Brainiac 5's hands tightened reflexively on his blankets and his eyes snapped open. Clark. He'd been clinging to his friend's still body, trying desperately to get him to wake up and...
Clark was dead.
The knowledge was an unpleasant churning in his stomach and a bad taste in his mouth - he hadn't known information could make you feel like this, what was wrong with him? - but it didn't go away. He stared at the ceiling and tried to rationalise it, but all that happened was his mind chasing itself around and around those three words and everything they meant. Clark was dead. He hadn't been able to save him.
He'd failed his friend.
His eyes were burning and his face was damp despite his efforts not to cry. It was almost enough to make him miss being Coluan all over again, where a lack of tear ducts and better control over his internal systems would have made this problem easily fixable. But he couldn't rely on that any more.
Nor could he rely on Clark to be there.
Thinking like this wasn't helping at all. He needed to get up, to try and just think about what was happening and...
....what had they done with Clark's body?
He'd been holding on to it, to him. And then he'd woken up here. So what had happened to the body? His mind leapt to visions of it being used in twisted and primitive ancient Earth science, of them doing who knew what in order to try and learn more about what Clark was. No. He couldn't allow that. He had to, to...
The door opened before he really had time to think any further or make any attempt to calm himself down. Brainiac 5 pushed himself upright with some difficulty, eyes staring up at the nurse desperately, and blurted, "He's dead! What did you do with him?!"
She'd been warned that this patient was volatile, but when he looked at her so desperately, it was difficult not to wish she'd opted out of coming to get him today. Smiling as reassuringly as possible, the nurse moved closer to Michael. "Please, calm down, Mr. Blake. Who are you talking about? No one has died that I'm aware of."
That was right, they had different names here and yesterday the nurse had called Clark... "Kal. He- he died. Last night. What happened to his- his body."
It was a struggle to get the words out at all as his body seemed intent on undermining his efforts with tears and an inability to talk without his breath hitching or to stop shaking. Shock from last night's events and his injuries, he thought distantly. The knowledge didn't make them stop.
He winced and tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position without agitating any wounds, something that proved nearly impossible thanks to Grell's efforts.
"I just... I just want to know what you did with him. That's all," he managed. "Please..."
Kal? Oh, right. This boy's friend and one that had made leaps and bounds within the past few days. The nurse felt relief wash through her since this was one patient she knew the truth about and could give Michael the information he needed. Perhaps he'd calm down a little and stop thinking his friend was dead if he knew that his family had just come to pick him up that morning?
And maybe then he'd stop getting himself hurt like this. Really, he should have known better than to attempt stairs in his condition. Shaking her head, the nurse went over to him and gently rubbed his back, careful to avoid injuries. "Shh, it's okay. He was released this morning to his parents, Mr. Blake. And he was quite happy, too, so you don't need to think he's dead, he's just gone home."
"Released to his parents..." The phrasing caused a sharp gasp of something that was almost a laugh. He supposed the nurse was correct in that respect; after all, humans had often referred to death as a 'release' - and hadn't Grell said something to that effect? His mind was still hazy - and he knew Clark would have liked to think of it as rejoining his Kryptonian family somehow...
The laugh - if that was what it was - caused another wince of pain that helped focus him somewhat, though at the same time everything felt curiously distant and the shaking didn't appear to have stopped. It made sense, he realised distantly. False names and stories... There would be false covers for what had happened the night before and, much like everything else he'd found here so far, no amount of pleading was going to get him the answers he wanted from the staff.
"I see..."
The nurse's hand was vaguely soothing, but also irritating. He didn't welcome contact at the best of times, and this was far from that. Unfortunately with his injuries it was difficult to pull away so there was little he could do about the matter beyond nodding slightly in the hope that would make her stop.
"I suppose I overreacted then..." His voice didn't sound much more stable than it had earlier, but at least he felt slightly more in control of himself. "I'm sorry..."
