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

[hate_gettin_older]

His eyes sting again, hard.

"Yeah," he husks, and drags his fingers across his forehead and eyes.

[2goodarms]

Curtis falls silent.

After a moment, he fumbles with the blanket in an effort to wrap it around his hand.

[hate_gettin_older]

"'S your hand okay?"

[2goodarms]

"Yeah," he says automatically. "Just hurts. It'll be fine."

He hopes like hell the doctor would've told him if he were about to walk out of here with two metal hands.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar nods.

"Same as my feet, yeah," he says. "They'll be okay."

[2goodarms]

A beat, and Curtis cracks a wry smile.

"I can't believe we survived the freeze and then almost fucking froze to death here."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Right?" Edgar tries to smile back.

And doesn't say anything about the part where they're both already dead anyway.

[2goodarms]

"That's the kind of irony you write songs about."

He shifts again, this time to settle more comfortably against the mattress, and shoves one arm under the pillow to prop it up a bit higher.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Yeah."

He rolls onto his back, looks up at the ceiling.

"Let's not though."

[2goodarms]

Curtis snorts. "I suck at that shit anyway."

If it weren't so bright in here, it'd be easy to replace the ceiling tiles with the roof of the train -- or the ceiling of room 1001 -- like the two of them were talking just before they fell asleep.

[hate_gettin_older]

"I never tried."

Well, unless you count making up dumb rhymes for the littler kids, when he was eleven or twelve.

[2goodarms]

"Bet Tanya could have done it."

That's a little more sober.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Fuck. I keep forgetting she's ..."

His throat hurts again, suddenly.

"How come she's not here? She should be here."

[2goodarms]

"Yeah." Barely a breath. "I know."

If anybody ought to have made it here after...it should've been Tanya. And then if Timmy and Yona didn't survive --

(How could they survive? Fuck, he and Edgar came within inches of dying a second time, and even if the world's thawing, that doesn't mean it's safe now --

Curtis's throat is starting to hurt again.)

-- she'd get to see him again, at least.

[hate_gettin_older]

He cracks a tiny, painful smile.

"She'd've whacked our heads for being a pair of fuckin idiots."

[2goodarms]

His laugh's barely more than a creak of noise this time.

"Could've teamed up with Dejah," he says. "How long d'you think that lecture would've lasted?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Hours." He tucks one arm under the pillow, behind his head. "Hours and hours. Maybe days."

Beat.

"It'd be worth it."

[2goodarms]

"Yeah." He swallows down the knot in his throat. "God, I hope they all make it here."

Maybe, by now, it's too much to hope for. But he's gotten used to a hell of a lot in the past year: good food, a soft bed, sunlight. Warmth.

Curtis has gotten used to hope being an option, too.