Escalate

                         Charlie awoke in the hospital wing without really waking. Her mind whirred slowly, enveloped in a deep fog, and her body felt disconnected. She blinked trying to bat the fog away. It lifted slightly and she saw sunlight streaming into the room. Beds lined the opposite wall, many of whose occupants were obscured from view by other people. Was she visiting Baxter, Len, and Jake in the hospital wing again? That didn't make sense, they'd been released months ago. Charlie realized she wasn't entirely sure what month it was. Confusion combined with a sudden bout of nausea as she tried to sit up, and Charlie had to shut her eyes to keep herself from vomiting. Pain wracked her body, from the very top of her head, down all the way to her toes. Even the pain seemed distant, though. There was a hand pushing her gently into what felt like pillows. Baxter's hands. So Charlie hadn't somehow taken a trip into the past. She forced herself to focus as a tall, familiar form appeared in front of what Charlie assumed was her own bed.


                          "Que paso?" She asked groggily, looking down at herself. Her left arm and leg were in pristine white casts, with bruising and scrapes creeping up from below the plaster.  Bruises bloomed like grotesque flowers on her right forearms and still more cuts and scrapes littered the purple petals like thorns. Bandages were wrapped thickly around her upper arm, and right thigh. Down the front of her gown Charlie saw still more bruising and she could feel stiff bandages and padding all around her abdomen.


                          "Oh, Charlie," Bax sighed in relief to see her conscious. He wondered if he'd looked this bad during his turn in the hospital wing. He now understood why everyone had been so worried about him. "There were more bombings," he paused, concern shadowing his normally brilliant blue eyes. "At the Quidditch pitch. Two days ago, almost. I think." He took her free hand in his. It didn't look as if Baxter had slept much in these two days.


                          "Two days?" Charlie opened and closed her eyes trying to rid herself of the mental haze. She needed to be able to think. With a bit of effort she managed to turn her head and take in the scene. The people surrounding the beds must've been visitors. "Is everyone… este… okay?" Her throat was extraordinarily dry and she found breathing difficult. She put her free hand to her throat and then to her chest as pain shot through it like lightning then disappeared just as quickly.


                         Baxter, being all too familiar with the feeling of resurfacing from a drug induced stupor, put a glass of water to her lips, from which she drank quickly and greedily. She coughed and gasped,  discovering that she could not hold her breath for very long and groaned as her insides ached and stabbed with pain. "Sorry!" Baxter apologized, guilt striking him fast and hard.


                         Charlie shook her head as she attempted to catch her breath. The effort was excruciating, even with the pain potions she assumed she was on. She noticed someone waving at her and looked up. Professor Demoux stood at the foot of her bed, a clip board in hand, and a sad smile on his face.


                          "Cantebaila," he began in a soft voice, "how nice of you to join us."


                         Charlie smiled, glad for the joke. The potions kept her foggy and disconnected, but humor was easier to come by. "Who got hurt? Nobody…" she trailed off, too scared to finish her sentence.


                         Baxter and Professor Demoux shook their heads, but it was her best friend who answered. "Noah Valentine, Beatrice Watson," Baxter looked around the room naming the students who occupied beds. "Gilda Day, Aisling Faolan, uh, Amber Madison, and Percy Giffin. You and Noah got the worst of it though," he finished sadly, covering her hand with his again.


                         Charlie digested this information slowly. Three of the four team captains got caught in the attack. She couldn't remember what they had been doing that night. "Que me paso?" In her current state she could not be bothered to speak in English all the time.


                         Professor Demoux looked to Baxter and Baxter translated. Charlie squeezed his hand weakly in thanks.


