I should be in bed. It's nearly 4AM. I live on a farm. I should just waive my right to sleep. But I finally worked out at least one fic from my bingo card. Takes place while they're POW's, after Magnum gets his wound cauterized and it gets infected. It started off as Accidentally Hurt By a Friend trope requested by chrisii-the-random-whump-writer's, but I'm thinking it counts more as amell-fan's request of Wound That Would Not Heal. All chapters will be one shots, I just don't want to post them as separate stories since they're all filling the same challenge/theme. Onwards!

"Jesus, Nuzo…"

"I know, I know, I know…" There was a heavy sigh of frustration somewhere to his left. "I'm out of gunpowder though, unless you have some spare bullets with you."

Thomas couldn't stop the quiet whine that made it past his lips.

No. Not again. Not again, not again notagainnotagain…

"Shh, shh…" someone rumbled from just above him. "You're okay. We got you. Shh…"

It was supposed to be soothing. It should have been soothing. And for a moment, Thomas let the relief wash over him that yes, yes, he was okay.

Until something pressed down hard on his lower stomach, and he shrieked, flinging himself to the opposite side despite the hands pressing down on him from every angle. The dull, persistent ache he'd been distantly aware of flared to hot, all-encompassing agony that swept up from his side and down to his toes as he tried to curl in on himself without touching it, swallowing back bile and trying desperately to breathe in through his nose to keep from throwing up because Jesus he didn't want to imagine how much worse that would make it.

Dirt pressed against his cheek, he could taste it in his mouth mixing with the blood from a torn cheek, but it was so wonderfully, blissfully cool against his scorched skin, he found himself pressing his face further into it, desperate to feel anything, anything except the pain in his stomach.

"Baa een dast nazaned!" he protested. At least, he tried. He could imagine the words forming on his tongue, tried to get his mouth to move around the syllables to get it out, to tell them not to touch him, but it came out mangled even to his ears. Breathless and without sound, little more than harsh panting as he tried his best not to die. Not to move. Not to think. "Baa een dast nazaned… baa een dast nazaned…"

Hands tentatively touched his shoulder, cold against his skin even through his worn t-shirt. "Thomas, buddy, you have to let us take a look…"

He hunched his shoulders, pulling away as well he could from the unwanted touch. "Baa een dast nazaned." He repeated it over and over and over as if it were a mantra to keep himself centered and aware as best he could.

Even if the last thing he wanted to be was aware.

"Do you know what he's saying, Nuz?"

Thomas heard a rustle of fabric. "I know enough to get by, guys. This shit wasn't covered in the DLI handbook."

"Thomas. Buddy. You with us?"

Thomas didn't move.

"He's still conscious, right?" the same voice asked, suddenly sounding worried.

No. Worried was the right word.

"Thomas."

His name was spoken so forcefully, he couldn't help the flinch.

Panicked. Panicked was the word.

Gentle hands touched his face, a calloused thumb swiping across his cheeks at a dampness he hadn't realized was even there.

"Thomas Sullivan Magnum, I need you to listen to me. Okay? I don't know how much you can hear, but…it's bad, Thomas. It's not healing the way it's supposed to, and the infection is getting worse. Do you understand?"

Images flashed through his mind, unwanted and with such force, he flinched from them, twisting further into the ground, despite the hands on his face and now his shoulder trying to hold him still. Nuzo leaning over him, telling him 'this is gonna hurt'. The taste of pine against his tongue as he bit down with enough force to break the stick between his teeth. The smell of burnt flesh and the reek of burnt powder.

I'm gonna die here…I'm gonna die here…Imgonnadie….

"You're not going to die, Thomas. Do you understand me?" The once gentle hands gripped tighter against his face. "I'm not going to let you. Not happening. I didn't let you die in Korea, I didn't let you die in Coronado, and I am not gonna let you die now. Understand?"

No. Not really. Because it sure as shit felt like he was dying now. Static pushed in, threatening to drown everything else out until he heard a familiar voice.

"We need to get you on your back, though, so we can see. Can we move you?"

Magnum curled tighter on himself, despite the pull against his side, and he twisted his face away from the gentle hands.

No.

"Come on, Thomas!" someone snarled in frustration. "Just let us try to help you, would you?"

"That's not helping."

"Neither is he!"

"Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole…I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul."

It was a deep, familiar rumble, quiet and low and soothing against the static in his head, like the comforting roll of the ocean tide against the sand.

"In the fell clutch of circumstance…"

Thomas could still hear other voices in the background, but they faded in and out against the tide of the ocean. The more he tried to concentrate on the others, the more distracting the ocean became.

