𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏.

Sherlock: You’re a doctor. In fact, you’re an army doctor. John: Yes. Sherlock: Any good? John: Very good.

He's a doctor!

Bonus:

It's there. It's rather strong even, and continues to grow stronger the more seconds pass between them.

Which means that Khan's blood is working, that it is healing Watson, fighting against the poison while repairing the damage that has been done. Good. Yes, good. ---Thank fucking god.

The relief that washes through him is of such intense nature that it causes Khan to shiver for the briefest second - his composure is collecting itself soon however, attention focused on the task at hand once more. Slender fingers returns to the other's arm, holding it steady as Khan keeps their injuries pressed together for a little longer - they're not done yet, after all, John needs more. A lot more.

---

They're back on board of the Enterprise.

After managing to hold their position for a bit longer, Khan - as well as the other security officers - had been able to request backup, which had promptly appeared in the form of more security, more shuttles, more efficient weaponry; They're not meant to fight in wars, definitely not, but they're equipped to defend themselves - that's something, at least.

So, in the end, they'd been able to carry the injured ones away from the battlefield, bringing them back up to the ship - including Doctor John Watson, who remained unconscious for the whole of the act. He'd been brought to Medbay, where Doctor McCoy had taken over - but since Khan's blood has managed to keep the other alive for so long, even helped him recover to a certain extend, they had agreed to have a proper blood transfusion going to get more of that liquid into the seriously injured man.

So, Khan has done precisely that; Given more of his cells to John, which had improved his vital signs immensely over the span of about half an hour. It worked so well in fact that - once Watson was stable, the poison removed completely from his body, inner injuries healing successfully so - Khan had then proceeded to give more of his blood to other crewmembers who had also been hit by those daggers, effectively saving most in this way.

Hours have passed since then, the ship becoming quiet once more, things calming down a bit in Medbay as well. Khan himself sits on a biobed across of John's own, being monitored by some medical devices as he's given quite a lot of his own blood; McCoy had insisted for him to stay, just in case the immense bloodloss was going to kick him into unconsciousness as well. It did not, but Khan can still feel it, the exhaustion that clings to his bones. He knows it's only a matter of time - a couple of hours, perhaps - until he'll be completely fine again, and he also knows he could, in theory, just go on with his life. No need to keep him here.

is  he  dead?      he  can’t  quite  tell.  it  feels  like  he’s  been  floating  in  an  expanse  of  nothingness  for  a  long  while,  silent  bliss,  perhaps  just  on  the  other  side  of  the  veil.  but,  then  .  .  .  he’s  vaguely  aware  of  some  familiar  sounds  reaching  his  ears.  the  steady  pulse  of  monitoring  devices,  low  chatter  of  medical  personnel  ⸻  the  stinging  smell  of  antiseptic  that  often  comes  with  earthen  hospitals.  but,  this  is  no  hospital  room.  the  medbay  of  the  enterprise  greets  him,  and  instead  of  being  one  of  the  doctors  treating  his  injured  crewmates  .  .  .  he  was  the  one  in  a  biobed.

To give John some of his blood.

And he has to do it in the most unsanitary and ineffective way possible; Not that hygiene is an issue in any shape or form, as Khan's cells will just eradicate whatever germ might try to enter the other's body alongside his blood, but still. At least Khan knows that his blood can help the other, that there is a chance for Watson to survive this if he executes his plan---

"Stay awake!" Once again, his dark voice basically cuts itself through the air - a command spoken by a leader, a ruler, a dictator, someone who does not accept a 'no' as an answer. Khan is fueled by his adrenaline pulsing through his own veins, hyper-focused on his task at hand as he brings the stone to his own forearm, and then...

One quick motion follows, the makeshift blade slides along the skin of his inner forearm with ease; Red appears almost immediately, telling of how deep he's cut himself in an effort to keep his own injury open for as long as possible before he has to do the whole thing all over again. Khan's attention is on the doctor's own arm then and he does not hesitate, repeats the motion on the skin he finds there, not caring about any possible discomfort that could occur.

John Watson is dying - cutting his forearm open like this is a necessity at this point.

So, Khan does that: The stone scratches along the tissue, creates an injury that starts to bleed within seconds, a straight line from the elbow all the way down to the wrist. The stone is put to the side and Khan knits his brows as his one hand curls around the doctor's arm, holding it, as he then presses his own injury right on top of the one he's just caused on the blond's frame.

"---Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake..." A mantra repeating itself again and again as Khan watches, nostrils flared, teeth bared, a frown stretching along his sweaty features; He can feel his own blood seeping into the opening of Watson's forearm, blue eyes flicking over to the man's face to watch it closely.

And as Khan's cells enter the doctor's system, it mixes itself into the man's circulation, his blood, being pumped through the whole of that body. Since Khan cannot give a lot at once, as he usually would with the help of a transfusion, it takes a little longer... but his blood does what it's supposed to, attacking the poison, starting to repair the damage that has already been caused to that weak man's existence.

He just has to hang on for a little longer...

a  yowl  of  agony,      flesh  torn  open  without  a  care  in  the  world.  the  poison  has  certainly  numbed  a  lot  of  parts  of  him,  by  this  point,  but  he  can  definitely  feel  that.  there’s  no  antiseptic  out  here  in  the  battlefield,  no  anesthesia  to  numb  the  pain  of  getting  his  arm  sliced  open  ⸻  but,  this  is  a  war,  and  needs  must.  someone’s  trying  to  save  his  life  in  whatever  way  they  possibly  can,  no  matter  how  unsanitary  it  might  be.  and  oh,  how  his  every  instinct  screams  to  shove  khan  away  from  him  as  open  wound  presses  against  open  wound,  blood  that  isn’t  his  own  seeping  into  him.  drip  after  agonizingly  slow  drip  enters,  his  stomach  swirling  with  nausea.  he’s  going  to  be  sick.  he’d  like  to  be  sick,  and  yet,  he  can’t  look  away.

