futures_of_ash: (Broken...but alive)
Rachel ([personal profile] futures_of_ash) wrote in [community profile] ways_infirmary2006-01-12 06:33 pm

(no subject)

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.

[personal profile] prydeful 2006-01-12 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
There's a hand on her forehead after a moment, and a voice says, "Hey Red," aloud and in her mind.
prydeful: (Don't cry where they can see you)

[personal profile] prydeful 2006-01-12 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
::Shhh:: dropping verbal speech and stroking her hair, carefully. ::Sorry.::
prydeful: (Tears fall quietly)

[personal profile] prydeful 2006-01-13 12:01 am (UTC)(link)
Her hand stops and pulls away, and the voice in her head is firm. ::Rach. You can't hide things from me. Never could. Never will be able to. Remember?::

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[personal profile] inquisitivehero 2006-01-12 11:57 pm (UTC)(link)
And a Hank McCoy, mind exuding only quiet calm and welcome to her, comes over, alerted by monitors that she is awake.

"Hello, Rachel"

Which is echoed in his mind.

Hello, Rachelfriend. Welcomeloveconcerncalm

His thoughts are quiet but there.

[personal profile] inquisitivehero 2006-01-13 12:06 am (UTC)(link)
Hank nods. he reaches out and touches her fingers, the slightest, lightest touch he can.

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.

[personal profile] inquisitivehero 2006-01-13 12:13 am (UTC)(link)
He nods.

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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[identity profile] prone-to-panic.livejournal.com 2006-01-12 11:59 pm (UTC)(link)

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.

[identity profile] prone-to-panic.livejournal.com 2006-01-13 12:16 am (UTC)(link)

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.

[identity profile] prone-to-panic.livejournal.com 2006-01-13 12:33 am (UTC)(link)

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."

[identity profile] 3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com 2006-01-13 03:32 am (UTC)(link)
From the next bed there's a cheerful voice, not condemning at all, despite the actual words. It's fond and pleased and compassionate, and not as weak as bed-ridden voices should be, really. It's Goldilocks, recovering in leaps and bounds, at least according to Hank.

"Finally! I thought I was going to due of boredom."

[identity profile] 3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com 2006-01-13 04:55 am (UTC)(link)
"Hey."

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?"

[identity profile] 3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com 2006-01-13 05:13 am (UTC)(link)
"I'm fine," she says. "Your crazy lake diving friend just did some more moronic shit that got her incapacitated." A slight shiver at the nanites again, and partially at her own idiocy. "But Kitty was there, and between us we managed to deal your captor's just desserts."

Less than just, really. But he's dead, and that's what matters.

"Your Christmas present came in very handy in that respect."
slayer_fray: (huh?)

[personal profile] slayer_fray 2006-01-13 10:24 am (UTC)(link)
For what else she may be, Melaka Fray is still a thief by vocation and practice, and she can move silently when she needs to.

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.
slayer_fray: (fire)

[personal profile] slayer_fray 2006-01-13 10:31 am (UTC)(link)
She wouldn't have come if she didn't have her own shields. Still, she's nervous.

"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?::
slayer_fray: (fire)

[personal profile] slayer_fray 2006-01-13 10:39 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah, funny that. Don't think she's not grateful.

::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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