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“Alright, now,” he said. “Take off your trousers.”
“That’s – really not necessary,” said Steven.
“Oh, stop being silly.” He made a move to touch Steven’s thigh, batting away the boy’s attempts to stop him. “Let me see.”
“It just cl-clipped me –”
Steven was bleeding through his trousers, again. His dip in the icy waters of the swamp had washed away most of the blood, but the injury had resumed sluggishly bleeding. He was pale and soaked to the skin and his hands had yet to stop shaking.
He wasn’t afraid to admit that this hadn’t been one of their more successful outings.
“I can take care of it,” offered Steven.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Take them off – unless you want me to do it? Hm?”
Steven looked dismayed. Evidently he considered this small indignity to be insult piled upon literal injury. But he gritted his teeth, and fumbled to unfasten his belt. Unbuttoning himself he shoved his wet trousers down around his clammy thighs. The fabric pulled away from the injury, drawing a hiss of pain.
One of these days, he reflected, he really ought to configure the TARDIS to incorporate an actual medical bay. If he intended to keep on traveling with human beings he ought to be better equipped. They were an uncomfortably fragile species. For a moment, all the various risks of their current predicament whirled around his mind – infection, septic shock – hypothermia.
One thing at a time. “All the way down, now,” he said, urging Steven to unclothe at least to the knees. “There’s a good boy.”
For now, the bathroom would have to do. He got Steven settled on the closed toilet seat and knelt creakily beside him.
At the first touch to his thigh, the boy flinched. “Settle down,” he muttered, reaching for the wipes with his other hand.
Steven was – very young – he honestly wasn’t sure just how young. Probably still young enough to be subject to adolescent hormones and embarrassment concerning his body. One of his hands was hovering over his groin in an attempt to shield himself from view, even though his underwear was doing that job quite adequately.
As he drew a wipe over the injury, Steven drew in a sharp breath. He gave no other reaction. He judged that the boy’s pain tolerance was probably on the high side, and continued. As he wiped away the blood and grime, he concurred with Steven’s assessment that the arrow had merely grazed him. Bloody, but not deep.
He thought back to his knowledge of human anatomy – racked his brains for the locations of their vital arteries. No, if anything important had been punctured the boy would have bled to death before they made it back to the TARDIS. That was a small comfort. No, he ought to be more worried about the swamp water bacteria that might now be in Steven’s circulatory system.
He picked up a second wipe. “How’s the pain?”
“I’ve had worse,” Steven managed, which didn’t entirely answer his question. His thigh had begun to tremble.
Giving it a reassuring pat, he said, “Do you feel feverish?”
“No.”
“Nauseated?”
“No,” said Steven. “Look, I really think I’ll be alright once I’ve warmed up.”
“Mmm,” he agreed. “We really ought to get you out of those wet clothes, oughtn’t we?”
“I think I can handle – ow,” Steven grunted as he pressed the fresh wipe firmly against the graze. “Ow – careful!”
“Oh, you’re a big boy,” he said. “You can take it. Hold still – hold still.” Steven ceased squirming and held in place. A pink flush was spreading down his thighs.
The wipe came away heavily bloodied. The human body was a curious structure – outwardly almost identical to his own species, but far less resilient, their inner workings far more cumbersome. Full of dead ends and weak points. Their blood hot, their single heartbeats hard. He could feel Steven’s pulse fluttering beneath the tender skin of his thigh. A single delicate lifeline that could be severed.
“Please don’t try to undress me,” said Steven.
“Oh, hush.” He picked up the spray bandage. “You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“I’m – serious –”
“Aren’t I?” he said. “I’m always serious, my boy.” He applied a layer of bandage. Based on the shaky breath Steven let out as the topical analgesic in the spray began its work, he’d been in more pain than he’d let on. “Better?”
“Much,” said Steven, adding, “Thanks.”
He ran a hand down the firm flesh of Steven’s thigh, finishing with a pat to his knee. “All better.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Straightening up a little, Steven rolled his shoulders. “I think I can take it from here. Can you please leave so I can get undressed?”
Rising – with some difficulty – from the bathroom floor, he gathered up the first aid kit and said, “You’re sure you can walk on it?”
“Yes, I can walk on it,” said Steven. “I don’t need you mother henning me.”
On his way to the sink, he clapped Steven firmly on the shoulder. “No? You should have thought of that before getting shot.” While Steven sputtered indignantly, he opened up the cabinet and sorted through it in search of the packet he’d acquired following the incident in Troy. “Here,” he said, shaking a tablet out into his palm. “Hold this under your tongue till it dissolves.”
Steven rolled his eyes – but seeing the necessity, didn’t protest. “Thanks,” he said around it.
“What would you do without me?” he said. “Hm?”
Swallowing, Steven said, “Honestly? Probably get shot at a lot less.”