Ben; Alicia; Rossi
3/18/2007
Natalie has had a full night's sleep, if not precisely a /good/ night's sleep. Morphine keeps her drowsy and dozing, while the pull of burnt flesh jars her back into waking with painful regularity. She looks quite a sight, pale save for the heated red that surrounds the bandaged burns and creeps up the left side of her neck and jawline. Her entire left arm has been wrapped nearly to the wrist, and more bandages are evident under the light gown she wears. The cuts on her cheek and palms are mostly shallow, although a butterfly bandage is white against her right temple. Her hair is spread loose atop the pillow in a tangled mess, and an IV leads from her right wrist.
Benjamin quietly trails the nurse that leads him along the sterile, strange-smelling hallways. He's wrapped up hastily in a leather coat, a flash of burgundy sweater underneath. There wasn't much time this morning, or patience rather, and the small undecorated box is the only thing in his hands. The nurse opens the door, shooing him in and pointing out her bed. Benjamin approaches, hesitant, even the attempted smile falling into a worried squiggle on his lips as he observes the damage. "Natty?"
Natalie's head turns, shifting from its cushion on her right cheek to roll carefully toward Ben. For a moment, her breath catches and her eyes grow dangerously glassy as she swallows and rolls her eyes steadfastly up to the ceiling. Her right hand lifts to spasm toward him in silent request. For the moment, she can't find her voice.
Benjamin nudges himself a bit closer. The box seems to be his lifeline in this situation and he clings to it accordingly. "Oh, babe," he breathes out, eyes falling on the hand. He pushes the box on the bedside stand, a little hesitant to release it as he finally crouches down next to her bed. His own hand is offered up, though he does not make the first moves to touch her.
Natalie's hand falls limp to the bed beside her and her head moves, eyes blinking away welling tears to track his actions. Eventually she finds her voice to assure hoarsely, "I'm okay."
Benjamin pulls his own hand away, eyes still down on hers. "You're okay," he mumbles in what was supposed to be echoing assurance. It fails and Benjamin leans back with a deep breath. "What happened?"
Natalie's fingers curl light into her palms, careful of the shallow abrasions there. She breathes slowly out as she watches him. "I'm not really sure. Bahir said there was a -- a pyrokinetic?"
Benjamin's sigh out is shaky, his knees adjusting as he shifts in his crouch. "A pyrokinetic," he repeats. Slowly he scoots more into the bed, leaning up against the edge with crossed arms. "Are you going to be all right? You don't... don't need anything?" Ben wonders quickly with a hesitant, almost offended add on, "Bahir said he brought you some stuff."
Natalie shifts sideways a bit, scooting left so there's room on her uninjured side for Ben to seat himself on the bed. "I don't know," she answers, voice dropping with a dangerous waver as her eyes screw up. "I'm okay," she repeats again.
Benjamin lifts himself, edging on the bed just enough to give him some support, though his feet keep most of it as they press against the tiled floor. He turns himself, looking up to her. "It'll be all right," Benjamin replies in a whisper. His hand pushes forward, fingers spreading out over the bed covers.
Natalie's fingers move spasmodically to twist tightly through his - almost painfully so. Another swallow holds back tears for just a moment and then there's no hope for it. Jagged breaths rush in and out as she turns her cheek into the pillow toward him and cries.
Benjamin keeps his hand still, letting it melt to hers with little and no resistance. "Natalie," the boy gasps out. His opposite hand presses into the bed, giving him leverage to bend down into the odd angle and press a kiss to the side of her nose. "Shh, don't cry," he wills her as he moves to sit back up.
Natalie gasps in a breath and squeezes her eyes closed, chin dipped in a nod. "Sorry," she answers, "I'm sorry."
"Why?" Benjamin asks in surprise. "What? No. Don't be sorry. Hey, baby." Finally, carefully, his fingers squeeze back into hers. "It's okay."
There's a silent moment as Natalie gathers herself and swallows, hard. Despite assurances, tears shut off with some amount of serious effort and she nods. She frees her hand from his with a jerky motion to lift it and wipe carefully at her eyes.
Benjamin peels himself back a little, worried eyes full on her. His hands fumble and retreat back into his lap. "When are they letting you out?"
"I don't know," Natalie answers. "A few days. Can you get me a tissue?"
Benjamin nods silently, sliding off the bed to fetch a tissue from the side table. He holds it out to her. "I was really worried. It's all over the news."
"Yeah," Natalie answers, turning her head to look at him just long enough to accept the tissue. Her gaze rolls forward, up to the ceiling, and she lifts her head a bit to blow her nose. Very lady-like.
Benjamin fidgets, settling back on the bed and dragging his box from the table to hold. "I brought you something," he explains quietly with a glance her way.
Natalie blows out a deep breath and finally turns to look back at him. "You didn't have to bring me something."
"Ya-huh," Benjamin insists, popping the top of it off and tipping it to show her. M&Ms, Three Musketeers, and assortments of other candies are shoved in. Ben leans over the prized box, shuffling the contents and pulling out his copy of Ishmael. He grins weakly and hands it to her. "Seems like you have time now."
That, finally, earns him a small smile as she takes the book single-handed and settles it on her lap. She looks down at it in silence for a moment and then sweeps her gazee back up to his. "Thank you."
Benjamin grins back, trying to put as much 'umph' into the smile as possible. "You're welcome," he says gently. There is another moment of silence. "If you finish it, we can totally geek out and have a mini book-clubish meeting about it."
"Yeah." Natalie's eyes remain on his for a moment before she waves her hand to the side, indicating the bed controls that dangles to Ben's side. "Grab that for me? This angle is killing my back."
Benjamin jumps to do the bidding, settling the box aside and reaching to snag the controls. He pops back up with them, looking a little proud of himself. "Here!" With a royal flare he holds them forth to her. "Tissue?" he requests of her used one, holding the other hand out with palm open.
Natalie considers Ben doubtfully, nose wrinkled up in distaste at his open palm.
"No? All right. Horde all your tissues," Benjamin deposits the controls next to her. The offered palm lingers a few more beats.
Despite that offered palm, Natalie tucks the tissue on the bed next to her, hand stretching to her opposite side. She turns to poke at the controls, adjusting the bed's angle before she shares, "Yesterday I couldn't manage this. Couldn't see a freaking thing."
Benjamin finally drops his hand away, remaining at a stand next to her bed. "Smoke damage on your eyes or--?" he inquires with concerned interest.
Natalie shakes her head just slightly and gives a nod to the glasses that sit on the bedside table. "Hurts to wear them. I haven't looked yet-- they might be a bit singed."
Benjamin follows the nod, looking at the glasses with a soft frown. Without asking he reaches to pick them up and unfold the arms to inspect them.
Natalie watches this process with some amount of mild interest, head turned toward him.
