Curtis and Edgar, initial treatment and visiting hours

[simon_doctor]

It's been a rough day for Curtis and Edgar. Fortunately, the Milliways infirmary is definitely set up to handle hypothermia and exposure.

[Icon above notwithstanding, Simon Tam is not actually appearing in this thread.]

Comments

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah insists on staying beside Curtis as he's bundled into a bed. Nothing short of a hypospray will dissuade her.

"There. Rest," she breathes. "You're all right."

Please Issus, let him be all right.

[guppy_sandhu]

"Hey, you want a hand?" Guppy asks, coming out of the office.

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen looks up from where she's making sure everyone who should be prone is prone, and those that won't stay prone are at least sitting down.

Dejah.

"How are with you exposure and other cold-related issues? Because I'm pretty sure we have a lot of that over here."

Some people decided running out in a snowstorm without the proper gear was a useful way to deal with problems.

[2goodarms]

Curtis drifts in and out for a while after the doctor's done. Reality blends with memory: at one point, the bed becomes a warm pile of snow, and white flakes spin around his vision as he blinks up at the light. At another, Wilford's the one spooning broth into his mouth. It tastes awful, like liquefied steak, but he's too weak to spit it out -- let alone fling the bowl across the room and go for Wilford's throat.

He isn't shivering, though. Everything aches with a pins-and-needles thaw, but he's suffered worse hurts, and the stinging passes quickly enough -- except in his right hand, which burns like it's inches away from a flame and still can't bend without effort. By the time the delirium passes, he's aware enough to be concerned about that, albeit in a detached way.

(In the next cot over, Edgar's a blanket-wrapped lump with a shock of gingerish hair at one end and some pale turquoise gel-packs at the other, one maybe-shoulder shifting in the slow rhythm of breathing sleep.)

[dejah_thoris]

"I said vegetable broth. Next time, listen to me." Dejah's voice, speaking quietly but ferociously to a wait rat who is cowering behind his whiskers. "Get this out of here. And get me a cup of coffee. Black and strong as you can make it."

Her right hand rests on his metallic arm and she holds her left hand over the wrist cuff. Tiny blue threads of light flicker back and forth between the two.

"Internal temperature regulation, offline. Pain sensors, malfunctioning. Myomer isolate strands, damaged with cold. Repair?" She hesitates as if listening to an answer. "Isolate strand self-maintenance engaged."

She realizes he's awake and she draws in a breath, a radiant smile of relief washing most of the worry from her face. "Hello," she whispers.

[2goodarms]

"Hey."

His voice creaks like ice beginning to thaw; his smile, small as it may be, shakes when it appears. He tries to flex his metal fingers so he can take her hand. Turns out they're not moving much better than his real fingers.

"You're here."

[hate_gettin_older]

Some time later:

The lump of blankets on the next cot shifts slightly, the rhythm of its breath hitching, and emits a grunt of something like pain.

[2goodarms]

That grabs Curtis's attention in an instant, pushing him from half-awake to fully alert. Next to him, Dejah shifts in sleep, but doesn't wake.

Finding his voice proves more difficult than anticipated.

"Edgar?" he croaks at last.

[hate_gettin_older]

A pause.

The lump shifts and turns over, revealing Edgar's face, eyes shut tightly as though unwilling to relinquish his hold on sleep just yet.

It's a look Curtis has seen hundreds if not thousands of times.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen's not really as familiar with either Curtis or Edgar as she might like, but that's no reason to leave them unchecked-on after what they've been through. The doctor gets first go, of course. Medical care is an important thing, and the doctors here know what they're doing.

(Dad wouldn't be pleased with her if she interfered with medical treatment after an emergency. There's that too.)

Anyway, she went upstairs as soon as the doctors took the handoff and changed out of that stealth suit of hers, so when Edgar sees her fidgeting a little ways away from the cot, she's in her old, many-times-patched, many-times-reinforced Vault suit of faded blue and yellow-gold and offering a small, worried smile.

[hate_gettin_older]

He blinks up at her, focusing slowly, and manages a tiny smile of his own.

"Ellen," he croaks. "Hey."

[not_his_pa]

William had been nodding a bit over his chili when Bar gave him a note about Edgar and he quickly goes to the infirmary.

There's still ash on his jacket and he stops, he's heard his brother and his father in pain as they sleep. Its not a good sound and he says low but firm, "Edgar, wake up, you're safe."

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar wakes with another muffled noise, one hand shifting to brace against the bed as though ready to push himself up.

"... William?"

[dejah_thoris]

Later, when the visitors have gone away and the ward's lights have dimmed, Dejah has to move. She's been sitting in a chair for what feels like ages. Curtis is sleeping quietly, Edgar as well.

She paces the floor, silently counting the tiles between the curtains and the wall, calculating how many tiles it would take to cover the whole room. She stops at the foot of Edgar's bed when she hears him stir.

She holds still, waiting for him to fall back asleep.

[hate_gettin_older]

Instead, he rubs one bony wrist across his eyes and squints up at her.



"Hey."

[dejah_thoris]

She lets her breath go in a soft sigh.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan shows up at some point, possibly breaking infirmary rules by bringing his dog with him, and heads for Edgar's bed.

"Hello."

[hate_gettin_older]

By this time Edgar's sitting up, drinking soup out of a mug.

"Hey," he says back, and looks at the dog with interest.

[athelstanthescribe]

"This is Fiachra", he says, noticing the look. "My shadow, for the time being. How are you feeling?"

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen slips into the infirmary, leaving Liranan to watch the door.

(It makes him feel useful, and it keeps dog hair out of the medical area.)

She wants to check on both Edgar and Curtis, just to make sure things are going well.

(And also to check on Dejah, at least in passing. Stubborn partners she knows very well, and so.)

[2goodarms]

Curtis is...well, maybe not wholly awake, but conscious, at least. When Ysalwen slips in, he's staring up at the ceiling; when he realizes someone's approaching, he blinks, working to get his eyes to focus.

That's followed by an exhausted half-smile.

"Hey," he croaks.

[freedom_is_grey]

She manages a slightly crooked smile of her own.

"I would say you're looking better, but, well."

Yeah.

"Are you feeling less frozen?"

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck's not great at waiting in infirmaries. He hates being useless. By the time his team had come in, Edgar'd already been ferried off.

So he just pokes his head around the door every so often, and thus time Edgar's clearly awake. He grins, a little more with getting-his-timing-right than actual happiness. He doesn't say anything as he's ambling over in case of waking anybody else.

"Hey,"

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar glances over at him, and brightens slightly. "Hey."

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck sits all the way back, pulling his feet up onto the seat so he can extend his arms out in front of him, resting on his knees.(Visible because of short sleeves, though he's not conscious of it: a few large bruises, including one almost obscuring his tattoo.) It's not a very grown-up-jaeger-pilot way of sitting, but fuck it, it's comfortable and nobody else from the PPDC is here anyway.

"You okay? I mean," he says, dry. "Other than the whole dead thing."