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.]

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.

[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

[doggedly]

Hey--

[He's not always the best at reading emotions--no, in fact, Sirius is rarely good, far from anything even approaching best--but it doesn't take Legilimency to work her out right now. He drops onto his knees, taking her hand in his more firmly.]

Hey, don't. [She can't hear, you tit, he reminds himself, and he makes a show of shaking his head.] Don't. It's-- oh, hell--

[Irritated with himself, he shifts so he can dig his wand out of his pocket, and gives it a wave.]

Accio paper-- and accio ink pen, while we're at it-- [And he holds up a finger, wait...]

[majestyofthethrone]

[She takes a long breath, and she seems to stop wobbling, and she just squeezes his hand and watches him do magic. This magic seems so benign compared to the winding, wailing thing that came out of her mouth.]

[doggedly]

[He squeezes back, gently--once he's worked out that her squeeze wasn't an attempt to communicate. And here's the paper anyways, and pen--he doesn't let go of her hand, but takes it up and writes out:

what the hell happened
?

--then holds the pen out to her, expectantly.]

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 takes the pen - finally, a way to speak, a way to communicate.]

1=11 3=111*12*211 9=111*222*22*2*1111*11*21*221 4=2*1111*21*2 6=111*2121*21*121*1*122 2=22*1 (y=0-0) 3=12*21*211 (x=0)

[She stares at the page. Yes, that's right.]

[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.

[doggedly]

[It's just a string of numbers. Numbers, and-- symbols, like runes he's never been taught to read. It doesn't make sense, and he stares at the page before he looks up, studying her face somewhat sharply.]

That's not--

[She can't hear, you idiot, and he takes back the pen:

that's just numbers

Expectantly--not impatiently--he taps at the page.]

[majestyofthethrone]

[She looks down at the writing. To her, it's not. They're letters, they say something. Those are words, aren't they?

She takes the pen and writes out, like an experiment. There's a look of - what? - on her face]

6=111*11*121*11*112*111 (y=1-0)

[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.]

[doggedly]

[Numbers. More numbers, they don't make any sense, and she's acting as if they ought to. Sirius stares down at the paper, worry starting to tingle at the back of his neck.

He takes back the pen, like he's going to write something back--but then, no, he thinks better of it; he sets it aside, covers her hand with his.]

[majestyofthethrone]

[She holds onto his hand and squeezes again, only this time she's not doing it just for reassurance]

That's

your

name

isn't

it?

[doggedly]

[He looks back at the paper as she communicates that question. There's no way that's a name. A string of numbers, scribbled out-- what the hell is going on here?

He glances back at her face, studying her for a moment, like that's going to help him suss this out.]

Numbers.

[He says it as clearly as he can, but--just in case--takes back the pen to write out the word.]

[majestyofthethrone]

[There's a panicked look on her face then, and she grabs the pen and paper, and writes out-

And everything comes out in numbers, she's staring at it but to her it looks like letters, she sees letters. She holds it up to Sirius.]

[doggedly]

[What the fuck is this, is this-- some illness? What would cause all these numbers, and he's not got the heart to shake his head at her again. He's got the grace not to look away from her at least, but his hand tightens on hers.]

No.

[majestyofthethrone]

[She just holds tight to his hand, and stares down at the paper, and then squeezes.]

But

you

understand

this.