A set of nostrils flares as Khan's blue gaze rests upon the other, then flicks back and right, taking in the sight of his surroundings.

There's no way for them to make it to a shuttle - or the Enterprise, for a fact - in time, before the blond will perish from his injuries, organs shutting off one by one as the poison continues to do its work. Who knows if any of the medical equiptment a shuttle holds would even be of help at this very moment? As much as humans have managed to evolve when it comes to medicine, able to fight off most diseases existing on earth - the Universe is massive, and diseases as well as poisons exist there that might be unheard of, currently trying to take the life of innocent people that do not deserve to die in such a way.

There's only one thing Khan can do in an attempt to save the doctor from succumbing to his fate, and it's... questionable, probably. Not to him, obviously so, but he's sure that everyone would protest against what he's going to do.

But he has to. If Khan wants this man to survive, he has to take the next step.

So, with his gaze returning to the other who is starting to drift further and further away, Khan groans; He pulls the sleeve of his left arm up, then scrambles with his surroundings for a bit, trying to get his hand onto something that will be sharp enough to cut through skin and tissue. He cannot use those daggers, obviously, so Khan huffs out a low noise as he reaches for a nearby, small rock, which he slams against the bounder and causes it to shatter---

Good, one piece actually ends up being sharp and pointy-ended. This is what he needs, this is what will - hopefully - assist in going to save the other man's life.

what  is  khan  even  doing?      there’s  the  sound  of  rock  against  rock  close  by,  followed  by  the  sound  of  ripping  fabric.  then  comes  the  firm  reminder  of  staying  awake,  reminding  him  what  would  happen  if  he  allowed  himself  to  slip  down  into  the  welcoming  embrace  of  unconsciousness.  he  knows.  he’s  well  aware  that  staying  awake  will  allow  him  to  fight  this  for  a  bit  longer,  as  long  as  he  possibly  can,  but  .  .  .  part  of  him  doesn’t  want  to  fight  it.  he’s  weak,  at  this  point.  things  in  his  body  are  slowly  shutting  down,  one  by  one,  and  he’s  fading  fast.  perhaps  this  is  where  he  was  meant  to  meet  his  end,  on  some  unknown  planet  somewhere  out  in  the  universe.  he  wondered  if  harry  would  come  to  the  funeral  service,  if  she  hadn’t  drunk  herself  to  death  yet.  he  hasn’t  heard  from  her  in  a  long  while,  nor  had  he  made  any  efforts  to  go  and  see  her  when  he  was  down  on  earth.  that  last  thought  makes  him  feel  a  bit  guilty.

He's just one man, though. There's others, obviously, more security that has accompanied them on that mission... but neither of them had expected the whole moment to go up into flames like this. They're trying to keep the damage low, pulling crewmembers away from the middle of the battleflied, providing satefy and coming up with a strategy to figure out what to do next - and yet they're unable to prevent injuries from happening, causing shouts of pain to be heard on both sides, some aliens getting hit by the shots of their phasers while humans are hit with daggers.

Those don't seem to be ordinary daggers, though; To Khan's left, John Watson crumbles, and he can literally smell the chemicals that are evaporating into the air as soon as the blades cut themselves into the flesh of the other's thigh---

His body immediately jumps into action, covers the injured doctor before an arm hooks around the blond's frame; Khan pulls him up with ease while his other hand holds onto the security-grade phaser, shoots a few rounds into the crowd of alien enemies, taking three out at once that had tried to attack them during the whole process. Once done he drags Watson to the side, around a formation of rocks and boulders, where he lowers the injured human before crouching next to him---

"---Stay awake!", is what Khan says, noticing how quickly the other seems to loose consciousness, weakening with every second that passes; Blue eyes take in the sight of those daggers and Khan knows that removing them will increase the bloodloss, but keeping them inside within that leg will cause more of that supposed poison to seep into his tissue---

there’s  a  cacophony  of  sound  and  light.      the  battle’s  still  going  on  around  him,  he’s  aware  of  that,  but  he  can’t  make  head  nor  tail  of  what’s  actually  happening.  then,  khan  jolts  him  upward,  and  the  pain  that  blooms  throughout  his  body  in  response  pulls  a  guttural  groan  from  his  lips.  he’s  moving,  he’s  acutely  aware  of  that  ⸻  and  then  he’s  back  on  the  ground  again,  propped  up  against  some  rocks.  it  hadn’t  been  too  much  movement,  from  point  a  to  point  b,  but  it’s  almost  enough  to  make  him  sick.    STAY  AWAKE!    it’s  extremely  hard,  especially  when  the  poison  coursing  through  his  system  is  threatening  to  shut  everything  down.  he  feels  woozy,  blinking  blearily  as  he  attempts  to  follow  khan’s  orders.

but,  at  least  you’ll  die  in  battle,  won’t  you?  like  the  true  soldier  that  you  are.  things  up  here  have  always  consisted  of  combat  of  a  different  kind,  and  you  suppose  that  spending  most  of  your  days  in  the  med  bay  left  you  a  bit  unprepared.  but,  here  you  are  nonetheless.