FRANK DAMASCA
Banshee
Posts: 127
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 18, 2024 17:04:31 GMT
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Post by FRANK DAMASCA on Aug 4, 2024 19:47:51 GMT
Three attempts at reduction. Two torn ligaments and a broken greater tuberosity. Frank snorted faintly as that warm wave of relief rolled through him, the painkiller that had just flooded through his system guaranteed he didn’t regret laughing. If he added four calling birds and five gold rings to it, he could’ve turned it into a song. It would have made repeating what had happened a hell of a lot easier. The last time he’d been too out of it, too badly injured, so the docs had taken care of it. This time the reassurances had all been on him.
”I’m gonna be alright, but…” That first phone call made to Theo as he’d lain in the back of the ambulance that had taken him to the med centre at Ford Belvois, repeated in texts typed awkwardly – and badly in some cases – with his left hand. But there was an accident. They’re taking me to the hospital just to check it out. I’m going up for x-rays. They just wanna keep me in until tomorrow – liar, the x-ray they’d taken after they’d failed to get his shoulder back into place three times had made it a three day stay in the end. Little assurances to hopefully stop the tide of panic for them, even if it still knotted up his gut every time the pain hit. Kit had been the only one there to see how bad it was the last time, the call to Theo not going out until he’d landed in Germany and was already heading into surgery.
At twenty-two he would’ve moved over the roof with a ballet dancer’s grace, at thirty-five it was a slower creep over the apex. His heart thumping against his ribs with each cautious step. He had twisted around to the line of younger guys following him, gesturing them past with just enough room that he should have been able to recover when Nunez slipped and made a clumsy grab for him. It was what you did for your team, no matter if you’d served with them for a decade, or just for a few months at a time as you trained with the other reserves.
The tiles scraped at his chest as he slid down the slope of the roof. The fifteen foot drop to the scrubby ground below rushed up at him. Nunez hollered, catching at the gutter as he shot over the edge, then at the hand he’d thrown out. For a long moment they’d hung there, suspended on the brink as pain screamed through his shoulder and into the scarred muscles in his back. He was sure at least some of the screaming he’d heard then was his, but everything went deathly silent and then they tipped and the ground rushed up at him. A breath stealing impact, the world had gone still and then the pain had slammed through him.
Younger, without injuries already riddling him like cracks through the glaze on an old bit of pottery, Nunez had been up almost instantly – just a rolled ankle from the way he’d landed. Lucky son of a bitch. Frank turned his head slowly, squinting at the sling that immobilised his arm against his chest and the snowy white dressing hiding what would eventually be fresh scars beneath. It would be six weeks before he was free of it, six weeks before he could pick up Bo or Eloise (although he’d find ways around that). No driving, no working, barely being able to dress himself. He was getting too old for this shit.
Carefully shifting his weight on the bed, Frank picked up the newspaper the nurse had dropped off for him – to keep him occupied until he was released. Just a little whole longer and he’d be out of the ass baring gown, packed carefully into the car like one of the kids and brought home. Relief would flood through him the same way it had when the painkillers had kicked in, washing away the memories of spending months at Walter Reed, trapped in sterile rooms that reeked of sickness and antiseptic. He wouldn’t be entirely comfortable until the clouds of bruising on his back and chest went down, but anything was better than this.
Hours passed, ticked off by the nurse’s visits and the twinges of pain that broke through the narcotic numbness. By the time the door opened again he was considering creeping out and hitchhiking home with his one good thumb and a flash of ass cheek. He’d expected Theo or Kit, but the sight of Dom had the ache shifting from the outside of his shoulder to his throat. ”Hey,” he murmured, his voice a little rough. Frank swallowed hard, pushing a smile onto his face. ”You drew the short straw huh? Gotta admit, I’m kinda glad. If Freyja had seen me in this thing she’d never let me live it down.” He gripped the gown in his good hand and flapped it around his legs. His relationship with his sister-in-law had grown exponentially better in the last year, but Freyja was Freyja and would give him shit about it for life.