While Michael didn't seem to be feeling better, he had at least calmed down and that made the nurse smile a little wider. He even apologized for overreacting and seemed to gain control of himself again. Moving away, the nurse reached into her pocket for the prescribed pain medication and handed it to him. "Good. Perhaps he'll even come see you on Visitor's Day. Wouldn't that be nice? These are your morning pills, be sure to take them with your breakfast, okay? The afternoon dose will come to you at lunch."
Going toward the door, the nurse pulled the wheelchair into the room and unfolded it, rolling it close to the bed. "Now, would you like to go to breakfast?"
"Thank you," Brainiac 5 said, accepting the medication. He stared at the wheelchair with a mix of dislike and resignation, but didn't resist as the nurse helped him into it.
"I should... put up a note, so that C- Kal's friends know... he's gone." It would cause more problems but it needed to be done. And at least the task and possible company over breakfast would help to distract him from the aching numbness that was settling over his mind.
Clark was dead.
The knowledge was an unpleasant churning in his stomach and a bad taste in his mouth - he hadn't known information could make you feel like this, what was wrong with him? - but it didn't go away. He stared at the ceiling and tried to rationalise it, but all that happened was his mind chasing itself around and around those three words and everything they meant. Clark was dead. He hadn't been able to save him.
He'd failed his friend.
His eyes were burning and his face was damp despite his efforts not to cry. It was almost enough to make him miss being Coluan all over again, where a lack of tear ducts and better control over his internal systems would have made this problem easily fixable. But he couldn't rely on that any more.
Nor could he rely on Clark to be there.
Thinking like this wasn't helping at all. He needed to get up, to try and just think about what was happening and...
....what had they done with Clark's body?
He'd been holding on to it, to him. And then he'd woken up here. So what had happened to the body? His mind leapt to visions of it being used in twisted and primitive ancient Earth science, of them doing who knew what in order to try and learn more about what Clark was. No. He couldn't allow that. He had to, to...
The door opened before he really had time to think any further or make any attempt to calm himself down. Brainiac 5 pushed himself upright with some difficulty, eyes staring up at the nurse desperately, and blurted, "He's dead! What did you do with him?!"
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[Kaze]
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It was a struggle to get the words out at all as his body seemed intent on undermining his efforts with tears and an inability to talk without his breath hitching or to stop shaking. Shock from last night's events and his injuries, he thought distantly. The knowledge didn't make them stop.
He winced and tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position without agitating any wounds, something that proved nearly impossible thanks to Grell's efforts.
"I just... I just want to know what you did with him. That's all," he managed. "Please..."
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And maybe then he'd stop getting himself hurt like this. Really, he should have known better than to attempt stairs in his condition. Shaking her head, the nurse went over to him and gently rubbed his back, careful to avoid injuries. "Shh, it's okay. He was released this morning to his parents, Mr. Blake. And he was quite happy, too, so you don't need to think he's dead, he's just gone home."
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The laugh - if that was what it was - caused another wince of pain that helped focus him somewhat, though at the same time everything felt curiously distant and the shaking didn't appear to have stopped. It made sense, he realised distantly. False names and stories... There would be false covers for what had happened the night before and, much like everything else he'd found here so far, no amount of pleading was going to get him the answers he wanted from the staff.
"I see..."
The nurse's hand was vaguely soothing, but also irritating. He didn't welcome contact at the best of times, and this was far from that. Unfortunately with his injuries it was difficult to pull away so there was little he could do about the matter beyond nodding slightly in the hope that would make her stop.
"I suppose I overreacted then..." His voice didn't sound much more stable than it had earlier, but at least he felt slightly more in control of himself. "I'm sorry..."
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Going toward the door, the nurse pulled the wheelchair into the room and unfolded it, rolling it close to the bed. "Now, would you like to go to breakfast?"
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"I should... put up a note, so that C- Kal's friends know... he's gone." It would cause more problems but it needed to be done. And at least the task and possible company over breakfast would help to distract him from the aching numbness that was settling over his mind.
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