WHO: Martin Boot & Nicole Bardera
WHAT: ;[ Sad times.
WHEN: lmao um. Last Saturday.
WHERE: St. Mungo's
NOTE: Unfinished, but obviously it needed to get posted lmao.

The sound of the crowd roaring back on the pitch followed Martin as he quickly dismounted his broom and took off at a sprint towards the locker rooms, yet he didn't hear them. No, his mind was too crowded with images of his team-mate and relatively long-term girlfriend falling lifelessly from her broom, her skin unnaturally pale, her breathing shallow... he had barely managed to catch her before her tall frame left its impression on the grass pitch several feet below. Her weight crashing into him had almost sent him off balance himself, his knee flaring in agony as he quickly steered them back down, where medics were already rushing out onto the field. She hadn't responded when he'd yelled down at her, hadn't moved as they pulled her out on a stretcher.

And Finn hadn't let him go with her.

Blind rage had blinded him as he used every inch of his hulking frame to rear up and scream defiantly in his coaches' face, but he knew, even as he used every colorful swear word in his impressive vernacular that Nick would absolutely kill him if he blew the game for her. Stupid bint. And so he bad allowed her brother to go, the brother that hated him, in his stead and went back to re-board his broom, the weight of his bat now even more dangerous as he used every ounce of anger and fear that was coursing through him to smash the other team out of the sky.

But now the game was over. A game that they had won. And he didn't care at all. Limping hurriedly down the hallway towards the lockers, he cornered a frightened looking field-medic and demanded to know where Nick was. Upon finding out that she was at Mungo's, he was there quicker than a flash, barrelling past protesting healers and only pausing briefly outside her room to listen to a concerned doctor tell him about a new virus, a deadly sickness.

Terror gripped him as he turned the handle to her room, several different scenarios rushing through his mind. What if... what if she died? No. No, he couldn't think like that. He couldn't imagine having the last thing he said to her be something out of anger. What the hell had they even been fighting about, anyway!? He couldn't remember. His mouth was dry.

And then he saw her, there in the bed, and the anger that had been feuling him for so long drained quickly from him, leaving him lightheaded and dumb. "Nick?" he croaked feebly, nearing her bed and tentatively reaching out to touch her skin, hoping to God that he would not feel the coldness that he had felt when he held his mother that day.

Cold wasn't anything near what she was--cold would be heaven right now, but instead she was dying of the heat; it was like being trapped in an inferno and she couldn't get a breath of air. That was what had finally sent her out of the sky, she remembered that much even without the help of the medics that she had grilled the second she came to again. She remembered the last split second before she had lost consciousness vividly, the faintness that had come at the peak of the fever that had been building all morning. Had been building since she had gotten out of bed that morning, and through warm-ups that afternoon, and all throughout the game too--the game she had been determined to play, because there was no way in hell a little bug was going to keep her off the pitch on the day of the championship. She couldn't let her team down at the end of the season, and so she had played, and--according to the healers--had managed to just about kill herself.

It had been stupid of her, probably, but the truth was, Nicole wasn't entirely sure that she cared what an idiotic move it'd been. It was her team--at least Finn would never be able to tell her that she wasn't dedicated enough.

Nick opened her eyes at the sound of the door opening and she took in the sight of---not Tristan. She had been expecting her brother, but it was Martin there instead, which meant... which meant the game must have been over and-- "Who won?" she asked suddenly, more alert than she had been since the incident.

Well, he certainly hadn't been expecting that. He stared at her for a long time, a wordless blink offered as he wrapped his mind around those two words. "Who won?" He repeated them as though he did not understand their meaning, letting them tonelessly slip from his mouth in his disbelief. That was all she had to say to him? Merlin, she looked like death and all she cared about was some stupid trophy?

The sadness that had taken over his features hardened suddenly as fresh anger brewed in him, the hand that had stroked her fingers just moments before retracting so that he could stubbornly fold his arms over the broad expanse of his chest. "Who won?! Who won?! You fucking git, is that all you care about!?" He gestured wildly around the hospital room, a crazy flailing of arms. "You almost killed yourself today! What the hell were you thinking, Bardera?! You crazy, stupid..." he cut himself off, frustration hindering his ability to think of appropriately stinging insults.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick? You could have died," he snapped, that last word causing his brow to furrow greatly over eyes that betrayed his anxiety and distress despite his desire to keep screaming at her. "And you almost did, you stupid cow! All for some stupid trophy." He went quiet then, his breathing slightly heavier than normal as he stared at her, lips turned in so that they were pressed into a thin line.

