CH6: Brother (Gabe + Sean + Imaginary Sean)
Mar 12, 2019 11:53:54 GMT -6
Post by Charredgp on Mar 12, 2019 11:53:54 GMT -6
The wait for Sean’s room to be open to visitors was one of the hardest Gabe had had to endure in a while. The nurses had been patient, given the near-hysterics he was in trying to see him after the debriefing, but very firm in their decision. The small rational part of his mind in the backseat knew it made sense, but…
He had to see. Had to know, for sure, that he was still alive. Just how bad he’d been hurt. How much he’d lost trying to stop them. He refused to even leave the medbay area itself, camping out as close as he could without being shooed away by a staff member.
When they finally told him he was allowed in, a nerve-wracking eternity later, Gabe practically threw the door open, desperate to know Sean was still alive. Much to the on-duty nurse’s annoyance.
In spite of the mayhem caused by the disastrous mission less than a day prior, the hospital ward remained relatively empty. The doctor sat at a table near the center of the room with a mug of coffee in hand, bags weighing heavy under his eyes. Come to think of it, Gabe hadn’t seen him leave since he began camping outside the door. Whether it was a lack of enthusiasm or the effects of sleep deprivation, the doctor hardly seemed to notice Gabe crash through the door. Stacks and stacks of papers sat near the edge of the table, pictures of shattered bones and ruptured organs peeking out from underneath clipboards lined with notes. Dozens of medicines prescribed only under the strict supervision of several medical professionals made the Crwydryn name look like something out of a children’s book.
The bruised and bloodied and broken body of his friend lie on a hospital bed near the back, machines pumping various liquids into his body through tubes strategically inserted through his veins. It was an all-too-familiar accommodation. His chest rose and fell with his breath, eyelids resting softly against his cheeks.
The scene was close to what Gabe had feared once he’d heard of just how disastrously the Highlander’s fight had gone. An absolute disaster of a fight that in his mind might have led to his best friend being more than mincemeat. At once, seeing the full extent of his state, if after a day in the hospital, was both a relief and a moment of absolute horror.
He didn’t have to be a medical professional to know this wasn’t a good scene. It wasn’t like there was much point in hiding the extent of the damage. Broken bones and ruined bodies seemed to come with the territory of the job lately. Practically drunk with sleep deprivation and worry, Gabe staggered to Sean’s bed, unable to even form words for an infinite few seconds, simply staring at the leftover carnage before him.
Slowly, Gabe forced himself to look at the weary doctor. He couldn’t even imagine the stressful work he’d had to do so far, let alone in the coming few days. He was sure he looked equally rough, though a far less elegant, tear-stained mess than the exhausted doctor.
“How bad?” He managed to ask, voice hoarse. “Will he wake up? Or even survive?”
“Past the worst of it by now,” the doctor replied, stifling a long—painfully long—yawn. “Just getting some… much needed rest…”
One of the nurses tapped the man’s shoulder, leaning into his ear.
“You really ought to be doing the same, Dr. Monteblanc. There’s no sense in working yourself past the point of exhaustion.” The doctor grumbled in response, but was unable to muster up the energy to argue back as the nurse (quite literally) began nudging him out of the hospital ward. He finally relented, allowing himself a three-hour ‘power nap’ before diving back into his work.
And so they were left alone. Realistically, it was just Gabe, with Sean passed out, but it was close enough for him.
Gabe leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling. He felt like he had to say something to fill the silence. To feel like he wasn’t just looking at a mangled hamburger that he once called his friend.
“I’m sorry.”
It was all he could manage, really. Two simple, stupid words that meant nothing in the grand scheme of it. With a sigh, he rolled up his sleeve, looking at the familiar insignia he’d gotten so long ago. They all had, back in Russia. A sign of brotherhood. A reminder that they would always have each other’s backs.
“I should’ve done more for ya…”
‘No need to be sorry, ye blithering worrywart. Still alive aren’t I?’
Those might have been the words Gabe wanted to hear, and maybe they were the words the Sean would have wanted to say. But his mouth did not open. And if Gabe peeked below the clean white sheets, he would find scant signs of the ink that once adorned Sean’s bolstering bicep.
“Barely. And missin’ a few parts.”
