muses_w_remotes | 13.18. Dollhouse quote
13.18. “Hey, you wanted to die. This would be a careful-what-you-wish-for moment.”
| Dollhouse
[Follows all recent posts by isabelowens, agentsullivan, straight2point and undercoverdoc]
Pierce had often heard stories of sick or injured people waiting for their family and friends to leave their bedside before they kicked the bucket. It was a phenomenon no one could really explain, but he had to agree with it on some level. Who would want a fucking audience when you sign out for good? It's not like there is anything glamorous about death. True to typical fucking form, though, James effing Campbell never did anything conventionally. He didn't wait until the string of sobbing widows left the room to kark it, he waited until they left to wake up, probably knowing full well they all wanted to be there when he did. Days and days of them barely leaving his side, and barely a minute after the blonde bombshell other half walks out of the room, there is progress.
The telltale choking on the ventilator was the first warning that was noted, and came just when Pierce himself was about to leave the room. The heart monitor picked up it's pace as Campbell inevitably started to panic and then the room was suddenly swarmed with people in scrubs and white coats, Pierce shoved into a corner of the fish-bowl room while they tried to stabilise the elusive Aussie. Pierce would probably never admit to it, but he was shaken watching the scene. It couldn't be certain if Campbell was actually going to wake up or if this was just another glitch in the road. He might have just started to breathe on his own again after being ventilated for a week, but the coma could still go on.
But the swarm eventually diluted in favour of just a doctor and a couple of nurses at the bedside. Pierce let out a rush of breath he didn't realise he was holding when he saw Campbell's eyes flickering to open just a little. It was a slow process, but he looked to become responsive to the doctor leaning over him. It was as Pierce was edging closer to the bed now that he had room when Campbell groggily put his wrist up close to his face to try and read the hospital ID band. A small choked gasp of relief fell from the Aussie's dry lips as he hazily made out the print there. Something in Pierce's gut clenched when he let the penny drop that James Campbell was, indeed, alive and well. He wasn't murdered, and some of the guilt Pierce had been breeding deep inside him for the past few months began to ease, like cool running water over a burn.
"You're sacked, Campbell."
The familiar voice triggered in James' recognition enough to help him manage draw his eyes open slightly again. Pierce's looming form beside the bed gradually came into view and James gave a slight hoarse laugh around a weak smile. "Hey, boss," he rasped, breaking into a fits of coughing. He knew he wasn't dreaming this because he could feel a pain thrumming through every muscle and bone in his body. Yet after the complete disaster his brain was heading for recently, he couldn't be sure it wasn't an hallucination. "You love me too much to sack me," he added in a breathless whisper.
Pierce sat down in the seat the blonde had vacated. "Yeah, you just shut up, you gigantic pain in my cock," he returned, fighting the urge to actually take Campbell's hand. It wasn't his job to sit vigil, though, even if he had been doing a good impression of it since his ex-minion landed himself in hospital. "Don't think I won't make you pay for this, and every single day off you've taken since you left."
"Figured," James mumbled with a faint smirk. He closed his eyes again, struggling to keep them open against the bright lights of the room. He was started to feel nauseous, waking from a coma always giving him the sensation he was on a rollercoaster he couldn't get off. The feeling that sleep was trying to claim him, too, was difficult to fight. He drew a long, deep breath and then let it out slowly again. He opened his eyes just a little again, them focusing on Pierce's face. "Do I get my old desk back?"
Pierce sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, watching his most challenging employee closely. It was Campbell beyond the weakened, drained exterior. No doubt about it. And it squeezed at something in his chest to watch the after-effects of what he had put himself through to pull off the near impossible. "How about you get my boot firmly up your SS ass?" was his reply, until the faintest of smiles appeared on his lips. "Welcome back, Campbell."
James' eyes met Pierce's gaze with a ghost of a smile himself, before keeping them open become too much again. "Thanks, boss."
