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He woke up with a splitting headache.
There had to be blood running down the side of his face. It hurt. It hurt so much. Shaking, Joel gasped, eyes wide open. Sharp sunlight stabbed into his eyes. Still shaking, he tried to move. There were hands on his legs, a third on his neck, something pressed to his face. Everything was narrowed into a sort of tunnel. He could barely see Grian nearby. He was on the phone, talking to someone. Dark eyes went to Joel. Frowning worriedly, Grian turned away, wings folding to his back. With another shake, Joel rasped in another breath. There was something pressed to his face.
“There you are. Easy, Joel, easy.” Impulse murmured. He was right in front of him. Carefully, he shifted the thing on Joel’s face. Clumsily, Joel reached up. His fingers brushed against the cool plastic. “It’s oxygen. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“He awake?” Skizz was behind him, hand cupping Joel’s head and neck. He recognized some of the callouses and the warmth from when Skizz had shaken his hand or clapped him on the shoulder or back. “Hey, budday. You back with us? Hit your head pretty bad, there.”
“Wha—” Choking, Joel curled in on himself more. His head hurt. His head hurt so bad, and he didn’t—he had to be bleeding. He had to be. His—he didn’t even know what happened. “What—”
“You passed out. It’s okay, budday, you’re going to be okay. Mumbo, Mumbo, can you go and grab my bag over there for me? There’s some juices, we’re going to get one for him, get some sugar into his blood.”
“Right, right.” Mumbo murmured somewhere behind him.
“Gemstone, can you contact Xisuma for me? Let him know we have a medical emergency going on right now.”
“Liz—” Joel squeezed his eyes shut. The hand on the oxygen mask went to his head instead, where there had to be some injury, “Am I—bleeding?”
“No, no, you’re not bleeding. You might be a bit concussed, though.” Impulse said that apologetically, like it was his fault somehow. Panting, Joel tried to move. His legs jolted, he might have kicked someone.
“Hey, budday, let’s not. Just stay lying down.” Skizz said. His thumb rubbed across Joel’s neck. It settled in his pulse point, right under his jaw. Blinking, Joel turned to look at him. The man smiled. It looked…weak, somehow.
The pain worsened. Crying out, Joel grabbed at his head. His hands didn’t go far. Impulse steadied the mask on his face. Flinching, Joel grabbed for that, too. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I—my head—” He felt Impulse gently prodding his head. Flinching, he pulled away. Impulse shushed him again.
“Yeah, you hit it pretty hard on the floor, Joel. Don’t you remember that?” Impulse’s voice pitched up in worry. The world swam. His stomach did a flip.
Grimacing, Joel scrabbled at the mask. “Take it off, I’m gonna hurl—” He spluttered weakly, eyes wide. Impulse pulled the mask away. Something was shoved under Joel’s head, his mouth.
Skizz held him as he threw up.
There was copper in his mouth, flooding over his tongue and around his teeth. Gently, Impulse held something else to his mouth. The bucket was pulled away as well. Cold glass—water—“Don’t swallow it, just wash your mouth out. You’re going to be okay.”
Joel squeezed his eyes shut. Panting, he let out—some sort of sound. It wasn’t a whimper. He didn’t think it was, at least. It was hard to breathe, though. “Skizz—” He moaned, feeling an odd sort of pulse in his head. It wasn’t pain, exactly? It was something else, though.
“Hey, buddy, it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” Gasping raggedly, fingers fuzzy, Joel flinched. He tried to shove himself up, tried to move, but he couldn’t. His arms were shaking too badly, but he had to tell them, he had to warn—
“I think I’m going to pass—”
+
The next time he woke up, there was the mask pressed to his face again.
Kicking, Joel cried out. Someone pinned him gently to the boat, there were straps around his chest and legs. “Easy, easy, it’s okay—they’re just to hold you in place while you’re lifted—” Gem reassured. Leaning above him, she brushed Joel’s hair away from his face. Her eyes were all shiny, the sun was silhouetting her head. Her hair brushed his shoulder. Flinching again, Joel whipped his head around. Something stopped him. There was something on his neck, holding him in place.
Something jabbed him in the wrist. His blood went cold. Jerking around again, Joel tried to look—he blinked—
He was being rushed into the Hermitcraft infirmary. Unfortunately, he’d had a few too many looks at the infirmary ceiling. Mostly it was for stitches—but his stomach twisted again and there was something down his throat—he rasped in a breath—it was like breathing through a straw, he hated it—someone leaned over him, his hair was brushed out of his face—
Gem pulled away from him, there was a cold washcloth wiping his face, and the ceiling looked different. “Joel! There you are.” He blinked up at her as she grinned at him. The washcloth brushed over his face again. Blinking again, Joel tilted his head to the side. “Hey, here. We called Lizzie, she said you should have some chocolate milk. Let’s get you sitting up, alright? Skizz, Impulse, can you help him up, please?”
“On it.” Skizz and Impulse’s hands were on his lower back, his shoulders. Grabbing Skizz’s offered hand, Joel let himself be pulled up. The world spun a little bit. He didn’t have the oxygen mask on anymore, but as he did have something on his face. “It’s a cannula. Sorry, budday, but you needed the oxygen.”
Nodding, Joel dropped his hand from the cannula tubes. Looking around the room, he spotted Grian and Scar. They were currently standing at a nearby counter. As if he knew Joel’s eyes were on him, Scar turned and smiled. Grian was busy stirring a chocolate milk. “I think it’s done. One chocolate milk coming up, Mr. Beans!”
“Please, call me Joel,” Joel replied softly, “Mr. Beans is my father.” He leaned against Skizz’s shoulder. “I’m so tired.”
“You did pass out. Good thing that Lizzie knows about stuff—you have to update your medical, by the way. The medics were not happy with you.” Scar laughed.
“Yeah! Update your files!” Gem flicked the side of Joel’s head. Flinching, he grabbed his head. His fingers brushed bandages. Pulling his hand away, Joel frowned at his fingertips. Somehow, his brain thought there would be blood on it. Thankfully, there wasn’t, but—“Sorry.”
“Why’s there bandages?”
“They’re medicated with some bruise cream. You have some pretty nasty bruising all over…yeah.” Expression sympathetic, Impulse gestured to the entire left side of his face. Staring at him, Joel turned and reached for his communicator—“Hold on, hold on. You’re fine. You don’t want to see it, anyways.”
“We got pictures.” Grian arrived with the chocolate milk. Wrapping Joel’s fingers around it, he lifted the cup to Joel’s mouth for him. “Don’t worry, we’re going to handle things for a few days. We pulled one of Scar’s older wheelchairs out of storage and everything.”
Smiling weakly, Joel murmured his thanks and took a few sips. It was good. When he pulled the cup away, Grian kept holding it for a moment. Joel let him. “Thank you. That’s…kind of you. I want a nap. I’m going to take a nap.”
Leaning to the side, Joel dropped his head on Skizz’s shoulder and closed his eyes.
(Mumbo returned from getting food a few seconds later, apparently very disappointed to find that his friend was back asleep. Later, Joel would look at his busted-up face in the mirror, with thick, dark bruises spreading from his eye to his jaw, and whine about his “ruined pretty looks” while on video call with Lizzie. Of course, everyone knew he wasn’t really that egotistical.
He did take another nap after that, though.)