ways_infirmary | (no subject)

In another corner of the infirmary, a troubled mind rests, rests because sleep is asking for nightmares. Her physical state isn't a matter of improving really, it's a matter of accepting life...

But her mental state, ah yes, the mental state, it makes her easily confused and wears away her shields to the point where new minds shine like beacons in the night. And she can't help but letting her mind drift a bit, curious and confused.

::Hello?::

There is one image that keeps coming up. A middle-aged bedridden man, begging Guppy over and over again to put the pillow over his face.
A giant plastic bag that consumes everything.
A short blonde-haired man with a gang who grabs the dreamer and beats him to a pulp.
And then the voice wanders through and the little man looks around for the speaker. The wounds of the beating disappear again and he stands up.
"Who's there?" He asks, his frightened eyes looking around the car park.

The begging takes on a higher note, whistling through the air in a female tone now, gasping, pain ridden begging...

And somehow, the gang can be heard still as well, laughing, chains clinking.

But there's a girl, wrapped in bandages and just drifting at teh edge sof nightmare, looking around. ::I am::

::I won't hurt you::

The little man curls in a ball, his chin on his knees, looking at her.

"You're Hank's friend."

She drifts closer, curling in echoe of his position, chin resting on her bandaged knees. ::One of them:: she agreed quietly.

::You were dreaming...:: the comment this time is lost, childlike, though there's almost an overwhelming feeling of blood, and pain to come.

"Am I dreaming?"

He looks down at his hands, covered with blood.

"It was my fault."

::Maybe:: Or maybe she is. She's not too worried about the distinction.

She holds out a hand,wrapped in clean, crispbandages slowly soaking through with crimson, offering t otake his hand perhaps, or maybe to just show him...

::Your fault?::

My fault

"He asked me to give him the bag."

He reaches for her.

"What's your name?"

::Some pain...should not be endured::

She grips his hand gently, after all, blood stains on bandages, no matter the source looks the same. It would take a lot more than that to keep her from offering what she may.

::Rachel Grey::

His eyes fill with tears again at these words, dripping silently down his cheeks.

"Dr Guppy Sandhu." he manages, just.

Her other hand comes up to brush the tears away gently, small warmth flowing through the touch ::I know what it is, to beg for death::

"I couldn't do it" He sobs. "Over and over again he begged me and every time I let him down. I couldn't even leave him a syringe so he could do it himself. I thought I'd persuaded someone else to do it but he wouldn't but I was the one to pass him the bag and now he's in Hell and he died hating me and my last chance to make things up is gone. He would have had a few more weeks there was still time."
The warmth of the hand is slightly comforting in the coldness of the dream.
"I'm sorry, you don't need to hear my pain."

It's easy, moving from holding a hand to holding a person, hugging gently, offering ones self as a shield for a little while. ::I hear pain very well:: she admitted. It's something that can't tuly be ignored, nor, in her state at the moment, would she. It distracts from her own.

::I was not allowed to die either, those I asked refused. It is not a weaknness to force someone to continue living:: nor is it weakness to fold, eventually. Everyone has that point where patience is exhausted and compassion too all encompassing.

The images continue to float around the pair. Guppy hugs her back, scared, vulnerable.
"Will I ever see him again?"

::I don't know:: this is Milliways, she won't lie, it's possible. People go to afterlives when stepping through the door sometimes, people meet lost ones in dreams...she simply doesn't know.

She can start forcing those nightmare mages away though, wafting them gently back from prominence in his mind..

"How do you do that?" He asks as the blonde thug turns, spitting at him as he goes.

::Practice:: she admitted. ::It's a matter of gentle will...I can steal tose memories entire fromyou, but it'd be wrong, so I just help your own mind fight them off for now...::

"Can I do it?" he asks, not letting go but not clinging quite so much.

::Yes:: anyone can influence their own mind honestly.

::You have to fight through all the emotions though...think clearly, will it so. It's hard when there's so much fear, but it can be done::

"I just have to think them away?"

::Answer always seems easier than expected huh?:: there's razor edged humor in that comment.

::Trust me, it's hard::

"I've tried it. Every time I try it they get worse."

::Because you fear they will:: a hand is run through his hair gently, sadness in her mental tone.

::I can help you so easily becaus eyour mind doesn't hold emotion for me...my own nightmares still beat me on most occassions...:: but not always. NO, not always.

