The car landed slightly more roughly than Grim intended.

And by slightly, I mean it flipped.

The car, covered in bits of mud and grass, came to a screeching halt in the middle of a field. Grim had taken the blunt of the crash, his neck broken in several places and skull entirely crushed against the dashboard. He considered these flesh wounds and they instantly regenerated. Artemis faired much better, only covered in cuts and bruises.

Artemis stared at Grim, and then the field, and then politely opened the car door and threw up.

"You okay there, buddy?" Grim asked, rubbing his newly-reformed neck.

Artemis wiped his mouth, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. "We...ran away...from your father, the god of death..." He threw up again, to confirm to Grim that he was definitely not okay. This silent message splattered all over the expensive leather interior of the car.

"We're fugitives," Artemis rasped, laying back against the seat, "Hades is going to be infuriated."

Grim gritted his teeth, bitterly stepping out into the field. The air was moist, and grey clouds gathered overhead. "I could care less if the old man's mad." His flustered expression said otherwise, by the way.

Artemis stumbled to Grim's side, hanging onto his arm. "Please, Grim, just go back to the castle. You can apologize to your father and we can solve this problem together."

Grim's eyes burned with anger as he tore his arm from Artemis's grip. "You sound just like him, blaming me for everything!" His lip trembled as he search for anything that could defend him. "You're not entirely sinless either! It's your job to keep me out of trouble, and look at us now!"

Grim's throat instantly closed up when he saw Artemis's expression. Artemis lowered his head, looking away from Grim. He turned to the car, and Grim noticed he had a limp. Blood was leaking down the side of his pants leg.

"Moony," Grim breathed, catching him by the sleeve, "You're hurt." Artemis wasn't entirely immortal. He was ageless, but he was still susceptible to injuries.

"It's just a cut," Artemis mumbled, shying away from Grim.

"Here, just sit down. I don't want you to bleed out, okay?" Grim's voice trembled as he helped Artemis onto the hood of the car. He didn't know to remedy Artemis's hurt feelings, but he would try his best to heal his body.

He tore a piece of fabric from Artemis's jacket, prepared to use it as a tourniquet. He had watched action movies since action movies had been invented, so he figured he knew how to apply one.

The gash across Artemis's thigh was nearly four inches long and looked rather bad (in Grim's not-so-humble opinion, but then again, any injury on Artemis looked bad to him). Bringing the strip of fabric close to his leg, Grim's fingers accidentally brushed across his flesh.

As most things Grim has done in his life, this is also regarded as a bad move.

Instantly, the edges of the wound turned black, and Artemis howled in pain. He squirmed away from Grim, falling to the ground and gasping for breath.

Grim's eyes were wide as he stood over Artemis, staring at his hands. "I'm so sorry!" he cried, staggering back. His heart was racing. Was his father right? Did he ruin everything he touched?

"It's fine, it's fine!" Artemis reassured him, holding up his hands. He tied the tourniquet himself, shakily coming to his feet.

Grim kept at least a foot away from Artemis, as if he was frightened he would hurt him again. Artemis flashed him an unsteady smile.

"Let's find somewhere to stay for the night. It's getting dark."