The bros find out that no good deed goes unpunished...
Disclaimer: I do not own the BMFM
She had fallen to her knees, a root beer bottle knocked to the floor as she tried to keep her hold on the counter. Throttle reached her first, kneeling down to see. "Charley?" She raised her face, a visable effort, and they gasped at the sight. Angry streaks of dark red were splashed across her face, and they saw similar coloring on her arms and hands.
"Charley? What's happening to you?" Vinnie asked, worried. She tried to answer him, but nothing came out.
"Charley, what's wrong? We can't help you if we don't know what's wrong," Throttle said, his voice steady. She grabbed his hand and put in to her throat. He felt her struggle, his sensitive ears hearing the barely-there rasp as she tried to breathe. He swore in Martian, making both his bros startle. "She can't breathe. Modo, upstairs, first aid kit and a bottle of alcohol. Vinnie, towels."
"Towels?! How the hell are towels gonna"--
"Move, Vincent!" The white mouse scrambled to obey, Modo already way ahead of him. "Charley, I'm gonna put you up on the table, okay? Shh, its okay." Throttle carefully picked her up and laid her down on the kitchen table, keeping his voice level. She needed a calm presence so she wouldn't panic more, using up oxygen that she was running out of. The girl looked at him, reaching out and taking his hand. He felt her hands tremble, and used his other to brush the hair back from her face. "Shh, we've got you. We're not gonna let anything happen to you. You're gonna have a scar after this, but you're gonna be fine. You believe me?"
She nodded slowly, her grip on his hand weakening slightly. He squeezed her hand, "I've gotta move your clothes, okay, Charley-girl? I can't do it with your shirt like this. Call me a pervert later." He made short work of her button down work shirt, leaving her tank top on.
Vinnie raced back down the stairs, several towels in hand. "I got 'em, now what?"
"Put one under her neck and shoulders, and one over her chest," the tan mouse ordered. Vinnie did so as his leader went to the sink and started scrubbing his hands and forearms. Modo pounded in next, laying the kit beside the girl and the alcohol by it. "I'm sorry it took so long, I couldn't find where she kept the bottle."
"Get in the kit and find me a scalpel, douse it in the alcohol," Throttle said, his tail beginning to thrash. "Vinnie, find me a straw." The grey mouse rifled through the kit, finding the knife and sterilizing it, along with the straws his bro found. Throttle took the scalpel and had Modo wipe down Charley's throat with the alcohol. "Vinnie, you're not gonna like this. You better get outside."
"I ain't leavin' her," Vincent said, his voice deadly serious.
Throttle nodded, "Don't got the time to argue, but you do as I say, right when I say, you got that?"
"Yes, sir," Vincent said, no mocking at all in his tone.
"Alright, bros, showtime. Charley? Can you still hear me?" She barely stirred, her eyes already glassy. His voice lowered as he mentally said a quick prayer. Charlene, forgive me. "Vinnie, Modo, brace her."
The white mouse went up on the table, locking down her legs and hips with his weight and pinned her arms with his hands. Modo pressed his metal hand on her breastbone, blushing bright red the entire time. His other hand held her head still.
Throttle moved fast, bracing her chin with one hand and with a flash of the scalpel, cut into her trechea. Her body tried to jerk away, but strong hands held her down. Blood well up, and a terrible gasping sounded as her lungs tried to draw in air. "Almost there, Charley, almost there," Throttle soothed. He grabbed the straws and pushed them through. She pulled in air, precious oxygen finally reaching her system.
The mice had to fight to hold her steady as she choked and coughed, blood mixing with the air she breathed in. Throttle worked fast to clean the area of blood, taping the bandages down and applying steady pressure to give the blood time to clot. He finally eased back a few minutes later, the blood mostly gone. "It's okay, Charley-girl, its over. Shhh, darlin'," he brushed her hair back as she subconsciously twitched away from him, "its okay now. You're safe."