The Bad News
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Ship: Florida/Maine
Word Count: 493
Warnings: None
Note: Written for a longer fic I had planned for Maine and Florida.
Florida rushed down the halls of the Mother of Invention, skidding and scrambling around corners with all the grace of a panicked dog on linoleum. Several agents had to throw themselves at the walls to get out of his way. He'd dropped his helmet in the landing bay when he'd gotten the news from North, leaving the fear in his eyes open for everyone to see. He couldn’t feel anything. He could have forgotten to breathe for all he knew or cared.
He burst into the infirmary and stopped short. He felt all the pain rising in his body at once. His heart pounded in his ears loud enough to drown out the first few words Carolina spoke. She stood beside the bed where Maine lay, face reflecting apology. He searched her eyes for a moment before stepping forward. She stood aside. He placed a hand on Maine's arm gently.
"The doctor's say he'll make it," Carolina went on. "But, Florida..."
Carolina hesitated. York stood from his seat on the other side of the bed, rubbing his neck.
"He won't be able to talk."
"I'm sorry, Florida," Carolina went on. Her mouth drew back in a stern frown. "This was my fault."
"Hey, what'd I tell you about that?" York cut in. "It's no one's fault."
"I was right there, York!"
"And you had your own problems."
Florida listened to them silently. His hand slid down Maine's armor. No one had removed it yet. His gloved fingers curled around the other man's. There was too much distance between his skin and Maine's. He felt his knees grow weak as his eyes roamed over Maine's chest and stumbled across the reddened bandage around his neck.
"Get out."
Carolina stopped mid-sentence and both stared for a moment in shock. She had never heard Florida's voice so harsh.
"Please?"
Florida's voice softened. His eyes rose to meet Carolina's. She nodded silently and turned away. York followed her out. Once the door shut behind them, Florida let his legs give out. His knees hit the floor, and he pressed his forehead against the back of Maine's hand. He should have been there. Somehow, he should have known. He should have insisted on going. He was on the verge of tears, knowing York was right. Had he been there, right next to Maine, he’d have had no better a chance at saving him than Carolina.
Maine's fingers clenched around Florida's, drawing the blue soldier's eyes. There was a snarling sound - the kind an animal would make - and Florida realized it was Maine. He turned his gaze to Maine's face, expecting a look of pain to accompany the sound. Instead, a smile pulled at the corners of Maine's lips. Florida's mirrored the attempt at a smile as the hand slipped from his grip. He cupped Florida's face, brushing his thumb over the other soldier's cheek. Florida nestled his face into the comfort of Maine's big, warm hand.