Benjamin turns the glasses around in his hands, running his fingers along the arms. There is a grace to his hands, carefully handling them as if valued at a great cost. "I'll miss you wearing them. Even if it's only for a few days."
Natalie exhales and tips her head slightly to one side. "Bahir says he thinks I'll need a haircut."
Benjamin tears his eyes away from the glasses, sliding them back to the stand as he leans forward, eyes sweeping down to the frazzled hair. "Oh, yeah. Probably," he observes stiffly. "It's a chance to do something fun with it?" Benjamin suggests with an optimistic smile.
Natalie's hair still hangs long in most places, but there is a distinct lack on her left side near the jawline when flame caught at bits of hair on the underside of her ponytail. "I don't want to do something fun," she answers irritably. "I like it long."
"It'll look great short, too," Benjamin insists. He pushes his hand behind him, letting his knuckled knead into her hip with a wispy lightness. "Don't worry, Natalie. This shit happens. It's New York."
Natalie breathes out an unhappy laugh and tucks her arm around her midsection, right hand curving against her left hip. "Right," she says.
Benjamin nearly pulls his hand away, though it manages to stay up against her. "Are you hungry?" he questions of her, looking up and around with slight annoyance that no one seems to be bringing food at that very moment.
"No, I'm ok." Natalie exhales a held breath and then untwines her arm so that she can slide it down to drop her hand heavily over his. "They feed me here," she adds after a moment, and her tone almost manages teasing.
Benjamin looks eager at the contact, his thumb sliding to the slide to twine upwards as much as it can between her fingers. "Next time you're staying in bed," he whispers to her.
Natalie's expression crumples at that and tears are clearly a renewed threat. "Don't," she begs.
"I--" Benjamin begins, suddenly shying back. "I was just joking."
Natalie's hand clings to his. "I know," she says. "Just don't. Please."
Benjamin nods slowly, still watching her with hesitance. "Are you okay?"
Natalie laughs a shakey laugh and squeezes his hand without reply.
"You realize I'm not going to get any sleep until you're back at home," Benjamin informs her, turning his hand and taking hers completely. "I guess that six inches of plaster between us means more than I thought."
"No," Natalie objects instantly. "Sleep. Ben. It's going to heal ok. They're just keeping me in case it gets infected, and to feed me the antibiotics." There is a slight lift to her voice, forced optimism. "The doctors said the scarring won't be that bad, even, as long as I do things right."
Benjamin picks himself off the bed, still holding onto her hand. "I'm going to worry anyways," he insists with a small smile. "And when you get back home you'll have someone at your beck and call."
Natalie's hand follows him up as she shifts her head to watch him. "Buy me some grapes?" she requests with a small smile.
"Red or green? Seeds? Peeled? Plucked? Mashed?" Benjamin pesters with a boyish amusement.
"/Mashed/?" Natalie answers with a moment's disbelief.
Benjamin glances around, leaning in for a whisper behind a flat hand. "Really? I'm only looking for an excuse to stomp around in grapes with my pants rolled up. Like in that I Love Lucy episode."
That earns a small laugh as Natalie tips her head back. "Dork," she accuses. "You'd stain your bathtub."
"That's a rick I am fully willing to take," Benjamin returns with a serious nod. "Also, I am /not/ a dork."
Natalie tugs slightly on Ben's hands. "Yeah you are," she disagrees. "But you're my dork, so it's okay."
"I am yours," Benjamin agrees and bends down to push another small kiss to her nose. "You sure you don't need anything? Other than grapes?"
"I have candy and a good book. I'm good," Natalie answers, shifting under his kiss. "I'm not supposed to leave my cell on. Do you want the room number?"
Benjamin leans back and releases her hand, digging his own into his pocket and pulling out a cell phone. "Sure. What is it?"
Natalie rattles off the number by rote memorization and then exhales slowly. "My dad's coming out tomorrow."
Benjamin punches it into his phone, eyes down on his progress. The last number's been set in as Benjamin whips his gaze back at her. "Your dad?" he asks. "Well, that's good of him."
"OU's on quarters," Natalie answers with an exhale. "So it's good timing. He worries."
"He's your dad. Of course he does," Benjamin finishes setting the contact and flips his phone shut.
"Yeah," Natalie allows, and breathes out half a smile. "Hey. They brought my bag in. Do you maybe wanna take my key in case I need something?"
"All right," Benjamin says casually. There is a bit of a swell to his chest. After all, /Bahir/ did not get the key. "What about your snake? Does he need to be fed soon?"
Natalie shakes her head and then tips it to the side where her bag sits against a wall. "Jack? No, I fed him Friday actually. He'll be good for awhile. Benefit to snakes."
Benjamin shuffles over to it, the cell phone getting poked back into a pocket as he crouches down and unzips the bag. "I'll check on him just to be safe," he says with distraction as he peeks in for the sight of the keys.
"Front pocket," Natalie supplies, and she watches Ben from the bed with a faint smile. "Hey," she says after a moment. "If you come back, maybe bring my some DVDs and my headphones? They're in my desk drawer. I could watch on my laptop."
Benjamin runs his fingers down, finding the front pocket and lifting keys out of it. He zips everything back up. "/If/ I come back?" Benjamin asks, holding the keys tightly and returning to the bedside. "Baby? You're going to get sick of seeing me I'll be here so much. And of course. I'll bring them by later tonight, maybe, if I can."
Natalie smiles up at him, apparently happy with the response to a not-so-subtle fishing, and she lifts her good hand to beckon him closer. "Don't rush," she urges him. "I know you have things to do. And I think I can do some work while I'm here anyway."
Benjamin obeys, pushing himself closer to her and shifting the keys to one hand. "Get what you need to get done," he bids her with a soft smile down at Natalie. "And I'll be on call. Any time, okay? Just give me a ring."
Natalie's hand finds his arm so she can tug him down, head lifted just enough to seek out a kiss - but not enough to stretch the reddend skin along her neck. "Yeah, okay."
Benjamin falls into the kiss easily, lips locking against hers with a soft hum. He is reluctant to leave the contact, finally pulling himself up and grinning. "You'll be all right here on your own?"
Natalies's hand slides up around his neck and feathers lightly through his hair before falling away. "I'll probably sleep," she admits. "The morphine makes me really drowsy."
"Good night, then," Benjamin whispers to her, squeezing her head again before backing away. "Just a phone call away." And with that he turns, starting for the door with a good amount of glances back to her.
"Yeah. I'll see you later," Natalie assures, and lifts her hand to wiggle her fingers at his retreating back.
Benjamin glances back and catches it, his body turning in the doorframe. His fingers wiggle back before he's swept out into the hallway and gone.
Ben comes to visit. He brings her a book!
3/18/2007
The patient pressing the nurse's button is irritable. Her roommate is asleep, her skin hurts, and she is, thank you, quite thirsty. Natalie shifts sideways unhappily, careful of the bandages that wrap her left arm and chest. She winces as the reddened skin surrounding the bandaged burns and edged up her left neck and jawline pull against the movement and sighs as she drops her head back to the bed again.
