you shoot me down but i won't fall i am titanium

[steeled]

CHARACTERS: anyone and everyone
LOCATION: medbay
WARNINGS: potential gore, emotional shit, maybe language. medbay stuff and things, lori.
SUMMARY: catchall log for post-demons action set in medbay.
NOTES: fuck yeah i used titanium up there.

An attack means the usual quiet of medbay is broken somewhat, patients filling usually empty beds and doctors more often found doing inventory deep in their work; the unhurt hovering anxiously around the bedsides of less lucky friends and loved ones.

With the sudden rash of blindness there's even more activity; passing by a patient's bed may lead to a request for help, doctor or not.

Comments

open

[coffeeking]

[For once, Ianto isn't dying. He's not even critically injured. Considering the odds, he finds that a huge plus. On the other hand, he's bloody exhausted and was flung bodily into a tree by some demon creature after showing much poorer form than usual with a gun. It's one humiliation or another it seems, and Jack has insisted on escorting him to medical rather than retreating back to their room and holing up. Something about a potential concussion. How the hell anyone is going to figure out whether he's concussed or just too tired to function is beyond him.

But there they are, Jack helping support Ianto in case he keels over, waving down the first doctor they can find who isn't already occupied.]

[51stcentury]

[Jack can tell that Ianto's not pleased he brought him here. But he saw the way he was tossed about and he knows Ianto's tendency towards head injuries so he's not taking any chances, regardless as to how much the other man protests or how much he insists that he's fine. He's got his arm around the other man's waist, and he can feel Ianto leaning against him, and the fact that he doesn't know whether that's because Ianto's exhausted or because he's actually more injured than he's letting on. He wouldn't put it past Ianto to cover it up. Or not be able to notice, on top of the sleep deprivation.

He glances up and tries to grab the first person that walks by, hoping they'll be medical staff, not knowing that he'll be able to tell right now.] Hey, a little help here?

[He turns to Ianto, a look that says that this is not up for a debate written all over his face.]

open:

[majestyofthethrone]

[She has her slate, and she doesn't know why she still can't sleep, not when all she wants to do is sleep. Whatever it is that she did, whatever it is that happened after she was stabbed and Godric found her (not that she remembers most of it), after she saw the thing in the Hallway and something from inside her unspooled and sliced the inside of her throat, destroyed her body.

She doesn't want to say that she can't hear, but it's obvious to anyone who works there that she can't, although not to people visiting.]

[doggedly]

[She's not around in her room, and she's not anywhere he can find--she's still here somewhere; if he sends messages to her they don't come back, but she's not answering, either. And Sirius hates the medical bay, but after getting your arm chewed up by a bloody demonic manticore, there's some things you've got to follow up on so you can keep your arm--and it's there that he sees Sera.

At first it's a shock. Maybe it shouldn't be--logically, if she's not around, why not here. But he feels like he should have known, somehow, like should have had some sense. The thought is sort of terrifying, in its way. When did he start to care about her so much?

After his arm's been rebandaged, he goes over to her. At first he hangs back, just watching the silent composure of her face--but her eyes are open, it's not going to be long before she sees him. And it's not as if he's a coward, as if he'll somehow mind going over to her--so he does, then, he goes straight up to her bed and puts his hand over hers.]

[majestyofthethrone]

[Shen he touches her, she jumps. She never realized - she knew, of course, logically, but never actually realized - how much she relies on her hearing, and she turns to see Sirius, Sirius who she manipulated and put in this situation but now, more than ever, she feels like she needs him.

The jump doesn't last long, because when she sees him she manages a shaky, shaky smile.

She holds his hand tight, and touches on her her ears.]

Can't

Hear.

[doggedly]

[He stares at her, blankly, for a moment. He's so used to her writing by now, like the shape of her letters communicates a voice and not just-- handwriting. At first, he doesn't make the connection, the way that she pulls at her ear, the shape of her smile on her face--

And then he realises; his eyes fly to her ear, and there's this dread in him, then.]

What? [No, shut up, he knows what--] What-- What happened?

[majestyofthethrone]

[Luckily people have been saying that word - what - to her often enough the past day or so, she can understand the shape it takes. She reaches for his hand again. Her slate is nowhere in sight. She dropped it when the Mayor attacked her, she wants it back, but she doesn't know where it is.

She takes one of his hands again, and there's a wobble of her face, but she doesn't cry. She's trying not to.]

I

don't

know

magic

maybe

slides in here a year late

[faithlessly]

[ he doesn't need to go to medical, there's nothing wrong with him. but then, dean hadn't faced many of the demons, not past a few close encounters here or there. that doesn't mean others hadn't though... and maybe it's curiosity for one part, worry on the other that finally makes him check. the place smells-- clinical, with a hint of blood from the synthetic bags which are so often used.

it's a little stressful, being in the area, and almost chases him right out. it's when he turns that he spots her, and dean's approaching before he really even thinks about it. ]

Sera, hey. [ and if she doesn't realize he's there, he'll reach to gently touch her shoulder. ]

[majestyofthethrone]

[She doesn't see him, and now that she can't hear, she doesn't do that either, so she jumps and there's panic until she sees Dean, and she just-

Stares at him-

And there's an element of worry in her expression. Like maybe this is a trick.]

