he really likes hospitals oh baby [OPEN]

[heavendivided]

Who: Big Boss & anyone that wants to see a grouchy, blind old man bound to a hospital bed
When: Sunday to Wednesday? WHENEVER YOU LIKE
Where: Skye Medical
Summary: Big Boss almost got killed while chasing the remnants with Triela, but instead of losing his life he just lost his eye and is now in the hospital! Whoo! He also punched a doctor in the

Comments

[snuffdoll]

Triela had studied religion but she'd never really considered it for herself. That didn't stop Doctor Daedalus Yumeno from being a Godsend. Big Boss had ordered her to the hospital and she'd obeyed, but Daedalus had coaxed her into allowing some initial treatment. Three of the bullets she'd dug out of her own arms herself. He'd examined her and said gently, "I wish you hadn't done that."

"I needed to," was her curt reply to him.

She'd run away, eventually. Jack was taken in and she wasn't allowed to follow, and as it turned out, he wasn't the only one to make a scene and strike a doctor. Triela had been held back by men twice her size after kicking a man in charge of Jack's gurney in the face. She could swear she felt a molar or two dislodge through the heel of her boot. And honestly, she did feel bad for it. It had been an accident. There was just no way her mind would allow her body to stay still when Jack was being touched and handled and taken away.

Proving to Daedalus that she wouldn't faint on the way back took a little while, but eventually, she went home. And she found a teddy bear on her bed. And for the second time in her life, she knew what it was like to fail someone.

That was what made her scared to enter the hospital room, once she was allowed. The shame. He didn't want to be in here and of course it weighed on her mind that maybe if she'd run in front of him more quickly - maybe if she'd been faster or bigger or a better distraction or any number of things - he could be at home. He could look at things.

Her leather shoes click across the floor and she feels that she should say something to him, since he can't see to identify her, but she doesn't know what to say. Her throat hurts. She sits by the bed and exhales.

"Sir."

[heavendivided]

He doesn't know why his forearm is resting on his eyes. It's not like there's any light, and it's not like it can get any darker. He suspects, when he hears the click of boots, that it's another doctor entering and telling him how sorry they were about his eye, but there's nothing they can do. It wouldn't be the first time, but this would have been his last assignment, then.

A soldier is nothing without his eyes. It's equivalent to dying, and that's exactly how Jack feels. A little more dead, even if the ECG is telling him otherwise. His condition is stable, although it hasn't been that unstable to begin with. But for him, it can't be worse.

And Triela isn't the only one that has to live with the shame now. He's never failed an assignment before, save for the one that had been supposed to fail to begin with. Sometimes there were minor setbacks, but never complete failure. He's fought enemies that don't bleed before and taken them down. Why not these? Why are rockets and bullets not enough? What else can he do?

He's only human, and that's the problem. People forget that sometimes, and this time, he even forgot it himself. This is a different world, and his best isn't good enough anymore.

Triela's voice provides a small comfort. She sounds healthy, at least, and that's the most important. He has no idea what's going on outside and what might happen to everyone else now, including Sam - his client - and even if something happened, he couldn't do anything. He needs to talk to Kaz and Liquid as soon as possible, and hopes that the location of their home hasn't been leaked, because that would be fatal.

He turned his head slightly in the voices direction, and does't move much beyond that. He can't. They want to keep him docile and in bed.

"I'm high on drugs and sedatives," he says. Can be glad he's able to even move his lips and form coherent sentences. I feel like a prisoner, but he doesn't say that. He doesn't want to talk about himself right now.

"You seem to be doing better. Healing up alright?"

[snuffdoll]

She wants to say, Dummy. She wants to say, Of course I am. She wants to start crying. She wants to pull him out of bed. She wants him to pick her up. She wants to shoot everyone who'd stuck needles into him - slam their heads against walls or windows, ask them what the hell they thought they were doing. You'll hurt him! But that might be hypocritical.

Much of that feels very selfish and it's a bit horrifying that she's projecting on to him so hard. With honesty, life is not something she cares very much about, simply because she has not been taught to care about it. The opposite: It's been her purpose to take it. Seeing this man lay in a hospital bed, then, should do little to affect her.

No, it's not like that. She wants to weep and she can't keep her fingers from trembling. (They are gloved. She's got blood underneath her fingernails, and even if he can't see them, there are others.)

What she says isn't any of the things she'd like to. It's only, "Yes, sir."

Inhibition can't restrain her from carefully threading her fingers with his. She doesn't move the broken arm. Her gloved thumb moves over his, the beginning of a repetitive motion.

She looks at him and can't tell whether he seems weak-like-a-human or godlike to her.

"Yes, sir."

[heavendivided]

If he could, he'd lift his arm right now and pet her head in a comforting gesture. He'd probably still try it, if he didn't know that she'd disapprove of it, so he can only respond weakly, and with words. He can feel her fingers, and that's enough.

"I'm glad."

He wishes she would talk more instead. He's not the best when it comes to that, but he's not the one that needs comforting now.

"You did your best. Things like these just happen. I've always known that, so don't worry so much. I'm sure I'd be in worse condition now if it weren't for you. Dead, maybe."

It was the right decision of her to call the ambulance, too, even if he hadn't wanted it at the time. She did all the right things, while he made nothing but mistakes. Chasing the remnants, and attacking them in the first place. Underestimating them like that.

And maybe, he thinks, maybe I am not fit for making these decisions after all.

It was only him this time, but there would always be a next time.

He feels about ready to fall asleep again. Jack guesses that he sleeps at least at least 12 hours a night instead of the usual 4; he'd overheard a nurse saying that getting more sleep would be good for him, that he's too stressed, and that that's another reason for keeping him there for a while. Thankfully, it was a dreamless sleep.

"You should go home and catch up on sleep."

He remembers. He'd left something for her.