Alicia is passing the nurses' station when she hears the buzzing of a patient. "Buzzer!" the paramedic says, quite helpfully as she goes toward the cafeteria to get something to eat. But before she gets too far, one of the nurses, looking harried and in need of a coffee herself shakes her head at Alicia. "Not so fast! Could you do us a favor and check in on her? We're totally swamped in here today!" The nurse is walking toward the ER without waiting for an answer. Which leaves Alicia with nothing to do but poke her head in on the patient.
The patient, at the far end of the hospital room and past a half-drawn curtain, jabs at the button again. There is something like a curse muttered under her breath.
The petite woman walks in, still dressed in her paramedic uniform, and notices the curse, hiding a grin. With a suitably straight face, she slips past the curtain to stand next to the bed. "Hiya. Sorry one of the muscular male nurses can't be here to wait on you, but they're busy out there. What do you need?"
Natalie's head turns and for a moment she studies Alicia doubtfully. "Are you supposed to be in here?"
Alicia shrugs at the bandaged woman, noting the burns. "Well, so long as I'm not doing any medical procedures, they're fine. Just think of me as a candy-striper. But not in the outfit." The woman crosses her arms. "I'm a paramedic so they trust me to know when I'm over my head. And as much as I wouldn't WANT to help you with a bedpan, I think I can handle the job."
"I can walk to the bathroom," Natalie snaps with an unpleasant scowl. She lifts a finger to jab it at the empty water bottle resting on the tray that swings over her bed. "I'm out of water."
Alicia squelches the urge to roll her eyes at the cranky patient since burns are a bitch and a half to have to deal with, but it's a close call. "Sure, one water, coming right up!" Alicia deliberately pitches her voice to be perky and sweet, almost cloying. "Now, don't go anywhere! I'll be right back!" She almost /bounces/ out of the room to get the water.
Natalie /does/ roll her eyes, and irritated look that follows Alicia out the door before she rolls her head forward again and heaves out a long sigh. She does not go anywhere - har, har - and is in fact waiting for Alicia with frustrated impatience by the time she returns.
Alicia returns fairly quickly with the bottle, and with a cup fill of ice AND a swirly curly straw. She sets the cup on the tray, cracks the bottle open with a deft twist, and pours it into the cup. The paramedic doesn't say anything as she hands off the cup, but absently uses a smidge of power to do a quick check on how the patient is healing as their fingers brush. "So," she says, casually, "How'd you get the burns?"
Natalie's eyes narrow on Alicia as she takes the cup and promptly shifts to dump the entire thing into her water bottle - a giant thing with a handle and a plastic straw of its own. She screws the lid back on without answering before she finally allows, "Watch the news?"
"Yeah, not too much lately, been pulling a lot of overtime, but I usually catch the highlights."
Natalie blinks evenly at Alicia, waiting.
Alicia blinks back at Natalie, then facepalms. "Oh. OH! Sorry. The fire at the coffee house?" The paramedic frowns. "I was at that call. Nasty."
"Nasty," Natalie repeats, and leans forward for a long, thirsty gulp before her head falls back against the bed.
Alicia hmms to herself, then says, "Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier, but I'm Alicia. You need anything else? Something to eat? More water?"
Natalie studies Alicia for a doubtful moment and then allows, "Natalie. No, I'm fine. I was just thirsty."
Alicia shrugs again at Natalie. "Ok, hope you feel better," she offers and heads out of the room.
Natalie watches Alicia's exit with lingering irritation and then collapses back into her bed with a sigh.
A paramedic does Natalie a favor and she is grateful. Or possibly grouchy. Yeah, the second one.
The voices outside Natalie's door are familiar, if pitched low under the background noise of the floor's traffic. Chris's baritone is telltale, with its Brooklyn stop and go. Alicia's, likewise, if more by reason of immediate exposure. "--not to get brained by a bedpan or something," says the latter, lifting to follow the sound of approaching footsteps. "Nice meeting you too!"
And then Chris is at the door.
The badge that winks at his coat's lapel is a sign that he is on duty, or newly off; the hand that is shoved in his pocket bulges the overcoat, thinned leather straining across the press of knuckles inside. He leans into the open door, shoulder braced against the post, and peers inside with lively interest. "Yo, /Nat/." Peace and quiet for the recovering? Not so much.
The room is for two, and Natalie's roommate - housed near the door - is slumbering. Natalie herself is tucked behind a half-drawn curtain, collapsed back against the lifted angle of her bed. The bandages that cover her left arm and chest are clearly visible from the vantage point of a visitor, as is the reddened skin that creeps up her neck and jawline. her head turns toward the voice with a deepening frown and she blinks toward the door in silence.
"So much for hugs and kisses," Chris says, detaching himself from the door to saunter towards his cousin. The hand in his pocket drags itself out with some difficulty, battling the soft cloth of the lining to produce both fist and the gold-and-brown of a small Godiva box. "Heard you weren't doing so good. Brought you some chocolates. This rate, you'll have clocked more hospital time than me."
"I think Megan's asleep," Natalie reminds as she blinks at him. "How'd you know I was here?" Her right hand lifts to flutter dismissal. "They're not keeping me that long."
Chris claims the back of a visitor's chair and turns it so he can straddle it and sit. The coat spills wide over the outfit underneath: black suit and silver tie, over the crease of a navy blue shirt. "I got friends who know people," he reminds, offering her the box. "Someone heard your name on a call and gave me a ring. Thing about your family, they're connected. And not in the bad way."
"Oh," Natalie says, and she blinks at him (minus her usual glasses) for a moment before her gaze drops to the box and she leans forward a bit to take it. "Thanks. Chocolates, huh? I'm going to be fat by the time I leave." She shifts to settle it on the tray next to her bed and adds, "Thanks."
"Chocolates cure all," Chris says with a knowing air, and folds his arms across the back of his seat to quiz Natalie with upraised brows. "So what happened, exactly? You fall on your stove? Or did you have some kind of accident with a frog and a cigarette?"
Natalie's brows pull in as she stares at Chris for a moment and then she lifts her hand to rub a thumb down the bridge of her nose. "You haven't seen the news?"
"I was sort of hoping it might've been some kind of random domestic," Chris says with resignation. He props his chin in a fist and contemplates his cousin, eyes half-lidded. "Getting into trouble with mutant-land isn't the kind of habit you want to develop."
"Gee," Natalie answers, dry and bitter. "Thanks. Because you know, I was really thinking I'd like to make a habit of this."
"I'm just saying," Chris says, and scratches idly at his cheek while he considers. "Suppose it can't be helped. Maybe it's something in the genes? Except Mikey and Julia have no trouble staying out of the way when mutants run amok, or whatever they're calling it today. Maybe you got it from your dad's side of the family."