"I have not winced nor cried aloud…"

There was…something about that voice. It didn't argue. It didn't yell. It didn't make him want to curl tighter in defense, desperate to protect himself.

The gentle hands were back, cradling his head in their palms as they lifted him from the dirt floor. He flinched away, or at least, tried, but the rumble of the sea rolled over him.

"Under the bludgeonings of chance, my head is bloodied but unbowed."

Someone pulled at his legs, cautiously straightening them out and Thomas couldn't help the moan of pain as it pulled his wound tight against his skin.

"Shh…we got you, Thomas. It's gonna be okay. TC?"

More hands, this time on his ankles.

No. No no no nonononono….

"Beyond this place of wrath and tears, looms but the Horror of the shade, and yet the menace of the years finds and will find me unafraid."

He tried to pull his feet up, but the cautious grip tightened around his ankles, pinning them to the ground. He tried to throw himself sideways again, but this time, the hands that once held his face cradled between them pressed his shoulders down with bruising force and he couldn't stop the desperate whine that escaped his lips.

Not again.

Not again.

He pressed himself back, willing himself to disappear into the floor, trying to twist in their unrelenting grasp. The hands on his shoulders released him and for a moment, he was free but before he could pull himself upright, the hands were back, having caught his own and pressed down even harder this time.

"Nakhair. Nakhair, nakhair, nakhair…" he pleaded desperately. Don't do this.

For a moment, no one moved. No one made a sound. And for that brief moment, Thomas thought they'd listened.

Except they didn't let up.

They didn't let go.

"God, I hope you don't remember this…"

And then the world was on fire. Agony ripped through him like a living, breathing thing determined to swallow him whole. He bucked against the hands that held him down, but they kept him pinned to the dirt no matter how much he thrashed against them. He tried to twist away but the searing, pervasive pain followed.

Someone was screaming, and he desperately tried to cover his ears to block it out, but his arms remained pinned across his chest.

It took longer than it should've to realize it wouldn't have helped.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Hurry up!"

"I'm fucking trying!"

Something sharp pressed against his side, digging into the already damaged flesh like talons until Magnum felt something give and he fell, panting heavily and pressed into the familiar presence behind him, the relief at having the object gone a blessed reprieve by comparison.

The familiar tang of copper and iron was replaced by the stench of something rotted and dying and he couldn't help gagging as the smell hit him.

He wasn't the only one.

"Je-sus," someone swore, followed by muffled coughing. "No wonder he was getting worse."

The stabbing pain was gone, reduced to a throbbing ache that still pulsed from his stomach to heart, but at least no one was digging around beneath his skin anymore.

"Yeah, well, this may be a short-lived victory if they don't listen and bring us something to treat the infection."

"They want us alive. Him most of all."

"Nuz…TC…we gotta get him out of here. Or he's not gonna make it."

The words should've bothered him more than they did.

Except…

He knew they were right.

"They're gonna go too far one day. I mean…shit. Just look at him. And he's not gonna do himself any favors and lay low. That just ain't in him."

There was a stretch of silence, and Magnum felt himself start to drift. Every ounce of energy he had burned up in futile resistance, and now he couldn't bring himself to move. His head pounded, and his side throbbed. His throat felt raw and he could taste blood on his tongue. Hands no longer held him in place, but he no longer had the energy or will to resist. Cautious fingers trailed through his lank hair while another rubbed endless circles across the palm of his hand over the crescent shaped gouges from his nails biting into them as he clenched his hands into fists.

"He doesn't leave us again." The tone was final.

"TC, here. Come swap out with me. You can hold him at a better angle."

Had he the energy, he would've protested at being moved again, but he was beyond exhausted. Something warm dribbled down his skin as he was forced to turn so he was mostly on his side. Everything was growing distant. Like it was happening to someone else, and he was hard pressed to care.

At least he wasn't alone this time.

A much larger hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder.

The deep, soothing rumble of the ocean whispered above him, drowning out the other voices, and he latched onto it like a man drowning.

"It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll. I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul."

The darkness pulled at him, and he was happy to let it take him.

While working on Wrong Side, I decided to do the Bad Things Happen Bingo for when I get stuck (Wrong Side is primarily action sequences, because I'm an idiot and picked a subject that I knew well, but also hate writing). Anyway. Feel free to come and play over on Tumblr! Find me disappearinginq! And, as always, lemme know what you think!

Poem TC is quoting is Invictus by William Ernest Henley.