He was no coward, but he wasn't stupid either. He ducked down with the auror and dark wizard began a duel, staring with wide eyes as they exchanged spells faster than any pair he'd seen before. It wasn't like a dueling competition, where everything was formal and there was no intent to kill. The same could not be said in this situation.

He wasn't sure how he could be useful, but he was able-bodied at the moment unlike the muggle woman and he did have a wand..

He lifted his wand towards the dark wizard and cast a quiet, "Expelliarmus."

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— way too attractive set by mj <3 —

Unlike the cloaked man, Fallon was mainly casting spells designed to temporarily impair, not kill. It wasn't that she was afraid of killing a murderer, but that she was terrified of hitting the muggle woman. By now, the woman seemed to have realized something was amiss, for the squeals of terror were hard to ignore. The oblivator who worked on her was going to have to do one hell of a job.

Fallon rolled behind a crate of produce and winced as the shattering wood caused a nasty gash in her arm. Blood dripped down her wand hand as she continued to battle.

The disarming charm came out of nowhere, and Fallon used the distraction to stun the suspect. She sagged against the crates for a minute as he fell to the ground, his grip on the woman released. Then, not even a minute after he was down, she was securing his restraints. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, Fallon said to the oaf, "thanks."

  

It all happened so fast, and though he was trained to be quick on his feel, this was an entirely new situation. Before he could even tell if his spell had worked, the auror woman was on top of the suspect and the muggle woman had erupted into tears at the sight of her captor being taken into custody. Lachlan rolled his eyes and reminded himself to never get near a bottle of whatever she'd had.

He walked towards the auror and stood between her and the muggle woman, the latter who had devolved into tears and walked over to rest her tear-stained cheek on his shoulder. With knitted brows and an uncomfortable smirk, he looked down at the auror and shrugged.

From his new position he could see the extent of the damage—not sustained by the wizard, but by the auror. His eyes widened at the sight of the gash on her arm, and Lachlan shrugged the muggle woman off his arm and moved closer. He didn't have any bandages on him, but he had medical training (which he owed to years of hearing Tilda and their mother ramble about proper wound care).

"Let me help you with that," he insisted, his voice quiet with sincerity. He might not appreciate her attitude, but he didn't appreciate unnecessary suffering, either.

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Once Fallon was certain the wizard was unconscious and bound, she ran a tired hand across her face, unknowingly smearing crimson blood across her forehead. The paperwork on this was going to days if not weeks to get through. Already, she could hear Prewett's frustration with her leaking through his tone. Merlin's beard, what a mess.

The oaf knelt besides her, and, for the first time since seeing him in the compartment, recognition flashed across her features. He was that beater on the Cannons. The one she drooled over at countless matches with Merry. Fuck. Why did it have to be him?!

Rather than melt like a foolish woman might, she sighed in frustration before reluctantly giving him her arm. "It's fine, really. I've had much worse."

  

Lachlan grimaced at the sight of blood smeared across her forehead. She looked a mess—a surprise, really, because it had only seemed like a minute-long sprint and then another minute-long duel. The hair at the front of her face had slipped from its bun and now framed her face. Somehow knowing that she'd experienced worse did nothing to ease the unease he felt at the sight of the nasty gash on her arm.

"Worse or not, I'd hate for you to be swooning like this one after a few minutes of lost blood," he said, motioning to the still sobbing girl with raised brows.

He didn't have a bandage or anything resembling one, so he removed his muggle-worthy coat, revealing his now-wrinkled white shirt underneath. He looked up at her, shrugged, and began to rip the sleeves off the coat, creating a makeshift bandage out of the fabric. He tied one piece above the gash on her arm and held his wand up to the wound itself. He cast a series of short, inaudible spells that cleaned the wound of the now-drying blood and, eventually, sewed it shut.

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Although she ought to have checked the sobbing woman for injuries, Fallon remained kneeling on the ground as the oaf tended to her wounds. "Thanks, again." Perhaps it was knowing the woman would soon have no memory of any such events that kept her down, but she doubted it. The oaf was distractingly handsome and causing her to be terrible at her job.

Fuck.

Sure that her cheeks were as red as her hair, Fallon stood as soon as the gash was sealed shut and moved to investigate the woman. However, the poor sobbing woman took one look at Fallon's messy appearance and fainted on the spot. It was all she could do to catch her. Where the hell was the rest of her team?!

  

Lachlan did not pay much attention to her face, but was rather concerned about the sight of the blood. His job had never required much paperwork on his part, but he'd seen the work Gallivan had to do when a player was seriously injured on the pitch. How many papers would it be for the dark wizard? For the muggle woman? His involvement? And how much of it would the head auror leave to the auror woman to do herself?

He was struck by the realization that he hadn't caught her name. He stood up and watched her tend to the woman. Assuming Ministry protocol with incidents like these involved other departments, the woman would likely be in this state until a mediwizard and obliviator could be on the scene. At least the man was taken care of, he noted, glancing at the face-down wizards who lay at his feet.

"If you need to take a statement, I think you need to do it soon," he said quietly. He needed to refocus. In less than an hour he'd have to face his team and explain why he looked such a mess. One look out the window told him they were arriving at their destination; it was only a matter of time before the passengers got off—himself included. "I'll give you my name and address if you need to contact me later, Miss...?"

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"Abernathy, Fallon Abernathy," she provided, despite having introduced herself before the clusterfuck began. "And you are...?" A notepad and quill was retrieved from a tiny bag as she looked up at him expectantly.

However, before he could answer the most basic question her team burst through the door with another suspect in tow. Fallon stepped towards her superior to begin describing the events to him, leaving the oaf to be interviewed by one of her colleagues. It was better that way anyway, for at least then no one could accuse her of hiding the facts.