It wasn’t hard to imagine Sean trying to cheer him up, absolve him of blame. At this point the two could practically have a conversation in their heads and know almost exactly what the other would say. Usually.
Or at least reasonably guess.
“Should’ve listened to my gut. Told Myra to fuck off and give ‘em the business end of my cannon. Could’ve maybe saved ya a limb, at least. Or at least let us match.”
‘Ye made the right decision. Think the doc is stressed enough dealing with one rambunctious buffoon, let alone the both of us.’
Of course, that didn’t quite add up—Gabe found it difficult to imagine that like this, Sean was little different than any other patient on the operating table. That under the knife, he was nothing more than a sack of organs one mistaken incision away from death. Maybe he didn’t want to imagine that. Yet he could hear Sean’s voice loud and clear, resolute and unwavering.
‘What happened wasn’t yer fault, and it wasn’t hers either. My mistakes are mine alone.’
A grunt. That was all he could really say, even to the Sean in his head. It wasn’t quite accurate to the real thing, but he didn’t doubt that’s what he’d really say. Or at least something close enough to it. But whether it was his own guilt or simply the knowledge that it was all in his head, it was a tough pill to swallow that this was probably their best-case scenario.
“Ya know I ain’t gonna believe that. And ya also know damn well if it was me in that bed the first person ya would go after would be yourself too, dammit.”
‘First person I would go after would be the bastard that did this to ye,’ Sean might say with a grim, rumbling laugh. ‘Just look where that line of thought got me.’
His body tossed and turned, breaths becoming erratic as his pupils darted back and forth between restless eyelids. Something between a moan and a groan escaped his lips. Eventually he settled back down, though it was clear that Sean wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.
“Yeah, and I didn’t do the same given the circumstance. Ya see where that might be messin’ me up.” He would shoot back with a dark laugh.
The imaginary conversation evaporated from Gabe’s mind as Sean began to move, rising to his feet in a panic. But he soon settled as he was getting ready to shout for a doctor, leaving him once again alone.
“...Point is.” He said, not even the spectre of Sean in his head to properly reply to now. “I don’t know. Guess this was just the best thing I could do for ya while you’re…”
Gabe’s breath caught in his throat, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes as he once more took in how...pathetic Sean looked. Small. Hurt. Nearly lifeless.
He had to see. Had to know, for sure, that he was still alive. Just how bad he’d been hurt. How much he’d lost trying to stop them. He refused to even leave the medbay area itself, camping out as close as he could without being shooed away by a staff member.
When they finally told him he was allowed in, a nerve-wracking eternity later, Gabe practically threw the door open, desperate to know Sean was still alive. Much to the on-duty nurse’s annoyance.
In spite of the mayhem caused by the disastrous mission less than a day prior, the hospital ward remained relatively empty. The doctor sat at a table near the center of the room with a mug of coffee in hand, bags weighing heavy under his eyes. Come to think of it, Gabe hadn’t seen him leave since he began camping outside the door. Whether it was a lack of enthusiasm or the effects of sleep deprivation, the doctor hardly seemed to notice Gabe crash through the door. Stacks and stacks of papers sat near the edge of the table, pictures of shattered bones and ruptured organs peeking out from underneath clipboards lined with notes. Dozens of medicines prescribed only under the strict supervision of several medical professionals made the Crwydryn name look like something out of a children’s book.
The bruised and bloodied and broken body of his friend lie on a hospital bed near the back, machines pumping various liquids into his body through tubes strategically inserted through his veins. It was an all-too-familiar accommodation. His chest rose and fell with his breath, eyelids resting softly against his cheeks.
The scene was close to what Gabe had feared once he’d heard of just how disastrously the Highlander’s fight had gone. An absolute disaster of a fight that in his mind might have led to his best friend being more than mincemeat. At once, seeing the full extent of his state, if after a day in the hospital, was both a relief and a moment of absolute horror.
He didn’t have to be a medical professional to know this wasn’t a good scene. It wasn’t like there was much point in hiding the extent of the damage. Broken bones and ruined bodies seemed to come with the territory of the job lately. Practically drunk with sleep deprivation and worry, Gabe staggered to Sean’s bed, unable to even form words for an infinite few seconds, simply staring at the leftover carnage before him.
