(Untitled)

Apr 18, 2011 21:38

When he'd taken the last of his tablets, Des had expected his body to deteriorate fast from then onwards and, in that, he hadn't been disappointed. It was his voice which went first, so that he could speak only in a rasping whisper. And then his legs had followed. And his heart and his lungs gave signs of following soon after wards. And so, barely ( Read more... )

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un_gloved April 18 2011, 20:56:44 UTC
Rogue smiled beatifically, a byproduct of doing so with every ounce of strength she possessed. She wasn't going to break down all over him, it was the last thing he needed.

She hadn't been avoiding the clinic, exactly, although she wasn't quite sure how to approach Captain America and that been a factor, but if that's where Des was, weren't a darn thing going to keep her away. She slid onto the edge of the bed, forsaking the chair left out for visitors, and snuck her hand across the sheets to curl her fingers around his.

"Hey, sugar."

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jokermayor April 18 2011, 21:32:04 UTC
Des didn't change his demeanor too much when he recognized her, didn't try to raise himself into a sitting position or point at her with his trunk but his eyes brightened slightly and he took her hand readily.

"Hello Rogue," he replied. "It's good to see you."

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un_gloved April 19 2011, 04:23:30 UTC
"Well, I'd hope so," she said, "regardless o'how much I like t'pester you. How you holdin' up in here. Bored?"

She wasn't going to ask how he was feeling, or if she got around to it, she certainly wouldn't mean physically.

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jokermayor April 19 2011, 12:36:33 UTC
"It is somewhat quieter than the clinics in Jokertown," Des agreed wryly, in the hoarse whisper which he had to speak in. "Sometimes, without the excitement of emergency surgeries happening around me, I can barely keep my eyes open."

Which was true, though they both knew it wasn't boredom that left him so tired.

"I have a favor to ask."

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onlyforthedream April 18 2011, 21:13:03 UTC
The older gentleman that's taken up a residence in the clinic has spent most of his time sleeping- a state I was familiar with my first four days on the island and, given that I'm still relegated to a bed in the clinic by the doctor's orders, one I almost miss.

I've had plenty of time to wonder if the extraordinary nature of his nose is a mutation, or an illness; if it's related to the cause of his stay in the clinic, or if it's superficial. When I notice him awake and, moreso than in the last day, alert, I finally have the opportunity to broach a subject that's been in my head since his admittance.

"I never saw The Jolson Story," I tell him, closing the book in my lap.

"It came out in '46, didn't it?"

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jokermayor April 18 2011, 21:37:26 UTC
"It did," Des replied as he raised his head slightly to look at the young man who took up one of other beds in the clinic. He was a nat and one with the physique and bearing of a soldier, a body as strong as Des' was painfully weak.

"It was something of a sensation, at the time," he added. "I've never seen it either. I was never ready for it."

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onlyforthedream April 19 2011, 04:15:51 UTC
"I didn't see much of what came out in the 40s," I tell him, easing into the conversation as much as I'm prone to. Clearly his statement means something, but I don't want to grill him as to what.

"Overseas. Plenty of newsreels, though. I knew it was popular, but I didn't realize it warranted... preparation."

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jokermayor April 19 2011, 12:48:40 UTC
"I forget," Des rasped slowly, a hint of self reproach in his expression, "that different realities have different touchstones of culture and history and I can't expect the same knowledge I would of a man from my own world. It is still very strange to me."

"There was a fighter pilot, a hero, named Robert Tomlin. And, in my world, he died over the skies of New York in '46. The story goes that his last words were "I can't die yet, I haven't seen 'The Jolson Story.'" It is something I have been thinking about a lot, recently."

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island_anne April 20 2011, 09:08:03 UTC
Matthew's mum was working the desk in the IPD office, which meant that Matthew was free to wander off so long as he didn't go far (and since he didn't need to go far to find something interesting to do, most days it wasn't much of a danger). Usually the only people in the clinic were bored-looking strangers--the kitchen was usually much more interesting, plus it had cookies--but today Matthew saw someone he knew in there when he went out exploring, and he didn't hesitate even a moment to head straight for him.

"Hi," he said, and struggled up into the chair by the bed so he could be at eye level. "Hi Mister Desman."

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jokermayor April 20 2011, 12:19:16 UTC
"Hello, Matthew," Des greeted him, in a rasping voice, with the smallest turn of his head. "Your mother know you're here?"

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island_anne April 20 2011, 20:10:36 UTC
Matthew nodded his head firmly, with a child's confidence that even though he could not see his mother, she knew where he was at all times.

"It's morning," he said, tugging at the corner of the bedsheets. "Why you still'n bed?"

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jokermayor April 21 2011, 20:01:47 UTC
"I'm ill, Matthew," he replied softly. "That means I'm allowed to stay in bed all day."

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