Giftficlet: St. Elmo's Fire
I was re-reading axolotl_lan's lovely fic Wheel Be Okay and as usual had the same couple of scenes run through my tiny little mind. So I finally gave in and wrote them out and sent them to Axo, who insisted she wanted them to be shared out. Et voila.
The title comes from the song St. Elmo's Fire by John Parr, because of the chorus ^_~
Title: St. Elmo's Fire
Author: Katzedecimal
Characters: Trickster, Blue Devil
Rating: T for allusions to the downsides of paraplegic life
Summary: just a couple of silly little scenes delving into Trickster's adjustment to life in a flying Doom Chair.
"That's it, then," the neurologist said, making notes on his PDA. James looked at his limp feet and pouted theatrically. "Currently unresponsive to any stimulus, currently no sensation responses..."
"Welllllllll..." James looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Not entirely without sensation....." The neurologist cocked a sceptical eyebrow and he grinned boyishly, "Well we sorta tested out the equipment last night..."
"The first thing every man checks," the doctor said dryly, nodding, "You felt a response?"
"Right at the end, yeah."
"You felt your orgasm?"
"Yeah. That was all, and it was, y'know, weaker, but.. yeah."
The neurologist made a few more notations, "That, actually, is a very good sign, Mr. Jesse. Thank you for being up-front about it; quite a lot of men aren't, and we miss the opportunity for targetted aggressive treatment."
James grinned, "So... there's hope?"
"It's far too early to predict with certainty. I still feel it unlikely that you will regain the ability to walk. However, this tells us there is hope for regaining some sensation, and possibly some degree of movement."
"Some is better than none."
"Very well, then. I'll order a more aggressive program. Also, you are aware of the phrase, 'if you don't use it, you lose it'? -- I'm sure you'll be terribly disappointed to learn that repeated use is imperative at this early stage. The nerves must be retrained. Just, please do not harrass the nurses."
"Nahhh," James grinned, "I already got someone to harrass."
* * * *
"I know I've been out of touch for a few years. I didn't even hear about it until a few weeks ago."
"Ah, don't worry about it, shit happens, life happens. You want a beer?"
"Sure, thanks," Daniel said. He watched his old friend pull two beers out of the fridge and roll up to the table. "I... I suppose I shouldn't ask this... How is it? I mean, how bad is it?"
James popped the top and took a swig, "Actually it's great! I mean, sure, I'd rather be walking, but compared to what it was last year, when I first got injured? - it's great. I dodged all the bad bullets," he shifted his leg and pulled one knee over the other, "So to speak."
"The 'bad bullets?'" Dan asked.
"Yeah! I got good feeling down almost to my knees, and from there it feels numbish, kinda like when your foot's asleep for too long. I can move my thighs enough, so I can get out of the chair alright. So I can bathe myself, dress myself, get to the can, which is a huge relief, I really did not want to put Piper through that for the rest of his life, seriously we had enough of that on the run together..."
Dan winced, "I'm really sorry about that, man."
James shrugged and waved it off, "Got control in the can department too, that was another worry. Basically everything else is good; I can't walk but that's all I can't do."
Dan nodded, "I guess that is a relief."
James nodded firmly, "And there's still hope for that too. I mean, it may take some years and maybe I'd never get off braces and crutches but hey, I'll take what I can get. But I got thigh movement," he wiggled his leg from the hip, "And it's only been a year, so who knows? It's happened before. And if not, hey, all the important bits work and I get to mow people down with my chair."
Dan shook his head, impressed, "Your optimism is just amazing, Tricky."
The smile slowly faded from James's face, "Yeah well.... they worked out that if the bullet's trajectory had been just five degrees different, it would've gone through my forehead. I figure this is god's way of telling me to slow down."
"Are you gonna?"
"Fuck no!"
Lately Piper's been telling me how he came to move his James's soul into the other Trickster's comatose body; would anyone be interested in reading that?
The title comes from the song St. Elmo's Fire by John Parr, because of the chorus ^_~
Title: St. Elmo's Fire
Author: Katzedecimal
Characters: Trickster, Blue Devil
Rating: T for allusions to the downsides of paraplegic life
Summary: just a couple of silly little scenes delving into Trickster's adjustment to life in a flying Doom Chair.
"That's it, then," the neurologist said, making notes on his PDA. James looked at his limp feet and pouted theatrically. "Currently unresponsive to any stimulus, currently no sensation responses..."
"Welllllllll..." James looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Not entirely without sensation....." The neurologist cocked a sceptical eyebrow and he grinned boyishly, "Well we sorta tested out the equipment last night..."
"The first thing every man checks," the doctor said dryly, nodding, "You felt a response?"
"Right at the end, yeah."
"You felt your orgasm?"
"Yeah. That was all, and it was, y'know, weaker, but.. yeah."
The neurologist made a few more notations, "That, actually, is a very good sign, Mr. Jesse. Thank you for being up-front about it; quite a lot of men aren't, and we miss the opportunity for targetted aggressive treatment."
James grinned, "So... there's hope?"
"It's far too early to predict with certainty. I still feel it unlikely that you will regain the ability to walk. However, this tells us there is hope for regaining some sensation, and possibly some degree of movement."
"Some is better than none."
"Very well, then. I'll order a more aggressive program. Also, you are aware of the phrase, 'if you don't use it, you lose it'? -- I'm sure you'll be terribly disappointed to learn that repeated use is imperative at this early stage. The nerves must be retrained. Just, please do not harrass the nurses."
"Nahhh," James grinned, "I already got someone to harrass."
* * * *
"I know I've been out of touch for a few years. I didn't even hear about it until a few weeks ago."
"Ah, don't worry about it, shit happens, life happens. You want a beer?"
"Sure, thanks," Daniel said. He watched his old friend pull two beers out of the fridge and roll up to the table. "I... I suppose I shouldn't ask this... How is it? I mean, how bad is it?"
James popped the top and took a swig, "Actually it's great! I mean, sure, I'd rather be walking, but compared to what it was last year, when I first got injured? - it's great. I dodged all the bad bullets," he shifted his leg and pulled one knee over the other, "So to speak."
"The 'bad bullets?'" Dan asked.
"Yeah! I got good feeling down almost to my knees, and from there it feels numbish, kinda like when your foot's asleep for too long. I can move my thighs enough, so I can get out of the chair alright. So I can bathe myself, dress myself, get to the can, which is a huge relief, I really did not want to put Piper through that for the rest of his life, seriously we had enough of that on the run together..."
Dan winced, "I'm really sorry about that, man."
James shrugged and waved it off, "Got control in the can department too, that was another worry. Basically everything else is good; I can't walk but that's all I can't do."
Dan nodded, "I guess that is a relief."
James nodded firmly, "And there's still hope for that too. I mean, it may take some years and maybe I'd never get off braces and crutches but hey, I'll take what I can get. But I got thigh movement," he wiggled his leg from the hip, "And it's only been a year, so who knows? It's happened before. And if not, hey, all the important bits work and I get to mow people down with my chair."
Dan shook his head, impressed, "Your optimism is just amazing, Tricky."
The smile slowly faded from James's face, "Yeah well.... they worked out that if the bullet's trajectory had been just five degrees different, it would've gone through my forehead. I figure this is god's way of telling me to slow down."
"Are you gonna?"
"Fuck no!"
Lately Piper's been telling me how he came to move his James's soul into the other Trickster's comatose body; would anyone be interested in reading that?