Infirmary Spam (subtitle 'well that escalated quickly')

[shakenandlimp]

[Backdated - day after flood end.]


[When Bush wakes up in the infirmary, his first breath is painful and panicked; his hands scrabble for purchase on the sheets, but a spell of deep, agonizing coughing jars them loose.

By the time he has done trying to expel his lungs, he understands that he is safe, and death tolling. The memories come back-- horrifying, miserable-- and he gives a little groan and sinks back into his infirmary bed.

He has to tell Miss Gordon about the fight-- his part in it and her inmate's, allowing for the effects of the flood-- but the extent of his pain and fatigue is so strong that he petulantly puts it aside for at least the next day.

As another coughing spell starts, he reflects with no satisfaction whatsoever that that will be for the best.]



[Text - private to Barbara Gordon]
During the flood two days ago I provoked a quarrel with the Risen Emperor in the CES. In the ensuing fight he deliberately drowned me. I am sorry for the delay but have been recovering and do not think he is a danger to me or anyone.

I request we speak on the matter in person before you take any action and can be found in the infirmary.

Your obedient
-Wm Bush

Comments

[godsays]

What happened?

[ He'd come here to check for Morgana, to do a brief glance around the infirmary. He's always worried, after a flood ends - he's always worried that he'll find a friend here. That someone will be hurt and he didn't even know. He's decided to start just checking. Making sure.

Seeing Bush is a shock. He's by the bed in an instant, his movements quick and reactive, not like the threatening, deep serenity of before. ]

[shakenandlimp]

[Bush is plunged into instant confusion-- how much is he to tell, what has he done, he was foolhardy with more than his own happiness in the past days.

He is pretty poor at lies of omission; can commit them by writing as every reasonable officer must, but his face always shows what he feels. At this moment it shows exhaustion.]

The flood made me meddlesome, foolhardy. I quarreled-- drowned.

[There is and would be no concealing Bush's pleasure at Zane's company, as welcome as the sails of a friendly ship to a man in a lifeboat. He still loathes infirmaries and hospitals of every stripe.]

[godsays]

You weren't quarrelsome to me.

[ Persistent, maybe, in an unusual way for him with Zane, but Zane had attributed that to his unusual emotional state. ]

Was it Jones again?

[shakenandlimp]

No. Not Jones. It'll be settled between me and the other.

Don't worry, Zane. Don't worry, I'm -

[Coughing, just at present, chest heaving painfully, and he makes several attempts to speak before it subsides enough he actually can.]

No, see, I'm alive.

[godsays]

[ Touches a hand to Bush's shoulder.

There is another question he needs to ask, and he sighs, wishing he could tell if it was a desire for privacy or a desire to hide something from Zane that was behind this. ]

It wasn't Sylvanas. Was it?

[shakenandlimp]

No. No. I will be contacting his warden when I am a bit stronger. He is not usually the one to brawl; it ain't a danger now.

[He reaches up to grip Zane's strong hand in his calloused and worn one.]

[godsays]

You're sure I can't do it for you? You know I wouldn't hurt anyone. [ And he believes this, when he says it. ] And you should be resting, not worrying.

[ He has never experienced the brunt of a death toll while conscious. He isn't sure what it feels like, but it seems utter misery.

He offers because he is worried. Caretaking. ]

...yes Aslan *that's* the problem. oy.

[heisrisen]

[This is the problem with not feeling: it messes with the brain's prioritization and attention mechanisms. He knew, logically, Bush would come here. But he didn't think about it. Everything he delayed hits him now, fresh, as though Bush's body were still going slack beneath him.

How could he have done this? Bush lies there, wracked, coughing, and he remembers his own vicious determination, is disgusted and horrified and sickly ashamed. The lack of psychosomatic stress reactions, of weak breath and clutching heartbeats and nausea, feels like a wound. This was so wrong. It seems vulgar that his body doesn't know.

He creeps closer. He doesn't know if Bush has the slightest desire to see him, but he also can't give in to his desire - profound - to run away.]

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

[Scratchy and stunned. Almost whispered at first, more solidly the second time. This is unequivocal: he must deliver it as such.]

[shakenandlimp]

[Bush turns an eye on him both wary and weary. His memories are dreadful. His own conduct was not the best, he hates to remember how he spoke, but not so bad that he deserved killing for it.

He's furious, but only has enough strength to thin his mouth into a line.]

Sorry myself, Majesty. But less sorry.

