here."
Tony and his unnamed companion share a glance but begin to move toward the door without comment. I don't understand why they think Riggs doesn't need medical attention, but I suspect it has to do with what I saw the other night. Jag obviously doesn't want me to hear more than I already have, and now I'm torn between wanting to help, my own mental state, and considering following them to find out more.
My inquisitive gaze locks with Jaeger's, giving Ash time to lead the duo out without me. Decision taken out of my hands without being blatant, I hesitantly step toward the couch, stopping when I'm next to Jaeger-- Riggs is passed out, and my breathing picks up at the similarity to Kael.
"What can I do to help? Are we really not taking him to a hospital?" My panicked voice is loud in the quiet room as my eyes take in the cuts and swelling on Riggs’ handsome face. I can't lose him like this! We haven't had time to fix things. The very real prospect of him dying is tearing me up. As angry with him as I am, I'd thought he would just be there if, or when, I was ready to deal with our damaged friendship, and now the chance is slipping away with him. The instinct to do something has me reaching out to wet a cloth to start cleaning the worst of the blood off.
"Cora, can you please go to your room?" My hand pauses mid-swipe as Jaeger is on the receiving end of my astonished glare. Not that he notices as he's busy cutting off Riggs' sleeve with the scissors Blaise hands him.
"You're kidding me, right? You want me to sit in my room while you let him die?"
Neither he nor Blaise answer me. Jag is frantically pulling the leather bracelet off of Riggs' wrist, revealing his tattoo, and I know I don't want to miss whatever they're about to do. If it doesn't work I'm calling an ambulance and they can go fuck themselves.
"He's not pulling from me, and he's not healing. Are you getting anything?" Blaise directs his question to Jag like I'm not even there, and he shakes his head. “Fuck, I’ll get a kit.”
I’m pretty sure the marks they share should be lighting up if I’m piecing things together correctly, remembering that they’re part of the same group of whatever thing they have going on. When my fingertips graze Riggs' face, my palm tingles, causing me to jerk it away. The move catches the attention of the guys, and Jag glares at me.
"I told you to go." His tone is cold and unyielding. He sounds just like his father. My step-father had never been outright inappropriate or mean, but he'd get the same look and tone Jaeger is directing at me now, and I'd never been interested in finding out what would happen if I didn't listen.
However, arguing with Jag is nothing new, and I don’t back down.
"What exactly do you think you can do to help him that I can't be present for?" I'm not sure how either of them would have answered because as I'm making my point, I grab Riggs' arm— directly over his mark.
I cry out as my hand burns and muted blue light escapes around the edges. My eyes widen on the pulsing glow, and I try to pull my hand away, but can't seem to break the contact.
Blaise starts swearing when he races back from the kitchenette in response to my pained yell. "Damn you, Jaeger. What did you do?"
"It wasn't me! She grabbed him." Panic fills Jaeger's dark eyes as I begin to sway, feeling light-headed. "Cora, let go! Blaise, help me!"
My head goes spacey, and I'm not sure what they do or how long it lasts, but when the room comes back into focus, the coffee table has been shoved back and Jag and Blaise have their hands in mine. I swear I can feel the energy pushing into them and up my arms. It's more of that tingling from before, but instead of burning out of my palms, this is almost cool and seems to sink into my skin where we touch before delving into my veins. My questioning eyes meet Jag's somber ones.
"Hey there, Sunshine." The finger on his free hand traces a line across my cheek. "You feeling better? You nearly scared the life out of us."
It's then that I notice a hand in my peripheral vision. Craning