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DOMINIC PHENDER
Human
Posts: 146
Played by:
Julia
"Liking what I like don't make me a bitch."
Last seen Nov 11, 2024 19:34:08 GMT
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Post by DOMINIC PHENDER on Sept 2, 2024 14:30:43 GMT
 ━ don't fucking tell me what's impossible ━
But when he got that call, he’d be lyin’ if he said he didn’t freak out a little. And, yeah, he lied a lot and he wasn’t gonna willingly admit to it, but he was on the road either way, and that’s all that mattered. And it didn’t matter how quickly he’d done that three hour drive.
He’d been more than a little short with the nurses at each damn station he stopped at like shitty checkpoints, but, not only was his irritation increasing, but his anxiety was, too. He needed to lay his own eyes on Frank, double check that he was alright. The last time he was called to a hospital, he…
The tightness in his chest kept growing. It got worse ‘til he finally reached the right door in a seemingly never ending hallway━one that looked like every other damn hallway in this place.
Dominic froze, blue eyes flicking over Frank, assessing every injury. His arm in a sling, white bandages visible around his ribs, just barely peeking out from the sides. His face looked fine, but he was probably in a fuck ton of pain. He tried to smile, but Dom saw right past that shit.
At least he could, though━Dominic’d had more than one beating where smiling just wasn’t possible.
“Yeah,” He puffed, feeling some of the ache in his chest drift out with his exhale. Finally, Dom moved closer to the bed, standing over Frank at its side. “Didn’t even know nothin’ happened ‘til Theo called. Said he couldn’t come get you ‘cause of the kids.” And Kit was on a work thing, but Dominic wasn’t gonna get into that.
One hand rested on the bed, drifting over like he was gonna lay it on Frank’s covered thigh━just for some connection━but didn’t get further than a gentle brush against the side of his leg. He didn’t wanna hurt him━didn’t know where else Frank was hurt. “What fuckin’ happened, man?” He puffed, trying to sound more irritated than worried. “You’re too old for this shit. Your bones are gonna pop like fuckin’ candy.” Dominic finally tried for a small smile then, though it didn’t blanket the sadness in his eyes.
FRANK DAMASCA |  |
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FRANK DAMASCA
Banshee
Posts: 127
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 18, 2024 17:04:31 GMT
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Post by FRANK DAMASCA on Oct 12, 2024 18:13:50 GMT
It hadn’t been his hip at least. One of the wise cracking little shits had suggested it as they’d carefully rolled him onto his back - they’d remembered enough of their medical training to keep his neck in-line, thank God. He hadn’t ended up with a head injury either, another blessing. Rolling into the CT machine hed held on to the thought that it could have been worse, that it had been before. He hadn’t needed his reserve squad crowding into his room to remind him – you’re getting too old for this Damasca – or to put the thought in his thick skull that it might be third time lucky.
Retirement wouldn’t send his life into a tail spin. Raik and Kit had their reasons for not going back, but on the other side of those things they’d both settled into an entirely civilian life. He already had his job, he was chipping away at the mortgage on the house and he had family around him. If he’d fought his way back into the Special Forces the first time around all of that would’ve been a plan for the distant future – when his knees and back were shot and he’d shuffled past being a big brother to the other guys he served with to being their senile, old grandpa figure.
Caught in the cotton wool clouds of pain killers over the first couple of days, Frank had found his mind drifting down both the paths his life might’ve taken. He was no Jimmy Stewart and it was probably never gonna be a wonderful life, but the experience, like the accident in the first place had been sobering. The kids would have just known him as the guy who sent birthday and Christmas cards late because he’d been serving in a spot without a mailbox, the Uncle who looked kinda like their hobo version of their dad when he video called them a handful of times a year. Kit probably would’ve still found someone to stay with after he got out of jail, but his path probably wouldn’t have crossed with Cassie’s, kace most likely still would’ve been dead. Then there was Dom.
