Frypan watches as the door to the berg closes, muffling the explosions and gunfire happening beyond. Imprinted in his mind is the expression on Thomas' face; the determination in his eyes despite the exhaustion in all of his features. Fry wonders how quickly that might change. He doesn't dare to let his mind wander to what might happen if Thomas returns and Newt is dead.
Or if Thomas doesn't return at all.
No. Frypan shakes his head and blinks rapidly, focusing again on the task at hand. Do all that you can for now.
He's been quiet throughout the whole experience, probably due to the adrenaline-- or maybe shock. He doesn't know, but he needs to snap out of it and do something helpful.
Gally's voice is the first thing to bring him back. His tone is enough to shock Frypan back into reality and the present.
"What the hell is he thinking? Running off like that!"
Gally's not talking to anyone in particular, instead resorting to pacing the floor of the berg, kicking at the walls and anything else in his way. "What? Does he expect us just to fly after him? Hover around until he's had a good old catch up with that traitor?" He turns to the group and throws his hands into the air for good measure. "That shank's crazy! He's screwing up all our plans... again!"
"Gally, you're not helping!" Brenda yells back, still on the floor, hands pressing hard around the knife, still embedded sickeningly deep in their friend's chest.
"I'm not helping? Say that to your renegade boyfriend out there! In case you hadn't noticed, Thomas just ran off on us!" Gally points towards the closed door as if the event was replaying.
Frypan knows he has to step in; Brenda needs to focus on what she's doing and Minho's in no state to take part, staring with wide eyes at Newt, trying to comprehend all that's just happened.
"Gally," Fry steps forward, tentatively placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, hyperaware that it might be shrugged off at a moment's notice. "Brenda's right. We need to focus on Newt. We'll deal with Thomas later. As far as we know, he's okay. Newt isn't."
His words have the intended effect, because Gally's gaze falls back on Newt and Fry can see him trying hard to come up with a way to make everything okay again, the way he's always wanted.
Fry turns too, and sees Brenda's hands shaking under the pressure she's exerting, doing all that she can to stop the seemingly endless flow of blood. He kneels down across from her and places his hands over hers. "I'm taking over," he states, not giving her an option.
Brenda nods and edges her hands out from under his, allowing him to take her place. He tries to find the right angle and pressure, but nothing seems to work quite the way he wants it to; there's too much bleeding.
"Here."
Someone's beside him. Vince. He's tossing lumps of gauze onto Newt's chest from a first aid kit. Someone else kneels down and starts to maneuver them, one by one, under Fry's hands, packing them around the edge of the blade. Blood is already beginning to ooze through.
"Got any more?" Gally asks Vince, now placing his hands on top of Fry's to add more pressure.
"Here. Here." Brenda's been rummaging around the back of the Berg, scrambling for anything to slow it down. She grabs another first aid pack and slings it to Vince, who zips it open and goes through the motions again, handing each pack to Gally, who does his best to make it all work.
Frypan is aware of the fact that Minho's still there, staring, not saying a word or moving an inch. He can't even begin to imagine what's going through that boy's mind right now; months of imprisonment, a terrifying rescue mission, the downfall of a city, the knife in Newt's chest, all culminating in this horror. Part of him wants Minho to get involved and have a role of his own, but another part of him wants to give the shank a moment to breathe.