Nicole stood neutral in the face of Martin's tirade, shifting herself to sit up, leaning heavily against the headboard as she watched him rant and listened to him scream insult after insult at her. She didn't have anything to say back to him, no screaming match to participate in--couldn't manage it at the moment anyway, so it was probably all for the best--and no return anger took over her features. She just sat there with a face of quiet seriousness and waited until he was done.

She was surprised, on the inside. She had known Martin would be uspet, but not this upset, and it was difficult to understand why. As a boyfriend, she expected him to be upset, but as a teammate, she expected him to understand the decision she had made. It was because he was her teammate that she didn't understand the level at which her words had caused him to go off. Did he not think that what was on the line held at least an inkling of importance? He didn't have to let that stop his concern, but the least he could have done was know that her question had been a valid one in this situation.

Finally he fell quiet, and she stared back at him tiredly, unaffectedly, as if she hadn't heard half of what he'd said. "I almost killed myself so that we could win, Boot," she told him. "My question is the most important thing to care about right now."

This was one of the main ways in which Martin and Nick differed. Sure, Martin was competitive... he loved winning just as much as anybody else. But Nick took it to what he was sure was a completely unhealthy level, and it infuriated him to no end. He shook his head in disbelief at her answer and pushed both hands through his hair, tempted to just curl his fingers and rip a handful of blonde ringlets from his scalp. "No," he muttered, his voice suddenly very quiet as he lifted his dark gaze to stare at her incredulously. "No, it's not. How could you even say that?" He turned to begin pacing, but the pain in his knee sent him into a sudden limp and he redirected himself into a chair, collapsing into it with a deflated sigh.

He couldn't even manage to keep yelling at her. He was just... drained. He stared at the far wall, forcing his words out despite the fact that the square curve of his jaw repeatedly jumped with the force of him grinding his teeth in between sentences. "I thought you were going to die. And they wouldn't let me go with you. I had to play the entire game thinking that maybe I'd never...."

He cut himself off and ticked his gaze sharply back to her face. A humorless grin curled his lips. "...Why am I even bothering? You won't fucking get it anyway.. Just forget it."

She did let her surprise show now, blinking confusedly at him as he finished. Despite what he might have thought, she did understand what he was saying before. Hell, she wasn't as much of a cold and emotionless bitch as people took her to be, she understood what he had probably been feeling, especially if Finn had kept him in the game afterwards--what she couldn't understand was why he was suddenly angry, why he thought that she didn't get that. For fuck's sake, all she'd wanted was to be told if she'd just risked her life for nothing or not so she could know, it didn't mean that she didn't feel bad that she'd put him through all that.

"Well, I was going to tell you 'I'm sorry,'" she began, watching him at eye-level now that he was sitting down, "But if you're just going to act like I'm completely oblivious to what just happened, then you can forget about it." Strangely, her voice was still just calm and controlled. She didn't really have the strength to muster up a yell, but she didn't feel like yelling at him anyway. The last thing she'd done was scream at him, and honestly... Well, thinking about that was just about enough to make her not want to scream at him ever again.

"If you feel like telling me how you feel isn't worth your time, then just shut up already, but as much as you may think that I'm a cruel, cold bitch, I'm going to let you in on something: I get it, Martin. I do. Just sue me for wanting to know if I put you through that for nothing." She sighed. "Don't tell me if you don't want to, Merlin knows you're hardheaded enough to get back at me like that. But don't tell me I 'won't fucking get it.'"

He glared at her, but it lacked any real conviction... she had managed to effectively shut him up, and had even made him feel like a bit of an arse. He settled into a silent sulk halfway through her speech, drawing in a deep breath through his nose and slouching down until the back of his neck rested against the curve of the back of his chair. He was quiet for a long time after she had finished, gaze upturned to watch the ceiling as though there was something of great interest there. He was starting to look as beat down as he felt, and when he looked at her again there was an intensity in his hazel eyes, a sort of sad look that he attempted to wipe away by sliding a palm slowly down the length of his face. It didn't work.

"...Fine. We won. Ok?" But he didn't sound as elated as he should have about it. He lapsed back into silence, and when he spoke again his voice was hoarse and hesitant. "But I didn't care. I kept thinking about how you fell, and... I didn't think I was gonna see you again. I was... really..." He gulped and promptly faught for composure, nostrils flaring as he struggled to speak despite his suddenly constricting throat. He met her gaze and held it before forcing himself to avert his eyes down to where his hands had curled into fists in his lap. "I can't lose you, too. I just can't."

