Your side of the street's a little darker than mine.

[man_without_fear]

The night doesn't go exactly as planned.

Rumors have been swirling lately about a new dealer in the Kitchen. Based on what he hears, Matt is thinking drugs, heroin likely, and the trail leads him to a shady apartment above a dry cleaner on 46th street.

What he finds instead is a gun dealer's dingy flop and 'store front', and a group of would be gangstas in the middle of a deal. Not exactly what Matt was looking for, but that doesn't stop him from kicking down the door and mixing it up inside.

The problem starts with there being too many guns in the hands of thugs with no real experience handling them beyond their street bullshit. Matt spends half the time trying to make sure they're not killing each other or spraying the walls of the occupied building while gunning for him.

Things get worse when the window shatters and a tear gas grenade comes crashing through, exploding in the middle of the fight. Heavy boots are pounding up the stairs and Matt realizes he's in the middle of a raid.

The gas canister is a mixed blessing, obviously someone jumped the gun and started early, otherwise the officers rushing up would already be in position, but because they're not Matt has the chance to wrap up and get out.

The police will find a room of unconscious thugs and their weapons, Matt is just trying to find his way to the rooftop. He's hacking from the gas, the sting of it almost unbearable to his nose and lungs, and his ears are ringing from the detonation making tackling the stairs an especially fun feat.

Banging through the roof access he breathes in deep even as he moves fast to put distance between himself and the situation below. He's a couple blocks away before he realizes he's bleeding. He determines why and where when he tries to leap from a rooftop to a fire escape across the way and the grip of his arm on the scaffolding gives way, causing him to fall two floors before he hits a railing and crashes onto the landing.

Five minutes laid out on his back gives him time to decide he should go see Claire.

At half past two a.m. there is a knock on the window outside of the apartment Claire has been holed up in. Matt would just let himself in, but that seems like it'd be rude. Besides that he's spent out and busy using one hand to hold the bullet wound on his other arm which also happens to have a dislocated shoulder.

There's every chance upright is only happening at the moment because he's leaning on the window frame.

Comments

[man_without_fear]

He gives that some thought then offers, "My day job involves a lot of paperwork."

He draws in a deep breath in preparation to move then lifts himself into a sitting position; arm held tight against his chest.

The cat earns an annoyed expression tossed his way.

[nocturnalmedicine]

Try as she might, she can't picture Mike riding a desk, pushing paper.

With a resigned, under-the-breath chuff he may feel more than hear, she reaches out one hand to steady him, palm hovering half an inch from the middle of his back.

Quiet: "Sounds like a pretty sweet gig. Maybe you should cut back on the moonlighting."

[man_without_fear]

Once upright he stays sitting, gathering himself again before attempting the next push to get to his feet.

"Can't." Simple as that, really.

[nocturnalmedicine]

"Won't," she counters, her tone more bare than biting.

Rising, she steps to his other side and leans down to slip her hand into his good one; she locks her knees, ready to brace as much of his weight as he'll allow.

[man_without_fear]

"I'm fine," he replies, and again it's 'take your pick' on what his words are applying to.

He does make a point though, of getting up with as little assistance as possible.

[nocturnalmedicine]

"Yeah, that thing I mentioned — something about you being stubborn?"

She gives his profile a sideways glance as they make their way back to the chair.

"Seems to be chronic."

[man_without_fear]

"Is that your professional opinion?" he asks, dropping into the chair.

[nocturnalmedicine]

"More like a statement of fact," she says, and the shitheaded peanut gallery issues another meow.

[man_without_fear]

"I'm starting to get what you don't like about the cat," he says, jumping subjects and working on getting his shirt off so that she can take care of the rest of his arm.

[nocturnalmedicine]

"Ugh, it's a smorgasbord." She rolls her eyes at the offending feline. "I've never been a cat person."

With unfortunately perfect timing, her nose twitches, and she turns her head to sneeze into the crook of her elbow.

With a sniffle and a slight head-shake, she refocuses on the task at hand, helping him peel off the battered and bloodied black shirt.

[man_without_fear]

"Bless you," he says with a half-smirk after she's recovered.

After the shirt is off he makes a ginger inspection of his ribs with his fingertips.

"I might need these wrapped, too."

[nocturnalmedicine]

Rummaging in her kit, she glances up; her eyes flick from his face to his torso.

"Oh," she says, a playful note warming her voice, "is that your professional opinion?"

[man_without_fear]

"Experience," he replies. "On both sides of the wrapping."

Besides himself he'd had to tape up his dad a time or two.

[nocturnalmedicine]

"Mm." As her focus funnels, she presses her lips together, biting down when her hands replace his. The sweep of her palms and fingers is economical, efficient. "Definitely bruised."

But first things first: He's still bleeding.

She grabs the saline bottle from the tabletop so she can irrigate the wound.

[man_without_fear]

His chin lifts while her hands examine his torso, his sightless gaze falling somewhere just past her left shoulder.

Settled in the chair with his forearm resting on the arm he pulls in a slow breath, preparing for what's to come as she lifts the bottle of saline.

"You're up late," he comments.

[nocturnalmedicine]

"Hazards of the night shift," she says, one corner of her mouth lifting for the briefest of seconds. "The schedule's a beast to shake."

As she leans in, her knee brushes his thigh.

"But I guess I don't have to tell you that, hmm?"

[man_without_fear]

When the rinse hits the wound his features tighten for a moment in response and his hand slips off the arm rest; fingertips grazing her leg.

"I actually don't sleep," he replies, smirking even with his voice tight. "With a day job and moonlighting who has the time?"

[nocturnalmedicine]

"Try to find some," she says mildly. "That candle you're burning at both ends is a health hazard."

Her hands never stop moving as she speaks. A rustle, a crinkle; more rummaging. Betadine. Forceps. Needle holder. Sutures.

"You need to get some rest. Let yourself heal."

[man_without_fear]

As a kid doing this for his dad, Matt often wondered how much it hurt.

Now he understands why the man kept scotch handy.

"It's not so bad," he says, dismissing the concern. "It just means the next guy I hit will be southpaw."

[nocturnalmedicine]

The lines on Claire's forehead deepen.

"Glib's not a great look for you."

The circles under his eyes are no joke, and his body has taken a hell of a lot of punishment tonight.

[man_without_fear]

"It must look really bad," he comments, wry. "I don't think you've been this concerned before."

Well, not since that first night.

[nocturnalmedicine]

"It's just occurred to me," she says, head canted down as she pulls another neat, careful stitch through, "you're a lot less infuriating when you're unconscious."

[man_without_fear]

He barks a laugh that ends in a hiss and wince as she tugs the skin closed.

"I bet you say that to all your patients." Especially given the types she must deal with on the night shift.

[nocturnalmedicine]

A smile tugs at her own mouth.

"Only the ones I dig out of the garbage."

She bites down, rubbing the evidence from her lips.

"Look, I know you're doing good things out there — important things — but at least consider easing up for a few days."

[man_without_fear]

Matt just continues on with that smirk of his, the edges of it tightening briefly a time or two as she works.

Feeling her getting towards the end he finally offers, "I may be pulling some long hours at the office the next day or two."

Which isn't the same as fully resting up, and not exactly a promise to stick to light-duty, but it's an offer to try.