ataraxionlogs | When you were young and your heart was an open book

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When you were young and your heart was an open book

CHARACTERS: Megamind, Roxanne, and a myriad of others -visitors, guards, medical personnel.
LOCATION: Medbay
WARNINGS: Possible discussion of gore and injury, death threats, who knows.
SUMMARY: Megamind's in the medbay. So are a lot of other people coming and going.
NOTES: Feel fee to use this as a gathering thread; your character may come for medical treatment- specify if you have an open thread, or if you want to see Megamind or other specific characters (arrange scenes with anyone other than Megamind and Roxanne with the players in question personally, please!)

He was a mess; the bullet missed Megamind's heart, but his body had never been made for the gravity in which it had been raised. His blood pressure elevated, he bled like crazy. After a couple of touch-and-go days, he seemed to even out, though he was low in blood and completely comatose. Without enough blood to run that big brain? Who could say if there'd be brain damage later. With no medical records to compare to, Megamind's condition would remain a question until he opened his eyes and spoke again.

But that doesn't mean he wasn't going to. He was just taking his good sweet time about getting there. Eventually, he would. Someday. Today, maybe. It might be a good day for that...

...here's hoping it was a good day for everybody else.

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He's a little bit confused, a bit groggy-- and that Roxanne is the first person he seeS? Well, it's a little confusing; normally if he's taken a pummeling this bad-- he wakes up in prison.

But--

He's not a home. The memory seeps in slowly. Ah. Yes. Of course. Yes, she's probably alright, but his gaze turns sharper and more focused, as he looks at her. Checking her out, looking for injury-- anything. He's holding very still, trying not to reveal just how thorough the scrutiny is, or--

--how deep the fear runs that she might've been hurt.

There are no physical injuries on Roxanne, her only hurts are internal -- anad those run deep. But right now, when he's first woken up, isn't the time to yell or get angry. She's only glad that he's alive, he's woken up.

"Can...can you talk? Can you hear me?"

"..yes," he says. "Throats-- dry. How long?"

His internal clock hasn't caught up - accounted for the days missing in his memory. His eyes search for more -- information, people, anything. He can hear they're not alone, at least, in the medbay.

"Water? Do you want some water?" She's already releasing his hand and reaching for the pitcher and pouring a glass.

"...Six days."

"...six?" He exhales roughly, but then he nods and reaches--

--to find he's restrained. Well. "You'll have to help me out, I'm afraid." Because he really wants to do what he can to drink that down... But he's got no hands to do it with.

"I got it." She was already moving to help, to hold the cup for him.

"Yes. Six." She doesn't know what's going on outside the medbay, really. She hasn't left his side except to use the restroom.

He drinks slowly, but drains the whole of the cup, before he gives up and drops back against the bed.

"She shot me," he replies. "Massive blood loss, missed my heart, though-- never been so glad for not being the same biological set up as you humans..." It's never saved his life before now.

Careful hands reach to lightly stroke the side of his head before she puts the cup away and sits down again, leaning back and crossing her legs.

"I know." She had seen the results after landing on her hands and knees in a pool of it.

"Sorry," he says. He knew she -- was there, but lost consciousness fairly sweiftly afterwards. It was-- not as planned, no.

"About a lot of things," he adds a moment later, his green eyes finding anywhere that wasn't her to rest on, to look at. He doesn't know how to deal with her judgment now-- before it could have simply been brushed off, ignored, a hurt nursed until the time was right to try and impress here again.

Now, things were much more awkward. There were many more feelings involved.

His apology doesn't fall on deaf ears -- Roxanne hears him, acknowledges it, but she stays strangely silent for a few moments, digesting it. Letting him wonder.

She's -- livid, yes. She's angry, because for all they'd gone through together already, he hadn't trusted her enough with this, with assisting. They'd -- had a very passionate encounter, and once done? She'd been turned into a cube for the next God knows how many days. She still hasn't completely regained equilibrium, or licked her pride better, but Roxanne isn't in the mood to yell at him. She's just glad he's alive, and now awake.