Slowly, Gabe forced himself to look at the weary doctor. He couldn’t even imagine the stressful work he’d had to do so far, let alone in the coming few days. He was sure he looked equally rough, though a far less elegant, tear-stained mess than the exhausted doctor.
“How bad?” He managed to ask, voice hoarse. “Will he wake up? Or even survive?”
“Past the worst of it by now,” the doctor replied, stifling a long—painfully long—yawn. “Just getting some… much needed rest…”
One of the nurses tapped the man’s shoulder, leaning into his ear.
“You really ought to be doing the same, Dr. Monteblanc. There’s no sense in working yourself past the point of exhaustion.” The doctor grumbled in response, but was unable to muster up the energy to argue back as the nurse (quite literally) began nudging him out of the hospital ward. He finally relented, allowing himself a three-hour ‘power nap’ before diving back into his work.
And so they were left alone. Realistically, it was just Gabe, with Sean passed out, but it was close enough for him.
Gabe leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling. He felt like he had to say something to fill the silence. To feel like he wasn’t just looking at a mangled hamburger that he once called his friend.
“I’m sorry.”
It was all he could manage, really. Two simple, stupid words that meant nothing in the grand scheme of it. With a sigh, he rolled up his sleeve, looking at the familiar insignia he’d gotten so long ago. They all had, back in Russia. A sign of brotherhood. A reminder that they would always have each other’s backs.
“I should’ve done more for ya…”
‘No need to be sorry, ye blithering worrywart. Still alive aren’t I?’
Those might have been the words Gabe wanted to hear, and maybe they were the words the Sean would have wanted to say. But his mouth did not open. And if Gabe peeked below the clean white sheets, he would find scant signs of the ink that once adorned Sean’s bolstering bicep.
“Barely. And missin’ a few parts.”
It wasn’t hard to imagine Sean trying to cheer him up, absolve him of blame. At this point the two could practically have a conversation in their heads and know almost exactly what the other would say. Usually.
Or at least reasonably guess.
“Should’ve listened to my gut. Told Myra to fuck off and give ‘em the business end of my cannon. Could’ve maybe saved ya a limb, at least. Or at least let us match.”
‘Ye made the right decision. Think the doc is stressed enough dealing with one rambunctious buffoon, let alone the both of us.’
Of course, that didn’t quite add up—Gabe found it difficult to imagine that like this, Sean was little different than any other patient on the operating table. That under the knife, he was nothing more than a sack of organs one mistaken incision away from death. Maybe he didn’t want to imagine that. Yet he could hear Sean’s voice loud and clear, resolute and unwavering.
‘What happened wasn’t yer fault, and it wasn’t hers either. My mistakes are mine alone.’
A grunt. That was all he could really say, even to the Sean in his head. It wasn’t quite accurate to the real thing, but he didn’t doubt that’s what he’d really say. Or at least something close enough to it. But whether it was his own guilt or simply the knowledge that it was all in his head, it was a tough pill to swallow that this was probably their best-case scenario.
“Ya know I ain’t gonna believe that. And ya also know damn well if it was me in that bed the first person ya would go after would be yourself too, dammit.”
‘First person I would go after would be the bastard that did this to ye,’ Sean might say with a grim, rumbling laugh. ‘Just look where that line of thought got me.’
His body tossed and turned, breaths becoming erratic as his pupils darted back and forth between restless eyelids. Something between a moan and a groan escaped his lips. Eventually he settled back down, though it was clear that Sean wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.
“Yeah, and I didn’t do the same given the circumstance. Ya see where that might be messin’ me up.” He would shoot back with a dark laugh.
The imaginary conversation evaporated from Gabe’s mind as Sean began to move, rising to his feet in a panic. But he soon settled as he was getting ready to shout for a doctor, leaving him once again alone.
“...Point is.” He said, not even the spectre of Sean in his head to properly reply to now. “I don’t know. Guess this was just the best thing I could do for ya while you’re…”
Gabe’s breath caught in his throat, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes as he once more took in how...pathetic Sean looked. Small. Hurt. Nearly lifeless.
“Fuck, I can’t...I’m sorry.” He rose to his feet, practically running out the door as he tried not to completely lose it again.
Or at least try not to lose it in public.