"That must be it." Natalie's gaze on Chris is unhappy and irritable.
"Eat your chocolate," Chris says, kindly.
"I'll eat them later." Natalie pauses, blinks, and remembers to add, "Thank you."
Chris grins. "You're welcome. Godiva's pretty good, if you're okay with the store-bought kind. There's a little place down in Queens that hand-makes better, but they're closed on Sundays. --Benjy-boy been by to see you yet?"
"Ben?" Natalie considers Chris for a wary moment before she answers, "Yeah, he was here this morning."
"What?" Chris asks, lifting his brows at her look.
"What?" Natalie echoes, confused.
"Something wrong with me asking about Ben?"
"The last time you saw him you let him think you were /dating/ me," Natalie points out. Irritably.
Chris grins. "He told you about it after all, did he? Old news. We had a few beers in the bar a few weeks ago. Him and Kessler and me. Anyway, I didn't /let/ him think anything. Can't help it if your boyfriend's got a filthy mind. Wouldn't think it, looking at him."
"Oh. Right. With Matt." Natalie scowls at Chris and shifts, fingers splaying against her leg. "He does not have a filthy mind."
The detective's baritone roughens over a chuckle. "Filthy," he repeats. "Like a fucking sewer. He's got some major trust issues, that boy of yours. I'd be wondering about his past girlfriends, if I were you. Or maybe he just watches too much TV. Rots the mind, you know."
"What?" Natalie's eyes narrow on Chris. "He does not."
"Seen cleaner minds in Vice," Chris informs -- and then squints at Natalie, abruptly interested. "Or is this something you're teaching him? Corrupting the youth, warping innocent minds--"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"--making them think you've got a thing for hookers," Chris finishes sadly, and drops his chin to the back of his arms to blink at Natalie.
Natalie shifts uncomfortably and frowns at Chris without reply.
Chris half-lids his eyes again, drowsy, and curls his mouth into a crooked little smile.
"If you came just to be an asshole to me, you can leave again," Natalie snaps suddenly.
"I'm an asshole to everyone," Chris points out, without offense. "I'm being extra nice to you because of the whole injury thing. For the record. If you want to be alone, though," he adds, and straightens, preparing to stand. "Theoretically I'm here getting statements. Upstairs, though."
"I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be /antagonized/." Natalie watches this straightening with narrowed eyes.
Chris says, mildly, "Hell do I know what antagonizes you. You get upset at shit I don't get. Want to talk about the weather?" The blunted edge of a fingernail traces the line of his jaw, scraping quietly against bristle. "I know shit-all about math."
"I will give you a clue," Natalie answers with clear enunciation and over-bright eyes. "Insinuating that my boyfriend is an untrustworthy pervert is one of them. I don't know what the weather is like."
"Nothing wrong with being an untrustworthy pervert," Chris says, helpful man that he is. "Check me out, for instance. People love me."
Natalie , apparently, is not one of those people at this moment in time. She eyes him doubtfully.
Chris grins back, and stands to shove both hands in pockets. "Want references?"
"Not particularly."
"You'll have to take my word for it, then," Chris says, and nudges the chair back into its original location with a sideways tap of the foot. "How much longer you going to be in here? Did the docs say?"
"A couple of days. Depends on how it's healing." Natalie's head rolls back to the prop of the bed and she adds, "How much it hurts, I think."
"Take it easy, then," Chris says, and drops a cautious hand on the low bulge of her foot. "Last thing you want's to rush a healing burn. Been there with Julia. Take your time. I'll check up on you again tomorrow. Number of statements we got to take, I'll be at the damn hospital from now until Easter."
Natalie's foot is uninjured, and so wiggles under Chris's touch. "How bad's Julia been burned?" she asks with sudden curiousity.
Chris grips gently and wags. This little piggy-- "Bad fire," he says, releasing his cousin. "Just on the thigh. Took her out for a few weeks, though. Could've been a hell of a lot worse. She'll probably be by," he adds thoughtfully. "One of the guys in her house is down the hall in traction. If you want, I'll tell her to give it a pass. Tell her you're not up for visitors."
"Who said I'm not up for visitors?" Natalie wonders with narrowed eyes. "I've had tons of visitors." (Three). "Third degree or what?"
"Depends on if you're up for Julia or not. Not the same thing as a regular visitor. You've met her. --Her leg was third," Chris says, his brows angling down. "A floor gave out under her and she put her leg through. They had to chop her out. Perks of the job, I guess. Nuts."
"A few weeks," Natalie echoes, and then sighs as she raises her good hand to rub across her forehead. "Yeah. Sounds like it."
Chris shrugs his shoulders, the leather creaking over his arms, and adds, "It was a bad place for a burn. Right inside the leg and knee -- sort of need that to move around, and it cracks every time you do. So." He regards Natalie with curiosity. "You got someone to take care of you when you get discharged?"
"I can move around and stuff," Natalie objects instantly. "It's just my arm." Mostly.
"Don't knock help around the place when you're hurt," Chris says, and reaches to pat again at that uninjured foot. "The first time you fall on your ass and rip open your stitches--" A hand waves deprecatingly at Natalie's burns. "--or whatever. Mom's pretty expert at taking care of burns, by this point. You want to hang out at their place for a while after you get out?"
Natalie looks, briefly, absolutely horrified. There's a moment's dead silence before she manages a sudden and sharp shake of her head. "No, that's okay. Ben lives next door, and Bahir's just down the hall. I'll be fine."
Chris is not blind, and the small tightness at the corners of eyes and mouth at her expression speak of a grin most manfully repressed. "Right," he says. "You got friends. If you change your mind, just give me a ring. You know the Rossis. We'll come running."
"I have to be in the city anyway," Natalie adds in what is perhaps a belated attempt not to offend.
"Brooklyn," Chris reminds. "Hop skip and a jump away." But she is injured, and he is occasionally merciful, and adds at the end of that, "Know what you mean. Okay. You got their number. And mine, I guess. I'm heading upstairs to do the job they pay me for. You need anything before I go?"
"I teach at Columbia," Natalie reminds, and her expression clearly displays her opinion of living in Brooklyn when one doesn't have to. She shakes her head just slightly. "No, I'm fine. Good luck with work."
Chris lifts a hand in a lackadaisical salute, a backhanded wave that is tossed over the turned shoulder. "All fun and games until some mutants go wild and blow up New York," he says, humor dry in the drawl of voice. He heads towards the door. "Take care. You need anything, just call."
"Yeah," Natalie assures falsely, and settles back into her bed as Chris heads out.
There are nurses outside. Cute ones. And taken as Chris is, he has no compunctions about flirting with necessary personnel. His voice rises outside the door, pitched in amiable greetings to a female's reply; amusement lifts in a quick ripple of sound, then tapers off and draws away.
