Taisce Moore is a knight with a shining M4. (taisce) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-08-21 17:48:00
WHO: Taisce and O'Brien WHAT: Beginning of the aftermath. WHERE: The infirmary. WHEN: August 21, 2019; late afternoon/early evening? RATING: We'll err on the safe side due to injuries and say medium. STATUS: Complete!
Sleep was the furthest thing from Taisce’s mind at that moment. She now clutched a cup of coffee that Marty had brought her as she sat in the chair beside O’Brien’s bed. She’d been there all night. As had Luke. She wasn’t quite sure where Luke had gone at that point. Probably off to find something to eat, or find some actual clothes.
She had watched O’Brien throughout the night, in his painkiller induced coma, and could only imagine the images running through his mind. Wonder if they paralleled those now scarred into hers. Part of her wanted to know what Lily had done to him. Said to him. She hardly remembered what Lily had said to her. Bitch was crazy.
Her eyes fell on the M4, the barrel peeking out from beneath the chair she sat on. The weapon she had killed the crazy with. Part of her never wanted to touch it again, wanted to throw it to the zombies, get it away. But the other side of her knew that it had done it’s job. It had enabled her to protect herself. Protect O’Brien. And indirectly protect Luke, Ellie, Rae, and the rest of Sing Sing from Lily’s evil.
Her eyes were hugged by dark circles, deep pools of sadness, shock, and windows to the trauma that she was experiencing. Blood had dried in her hair. His blood, Lily’s blood, probably some of her own. She really didn’t care.
I don’t believe in God. That was the last thing she’d said to Lily. And she really didn’t. But in that moment, she really thought that maybe a prayer would help. It couldn’t hurt. Right?
She closed her eyes, slowly breathing in the aroma of the coffee. Black. She should have ordered it Irish style. Could really use a good stiff drink right now, but she didn’t want to run the risk of falling asleep. Not just yet. Sleep was for the weak. She said a silent prayer now, that he’d be alright. That this would all eventually be just a bad fucking dream.
--
O'Brien didn't remember much of anything that happened between the time that he was stabbed and then had something thrown in his eyes that burned more than he could have ever possibly imagined anything burn his eyes. Or had it been the other way around? Everything had happened so fast. Everything had hurt so much. And then everything got blurry from there. Both literally and figuratively.
He vaguely remembered hearing Taisce. He also somewhat remembered Marty asking him questions. Stupid questions probably. Actually. Any question that Marty felt like asking while he was half conscious was a stupid one. At least at the moment, as far as O'Brien was concerned, they were. Whatever Marty asked was probably for an important reason. Just not at that moment. He didn't remember anything after they'd gotten him to the infirmary.
Alright. Maybe there was that one moment that the doctor was flushing his eyes out that they practically had to hold him down... but.. After that, he was pretty sedated for the night. And most of the following day.
Waking up was the weirdest thing... And possibly the scariest. He was awake.. but he couldn't see anything....nothing. Stirring some, O'Brien took a deep breath, moving to roll over onto his side, facing Taisce. He started to push himself up, hesitantly reaching up to feel at the, well, the bedding-- the pillow. Clearly he wasn't handcuffed to a chair anymore.
Brows furrowed, and he froze a bit. The chair. Lily. What she'd said. What she'd done. He quickly brought his hand up to brush his fingertips over the bandages over his eyes. No.. "No.. Luke. Luke? Hello?" Was Luke even alive? What Lily had said...
Okay, now he was just flat out panicked, his voice even raised in a bit of a shaky tone, "Someone? Lucas!" Sitting up with an obvious noise of discomfort, O'Brien brought both hands up to try and take the bandages off of his eyes.
--
Taisce's eyes flew open when she heard O'Brien move. She'd never sat at someone's bedside before. This whole entire experience was foreign to her. She watched him push himself up, and the moment she sensed that he was starting to panic, she was on her feet.
She set the coffee cup down on the table next to the chair and reached for his wrists. Her fingers grazed the bandages where the cuffs had been before she gently pulled his arms away from his eyes.
"You don't want to do that," she stated as calmly as she could. "It's alright. It's me. It's Taisce." She rubbed at him with her thumbs, trying to be a comfort, and hoping that she wouldn't cause him to panic more. "You're in the infirmary."
Her face contorted to a mixture of concern and sympathy, though she knew he wouldn't see it. There was no way for her to know what he had gone through, and she wouldn't even try to. "Everything is fine." She said it to him, but was trying to convince herself as well. "Everything is fine."
She let go of his hands, and moved hers to his shoulders, continuing her attempt at gentle comfort. She would have hugged him at that point, but she wasn't sure what his pain level was, where all he was hurt, or how well the painkillers were working.
--
'You don't want to do that'-- and said with a grip on his wrists-- that, oddly enough, hurt. Just as he attempted to yank his arms away from whoever had the grip on him, that's when they spoke-- "Taisce?" At least her voice got him to quit struggling against her. "Taisce. Taisce, where's.. Lucas? Luke. Where's Luke? Please tell me he's alright, please. She said-- She said she'd..." he couldn't say it. If he said it, that might make it true.
"What happened? Why.. Why can't I see? Where is Luke? Please--" When Taisce set her hands to his shoulders, he reached up to gently take hold of her wrists, "Please don't lie to me, Taisce..." He dropped his head down, shaking it a bit, “tell me he’s okay.. A-and Eloise...Rae..They’re not..?”
--
She breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized her voice. O’Brien was holding her wrists now. And she let him. Her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment while she gathered herself. She was an overwhelming pool of emotions and didn’t want that to seep over and affect O’Brien. Her head shook from side to side, red curls following suit-- threatening to climb up her nose if she wasn’t careful. “No, everything’s fine.”
She pulled her head up to look at him again. All the bandages. It seemed like he couldn’t go very long without ending up in them. A broken nose when the government raid happened, and now this? But she was still desperately grateful that he was alive.
“Luke is fine. Pride’s a little hurt, and he’s definitely a wreck over all of this, but he’s alright.”
He dropped his head now, and she moved to step in closer, pulling her hands free to bring them up and stroke his hair. She was trying to be comforting, but still wasn’t sure what would and wouldn’t hurt.
“Ellie and Rae are fine. Ellie got locked in a closet. Rae was attacked, but Silas helped her out from what I’ve heard. We’re all alright.”
She looked toward the door, half expecting someone to come through it. Maybe Luke, or Ellie. Rae was in the infirmary with Silas. Perhaps she’d peek her head in? “I’m not sure where Luke’s off to, but he’ll most likely be back shortly. Since we don’t have to worry about--” she cut short. She didn’t want to utter that name. Didn’t want that face to linger in her mind. “You know.”
She sighed. “I think he might have finally gone to get clothes. Apparently someone got him with a poorly timed prank.” There was a bit of a giggle there, or maybe tears. Maybe giggle mixed with tears. Damned confusing emotions.