Day 48: Intercom, Evening

[damned_intercom]

"AACHOO! Ahem!" The Head Doctor's slightly-better-but-still-congested voice came on clearly over the intercom. The sound of Nurse Lydia sighing and pulling out a tissue from somewhere in the background was also audible

Comments

[cmdr_exposition]

If he never saw Stein again, it would be too soon. That was a bit of a cliche, but Hayes was just too rattled to come up with an original way of expressing the disturbing presence of that person. And nothing had really even been done to him... not like ZEX, whose disfiguring wounds were still in the front of his mind.

Not the Captain's, though, because Hayes hadn't mentioned any of that to him when he'd had the opportunity, or even arranged a future meeting, or found out what the Institute was calling him so that he could ask the nurse. He'd tried anyway with "Zelnick", of course, but just as predictably she'd insisted there was no one of that name around. He found he wasn't even annoyed about that, or about the patronizing announcement. He was just too relieved to be out of therapy intact.

The cell, when he got there, was downright comforting in its plainness and its containing someone who had never threatened to stab him. As the door shut behind him, he just... stood for a moment, trying to collect enough of his thoughts to actually do something.

[hes_deadjim]

The door opening and closing, signaling Mr. Hayes' arrival, rang through his head like a red alert. McCoy swore quietly under his breath and covered his eyes with a hand.

"You mind keeping it down, commander?" the doctor asked quietly, his voice muffled. He probably wasn't even being that loud, but it felt as loud as standing right in the thick of the engine room. It'd hopefully go away once he got some sleep, but now that he was lying down, he was finding it hard to fall asleep. His mind was working rapidly, going over today's events, that shift Venkman, the previous night, what happened to his Enterprise, where they even looking for him(?), their assignment this night. Everything that wasn't conducive to falling asleep.

[cmdr_exposition]

What, should I breathe quieter? It was the nurse that had handled the door, and Hayes didn't think he even had the energy to do anything actually noisy. But that included sarcastic rejoinders, so he just mumbled a "Sure" and sank into his chair.

The smell of the fish hung heavily in the air, and at any other time would have been downright alluring, but with Hayes' stomach already twisting with dread, it was just further sickening. Still, he knew he needed to eat, so he picked up the fork and speared a chunk of fish. Then he regarded it sadly for a while. Then he put it in his mouth and forced himself to swallow it.

There was still a lot left, and he wasn't going to get through it all that way, so he pushed the plate aside and tried not to think about what he'd do if asked to go back there.

[hes_deadjim]

Thankful that Hayes didn't argue the matter (then again, the commander didn't seem the argumentative sort in the first place, so why would he?), McCoy rolled on his side to face the wall. He closed his eyes. Moving probably wasn't the best idea, it sent a sharp twinge through his head, but it was too late to take it back now.

He could smell the fish in the air as Hayes set in behind him, hear the tiny scrape of the chair as he sat down. McCoy lay there listening as he waited to fall asleep. Was it him, he thought, or was the commander not digging in as much as he usually did?

[cmdr_exposition]

Trying not to think about something specific rarely works. This was not an exception, and none of the scenarios Hayes could imagine ended well. Even miraculous-rescue-out-of-nowhere was seeming dimmer than usual, now that Zelnick was trapped right along with the rest of them.

Being left with no way out was not exactly an unfamiliar feeling, but it was leaving Hayes with the same problems he'd had the first time it was sinking in: dread, self-loathing, and the frustrated desire for something to shoot at and something to do it with. Somehow he felt he should have some better idea what to do about it this time around, but nothing came to mind.

Maybe the doctor had the right idea, he thought wearily. He'd try for some sleep himself, as soon as he could scrape together the motivation to get out of this damn chair.