A grieving man standing alone in the liquor store, probably eventually arguing his way into a couple of bottles of booze. Christmas spent maybe drinking alone, washing himself down an alcoholic rabbit hole that might’ve led to a stone in the cemetery, right beside the man he loved. And he'd have missed out on all that mouth, flipping through a dozen more brief encounters instead. Nobody coming to mean anything because it couldn’t while he was still on the Teams.
His throat wouldn’t have gone tight the way it did as he looked up and saw Dom standing there in the doorway. Those blue eyes he’d seen filled with everything from heartache to laughter trailed over him. He wouldn’t squirmed under the x-ray like scrutiny of them, but that probably would’ve tested the limits of the painkillers. ”Sorry,” Frank croaked, watching Dom trail closer. ”I should’ve called. I didn’t think I’d be in here this long. I was hoping they’d just patch me up and I’d head straight home.” Strapped up in a sling for a couple of weeks maybe, fending off jokes about taking a fall while he’d been shuffling around after the freshly graduated boot camp babies.
Puffing out a chuckle, Frank let go of the gown he’d be glad to see the back of. ”He’s a pro, but handling a third kid, especially one as big as he is woulda been too much.” Things had been different the last time. The days before Freyja and he kids felt like they’d been a lifetime ago now. Thankfully he’d still been out of it when Theo had arrived at Walter Reed. He hadn’t seen Theo’s reaction to his injuries the way he was seeing Dom’s now.
The hand he’d left laying on top of his thigh slid down in search of Dom’s, wanting to squeeze around his, a promise that he was gonna be alright. Frank snared Dom’s fingers, using the connection to try and tug him down on the edge of the bed. He would’ve said he didn’t break that easy, but Hell, he had this time and the last.
”I tried playing the hero,” he admitted lightly. The sadness in Dom’s eyes that cut through the light of his smile had him squeezing his hand in reassurance. He was cracked, not permanently broken. ”One did, and … I don’t think you’re wrong. Maybe I am too old to go falling off roofs.” He sighed and glanced down at his immobilised arm. ”We were training for a roof top entry. One of my guys slipped, I tried to stop him going off the edge. He took me down with him. He bounced right back up and I end up getting surgery. I can’t wait to get out of here. You wanna help me up?” Away from the scent of disinfectant and the bad memories that seemed to be gripping them both.
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DOMINIC PHENDER
Human
Posts: 146
Played by:
Julia
"Liking what I like don't make me a bitch."
Last seen Nov 11, 2024 19:34:08 GMT
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Post by DOMINIC PHENDER on Nov 11, 2024 19:30:36 GMT
━ don't fucking tell me what's impossible ━
Partly because it was Frank━and he cared━but also because he wasn’t ready to lose someone else. Not like this… not a fuckin’ call just to let him know it happened. He’d spent the entire car ride with an awful fuckin’ ache in his chest, just like on the day he’d met Frank.
He didn’t try to shake Frank’s hand off, but he did silently protest sitting on the bed for a minute. Again, Dominic didn’t wanna hurt him, but if Frank was sayin’ it was okay, then…
Slowly, he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, barely sitting down with his full weight. “‘Course you fuckin’ did.” Dominic grumbled under his breath, though he didn’t interrupt Frank’s explanation. He’d tried to save some kid from falling, when that was undoubtedly just a risk of training. But no, Frank had to try to rescue a kid whose bones were made of rubber.
“No.” Dominic puffed, sitting down a little firmer, if only to pin Frank’s hand to the bed━as if the rest of him would be forced to follow. “You shoulda fuckin’ let him go down on his own. How the fuck’s he gonna learn anythin’ if you save him?” He asked, irritation rising now that he knew Frank was okay… mostly.
“And where the fuck you gonna go, huh? What else is fucked up? Just your arm? Your back?” Frank’s explanation did little in the way of describing his injuries in depth, and he wasn’t gonna just cart him back to Mystic Falls without knowing he could make Frank comfortable for the car ride━or if there was some medication available to help for the duration of it.
FRANK DAMASCA | no notes. |
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