Natalie's family is somewhat terrifying.
Natalie has had a full night's sleep, if not precisely a /good/ night's sleep. Morphine keeps her drowsy and dozing, while the pull of burnt flesh jars her back into waking with painful regularity. She looks quite a sight, pale save for the heated red that surrounds the bandaged burns and creeps up the left side of her neck and jawline. Her entire left arm has been wrapped nearly to the wrist, and more bandages are evident under the light gown she wears. The cuts on her cheek and palms are mostly shallow, although a butterfly bandage is white against her right temple. Her hair is spread loose atop the pillow in a tangled mess, and an IV leads from her right wrist.
Benjamin quietly trails the nurse that leads him along the sterile, strange-smelling hallways. He's wrapped up hastily in a leather coat, a flash of burgundy sweater underneath. There wasn't much time this morning, or patience rather, and the small undecorated box is the only thing in his hands. The nurse opens the door, shooing him in and pointing out her bed. Benjamin approaches, hesitant, even the attempted smile falling into a worried squiggle on his lips as he observes the damage. "Natty?"
Natalie's head turns, shifting from its cushion on her right cheek to roll carefully toward Ben. For a moment, her breath catches and her eyes grow dangerously glassy as she swallows and rolls her eyes steadfastly up to the ceiling. Her right hand lifts to spasm toward him in silent request. For the moment, she can't find her voice.
Benjamin nudges himself a bit closer. The box seems to be his lifeline in this situation and he clings to it accordingly. "Oh, babe," he breathes out, eyes falling on the hand. He pushes the box on the bedside stand, a little hesitant to release it as he finally crouches down next to her bed. His own hand is offered up, though he does not make the first moves to touch her.
Natalie's hand falls limp to the bed beside her and her head moves, eyes blinking away welling tears to track his actions. Eventually she finds her voice to assure hoarsely, "I'm okay."
Benjamin pulls his own hand away, eyes still down on hers. "You're okay," he mumbles in what was supposed to be echoing assurance. It fails and Benjamin leans back with a deep breath. "What happened?"
Natalie's fingers curl light into her palms, careful of the shallow abrasions there. She breathes slowly out as she watches him. "I'm not really sure. Bahir said there was a -- a pyrokinetic?"
Benjamin's sigh out is shaky, his knees adjusting as he shifts in his crouch. "A pyrokinetic," he repeats. Slowly he scoots more into the bed, leaning up against the edge with crossed arms. "Are you going to be all right? You don't... don't need anything?" Ben wonders quickly with a hesitant, almost offended add on, "Bahir said he brought you some stuff."
Natalie shifts sideways a bit, scooting left so there's room on her uninjured side for Ben to seat himself on the bed. "I don't know," she answers, voice dropping with a dangerous waver as her eyes screw up. "I'm okay," she repeats again.
Benjamin lifts himself, edging on the bed just enough to give him some support, though his feet keep most of it as they press against the tiled floor. He turns himself, looking up to her. "It'll be all right," Benjamin replies in a whisper. His hand pushes forward, fingers spreading out over the bed covers.
Natalie's fingers move spasmodically to twist tightly through his - almost painfully so. Another swallow holds back tears for just a moment and then there's no hope for it. Jagged breaths rush in and out as she turns her cheek into the pillow toward him and cries.
Benjamin keeps his hand still, letting it melt to hers with little and no resistance. "Natalie," the boy gasps out. His opposite hand presses into the bed, giving him leverage to bend down into the odd angle and press a kiss to the side of her nose. "Shh, don't cry," he wills her as he moves to sit back up.
Natalie gasps in a breath and squeezes her eyes closed, chin dipped in a nod. "Sorry," she answers, "I'm sorry."
"Why?" Benjamin asks in surprise. "What? No. Don't be sorry. Hey, baby." Finally, carefully, his fingers squeeze back into hers. "It's okay."
There's a silent moment as Natalie gathers herself and swallows, hard. Despite assurances, tears shut off with some amount of serious effort and she nods. She frees her hand from his with a jerky motion to lift it and wipe carefully at her eyes.
Benjamin peels himself back a little, worried eyes full on her. His hands fumble and retreat back into his lap. "When are they letting you out?"
"I don't know," Natalie answers. "A few days. Can you get me a tissue?"
Benjamin nods silently, sliding off the bed to fetch a tissue from the side table. He holds it out to her. "I was really worried. It's all over the news."
"Yeah," Natalie answers, turning her head to look at him just long enough to accept the tissue. Her gaze rolls forward, up to the ceiling, and she lifts her head a bit to blow her nose. Very lady-like.
Benjamin fidgets, settling back on the bed and dragging his box from the table to hold. "I brought you something," he explains quietly with a glance her way.
Natalie blows out a deep breath and finally turns to look back at him. "You didn't have to bring me something."
"Ya-huh," Benjamin insists, popping the top of it off and tipping it to show her. M&Ms, Three Musketeers, and assortments of other candies are shoved in. Ben leans over the prized box, shuffling the contents and pulling out his copy of Ishmael. He grins weakly and hands it to her. "Seems like you have time now."
That, finally, earns him a small smile as she takes the book single-handed and settles it on her lap. She looks down at it in silence for a moment and then sweeps her gazee back up to his. "Thank you."
Benjamin grins back, trying to put as much 'umph' into the smile as possible. "You're welcome," he says gently. There is another moment of silence. "If you finish it, we can totally geek out and have a mini book-clubish meeting about it."
"Yeah." Natalie's eyes remain on his for a moment before she waves her hand to the side, indicating the bed controls that dangles to Ben's side. "Grab that for me? This angle is killing my back."
Benjamin jumps to do the bidding, settling the box aside and reaching to snag the controls. He pops back up with them, looking a little proud of himself. "Here!" With a royal flare he holds them forth to her. "Tissue?" he requests of her used one, holding the other hand out with palm open.
Natalie considers Ben doubtfully, nose wrinkled up in distaste at his open palm.
"No? All right. Horde all your tissues," Benjamin deposits the controls next to her. The offered palm lingers a few more beats.
Despite that offered palm, Natalie tucks the tissue on the bed next to her, hand stretching to her opposite side. She turns to poke at the controls, adjusting the bed's angle before she shares, "Yesterday I couldn't manage this. Couldn't see a freaking thing."
Benjamin finally drops his hand away, remaining at a stand next to her bed. "Smoke damage on your eyes or--?" he inquires with concerned interest.
Natalie shakes her head just slightly and gives a nod to the glasses that sit on the bedside table. "Hurts to wear them. I haven't looked yet-- they might be a bit singed."
Benjamin follows the nod, looking at the glasses with a soft frown. Without asking he reaches to pick them up and unfold the arms to inspect them.
Natalie watches this process with some amount of mild interest, head turned toward him.
