At first, James looks like he's going to protest. They can't just leave him here, not like that! They can't leave him behind!
But...there isn't much of a choice, is there? James can barely stand, and Souji is already dead. They can't change that; they can't make him less dead somehow by moving him or bringing him along. James hates to leave him sprawled on display that way, but...he has no way to move him.
It occurs to him then that his wand is still on the floor of their room, where he landed. He only had one working hand at the time so he'd let go of it so Sirius could help him stand. So not only does he have no way to move him (even if he would have to use his other hand to do so), but he's entirely unarmed. And who knows where the killer ran off to?
"...Right," he finally nods. "Right, okay. It's okay. I trust you."
He hangs onto Sirius even more tightly. His whole body is already protesting because although it's easily been the longest minute of his life, it's still only been a minute since the last time and there is not a single bit of his being that actually wants to apparate again so soon, not now. But they have to go. There's no time to waste, not when their own lives are at stake.
The ride is rough and the landing is rougher. They collapse together and James cries out when they hit the ground. He tries to stifle his reaction for Sirius' sake, but it hurt so much he actually saw white this time.
But, his overall affect is different now. He doesn't make any moves to try and get up this time. He still feels a little like he's swaying, even though he's laying on the ground, but knows that any other position is going to be infinitely worse. He feels sick to his stomach, but it's a very peculiar sickness - if he keeps himself still he's fine, but even the thought of moving makes him want to gag. If he does, he's very sure he's going to throw up.
He's a bit too quiet there.
It's very hard for him to think now. There's a fuzz in his head that's difficult to push through. He's paled considerably since he first turned up wounded, and he's lost a sense for exactly how long ago that was now. But it's a very sick and ghostly pale. His breathing is heavy and quick, and he's cold to the touch. He feels shaky, and he can feel his heartbeat pounding through him, as his body tries desperately to get whatever's left of his blood where it needs to be.
He's still bleeding out. His wounds are leaving a new puddle in the carpet and he can vaguely feel it forming under him.
Suddenly, he's pretty sure he might actually die. He hadn't thought the injuries were serious when he'd received them, but he's bled so much...bled so much it's hard to think now, hard to stay conscious. He's exhausted. He wants to go to sleep, he really wants to, but he's trying to hold on. Even if they revive, the thought of dying still terrifies him. What if...what if he doesn't...?
Prongs, stay with me, okay?
Sirius sounds far off, and James isn't sure if he actually heard him or if maybe he just dreamed it. Maybe he really did fall asleep there, but no - no, he still feels more tired than he's ever been.
But then Sirius is right next to him and so clear and how long has it been since that last conscious thought? He cracks his eyes open and lazily looks up at him.
"...Huh?"
He's got just enough energy to give him a look, not because he doesn't recall but because he can't put together why Sirius would be talking about Quidditch of all things right now. The logical leap that it's to try and keep him awake and thinking is just not coming to him at all.
But he answers anyway, slowly, and nods very slightly.
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But...there isn't much of a choice, is there? James can barely stand, and Souji is already dead. They can't change that; they can't make him less dead somehow by moving him or bringing him along. James hates to leave him sprawled on display that way, but...he has no way to move him.
It occurs to him then that his wand is still on the floor of their room, where he landed. He only had one working hand at the time so he'd let go of it so Sirius could help him stand. So not only does he have no way to move him (even if he would have to use his other hand to do so), but he's entirely unarmed. And who knows where the killer ran off to?
"...Right," he finally nods. "Right, okay. It's okay. I trust you."
He hangs onto Sirius even more tightly. His whole body is already protesting because although it's easily been the longest minute of his life, it's still only been a minute since the last time and there is not a single bit of his being that actually wants to apparate again so soon, not now. But they have to go. There's no time to waste, not when their own lives are at stake.
The ride is rough and the landing is rougher. They collapse together and James cries out when they hit the ground. He tries to stifle his reaction for Sirius' sake, but it hurt so much he actually saw white this time.
But, his overall affect is different now. He doesn't make any moves to try and get up this time. He still feels a little like he's swaying, even though he's laying on the ground, but knows that any other position is going to be infinitely worse. He feels sick to his stomach, but it's a very peculiar sickness - if he keeps himself still he's fine, but even the thought of moving makes him want to gag. If he does, he's very sure he's going to throw up.
He's a bit too quiet there.
It's very hard for him to think now. There's a fuzz in his head that's difficult to push through. He's paled considerably since he first turned up wounded, and he's lost a sense for exactly how long ago that was now. But it's a very sick and ghostly pale. His breathing is heavy and quick, and he's cold to the touch. He feels shaky, and he can feel his heartbeat pounding through him, as his body tries desperately to get whatever's left of his blood where it needs to be.
He's still bleeding out. His wounds are leaving a new puddle in the carpet and he can vaguely feel it forming under him.
Suddenly, he's pretty sure he might actually die. He hadn't thought the injuries were serious when he'd received them, but he's bled so much...bled so much it's hard to think now, hard to stay conscious. He's exhausted. He wants to go to sleep, he really wants to, but he's trying to hold on. Even if they revive, the thought of dying still terrifies him. What if...what if he doesn't...?
Prongs, stay with me, okay?
Sirius sounds far off, and James isn't sure if he actually heard him or if maybe he just dreamed it. Maybe he really did fall asleep there, but no - no, he still feels more tired than he's ever been.
But then Sirius is right next to him and so clear and how long has it been since that last conscious thought? He cracks his eyes open and lazily looks up at him.
"...Huh?"
He's got just enough energy to give him a look, not because he doesn't recall but because he can't put together why Sirius would be talking about Quidditch of all things right now. The logical leap that it's to try and keep him awake and thinking is just not coming to him at all.
But he answers anyway, slowly, and nods very slightly.
"Yeah...yeah. Mm. ...I remember."