Nicole listened silently and--and he was losing it. He was... She'd seen Martin lose his composure before, but she had never imagined that she'd see it now, even given everything. She didn't think that he'd be on the verge of tears over her, girlfriend or not, she didn't--did she even deserve that out of him? All they ever did was fight, they were always mad at each other for something or another, so what was this now? The anger and the upset she could take in as normal behavior of a boyfriend, but this was... she hadn't been expecting this, and to be honest, she wasn't quite sure she knew how to deal with it.

"It's..." She struggled with words, not sure what to say to him to make him feel better, because she herself didn't know how to feel about this. Of course she felt honored, that he cared that much, but there was that guilt tainting everything, guilt that told her that she really didn't deserve this from him. "Hey, don't talk like that," she said, forcing herself to smile weakly at him. She reached out a hand and put it uncertainly over his. "I'm not made of glass, I can get over this... I survived all that, didn't I?"

He knew it made her uncomfortable when he got like this, but he couldn't help it. He didn't think she realized just how much he truly did care about her... Sure, they fought all the time and were about as opposite as two people could get. But he genuinely liked spending time with her. Hell, he'd given up his life as an extremely elligible bachelor for her, and she was probably the only girl with whom he had been with for such a long time. So he didn't return her smile when she tried to comfort him, just gave her a skeptical look as he curled his fingers up so that they laced between her own. "If I had been just a little farther away from you when you fell... I wouldn't have caught you..."

He leaned forward in his seat, inclining himself towards her until his head rested against her thigh, a shakey breath expelled. "I was scared, Nick," he finally confessed, squeezing her hand gently. "really fucking scared."

"You were there, though." She sighed, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice now. This did make her uncomfortable--not just Martin worrying, but anyone worrying about her--and that he was still talking about it was... frustrating. She knew he deserved to talk about it, and she deserved to hear it and feel guilty about it, but that didn't mean that she wanted to. "You were there and I'm going to be fine, alright?"

She reached a free hand down to tangle in his blonde curls gently and leaned her head back against the wall behind her and closed her eyes. This sitting up was starting to make her feel dizzy and lightheaded again--what was absolute shite was that the healers said that in cases with this virus, this would only get worse until the fever broke or you died. A bit of a grim forecast, it was, but that wasn't something that she was about to share with Martin when he was as distraught as he was already. "I'm sorry I scared you. Honestly, I am." She didn't need to scare him any more, at least not today.

He made a noncommittal grunting noise, letting his thumb gently trace patterns against her leg as her fingers wound through his hair. He shifted his position in her lap, not wanting to apply any unneccesary weight to her; she just looked so breakable, and that was a word he never thought he'd associate with Nick. "Yea, I know," he sighed, letting his eyes drift closed for a brief moment as he relished in the sensation of her hand on his scalp. "And I know you don't like having people worry about you, or tell you that you're wrong. But I can't help it. I'm gonna be that guy, Nick. No matter what."

He finally lifted his head to look at her; whatever beginnings of a grin had begun to curl his mouth vanished when he observed her closed eyes and colorless palor. He pushed himself up from his chair with some effort, his muscles and joints groaning in protest after the abuse he'd inflicted on them during his rampage during the game. Approaching her once more, he gently ushered her down into a reclined position and even pulled her blankets up towards her chin once she was settled. "And I'm not gonna go anywhere. I don't care how disgusting and contagious you are." Now he allowed that grin to appear, but it was mostly to try and comfort her. He was still freaking out over how terrible she looked. He only hoped she didn't feel half as bad as that.

Nick tried to fight the covers, but it was no use--she just wasn't up to it. She'd have to wait until he was gone or not watching to push them down again because, damnit was she burning up. She couldn't imagine how this fever was supposed to get worse than it was now; with the way it was going, she would die of the heat alone. "You have to go home, Martin," she groaned at him, sounding tired. "I'd be really upset with you if you got whatever this is--and anyway, they're going to kick you out eventually. Boyfriends don't count as family as far as Mungo's is concerned."

She was glad that he was smiling, but he'd be a fool to think that she couldn't tell that it was fake. She knew him well enough to know when he wasn't actually happy, and that grin... well, it just lacked the Martin in it, that indescribably playful quality. "Or, you know, I suppose Tristan might try and do it himself when he gets back."