[faithlessly]

[ righty right. well, dean can't blame her, not after what had happened the last time he'd seen her. it's something he remembers, but the images in his head are blurry and rushed, like remembering something as if he'd been drunk. he knows he hurt her, made her cry -- thank you, sirius, for a fresher reminder of that -- and hell, he does feel bad about it.

more than bad. but all the more reason to fix things, right? ]

Yeah, alright, I deserve that look.

[majestyofthethrone]

[She doesn't want to fight with Dean. She doesn't want to make him feel bad, not when she already feels awful, not when there is still pain in her throat and in her ears and sometimes she still cries tears tinged with red.

She just opens her arms, like pick me up, or hold me.]

closed to tara.

[kutte]

[ the girl--daphne?--she brings him to medical. he knows because she tells him, because he can't see. his eyes are open, but he can't see a goddamn thing, and he's holding it together by strings. telling himself that they can fix it. someone here has to know how to fix it. jax has been hurt plenty in his life, has bounced back from a lot but he can't be blind. he's nothing if he's blind. can't ride, can't fight, can't do a goddamn thing.

get tara. i want--get tara, ask for tara knowles.

and then daphne's gone and it's just jax, sitting on a bed. he keeps opening and closing his eyes, like he can blink this away. whatever else is wrong with him, the bruises, the blood, it's all secondary. that'll heal. he doesn't know if this will. ]

[steeled]

[ when they tell her jax was brought in, it was like— like an inevitability, but not one tara is going to just accept. his posture when she approaches the bed, though— slumped and confused, almost small in a way jax teller is not ever small— tugs her up short. ]

Jax?

[ he doesn't look obviously wounded, and that alone makes her nervous; glancing around for a chart near the bed and not finding one, a deep frown creases the skin between her eyebrows. ] They said you were asking for me.

[kutte]

[ it's nothing new, jax teller with a scuffed face, banged up and bruised and bloody. that's just a way of life. jax bounces back from it, worries at the injuries until they fade down to nothing. this, though, it's not-- ]

Come here. Come over here.

[ it's humiliating. he won't reach out for her, clumsy and groping, even though he wants to. he needs her to ground him. she's the only familiar thing on this entire ship, and right now he can't stand the strangeness of it all coupled with the loss of his eyes. ]

[steeled]

[ she moves closer without protest, resting a hand on his forehead and then moving down to cup his cheek, careful to avoid the worst of the cuts and bruises. and that's so painfully familiar she could scream— at him, at the world, who fucking knows.

swallowing hard, tara keeps her touch gentle. ] I can go find your chart in a second, but— Jax, talk to me. What's wrong?

[ because something clearly is, and it makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. ]

[kutte]

I can't see, Tara.

[ there's a joke somewhere in there. jax knows there is. blind men and seeing, some fucking comedian would have a field day. but right now it's just him and tara, the only solid contact he has, and he tips his head into her hands, instinctive and a little desperate for the contact. ]

I'm blind.

[ex_question191]

[ stiles feels achy all over. talk shit, get hit, that's how it goes, right? generally he thinks he does pretty good avoiding the physical stuff, but in this case a couple of demons had sent him flying, and he can't freaking see. ]

[ he's been pretending stuff's okay: thank god for auggie and his voice-to-text stuff. actually, he's been thinking a lot about auggie this week, about the people he'd known who'd gone home, wondering where they are now. not just his dad, for once, but other people too: jake, and jackson, and hayley, azari and jeremy, nathan and deb and lute. it's maudlin, but he's got bruises on his bruises, he thinks he's entitled to be a little maudlin. ]

[ mostly he sleeps. though it's weird, waking up not knowing whether or not it's night or day. ]

Hey,

[ he tries, voice scratchy — he thinks there's someone there, but he's not sure. sometimes he really does regret not having super senses. ]

Hey, uh, can someone pass me a glass of water?

[ he reaches out, hopeful. ]

lmk if this is unacceptable.

[altercate]

[ the first time derek showed up, stiles was asleep. derek hovered for a little while, watching him, then left. it's not like with tyke, where her dogs saw him, would give him away no matter what. stiles wasn't going to know whether or not derek had been there. and derek's alright with that, because he hasn't decided whether or not he wants stiles to know he's been there. he lingers, wraps his fingers around stiles wrist and takes away his pain, pulls until stiles breathes easier, relaxes on the bed.

it's penance. or derek takes it as penance and as favor both. it's his fault scott wasn't with stiles in the first place, his fault that scott couldn't protect him. derek takes what he can, and leaves, comes back later and repeats the process. it's the best he can do, all things considered.

and then stiles wakes up.

derek has about a split second to decide whether or not he wants to peace out. instead of getting up and high-tailing it out of there, he just passes stiles a cup of water that had been sitting out since before derek got there, like someone had figured on this being a thing. ]

Here.