Benjamin turns the glasses around in his hands, running his fingers along the arms. There is a grace to his hands, carefully handling them as if valued at a great cost. "I'll miss you wearing them. Even if it's only for a few days."
Natalie exhales and tips her head slightly to one side. "Bahir says he thinks I'll need a haircut."
Benjamin tears his eyes away from the glasses, sliding them back to the stand as he leans forward, eyes sweeping down to the frazzled hair. "Oh, yeah. Probably," he observes stiffly. "It's a chance to do something fun with it?" Benjamin suggests with an optimistic smile.
Natalie's hair still hangs long in most places, but there is a distinct lack on her left side near the jawline when flame caught at bits of hair on the underside of her ponytail. "I don't want to do something fun," she answers irritably. "I like it long."
"It'll look great short, too," Benjamin insists. He pushes his hand behind him, letting his knuckled knead into her hip with a wispy lightness. "Don't worry, Natalie. This shit happens. It's New York."
Natalie breathes out an unhappy laugh and tucks her arm around her midsection, right hand curving against her left hip. "Right," she says.
Benjamin nearly pulls his hand away, though it manages to stay up against her. "Are you hungry?" he questions of her, looking up and around with slight annoyance that no one seems to be bringing food at that very moment.
"No, I'm ok." Natalie exhales a held breath and then untwines her arm so that she can slide it down to drop her hand heavily over his. "They feed me here," she adds after a moment, and her tone almost manages teasing.
Benjamin looks eager at the contact, his thumb sliding to the slide to twine upwards as much as it can between her fingers. "Next time you're staying in bed," he whispers to her.
Natalie's expression crumples at that and tears are clearly a renewed threat. "Don't," she begs.
"I--" Benjamin begins, suddenly shying back. "I was just joking."
Natalie's hand clings to his. "I know," she says. "Just don't. Please."
Benjamin nods slowly, still watching her with hesitance. "Are you okay?"
Natalie laughs a shakey laugh and squeezes his hand without reply.
"You realize I'm not going to get any sleep until you're back at home," Benjamin informs her, turning his hand and taking hers completely. "I guess that six inches of plaster between us means more than I thought."
"No," Natalie objects instantly. "Sleep. Ben. It's going to heal ok. They're just keeping me in case it gets infected, and to feed me the antibiotics." There is a slight lift to her voice, forced optimism. "The doctors said the scarring won't be that bad, even, as long as I do things right."
Benjamin picks himself off the bed, still holding onto her hand. "I'm going to worry anyways," he insists with a small smile. "And when you get back home you'll have someone at your beck and call."
Natalie's hand follows him up as she shifts her head to watch him. "Buy me some grapes?" she requests with a small smile.
"Red or green? Seeds? Peeled? Plucked? Mashed?" Benjamin pesters with a boyish amusement.
"/Mashed/?" Natalie answers with a moment's disbelief.
Benjamin glances around, leaning in for a whisper behind a flat hand. "Really? I'm only looking for an excuse to stomp around in grapes with my pants rolled up. Like in that I Love Lucy episode."
That earns a small laugh as Natalie tips her head back. "Dork," she accuses. "You'd stain your bathtub."
"That's a rick I am fully willing to take," Benjamin returns with a serious nod. "Also, I am /not/ a dork."
Natalie tugs slightly on Ben's hands. "Yeah you are," she disagrees. "But you're my dork, so it's okay."
"I am yours," Benjamin agrees and bends down to push another small kiss to her nose. "You sure you don't need anything? Other than grapes?"
"I have candy and a good book. I'm good," Natalie answers, shifting under his kiss. "I'm not supposed to leave my cell on. Do you want the room number?"
Benjamin leans back and releases her hand, digging his own into his pocket and pulling out a cell phone. "Sure. What is it?"
Natalie rattles off the number by rote memorization and then exhales slowly. "My dad's coming out tomorrow."
Benjamin punches it into his phone, eyes down on his progress. The last number's been set in as Benjamin whips his gaze back at her. "Your dad?" he asks. "Well, that's good of him."
"OU's on quarters," Natalie answers with an exhale. "So it's good timing. He worries."
"He's your dad. Of course he does," Benjamin finishes setting the contact and flips his phone shut.
"Yeah," Natalie allows, and breathes out half a smile. "Hey. They brought my bag in. Do you maybe wanna take my key in case I need something?"
"All right," Benjamin says casually. There is a bit of a swell to his chest. After all, /Bahir/ did not get the key. "What about your snake? Does he need to be fed soon?"
Natalie shakes her head and then tips it to the side where her bag sits against a wall. "Jack? No, I fed him Friday actually. He'll be good for awhile. Benefit to snakes."
Benjamin shuffles over to it, the cell phone getting poked back into a pocket as he crouches down and unzips the bag. "I'll check on him just to be safe," he says with distraction as he peeks in for the sight of the keys.
"Front pocket," Natalie supplies, and she watches Ben from the bed with a faint smile. "Hey," she says after a moment. "If you come back, maybe bring my some DVDs and my headphones? They're in my desk drawer. I could watch on my laptop."
Benjamin runs his fingers down, finding the front pocket and lifting keys out of it. He zips everything back up. "/If/ I come back?" Benjamin asks, holding the keys tightly and returning to the bedside. "Baby? You're going to get sick of seeing me I'll be here so much. And of course. I'll bring them by later tonight, maybe, if I can."
Natalie smiles up at him, apparently happy with the response to a not-so-subtle fishing, and she lifts her good hand to beckon him closer. "Don't rush," she urges him. "I know you have things to do. And I think I can do some work while I'm here anyway."
Benjamin obeys, pushing himself closer to her and shifting the keys to one hand. "Get what you need to get done," he bids her with a soft smile down at Natalie. "And I'll be on call. Any time, okay? Just give me a ring."
Natalie's hand finds his arm so she can tug him down, head lifted just enough to seek out a kiss - but not enough to stretch the reddend skin along her neck. "Yeah, okay."
Benjamin falls into the kiss easily, lips locking against hers with a soft hum. He is reluctant to leave the contact, finally pulling himself up and grinning. "You'll be all right here on your own?"
Natalies's hand slides up around his neck and feathers lightly through his hair before falling away. "I'll probably sleep," she admits. "The morphine makes me really drowsy."
"Good night, then," Benjamin whispers to her, squeezing her head again before backing away. "Just a phone call away." And with that he turns, starting for the door with a good amount of glances back to her.
"Yeah. I'll see you later," Natalie assures, and lifts her hand to wiggle her fingers at his retreating back.
Benjamin glances back and catches it, his body turning in the doorframe. His fingers wiggle back before he's swept out into the hallway and gone.
Ben comes to visit. He brings her a book!
3/18/2007
The patient pressing the nurse's button is irritable. Her roommate is asleep, her skin hurts, and she is, thank you, quite thirsty. Natalie shifts sideways unhappily, careful of the bandages that wrap her left arm and chest. She winces as the reddened skin surrounding the bandaged burns and edged up her left neck and jawline pull against the movement and sighs as she drops her head back to the bed again.