She reaches for his hand, curling her fingers in his.

"I know."

He's wondering. He's sitting and wondering and yes, worrying. There's a lot to worry about. He betrayed her; he hadn't planned for--anything that happened that night to go that way, but it had, it did, and it scared him -- and in a fool moment, he made a terrible decision.

But the moment she puts her hand in his he relaxes just a fraction, and sighs.

"Royally screwed the pooch on this one," he says, sighing-- breath hitching with pain, coughing with it, before it steadies out. "You should-- get some rest. You are a sight for sore eyes, but-- you haven't taken care of yourself in the last... six days, I assume?"

"Don't." Her words are soft, but forceful, determined.

"Don't send me away just yet. Please." He'd only just woken up, and Roxanne was in no mood to leave him. They could 'talk' later, when he...inevitably went in the brig, and when he was feeling better.

Right now, though? She just wants to be with him, and bask in his presence and his coherence.

Tracing the lines of her knuckles with his thumb, it's his turn to be silent and let her wonder. But he surrenders, and nods once.

"Don't know that I'll be-- awake very long, at any given time," he says, eyes tracking to the charts and the meds and everything else. "But-- please, promise me-- when I sleep? Find the time to go, rest, and take care of yourself. After all-- you're half the reason I tried."

If she runs herself ragged or into illness, that'll be two of them down. One of them needs to be strong.

She does wonder, hoping he won’t tell her to leave. If he does, then she’ll go, but she won’t be happy about it. When his answer comes, the relief that flickers over her features is evident.

“I will, Megamind. Don’t worry about me.” She’s not the one hooked up to various machines that are helping to keep a living being stable. “Worry about you, and getting better.” Even if he’s going to the brig.

She leans, and brushes her lips to his forehead.

“I’m glad…you’re alive.”

"You're going to make trouble for yourself," he says, eyes fluttering closed as she gives him that small gesture of affection. "Villains don't get the girl-- unless they're bad, bad girls. And while I may know you're not..."

Well, he can't count on them to know what he knows. They'll be suspicious, fearful-- any number of things.

"Please, be careful."

"You already got the girl. It's up to you if you want to keep her." She sat back into her chair, hand still in his.

"When am I not in trouble, Megamind?" She's half smiling, half serious when she says this, because honestly -- nearly the entirety of her adult life she has been in the midst of something.

Thanks to him, but, well. That's neither here nor there.

"You know I will. I'm always careful."

"Not careful enough, or --"

Well, you wouldn't be with him, really. But he grips her hand tightly, all the same. So he won't finish that thought. It's a bit late now.

"I trust you'll be as careful as you can be," he finally says. And that's all he can say about that, really. Not much else he can say while cuffed to his bed.

The barest shake of her head indicates that he probably shouldn't finish that statement, and he's smart to cut himself off when he does.

"It'll be all right." She just keeps holding his hand, glad and so, so thankful for the breath from his lips, and the feel of her hand in his.

Yes, he won't finish that thought. But he will let his head drop back because holy crap he's still tired.

"For a given value of 'alright', certainly," he says, and then yawns again, shifts and winces. Yes. "Nnngh. Tell them to up the morphine. It's morphine, right? Something-- some opiate. Otherwise I'd be--" yawn again, jaw cracking. "N--nevermind. Stupid-- not human-- difficulties."

"Shh, shh..." She says, gently squeezing his hand. "I know. Just -- rest, Megamind." Fingers rubbed over his knuckles, free palm resting on his mattress by his side.

"Get some rest. Sleep -- you need it."

He mumbles something, and- sighs, settling down; his eyes stay on her, though-- as he lapses into silence, and the lids get heavier, and his expression smoother....

...until he's slipped away again, deep into the sleep of the well drugged.

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When you were young and your heart was an open book

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