[ derek sounds totally pissed about it, frustrated like stiles is imposing on him and derek wasn't looming at his bedside. he pushes the cup into stiles hand, careful to settle it so stiles doesn't drop it. derek's bedside manner is pretty shitty, but he has the barebones of it down. ]

your face is unacceptable

[ex_question191]

[ stiles takes the cup gratefully before he really registers the fact that the person playing nurse a) doesn't exactly sound gratified to be doing it and b) is derek hale. ]

[ his eyebrows raise, and he turns his head in... well, in derek's general direction. ]

Derek?

[ the sound of his own voice seems to remind him that he asks for water: he lifts the cup to his mouth, lashes lowering as he sips gingerly, and when he's confirmed it's water, he tips his head back and downs the whole thing in a few greedy gulps. he gives a little sigh after, turns the cup in his hands. ]

Thanks.

[ he clears his throat. they haven't really spoken since — well, he'd pseudo-texted to apologize. but that conversation hadn't exactly... and now here they are. great. he has no idea what to say. ]

cries about it

[altercate]

[ it's unsettling, watching him. derek doesn't like it, wants to turn away from it. stiles eyes are open but he's not seeing, and derek abruptly wants to get up and leave rather than stay here and try to carry on a conversation. ]

What happened?

[ because that's just what stiles wants to talk about ]

[ex_question191]

I had a run-in in the corridors.

[ stiles sounds a little patronizing, because hey, surely it's pretty obvious that he didn't just fall down a flight of stairs and go blind. ]

I'm fine. Flesh wounds. Uh, and the sight — do you still have any of Auggie's stuff?

[strayed]

[This isn't how she'd been expecting to see Stiles again. In truth she hadn't really known if she'd ever see him again. Leaving Beacon Hills hadn't been a case of planning to never return, just that there were very little plans in place on it at all, and six years the first time could easily be twelve the second, or just... whatever. Cora dealt with life as it came at her, tried not to linger on what she left behind.

Dealing with the ship as it came wasn't actually that different, except she seems to constantly be two steps behind in a way that she's finding increasingly frustrating. She hadn't even known Stiles was here until Derek just dropped his name, and at that point she'd decided waiting around to hear more she didn't know from another source wasn't good enough. She'd come to find him. But she'd wound up in the medbay, staring at him beaten and blind in a hospital bed, completely uncertain on what to do next.

Until he's waking up.]

Hang on. [She settles her hand over his, weighing it back down to the bed gently.] The pitcher's empty.

[And then she's gone again, for a minute or two, head just in the task of refilling the pitcher and bringing it back, pouring him a glass.

It's something to do. It makes it easier not to worry about any of the rest of it.]

Do you want a straw?

[ex_question191]

[ he knows that voice. he knows that voice. and he's kinda mad, too — not at her. but seriously, how is he supposed to be expected to tell derek things in ways other than third person venn diagram, when he is so freaking stingy with his own information? ]

Cora?

[ he asks, but she's already long gone. he rubs his hand over the place her hand touched, slowly, and he's staring off into nothing when she returns, starts at the sound of her voice. he was jumpy with lack of sleep before he got sprung by demons, before his most valuable sense was stolen from him for who knows how long. ]

[ he hates this ship. ]

Yeah, a straw would be great.

[ it's not that he needs it. not really. it's not like, a disability thing. he just really likes straws. (yeah, and he's in a hospital bed in the medbay because he finds the sound of machines beeping soothing. right.) ]

[strayed]

[There's a packet of straws by the pitcher, and she drops one in the cup before she takes his hand again, pressing it into his palm and making sure he's got a grip before she lets go. It's careful, but not lingering. She can't imagine what losing one of her senses would be like, but she knows she wouldn't want to be treated like an invalid for it.

But that isn't anything she's going to say. Isn't sure there's even anything she could say about it, watching his face, his blank, unfocussed gaze.]

Nobody told me you were here.

[It's said with more annoyance than apology, but they're both there in her tone.]

[ex_question191]

[ there may yet come a time when stiles gets angry about this — the blindness — but he's still kind of shellshocked by it. not to mention in deep denial of the possibility of its permenancy. he hasn't even entertained the possibility of being stuck like this forever, so right now he's willing to bend his pride a little, like he would for any other sickness, and accepts the help people offer him. ]

Me neither.

[ he admits. ]

You, I mean, I'm pretty aware of where I am.

[ the medbay. the tranquility. space. ]

It's not a huge surprise. That Derek didn't mention. He's pretty mad at me.