Alicia is passing the nurses' station when she hears the buzzing of a patient. "Buzzer!" the paramedic says, quite helpfully as she goes toward the cafeteria to get something to eat. But before she gets too far, one of the nurses, looking harried and in need of a coffee herself shakes her head at Alicia. "Not so fast! Could you do us a favor and check in on her? We're totally swamped in here today!" The nurse is walking toward the ER without waiting for an answer. Which leaves Alicia with nothing to do but poke her head in on the patient.
The patient, at the far end of the hospital room and past a half-drawn curtain, jabs at the button again. There is something like a curse muttered under her breath.
The petite woman walks in, still dressed in her paramedic uniform, and notices the curse, hiding a grin. With a suitably straight face, she slips past the curtain to stand next to the bed. "Hiya. Sorry one of the muscular male nurses can't be here to wait on you, but they're busy out there. What do you need?"
Natalie's head turns and for a moment she studies Alicia doubtfully. "Are you supposed to be in here?"
Alicia shrugs at the bandaged woman, noting the burns. "Well, so long as I'm not doing any medical procedures, they're fine. Just think of me as a candy-striper. But not in the outfit." The woman crosses her arms. "I'm a paramedic so they trust me to know when I'm over my head. And as much as I wouldn't WANT to help you with a bedpan, I think I can handle the job."
"I can walk to the bathroom," Natalie snaps with an unpleasant scowl. She lifts a finger to jab it at the empty water bottle resting on the tray that swings over her bed. "I'm out of water."
Alicia squelches the urge to roll her eyes at the cranky patient since burns are a bitch and a half to have to deal with, but it's a close call. "Sure, one water, coming right up!" Alicia deliberately pitches her voice to be perky and sweet, almost cloying. "Now, don't go anywhere! I'll be right back!" She almost /bounces/ out of the room to get the water.
Natalie /does/ roll her eyes, and irritated look that follows Alicia out the door before she rolls her head forward again and heaves out a long sigh. She does not go anywhere - har, har - and is in fact waiting for Alicia with frustrated impatience by the time she returns.
Alicia returns fairly quickly with the bottle, and with a cup fill of ice AND a swirly curly straw. She sets the cup on the tray, cracks the bottle open with a deft twist, and pours it into the cup. The paramedic doesn't say anything as she hands off the cup, but absently uses a smidge of power to do a quick check on how the patient is healing as their fingers brush. "So," she says, casually, "How'd you get the burns?"
Natalie's eyes narrow on Alicia as she takes the cup and promptly shifts to dump the entire thing into her water bottle - a giant thing with a handle and a plastic straw of its own. She screws the lid back on without answering before she finally allows, "Watch the news?"
"Yeah, not too much lately, been pulling a lot of overtime, but I usually catch the highlights."
Natalie blinks evenly at Alicia, waiting.
Alicia blinks back at Natalie, then facepalms. "Oh. OH! Sorry. The fire at the coffee house?" The paramedic frowns. "I was at that call. Nasty."
"Nasty," Natalie repeats, and leans forward for a long, thirsty gulp before her head falls back against the bed.
Alicia hmms to herself, then says, "Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier, but I'm Alicia. You need anything else? Something to eat? More water?"
Natalie studies Alicia for a doubtful moment and then allows, "Natalie. No, I'm fine. I was just thirsty."
Alicia shrugs again at Natalie. "Ok, hope you feel better," she offers and heads out of the room.
Natalie watches Alicia's exit with lingering irritation and then collapses back into her bed with a sigh.
A paramedic does Natalie a favor and she is grateful. Or possibly grouchy. Yeah, the second one.
The voices outside Natalie's door are familiar, if pitched low under the background noise of the floor's traffic. Chris's baritone is telltale, with its Brooklyn stop and go. Alicia's, likewise, if more by reason of immediate exposure. "--not to get brained by a bedpan or something," says the latter, lifting to follow the sound of approaching footsteps. "Nice meeting you too!"
And then Chris is at the door.
The badge that winks at his coat's lapel is a sign that he is on duty, or newly off; the hand that is shoved in his pocket bulges the overcoat, thinned leather straining across the press of knuckles inside. He leans into the open door, shoulder braced against the post, and peers inside with lively interest. "Yo, /Nat/." Peace and quiet for the recovering? Not so much.
The room is for two, and Natalie's roommate - housed near the door - is slumbering. Natalie herself is tucked behind a half-drawn curtain, collapsed back against the lifted angle of her bed. The bandages that cover her left arm and chest are clearly visible from the vantage point of a visitor, as is the reddened skin that creeps up her neck and jawline. her head turns toward the voice with a deepening frown and she blinks toward the door in silence.
"So much for hugs and kisses," Chris says, detaching himself from the door to saunter towards his cousin. The hand in his pocket drags itself out with some difficulty, battling the soft cloth of the lining to produce both fist and the gold-and-brown of a small Godiva box. "Heard you weren't doing so good. Brought you some chocolates. This rate, you'll have clocked more hospital time than me."
"I think Megan's asleep," Natalie reminds as she blinks at him. "How'd you know I was here?" Her right hand lifts to flutter dismissal. "They're not keeping me that long."
Chris claims the back of a visitor's chair and turns it so he can straddle it and sit. The coat spills wide over the outfit underneath: black suit and silver tie, over the crease of a navy blue shirt. "I got friends who know people," he reminds, offering her the box. "Someone heard your name on a call and gave me a ring. Thing about your family, they're connected. And not in the bad way."
"Oh," Natalie says, and she blinks at him (minus her usual glasses) for a moment before her gaze drops to the box and she leans forward a bit to take it. "Thanks. Chocolates, huh? I'm going to be fat by the time I leave." She shifts to settle it on the tray next to her bed and adds, "Thanks."
"Chocolates cure all," Chris says with a knowing air, and folds his arms across the back of his seat to quiz Natalie with upraised brows. "So what happened, exactly? You fall on your stove? Or did you have some kind of accident with a frog and a cigarette?"
Natalie's brows pull in as she stares at Chris for a moment and then she lifts her hand to rub a thumb down the bridge of her nose. "You haven't seen the news?"
"I was sort of hoping it might've been some kind of random domestic," Chris says with resignation. He props his chin in a fist and contemplates his cousin, eyes half-lidded. "Getting into trouble with mutant-land isn't the kind of habit you want to develop."
"Gee," Natalie answers, dry and bitter. "Thanks. Because you know, I was really thinking I'd like to make a habit of this."
"I'm just saying," Chris says, and scratches idly at his cheek while he considers. "Suppose it can't be helped. Maybe it's something in the genes? Except Mikey and Julia have no trouble staying out of the way when mutants run amok, or whatever they're calling it today. Maybe you got it from your dad's side of the family."
