(Untitled)

[lost_undercover]

Who: Dick Grayson, Billy Costigan; Paddy, Tim, Damon (Otherwise, open; ask to join)
When: Tues (1/11) to Mon (1/17)
Where: Dick's room
What: Costigan tries to get clean. Withdrawals ensue.
Warnings: Drug references, language, violence, hallucinations, self-harm

Comments

[17ish hrs since last dose]

[lost_undercover]

Costigan hadn't slept at all, despite his best efforts. He was still nauseous, despite vomiting a few times, and had finally taken a few sips of the water bottle Dick had left out for him. On his warden's behalf, the guy had been watching him the whole time without feeling like a goddamn mother. He appreciated that more than his present mind would acknowledge. Right now, the former undercover was more concerned with the aching in his legs to the point where he wondered if he could stand. His mind was starting to feel disheveled, like he couldn't quite focus, and there was a subtle disconnect forming between what he was feeling and doing and the man himself.

He had to focus to roll his head over to look at his warden. The dehydration his warden was trying to prevent was beginning to settle in as well, giving him a headache. The Bostonian hand up a hand, looking at it as he flexed his fingers. After a beat, he finally realized he should explain. "I can't feel it. My hand."

[batmanschmatman]

It was probably a good thing that Dick had been trained to handle things like stakeouts and other periods of sitting around not doing much interrupted by moments of actual concern and action. He'd tried to do what he could for the inmate when he needed it, but otherwise kept his distance, not talking or asking questions, but still carefully monitoring how much water he was drinking and how much he was actually able to keep down.

He frowned when Costigan said he couldn't feel his hand. That was concerning. Definitely a warning sign that things were probably going to get worse, and knowing how this kind of thing went, it was entirely possible that things would get pretty bad pretty quickly.

He moved forward on the arm chair, sitting on the edge of it to try and get a better look without really invading his personal space.

"Nothing? No pins and needles or anything?" He needed confirmation to know what he was dealing with.

[lost_undercover]

Luckily, the disconnect Costigan was beginning to feel prevented him from being overwhelmed by the panic lurking beneath his surface. The inmate lifted his left hand and flexed it as well, comparing the two in his line of sight as if they might somehow look remarkably distinct from one and other based upon the degree of feeling in them. He had to think about what Dick was asking for a moment before he could process it. The inmate slammed his eyes shut with a flesh wave of pain in his legs, then opened them and looked over to his warden again. His hands fell to his sides. "Right forearm, pins and needles. Same with left hand. Right hand I just can't feel."

[batmanschmatman]

Dick quickly ran through the list of symptoms of withdrawal, frowning slightly, but trying not to look all that concerned. The hesitation between asking and answering the question was something to think about, although it could easily have just been him being difficult, or just feeling too lousy to respond. He kind of wished he actually knew Costigan a little better. If he had been someone he knew for more then just a couple weeks, he'd know what he could write off as him being stubborn versus actual warning signs.

"That's okay. That's normal." Not ideal, but not out of the question. "Let me know if it gets worse." Which it probably would, at this point. His voice was level and calm, not trying to order him but also not treating him like a kid, and without betraying any concerns that the former cop might have had.

[lost_undercover]

Costigan rolled his head to look at Dick, appearing about half as distracted as his mind actually was. Eventually he turned his head back up toward the ceiling again. The inmate lifted his left hand, despite the stabbing pain in his arm that accompanied it, to wipe at his forehead. He grabbed the icepack from beneath his neck and flung it against the opposite wall. The inmate was freezing, despite the sweat accumulating on every part of him. Curling on his side again, he kicked his legs around a little to try to make them stop hurting, to no avail.

COMPLETED

[lost_undercover]