Felix Gaeta (
mr_gaeta) wrote in
ways_infirmary2012-03-30 10:20 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
(no subject)
"Alone she sleeps in the shirt of man
With my three wishes clutched in her hand..."
Simon finally hooked him up to a morpha -- morphine, whatever it's called here -- drip once the nerve block wore off and the supposedly unidentifiable opioid had left his system. Gaeta's half-drowsing, eyes closed in a vain attempt to sleep outright; the pain's still too great, though, and the exhaustion more prominent.
And if he sleeps, that means he can't do the only thing that's worked so far.
"The first that she be spared the pain
That comes from a dark and laughing rain..."
The words are a little roughened with hoarseness, a touch slurred by morpha -- but his voice still rings clear through the infirmary.
[ooc: for continuity's sake, all threads now take place before Boyd's and Simon's.]
With my three wishes clutched in her hand..."
Simon finally hooked him up to a morpha -- morphine, whatever it's called here -- drip once the nerve block wore off and the supposedly unidentifiable opioid had left his system. Gaeta's half-drowsing, eyes closed in a vain attempt to sleep outright; the pain's still too great, though, and the exhaustion more prominent.
And if he sleeps, that means he can't do the only thing that's worked so far.
"The first that she be spared the pain
That comes from a dark and laughing rain..."
The words are a little roughened with hoarseness, a touch slurred by morpha -- but his voice still rings clear through the infirmary.
[ooc: for continuity's sake, all threads now take place before Boyd's and Simon's.]
no subject
"I'll let you know," he says at last, not much louder. A beat, in which he digs deep to pull the necessary word out into daylight. "Thanks."
This is not the Anders he knows. This is not the Anders who shot him.
Not yet.
no subject
Before he leaves, he pats Felix on the arm. Just once, just... one more sorry, one more wish this hadn't happened, one last bit of solidarity over both being Pican, over everything. Still, as he heads toward the door his heart's heavier than it has been yet at this place.
So much for whatever power's in charge deciding he needs a break. Life's just been one cruel joke after another lately, with one shining exception. Maybe if he's lucky he'll find her again sooner rather than later, unless she really was just a dream.
no subject
no subject