"That must be it." Natalie's gaze on Chris is unhappy and irritable.
"Eat your chocolate," Chris says, kindly.
"I'll eat them later." Natalie pauses, blinks, and remembers to add, "Thank you."
Chris grins. "You're welcome. Godiva's pretty good, if you're okay with the store-bought kind. There's a little place down in Queens that hand-makes better, but they're closed on Sundays. --Benjy-boy been by to see you yet?"
"Ben?" Natalie considers Chris for a wary moment before she answers, "Yeah, he was here this morning."
"What?" Chris asks, lifting his brows at her look.
"What?" Natalie echoes, confused.
"Something wrong with me asking about Ben?"
"The last time you saw him you let him think you were /dating/ me," Natalie points out. Irritably.
Chris grins. "He told you about it after all, did he? Old news. We had a few beers in the bar a few weeks ago. Him and Kessler and me. Anyway, I didn't /let/ him think anything. Can't help it if your boyfriend's got a filthy mind. Wouldn't think it, looking at him."
"Oh. Right. With Matt." Natalie scowls at Chris and shifts, fingers splaying against her leg. "He does not have a filthy mind."
The detective's baritone roughens over a chuckle. "Filthy," he repeats. "Like a fucking sewer. He's got some major trust issues, that boy of yours. I'd be wondering about his past girlfriends, if I were you. Or maybe he just watches too much TV. Rots the mind, you know."
"What?" Natalie's eyes narrow on Chris. "He does not."
"Seen cleaner minds in Vice," Chris informs -- and then squints at Natalie, abruptly interested. "Or is this something you're teaching him? Corrupting the youth, warping innocent minds--"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"--making them think you've got a thing for hookers," Chris finishes sadly, and drops his chin to the back of his arms to blink at Natalie.
Natalie shifts uncomfortably and frowns at Chris without reply.
Chris half-lids his eyes again, drowsy, and curls his mouth into a crooked little smile.
"If you came just to be an asshole to me, you can leave again," Natalie snaps suddenly.
"I'm an asshole to everyone," Chris points out, without offense. "I'm being extra nice to you because of the whole injury thing. For the record. If you want to be alone, though," he adds, and straightens, preparing to stand. "Theoretically I'm here getting statements. Upstairs, though."
"I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be /antagonized/." Natalie watches this straightening with narrowed eyes.
Chris says, mildly, "Hell do I know what antagonizes you. You get upset at shit I don't get. Want to talk about the weather?" The blunted edge of a fingernail traces the line of his jaw, scraping quietly against bristle. "I know shit-all about math."
"I will give you a clue," Natalie answers with clear enunciation and over-bright eyes. "Insinuating that my boyfriend is an untrustworthy pervert is one of them. I don't know what the weather is like."
"Nothing wrong with being an untrustworthy pervert," Chris says, helpful man that he is. "Check me out, for instance. People love me."
Natalie , apparently, is not one of those people at this moment in time. She eyes him doubtfully.
Chris grins back, and stands to shove both hands in pockets. "Want references?"
"Not particularly."
"You'll have to take my word for it, then," Chris says, and nudges the chair back into its original location with a sideways tap of the foot. "How much longer you going to be in here? Did the docs say?"
"A couple of days. Depends on how it's healing." Natalie's head rolls back to the prop of the bed and she adds, "How much it hurts, I think."
"Take it easy, then," Chris says, and drops a cautious hand on the low bulge of her foot. "Last thing you want's to rush a healing burn. Been there with Julia. Take your time. I'll check up on you again tomorrow. Number of statements we got to take, I'll be at the damn hospital from now until Easter."
Natalie's foot is uninjured, and so wiggles under Chris's touch. "How bad's Julia been burned?" she asks with sudden curiousity.
Chris grips gently and wags. This little piggy-- "Bad fire," he says, releasing his cousin. "Just on the thigh. Took her out for a few weeks, though. Could've been a hell of a lot worse. She'll probably be by," he adds thoughtfully. "One of the guys in her house is down the hall in traction. If you want, I'll tell her to give it a pass. Tell her you're not up for visitors."
"Who said I'm not up for visitors?" Natalie wonders with narrowed eyes. "I've had tons of visitors." (Three). "Third degree or what?"
"Depends on if you're up for Julia or not. Not the same thing as a regular visitor. You've met her. --Her leg was third," Chris says, his brows angling down. "A floor gave out under her and she put her leg through. They had to chop her out. Perks of the job, I guess. Nuts."
"A few weeks," Natalie echoes, and then sighs as she raises her good hand to rub across her forehead. "Yeah. Sounds like it."
Chris shrugs his shoulders, the leather creaking over his arms, and adds, "It was a bad place for a burn. Right inside the leg and knee -- sort of need that to move around, and it cracks every time you do. So." He regards Natalie with curiosity. "You got someone to take care of you when you get discharged?"
"I can move around and stuff," Natalie objects instantly. "It's just my arm." Mostly.
"Don't knock help around the place when you're hurt," Chris says, and reaches to pat again at that uninjured foot. "The first time you fall on your ass and rip open your stitches--" A hand waves deprecatingly at Natalie's burns. "--or whatever. Mom's pretty expert at taking care of burns, by this point. You want to hang out at their place for a while after you get out?"
Natalie looks, briefly, absolutely horrified. There's a moment's dead silence before she manages a sudden and sharp shake of her head. "No, that's okay. Ben lives next door, and Bahir's just down the hall. I'll be fine."
Chris is not blind, and the small tightness at the corners of eyes and mouth at her expression speak of a grin most manfully repressed. "Right," he says. "You got friends. If you change your mind, just give me a ring. You know the Rossis. We'll come running."
"I have to be in the city anyway," Natalie adds in what is perhaps a belated attempt not to offend.
"Brooklyn," Chris reminds. "Hop skip and a jump away." But she is injured, and he is occasionally merciful, and adds at the end of that, "Know what you mean. Okay. You got their number. And mine, I guess. I'm heading upstairs to do the job they pay me for. You need anything before I go?"
"I teach at Columbia," Natalie reminds, and her expression clearly displays her opinion of living in Brooklyn when one doesn't have to. She shakes her head just slightly. "No, I'm fine. Good luck with work."
Chris lifts a hand in a lackadaisical salute, a backhanded wave that is tossed over the turned shoulder. "All fun and games until some mutants go wild and blow up New York," he says, humor dry in the drawl of voice. He heads towards the door. "Take care. You need anything, just call."
"Yeah," Natalie assures falsely, and settles back into her bed as Chris heads out.
There are nurses outside. Cute ones. And taken as Chris is, he has no compunctions about flirting with necessary personnel. His voice rises outside the door, pitched in amiable greetings to a female's reply; amusement lifts in a quick ripple of sound, then tapers off and draws away.
Natalie's family is somewhat terrifying.