Rachel (
futures_of_ash) wrote in
ways_infirmary2006-01-12 06:33 pm
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It's ghosts that wake her. Hints, brushing, niggling hints of pain. Of itchiness. Of discomfort. Just hints. Things she hasn't felt in a long time, phantoms of her body deciding it's going to start trying to live rather than simply existing. Yes, it's those phantoms that wake her.
For a moment, she contemplates sleeping once more, falling under that comforting voice that runs as much mentally now as vocally, after all, every voice needs rest at some point, but she's grateful for this. Grateful that Ari is willing to so immerse himself in song to simply help her. But she doesn't sleep. No, resolutely she opens her eyes, drawing cool, clinical air down her throat in a gasp as new stitches, new bindings new bandages twist and pull.
And despite it all...she almost screams. Almost fights the tubes and wires that have taken the burden of continued life from her shoulders, almost tears the bandages away, too much sensory memory, too much color and cold and strangeness. The shrill beeping of machinery picks up, keeping time with a heart that is too weak to withstand the fear and yet to bold to deny it.
And oddly it's the beeping that helps ground her again. It's beeping not laughter not cold, chilling promise or jest. Beeping and song and the cool rush of recycled, purified air. That, for now, she can handle.
For a moment, she contemplates sleeping once more, falling under that comforting voice that runs as much mentally now as vocally, after all, every voice needs rest at some point, but she's grateful for this. Grateful that Ari is willing to so immerse himself in song to simply help her. But she doesn't sleep. No, resolutely she opens her eyes, drawing cool, clinical air down her throat in a gasp as new stitches, new bindings new bandages twist and pull.
And despite it all...she almost screams. Almost fights the tubes and wires that have taken the burden of continued life from her shoulders, almost tears the bandages away, too much sensory memory, too much color and cold and strangeness. The shrill beeping of machinery picks up, keeping time with a heart that is too weak to withstand the fear and yet to bold to deny it.
And oddly it's the beeping that helps ground her again. It's beeping not laughter not cold, chilling promise or jest. Beeping and song and the cool rush of recycled, purified air. That, for now, she can handle.

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It takes a few minutes of confusion in her eyes and shame in her actions before she ventures ::Hey you...::
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Shhhhh
"Wasn't so bad was it? You didn't even scream for me that time..."
Shhhhh
She closes her eyes so Kitty won't see the horror, the fear. It'll still be there, oh yes, but she doesn't have to see it on top of everything else. ::Not your fault...::
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"Hello, Rachel"
Which is echoed in his mind.
Hello, Rachelfriend. Welcomeloveconcerncalm
His thoughts are quiet but there.
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She'd shiver if she could.
:;Hank:: her thoughst are carefully free of emotion, carefully shielded for now. She doens't doubt she gave him a mind full last night, doesn't doubt she will again, so she will spare him as she can.
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Rachel. Dont strain yourself with shields around me. I have felt what you felt. You werent in any shape to hold back. And you arent now. Let me know what you want here. It is the only way for me to treat you. To help.
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She doens't feel him touch her fingers, but she sees it and sighs gently. ::Tied. I'm tied...:: some of eth panic clawing at her mind and through the song leaks through. Some.
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I can shift things around so you dont feel so tied down, and so you arent tied down, but the machines are keeping you alive and making you better. Can you take them for now? Can you deal with them?
His shields are ramrod strong and he lets not an ounce of his worry through.
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Archie comes in with a tray laden with different sorts of food. The las time he had been in here, waiting next to Svava's unconsious form, he hadn't eaten unless someone had practically forced him. So in memory of that, he has brought enough for nearly anyone that wants some.
Blue eyes are searching for one form in particular. He pushes away old thoughts; as Hank had reminded him, Rachel is a telepath.
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She's glad to see she wasn't imagining that.
And in truth, she look horrible, lacking so much and swathed so very heavily in banadages that the blanket is almost redundant, but she trie sto smile ::Archie...:: her mental greeting has teh hint of far of screaming, the hint of glass shards in dark water...but it's as warm as she can make it.
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A hint of a wince both at her condition and the pain in her voice in his head. He pushes it away and manages a smile, she is, after all, the only one who could possibly speak like that into his head and not scare the wits out of him.
"Rachel. It is good to see you back. I... er... brought soup."
He won't begrudge her the blankets, he remembers all too well what it is like to have most of the skin ripped off his back. Arithon does get a worried little glance though.
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::Not sure I'm eating...:: she noted ::But thank you, very much...not so nice to see me I know...::
And she's holding back the pain and terror, she is. Very much. She lost everything last night and scared a staunch Knight, she won't do that again, not now, not yet. But he rthoughts come with the feeling of blood somehow, and it's not something she can truly fix.
::Can you...can you get Ari to eat?:: she's worried about him, she is. She won't have people wear themselves away for her. No.
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He sets the tray down on the table next to the bed, glancing again at Arithon and back to Rachel.
"It is wonderful to see you. We've all been worried."
He reaches up gently pushes a few strands of hair away from her face. He accepts the pain and the terror and the blood, they're familliar, he can hold those things. In their place he offers calmunderstandingconcernpeace.
"I can get you anything you like when you do feel like it."
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"Finally! I thought I was going to due of boredom."
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::Hey you...:: there's probably more warmth in the mental tone than the smile, but it's faint, and hedged in by things no one wants to see or hear right now.
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Goldy's own smile wavers just a touch as Rachel turns. She hates to see her like this; hates to feel her likes this. But, it's a one hundred percent improvement on what she saw and felt in the foyer of the Manse. And that galls her just as much, really, so she tries not to think back that far.
Comfortably propped on her side in a neat arrangement of pillows, she regards her friend for a few moments.
"Are you feeling any better?"
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So, what Goldie gets, rather than an answer is ::How badly?:: HOw badly did He hurt her, how deeply?
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Less than just, really. But he's dead, and that's what matters.
"Your Christmas present came in very handy in that respect."
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So in the middle of the night, when as many people as possible are asleep, she steals in to see Rachel.
She's scared. Scared of what Kitty told her, scared of Mike's reaction, scared that if she touches Rach she'll feel it all over again. Scared that she's going to loose a battle she has no idea how to fight.
And she doesn't want Rach to know that. Not in her condition. She just wants to see her friend, see that she's recovering, assure her that she's OK.
So she hesitates at the edge of Rachel's cubicle, sending a small smile to the musicman, but not interrupting his singing, and just watching her.
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...but there are a few things she will always recognize.
::Mel?:: the voice comes, faint and controlled. Just words, nothing else. She knows how hard it can be, so she's clinging to Ari's shields and the remnants of her own for all she's worth right now.
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"Hey, Flame," she mutters out loud before making her way over and taking a seat nearby, resting her cold fingers on a tiny patch of unmarked skin on Rach's shoulder.
::How're you doing?::
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The chuckle dies thoughat the sober question ::Not good. Can't feel the body really...and in here it's all blood and glass and ice:: and monsters. she answered truthfully.
::I think...I think I scared Alanna. I didn't mean to::
Funny how Mel's shields strengthen the closer she gets to Rachel now, isn't it?
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::Guess not:: Mel replies. ::I'll come up with a new one for you. Give me time::
::Stabby'll get over it. She generally does. Wish there was something I could do.::
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