Noir felt sluggish and exhausted. He was being sloppy, which allowed the Nazis he was currently fighting the perfect opportunity to clock him right in the face. Noir stumbled back, panting heavily. This wasn't going well. He needed another plan.
The detective ducked just in time as another punch was aimed at his head. He stumbled back into a a rust pole that snapped on impact, causing him to fall on to the ground with a wheeze. The Nazis took advantage of this and kicked Noir in the side, forcing the taller man onto his stomach. As he tried to stand once more, the sound of metal scraping against the floor echoed through the room.
Just as Noir shakily got to his feet and turned around to face his opponent, something sharp impaled his side. The world seemed to freeze entirely as Peter looked down, only to find the recently broken pole wedged deep in his body. Blood was already starting to make its presence known as Noir stumbled away from the Nazis. He clutched desperately at his wound as he leaned heavily against the wall nearest to him.
The black and white man fumbled for his dimensional wristband and tapped on whatever universe's coordinates was on top. A portal appeared, and he stumbled through it before the Nazis could follow.
Normally beautiful colors shone brightly against Noir's goggles, but he was having a hard time focusing on anything other than the burning sensation that was pain. He wasn't sure where he was, but it looked like some sort of apartment. Noir collapsed to the ground as blood dripped down the pole embedded in his side. Someone was near him now. They were saying something. He tried to focus on their words.
"Noir?! Noir, what happened?"
The voice was familiar. It sounded like Peter B. He didn't have a chance to hear much else as his vision went dark.
0000
When Noir sluggishly opened his eyes, he was unsettled to find that he was in a bright white room. His hands touched something cold, which was rather unusual. Where we're his gloves? His mask seemed to be gone as well.
Noir pushed himself up and immediately turned to throw up when the room began to spin this way and that.
"Peter? Peter, you need to lay down." That sounded like a good idea. Noir slowly lowered himself back down onto... Apparently he was laying on a bed?
When he tried to move his arm once more, he realized something was attached to it. Weird.
"Where am I?" He heard himself saying.
"Hospital." Oh! That's why he recognized that voice! It was Peter B.
"Why?" The realization of just where, exactly, he was had not yet set in.
"You had a pipe sticking out of your side. Thanks for bleeding all of my carpet, by the way. I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to explained that to my landlord."
After thinking Peter's words over for a moment, it clicked. Noir sat up again and had to hold his head when the room began to spin once more. This time, he didn't throw up. "Peter, I need to leave."
"What, why? What you need is to rest!" Peter was at the bedside now, already try to push Noir back down. "You need to calm down, bud. You're safe here."
"N-no, no. I need to leave, Parker. I don't do hospitals." Hospitals were bad. They made you vulnerable. What if someone tried to drug him? Or, what if someone found out who he was and tried to cut him open. "I need to leave right now."
Peter seemed sympathetic, especially since he had noticed the way Noir had begun shaking. The man was showing an uncharacteristically amount of emotion, now that Peter could actually see his face. The fear I'm the other man's stunning grey eyes said it all.
"Alright, alright. But, you're going to need to stay at my house 'til you're healed. We have medicines that can help you, and you're much less likely to catch some deadly disease here than you would be in 1933."
Noir nodded and started pulling IVs out of his arms. He didn't know what they were doing, and he didn't like it. Somewhere in the room, something began beeping.
"Hey, hey. Slow down, Pete. I need to talk to the doctors real quick, alright?" Peter gently grabbed Noir's wrist to stop the man from hurting himself further by pulling out more IVs. "Just-.. Sit still, okay? I'll be right back."
Peter lingered for a moment, purposely giving Noir a very stern look, before he disappeared into the hallway. As soon as he was gone, Noir ripped out the last of the IVs and stood; however, he wasn't standing for very long when his legs gave out under him and he fell to the floor with a yelp. It was around then that he realized he was wearing an ugly... was it green? Maybe it was purple?... gown of some sort. Either way, he didn't like it one bit, and wanted his normal clothing attire back.
When Peter reentered the room, he found Noir trying to open the bolted shut window. "Noir, what are you doing?"
"Leaving," the taller man mumbled.
"I told you to stay put," Peter said with a huff as he gently placed a box onto the hospital bed. "Here, I have your things. Before I brought you here, I took off your mask, so there wouldn't be any weird questions. Anyway, before we go, you can get changed, if you'd like."
Noir nodded as he attempted to walk back over to the bed without crashing onto the ground. Thankfully, he succeeded.
"Try and be quick. Also, please don't fall or try and go out the window again. I'll be right outside the room. Let me know when you're done." Peter gave Noir a thin smile as he once again exited the room.
It took longer than usual for Noir to get dressed. He decided to blame it on whatever was making him so weak and groggy. However, soon enough, with Peter's help, the two men exited the building and were now riding the bus back to Peter's apartment.
"Hey, what happened anyway? You looked pretty beat up earlier. Well, I mean, you still do, but you know what I mean." Peter turned to face Noir was an eyebrow raised in curiousity.
"Dunno. I was fighting some Nazis when I just.. felt tired. Groggy. The filth took advantage of that and stabbed me."
"Dude, you need to take better care of yourself. The Doc said you're showing signs of lack of sleep."
"Ah. Yes. That is likely it." Noir seemed impassive about the suggestion. He just choice to shrug it off.
The rest of the bus ride went on in silence. Pretty soon, however, they got off the bus, and Peter helped Noir into his apartment where the detective was dropped off on Peter's couch. "Get some rest. I'm gonna go out and pick a few things up. Be back in a bit."
"Copy that." And with that, Peter was gone. Now that he was alone, Noir carefully pulled back his shirt to reveal his stiched up wound. It looked red, angry, and larger, but at least it was clean. He remembered Peter mentioning something about not picking at it. Honestly, Noir was surprised it didn't hurt. This time period must have some good medications, because he couldn't feel anything in that area.
Eventually, the detective rolled his shirt back down and shut his eyes. What a day. At least he was safe. For now, that is. He would definitely have to punch that Nazis twice as hard for all the damage he caused.
But, for now, Noir allowed himself to be pulled into the depths of sleep, which is something had hadn't done nearly enough of lately.