                          "You suffered some head trauma," Charlie looked up and winced slightly. Her hair was down but it was not in it's usual halo of curls. The top of her head was bandaged. "Crush injures on your left extremities, internal hemorrhaging, renal complications, ruptured spleen," Professor Demoux read off the clipboard as if it were a grocery list. He must not have been particularly worried, but with every injury Baxter seemed to loose a little color. Charlie squeezed his hand again. "Various injuries to your extremities, shrapnel and debris and the like, and blast lung," he finished sliding the clip board into place on the bed rail. He pointed to an object on the bed stand. He pointed to glass mask, about the right size to fit over Charlie's nose and mouth. Gleaming bronze tendrils wound circular patterns across the front of it, and a deep honey ribbon was woven into the mask and worked as a strap. "That's for you. If you ever have trouble breathing, just put it on for a minute or two and you should be write as rain."


                         Charlie nodded and noticed Baxter eyeing the contraption and then Charlie with some anxiety, as if he was ready to use it at a moments notice. "Baxter, calmate. Relax, okay? I'm fine," she smiled but found it difficult. The right side of her face felt swollen and painful. Her lips cracked in places and she thought she could taste blood. That might've been from her internal injuries however.


                          "Charlie, you are not fine, you almost died!" Baxter was alarmingly aware of how, had Charlie been treated my muggle medicine, she would not have survived her injuries.



                          "Mijo, if you can't relax, I can't relax," it wasn't entirely fair, but Charlie found herself being more honest than usual.


                          "Sorry," he apologized again, and this time they both felt guilty, but Charlie's potions dulled that feeling too.


                          "So I was out for two days?" She asked, a little distractedly, as a glimmering beam of light danced around the room, and Charlie's unfocused eyes followed it around the room.


                         Professor Demoux nodded. "You were in and out of consciousness when the Nurses got to you, and," he paused distracted by Charlie's distraction. She forced herself to attention. "Uh, they had to put you under in order to tend to the internal trauma effectively."


                         Charlie nodded slowly, not fully able to grasp what he was saying. The idea of it suddenly being two days later was not a concept Charlie's muddled mind could handle. She settled back into the bed, her mind seeming to cave in on itself with the difficulty of the idea. Her hair fanned around her and across the pillow, adding even more cushion to her headrest. She smiled to herself, a strange far away smile. Maybe her rat's nest of a mane was good for something after all. "Baxter?" She asked, her voice fading as she slipped backwards into unconsciousness.


                          "Yes, Charlie?" Baxter responded, eager to help his friend.


                          "You've been here since they brought me in, haven't you?" She asked, her eyes sad with the truth of it.
Baxter hesitated, "well, yeah, of course. I have to be here for you." He smoothed his fingers, longer and more nimble than her own, over her hand.


                          "I'm… uh… voy a," she blinked, her eyelids suddenly very heavy, "dormir. You should go. You can uh come back later, when I… when I'm awake." Charlie allowed her eyes to shut completely. "Thanks, Professor," she added dreamily. She quite likely Professor Demoux. He was an excellent Professor, very patient with her too.


                         Professor Demoux nodded and smiled, leaving Charlie to her slumber.


                          "But, Charlie, what if you, uh" he glanced at the breathing mask. "Need me?"


                         It took Charlie a moment to respond. "Um… that's what the Nurses are here for." She tried to turn on her side but found that too painful, then tried the other and found that her limbs were heavy in their casts. Charlie ended up settling on her back, a small frown on her face. "Go on, I bet uh… that guy… Ciaran, si, I bet he needs you to help him with his homework or something." Charlie couldn't exactly recall why Ciaran would need Baxter's help on homework, just that he probably would.


                          "Ciaran spent some time with us here, you know," he said. He knew Charlie did not have the highest opinion of his other best friend. Baxter wanted his best friends to get along, for he loved them both. The animosity between Ciaran and Charlie really only made things more difficult for him. He knew Ciaran had only been here for Baxter's sake, but he knew that Ciaran had felt some concern for the Gryffindor. Well, he hoped. Maybe the look of anguish that had crossed Ciaran's deep blue eyes had been directed at the situation rather than the injured.


                          "Vete," Charlie commanded weakly before crossing into unconsciousness.


                         Baxter sighed sadly, and waited for her breathing to smooth into the soft pattern of sleep. Once it was clear Charlie was beyond him, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and left the room, shoulders slumped in sorrow and exhaustion.