The Hand that Rocks the Cradle (and then cuts off the oxygen)

[meat_mooks]

It was a little hectic in Medbay. Though there were only a few patients, they weren't in the best shape. Still, there was the best life support technology that could be built or grown in the Medbay, and the problems were being dealt with.

For the moment.

That moment would soon be over, only to be replaced by sheer chaos.

[ooc: Tag away!]

Comments

[detectivederp]

The relief that washed over Tim at the sight was momentary-- but immense. Conner was coming back, ageing back to normal. He wasn't lost, Tim hadn't completely let him down...

But he still wasn't completely safe, not yet. He had to move quickly, to get him out of there, or else it will have all been for nothing. They'd bought more time, yes, but not much more.

Closing the small distance between him and the tank, he quickly produced some small charges from his utility belt-- nothing powerful or large, but the concussive force should be enough to finish it off where Conner had already started the damage. "Cover your ears," Tim said harshly, to Rory-- and hopefully Conner caught it too, while Tim gestured the same message to the boy who might not be able to register it. Then, hoping that was enough, he set the charges and ducked backwards, following his own advice.

[theboywhowaits]

He couldn't feel relived, not yet, they needed to get him out of there. He was still drowning. They weren't done yet. He looked quickly around, checking for something heavy to break it open the rest of the way.

'Hold on Conner. Hold on.'

Five minutes, they had five minutes before the brain damage was irreversible. The shorter time the better, they needed to get him out and breathing again.

Rory reached for a chair, covering his ears automatically when Tim barked the order and dropping in some half remembered reflex to avoid an explosion.

[detectivederp]

"Conner!" Tim rushed to his friend's side the second he was clear of the fluid and the tube, free at least to get some air-- not that that on its own was good enough, and he knew that. He swore again, moving in for damage control-- breathing was an obvious problem, and he began the process to help him, until Rory closed the distance. The nurse was more suited for the job-- but every second counted.

[theboywhowaits]

"Conner!" Rory was no less concerned than Tim, though he at least knew what to do. He was quick about it, starting rescue breathing within seconds of the glass breaking and Tim moving. He had a pulse, he was still alive, he just needed air. To clear the water from his lungs.

Breathe, withdraw, breathe. He had to make sure Conner was breathing again. Now he could do something, now he could help. He wasn't stuck helpless, waiting for Conner to die.

Breathe, Conner, Breathe.

[detectivederp]

Tim was for once idle, momentarily, unable to do much to assist Rory, but refusing to leave Conner's side. It'd been a moment of panic-- before he started to cough, to recover and to breathe. Tim was able to relax at that, finally-- it seemed like Conner was going to be okay. It seemed like it was over, at least for now. He couldn't even be mad about the power (yet-- that would come later, and he'd look into that).

And he actually laughed just slightly, quietly, at that request. "Right," he said. Of course he could indulge him in that much. He straightened himself, and grabbed a sheet from a nearby empty bed, before turning back and handing it off to his best friend. His best friend who was okay.

"Welcome back then."

[theboywhowaits]

Rory laughed, breathing a little hard, hand resting protectively on Conner's shoulder to keep him from pitching over into the viscus fluid. "That's the first thing you think of? Pants? You almost died, Conner." He tried very hard to keep the worry out of his voice, leaning to check his pulse and fuss over him as professionally as he possibly could.

He wasn't a little boy anymore, he couldn't treat him like a little boy. As much as his mind still claimed he should. "Soon as you're ready, let's get you to the bed, so I can make sure you're completely back to normal."

[detectivederp]

Tim hesitated at that, but didn't say anything right away, listening to Conner talk. It was strange, and surprising, that he suddenly remembered all of that, that suddenly he had new memories. Tim remembered it clearly himself-- hell, he'd been thinking about that time all too often during all of this mess. How bad it'd been. And now Conner-- somehow-- remembered that too. He'd have to talk to him later, try to help him get his bearings. But for the time being, he was just trying to be glad.

"You're alive," Tim repeated, almost hesitant, before he crouched down and reached out to grab his shoulder. It wasn't a hug, not yet, but it was necessary to him. "That's what matters most right now. You made it."

[theboywhowaits]

"Well, if you did die, you're not dead now. So you're in good company. It's a bit disorienting at first, being alive. But you'll get used to it." He nodded, glancing at Tim quietly. "Just breathe for a moment, don't focus too hard on all the new memories. It'll right itself." He gave Conner's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

It really was one of the most disorienting experiences, having died and come back, having been sure it was over and your life had ended.

He settled back on his heels, letting Tim take over.

[detectivederp]

Even though Conner seemed to be mostly managing on his own, Tim stayed close as he made it to the bed, practically hovering behind him, hand raised on the off chance he could help support him (not that that was all that reasonable).

"You regressed too far," Tim explained, frowning. "You became blank and... couldn't properly support yourself."

[theboywhowaits]

Rory glanced at Tim, not interrupting for the moment. What had happened? The lights had gone out for a reason, even if he didn't know what it was and had been too focused on Conner and the tank and the utter helplessness of the situation. Something had caused it, or worse, someone had caused it. They would need to find out who and why and what had caused it. But for the moment, Conner was safe. Was talking. Was not deaging out of existence. He just needed to convince his heart to stop racing. "But they've reversed everything now, just a small issue with the tanks." He paused, resting his hand briefly on the discarded tangle of cape and blanket and stuffed toy on the bottom of the bed. "How do you feel, Conner? Any tightness in your chest? Trouble breathing? Aside from the new memories, does anything feel off?"