The infirmary at Tempest Weyr was a lot bigger than Baemin's old Healer clinic. There were probably ten or twenty people working there regularly and with enough space to treat several dozen patients as necessary. And it was necessary, because dragonriders had one of the most dangerous jobs on the planet and threadscore was no simple wound to heal. Nabrik had seen a few threadscore victims in his time. A kid on the streets had been caught out in a Fall and died before they could find anyone to help him. A guardsman got scored across his arm during a clean up and Baemin showed him how to treat it. He'd seen a few more since then, but nothing to this extent. It was more than a little overwhelming and he felt so far out of his depth. He was used to dealing with injuries and illnesses on a much smaller scale. What had he been thinking just coming out here on a whim?
Still, he wasn't going to run away when people were suffering. This was what he trained for, after all. So he squared his shoulders and listened to instructions and did his best to help as he could. There had been Threadfall just a couple of days before he arrived, so there were still plenty of injured in the infirmary. Nabrik was quickly put to work changing bandages and checking vitals of various patients. It probably helped that he didn't really know anyone yet. He could turn off his emotions and just focus on his job and trying to learn what was expected of him.
It almost worked too, until he came to one particular patient. The man was a dragonrider who had been threadscored in the recent Fall, just as several others he'd checked on today. As he set down his supplies and reached to take the man's pulse though, he frowned. Something about this man was very familiar. Nabrik squinted at him, knowing he was staring and it was probably really weird. The scars and beard were new, but there's was definitely a familiar glint in those eyes.
"Locke?" he ventured, a little uncertain at first. Then he grinned as he became more sure. "Hey, you're not dead!" It was really great to see a familiar face, even if he was currently stuck in an infirmary bed. Faranth, it had been turns! He really had been wondering if the older man had gotten torched by thread or stabbed in an alley. Both seemed equally likely, all things considered. Finding him as a dragonrider of all things hadn't even made the top ten of Nabrik's list of possibilities. The world sure was a crazy place.
His wound was healing more poorly than he anticipated. It itched constantly and it was driving him insane. They were taught how to do simple wound care and that probably would've been enough but he kept scratching it, reopening the wound. When he woke up this morning, it had been warm to the touch, too warm, and Agnith had forced him to see the healers.
A lot of people had been wounded, both in the threadfall and after the hatching. Even eggsoft dragonnet claws were dangerously sharp. And it grew worse before they grew confident with them. Locke thought he had been doing a good thing, avoiding the healers, but the sheer fear in Agnith's eyes this morning had quickly changed his mind.
Squeak was curled around his shoulders, chattering in agitation anytime he moved. A spy sent by his dragon. So he was a good boy and didn't move. Until he heard an almost familiar voice. He turned, examining the younger man. Hazel eyes narrowed as he studied him. He was so very familiar...
Then Locke was on his feet, grabbing by his chin. He peered closer, tilting the other's head this way and that. "You've gotten.. taller? A little."
He had always felt guilty, for leaving. But it had been chaotic. And Nabrik wasn't the only one he lost that day. "Why are you here?"
How small Pern seemed all of a sudden.
Nabrik jumped and almost slapped Locke's hand away on instinct. He didn't really like people grabbing him suddenly. He managed to resist the urge only because it was definitely his old friend. The voice and gruff demeanor confirmed it. Instead, he gave a little glare and pushed the hand away when Locke seemed satisfied. "Hey! I got a lot taller, thank you very much!" he retorted.
He was grinning now. It was just damn good to see the older man alive. So many people he knew back then weren't so lucky. He didn't really blame Locke for disappearing either. It had been a chaotic time and people moved in and out of his life so much that he'd gotten used to it. He was pretty sure he wouldn't have survived as long as he had without Locke getting him through those first couple of turns though.
Nabrik shrugged at Locke's question and gestured at the man's injury. "Technically I'm here to change your bandage," he admitted with a wry look. "I'm a Healer now, if you can believe it. People actually trust me to patch them up and not rob them blind in the process. How insane is that?" Not that he didn't pull the occasional lift when the mood struck. Some habits were just hard to break. But he always gave it back! Most of the time. With that, he got to work carefully unwrapping the bandage and examining the injury. He would hate for Locke to die of neglect because he was too distracted to do his job.
"How did you end up with a dragon?" Because that honestly seemed like the more interesting story to Nabrik. Dragonriders had always seemed like these more than human noble figures when he was kid. He knew enough now to know they were human like anyone else, but he was still curious how Locke managed to go from holdless thief to badass dragonrider in the time he'd known him.
The expression on the younger man's face was so familiar and comforting that Locke couldn't help but laugh as his hands dropped to his sides. "A lot taller, sure." The fact that he was alive to be taller filled Locke with a strange emotion. Guilt for leaving but a bone-deep relief as well. That the boy was alive, a healer no less! He looked healthy. No longer scrawny and poorly fed. Locke studied him a moment longer before sitting back down. Squeak leaned forward to sniff deeply at Nabrik's face before leaning back with a small sneeze.
"Isn't it odd, to be trusted?" His grin was crooked. He couldn't remember the last time he stole something because he needed to do it. Sometimes he nicked things just for the hell of it but most of the things in the weyr belonged to whoever needed them. It was a strange feeling. To not have to worry about food or clothes or shelter. He was glad Nabrik had found it too.
Locke hummed, head tilting. "The usual way I think. Tempest needed riders and I'm a healthy young man." Except for the infection starting in his leg. He rolled up his pant leg and watched as Nabrik worked on the scoring. "Still don't know why Agnith picked me but I wouldn't trade him for the world. You'll have to come meet him properly." It was hard to hide the fondness in his voice. Not that he cared to. "I'm in the Vanguard so expect to see me here often."
It's because we look quite handsome together. At least Agnith seemed to have relaxed now that Locke was being properly cared for. And maybe a bit because Locke was so happy himself.
Nabrik tutted at the state of Locke's leg as he set to work. The man's story of how he became a dragon rider was short, to say the least. Somehow Nabrik didn't think it was as easy as he made it sound. How did the dragons know who to pick for their riders? And even before that, how did the Weyr know who should be candidates for them? He supposed he would learn in time. There was bound to be another Hatching before long, after all.
"Don't think there's anything usual about dragons," he quipped, thinking of the big one who had greeting him when he'd first arrived. "I'd like to meet Agnith. He must be something ta put up with you!" He grinned cheekily.
Nabrik tried to be as gentle as he could, cleaning the edges of the threadscore on Locke's leg with a frown. It was definitely inflamed, possibly infected. He'd have to let one of the senior Healers know so they could keep a closer eye on it. "Well, if you're gonna make more work for me, I expect ya to take better care of yourself!" While he was proud and happy for Locke, he didn't like the reminder that the man put himself in such danger. The idea he could lose his friend after just finding him again was not appealing.