All muses referenced with permission and are from the princeton2nyc universe
Word Count | 810
| Dollhouse
[Follows all recent posts by isabelowens, agentsullivan, straight2point and undercoverdoc]
Pierce had often heard stories of sick or injured people waiting for their family and friends to leave their bedside before they kicked the bucket. It was a phenomenon no one could really explain, but he had to agree with it on some level. Who would want a fucking audience when you sign out for good? It's not like there is anything glamorous about death. True to typical fucking form, though, James effing Campbell never did anything conventionally. He didn't wait until the string of sobbing widows left the room to kark it, he waited until they left to wake up, probably knowing full well they all wanted to be there when he did. Days and days of them barely leaving his side, and barely a minute after the blonde bombshell other half walks out of the room, there is progress.
The telltale choking on the ventilator was the first warning that was noted, and came just when Pierce himself was about to leave the room. The heart monitor picked up it's pace as Campbell inevitably started to panic and then the room was suddenly swarmed with people in scrubs and white coats, Pierce shoved into a corner of the fish-bowl room while they tried to stabilise the elusive Aussie. Pierce would probably never admit to it, but he was shaken watching the scene. It couldn't be certain if Campbell was actually going to wake up or if this was just another glitch in the road. He might have just started to breathe on his own again after being ventilated for a week, but the coma could still go on.
But the swarm eventually diluted in favour of just a doctor and a couple of nurses at the bedside. Pierce let out a rush of breath he didn't realise he was holding when he saw Campbell's eyes flickering to open just a little. It was a slow process, but he looked to become responsive to the doctor leaning over him. It was as Pierce was edging closer to the bed now that he had room when Campbell groggily put his wrist up close to his face to try and read the hospital ID band. A small choked gasp of relief fell from the Aussie's dry lips as he hazily made out the print there. Something in Pierce's gut clenched when he let the penny drop that James Campbell was, indeed, alive and well. He wasn't murdered, and some of the guilt Pierce had been breeding deep inside him for the past few months began to ease, like cool running water over a burn.
"You're sacked, Campbell."
The familiar voice triggered in James' recognition enough to help him manage draw his eyes open slightly again. Pierce's looming form beside the bed gradually came into view and James gave a slight hoarse laugh around a weak smile. "Hey, boss," he rasped, breaking into a fits of coughing. He knew he wasn't dreaming this because he could feel a pain thrumming through every muscle and bone in his body. Yet after the complete disaster his brain was heading for recently, he couldn't be sure it wasn't an hallucination. "You love me too much to sack me," he added in a breathless whisper.
Pierce sat down in the seat the blonde had vacated. "Yeah, you just shut up, you gigantic pain in my cock," he returned, fighting the urge to actually take Campbell's hand. It wasn't his job to sit vigil, though, even if he had been doing a good impression of it since his ex-minion landed himself in hospital. "Don't think I won't make you pay for this, and every single day off you've taken since you left."
"Figured," James mumbled with a faint smirk. He closed his eyes again, struggling to keep them open against the bright lights of the room. He was started to feel nauseous, waking from a coma always giving him the sensation he was on a rollercoaster he couldn't get off. The feeling that sleep was trying to claim him, too, was difficult to fight. He drew a long, deep breath and then let it out slowly again. He opened his eyes just a little again, them focusing on Pierce's face. "Do I get my old desk back?"
Pierce sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, watching his most challenging employee closely. It was Campbell beyond the weakened, drained exterior. No doubt about it. And it squeezed at something in his chest to watch the after-effects of what he had put himself through to pull off the near impossible. "How about you get my boot firmly up your SS ass?" was his reply, until the faintest of smiles appeared on his lips. "Welcome back, Campbell."
James' eyes met Pierce's gaze with a ghost of a smile himself, before keeping them open become too much again. "Thanks, boss."
All muses referenced with permission and are from the princeton2nyc universe
Word Count | 810