{ Hurt Prompts } 

Horatio was silent – not out of any desire to insult his lord Edrington, so much as out of the very intimate awareness that were any sound to pass his lips, it would be only that of a wounded animal. He could not abide by the shame inherent in the amount of pain he was in, the throbbing in his side outmatched by no other injury he had sustained save the one he was deliberately refusing to look at. Even the cuts on his face paled by comparison to the drumming of his heart with every breath that forced his damaged side to shift in the wake of his damnable lungs. 

He would not think about his leg.

Swallowing heavily, Horatio acknowledged that he had no wish to die here, and dipped his head in submission. Grimly, he reached for the man and hated the awareness that any blood he got upon that pristine uniform would cost him more than he could afford in a year, but as Lord Edrington had already surmised – he had no choice, lest he consider his life worth less than an incurred debt to a man he had no means of properly repaying. 

With the other man’s support, he almost got his legs under him, but it seemed there could be no ignoring the damage done now, for as soon as the slightest pressure fell to it Horatio damn near pulled the major down with him when he stumbled forward in a pain filled haze, admittedly catching himself only by pushing with his good leg and all but thrusting himself into the lord’s chest for balance. Leaning against the man, Horatio fought for breath, and began contemplating if living with the memory of this would be worth surviving it.