Death toll always makes my foot all pins and needles, damn it.

[heisrisen]

You were justified. I was monstrous.

[Clipped, bare, clear-eyed, prefaced by a short jerk of his head. It's simple, to him, as much as such a hideous tangle can be simple. He doesn't ask for forgiveness. He is not a forgiving man, and for once he does not have it in him to be hypocritical any more than he has it to be hopeful. He deserves all of Bush's anger and likely a good deal more.]

I can arrange someone else to take my shift, if you'd prefer I were not here.

[shakenandlimp]

No.

I hate to be in an infirmary and I would be happier with you here, like it or not. [The coughing starts again; there is no water but there feels like there is, and he is left gasping.]

[heisrisen]

[He thinks - steam, bronchial relaxants, expectorants. But of course they wouldn't help. The death tolls drive him mad, a little: suffering with no symptoms, symptoms he can't treat. He nods. If Bush prefers - he'll abide.]

The foot that's there, or the one that isn't?

[shakenandlimp]

The one that isn't. I only feel it again just after a death toll.

Text

[bodilesswarrior]

[Barbara just looks at the message, for a moment, before sighing.]

Of course. Do you need anything?

Text

[shakenandlimp]

No, I am well attended and only in the usual way for a death toll.

Text → Spam

[bodilesswarrior]

Okay. I'll be there soon.

[And she is. She wheels in slowly, expression grim. When she sees Bush, though, she smiles a bit.]

Hey. [She can't help but look him over.]

Spam

[shakenandlimp]

Miss Gordon. [He smiles back, but makes the mistake of trying to prop himself up to greet her, which leads to a moment of choking and coughing before he lays back with a sheepish look. He is pale under the sailor's tan he has maintained so determinedly by means of the CES, but otherwise has every appearance of health.]

A rotten business, this one. It wasn't all the flood, but a great deal of it was.

Spam

[bodilesswarrior]

[She leans forward instinctively, but her hands just sort of hover there while he regains himself. Her own smile deepens, rueful sympathy.]

I hear you. [She hasn't drowned, but she's come close. And, of course, she knows the death toll.]

How were you affected?

Spam

[shakenandlimp]

I was meddlesome; thought that my friends and folk were in need of my guidance, that a hard truth spoken firmly and recovered from was better than a kind silence, and that I was more aware of the hard truths than he was.

So I spoke firmly, and made him pretty angry, and he waded out into the sea. We had been watching the sea. I was half certain he meant to let himself drown, so I went out to fetch him.

[Spam]

[tentacruelest]

[No one's informed Davy of what's happened; he had to make the discovery for himself as to where his warden had been hidden away.

Thus, when he finally enters the infirmary, he's in a rage, looking about ready to kill something. He grasps the bedpost of Bush's bedframe, snarling. The effect is somewhat lessened by the fact that he's looking very human, but the pure unhindered venom in his eyes is familiar]

Who?

[Spam]

[shakenandlimp]

Easy, man. Easy! [Bush tries to sit up so that he is not being looked so far down at, and only makes himself choke and cough.]

It was a friend and we only quarreled because of the flood.

[Spam]

[tentacruelest]

[There's thunder in Davy's expression as he glares hotly at Bush and his demeanor. His knuckles whiten around the bedpost]

I'll ask again, Bush: who.

[Spam]

[shakenandlimp]

And I'll tell you that is my business and handled!

Jones, easy. There's nothing to gain by fighting now. Make yourself -

[An unfortunately timed fit of coughing, but he comes out of it forcing himself to still speak calmly.] -make yourself easy. Remember how you have been working at that.

[Spam]

[tentacruelest]

[It's clear that Jones would like nothing better than to wring the answer from Bush. He steams, even when Bush' shout reaches his ears. Silently he grinds his teeth, attempting to control his fierce and terrible temper. But it's not easy with his warden and one of his few friends looking like death in front of him]

I am easy!

[Spam]

[shakenandlimp]

Then calmly listen to this. [He is in earnest. He is in terrible earnest, he has already seen so much crash around his ears over it.]

A dear friend did this to me and I hate it, and there has been so much anger about it already I am near sick of it. No good can come of shaking answers out of him, he is already sorry. More shouting and fighting is the last I want, except for the Admiral to fall over the side and have a taste of not being himself because he is the sorriest commander ever I have served under and poor Sawyer was mad and still not his equal.

Lord I sound like a mutineer. Well, so be it; there ain't the Articles here.