He holds her a little closer.

"Can I help you with yours?"

::You already have:: she assured.

::You let me escape, and did not ask me to return to my own mind immediately::

She looks up and behind her, to theedges of his nightmare, and to where her own begins. No streets or buildings for her, no, chains glint in that darkness, and blood flows, and screams.

Becoming distressed, he puts his body between her and the image, holding her close.
"I'm sorry I didn't mean any harm I'm sorry Rachel."Tears run down his cheeks and into her hair.

She stood, distressed not by the nightmares behind, but by his sudden worry ::No, no, it's alright. My own nightmares have had years to grow, they're always there, I know that:: she tried to sooth.

::Thank you for letting me stay here awhile, thank you for letting me help a little::

He calms a little.

"Thank you for helping. You're welcome to come again. I'm sorry for ruining it."

He glances at the horrors behind him.

"You must be an incredible person."

::You didn't ruin a thing:: She smiled gently, though like everything with her recently it's a haunted look.

She pressed a gentle kis sto his forehead, small smile fading as she squared her shoulders ::No, I begged to die after all:: she pointed out.

::Rest well Guppy. You deserve it::

"You too. Thank you."

As she goes the objects of his nightmares continue to haunt him. He tries to fight them off.

Maybe he'll win next time.

And Gorlim is beside him once again. It hadn't taken him long to figure out to look here. He sits on the bed and lays a hand gently over Guppy's, saying nothing so as not to wake him.

His eyes open and he tenses.

Seeing just the tiniest smudge of blood on Gorlim's hand.

He hadn't noticed. He does when Guppy reacts. Hissing to himself, he hides his hand.

"How are you?"

"Whose blood?"

Gorlim sighs. "Abs. He told me he'd lost you. I was worried. I thought you might... I dunno. I hit him, to give him a reason to remember why it's bad to lose people. I didn't hurt him bad."

"Wasn't his fault." He clutches the bangle.

"He wants to help me. But he wants me sectioned and I'm scared."

"It's bad to lose people." He's very certain of this. "What is that, sectioned?"

"Means he can put me in a ward where people do things to me without my consent because they know better. I'd never be able to work as a doctor again if he did that because nobody would employ me."

His eyes fill with tears again. "I snapped out of it. I'm not dangerous to myself now."

"You sure?" He takes Guppy's hand again. "Abs won't section you. Tell him I'll hit him again if he does, and do it harder. I think he's afraid of me now. Or maybe he just hates me. Anyway I'll probably end up in the cells." He shrugs. "Just as well. So you're a little better then?"

"Please don't hit Abs. He means well."

He takes the hand. "Don't you think I'm a bit better? I nearly got myself rehydrated I just did it a bit too late and passed out. Hank found me asleep under the desk in the office."

"I do think you're better. You're talking to me." He BEAMS. "It's wonderful to hear. I did try to get you to drink, I dunno if you remember. You'd probably do better with a real doctor looking after you than with a Gorlim." He squeezes Guppy's hand. "I don't suppose you could try to tell me what happened? Abs hasn't said."

"My dad killed himself with the plastic bag he asked me to pass him. It was my fault he died.

And he died hating me as he has done for the last twenty one years."

He feels too exhausted to cry.

Gorlim lays his hand on Guppy's cheek.

"He's at peace now. They say the ones at peace find answers that eluded them in life. Maybe he'll find my ada and get some sense knocked into him in that otherworld. At any rate, hatreds die in the dead, I'm told. He'll realize he loves you, Guppy. And that you're worth loving."

Guppy shakes his head sadly.

"Looks like I'll never know."

"The only thing you'll never know here is who's going to walk in through that door next time it opens," Gorlim says. "Or what ghosts are hiding in the forest or the Dreaming."

"There are ghosts in the forest? Could my father be there?"

He shrugs.

"See, the trouble is, I don't know if they're there for anyone besides me. If they're real at all. That's just... where I go when I lose my mind." He smiles. "So that where I see them. I expect probably it isn't real. I think I dream too much. But then, sometimes you'll find ghosts if you look for them, in the moonlight, in the eyes of the stars, in other people..."

The spark of hope fades once more. He sighs.

"I'm sorry Gorlim. I've put you under a terrible strain over the last few days. You have been looking after yourself haven't you?" He looks up at Gorlim with concerned eyes.