn't matter what kind of danger she's in, wouldn't matter if it's Ronny or Will or Mack, he'll always make the same choice. Even if it means getting flung around like he's the ball on the end of a chain.