sam walker's tears cure cancer. he never cries. (bullet_wound) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-02-20 21:36:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | moriarty, sherlock holmes, watson |
Who: Sam and Daryl (with special guest star, Adam)
What: A proper first meeting
Where: Virginia Mason Hospital
When: Early Sunday (2/20) Morning, around 3 am
Warnings: In the beginning there was nothing. Then Conan Doyle said, "LET THERE BE BROMANCE." And there was. And it was good.
After not having slept since Thursday night, Daryl was under strict orders to sleep until morning. Adam had managed to coax her into allowing the hospital staff to do their jobs without receiving the third degree about the specific origin and purpose of every substance they put into her body. Not long after she became somewhat cooperative, she found herself unable to stay awake. She faded in and out during most of the evening, catching glimpses and pieces of the room around her. Sometimes it was Kyle leaving, sometimes it was Adam coming, sometimes it was the cheerful nurse reading her vitals. Once Adam laid down beside her, a steady heartbeat against her ear, she felt herself finally give way to a proper, deep sleep.
A sleep that broke halfway through the night. Eyes heavy, she took a slow breath, inhaling the scent of sterility and latex. Adam was a space heater behind her, arms draped around her waist and holding her close. He was still asleep, and a part of her wanted to will herself to be the same. But she was, for some reason, restless. Perhaps it was the fact that she had been unable to move for twenty-four hours. Perhaps it was the fact that she had slept now, and her brain was convinced that she had rested. Whatever the case was, she looked down at her left hand as it lay silent at her side. She wiggled her fingers, mostly to remind herself that she could. When the limb responded - she was surprised by the sudden fear that it wouldn’t - she flexed her foot, watching the blanket shift at the foot of the bed. Satisfied that her limbs were in working order, she very carefully slid out of Adam’s embrace. She had to move slowly, ensuring that he didn’t wake, but finally she succeeded.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she looked down at her legs. She hadn’t stood properly and on her own since Friday, right before the first snake bit her. Her legs were covered in bandages over the many bites, as were her arms. It was like looking at someone else’s body, someone else’s wounds. But then she kicked her right leg to watch it swing, and she was reminded once again that this was her body, her sack of meat.
She looked up at the IV drip bag connected to her arm, gaze following the clear tubing from bag to needle. Taking a slow breath, she edged off the bed, feeling her feet touch down on the floor. The floor was cool, sending a chill through her body. But for the first time in her life, she found this discomfort to be a good thing. She stood, steadying herself with a hand on the railing of her bed. Once she was on her feet, she took a tiny step forward. Her legs responded, her upper body controlled and moving forward through space. She was almost amazed by the simple mechanics of taking a step, looking down with a wildly appreciative expression. Standing beside her IV drip bag, she reached up to remove it from its roost, holding it with a thumb and forefinger. A few feet away, there was a mobile IV stand in the corner. She slowly approached it, taking awkward and shuffling steps. Upon reaching the stand, she hung up her bag with a bare half-smile. She had gotten the hang of this.
The hallways were vacant, dimly lit and silent. Gripping her IV stand with one hand - but not both, she was determined to do this on her own - she slowly walked forward. The thin gown she wore draped over her shoulders and hung awkwardly over her sides, making her look nearly a decade younger. She looked like a child in a paper bag, pale and unsteady. Her steps were slow and tiny, weight distributing awkwardly between her feet. But she forced herself forward, walking for the sake of it. After a few minutes, she saw a lit room ahead. The wheels of her stand glided quietly over the floor as she approached it, keeping to the close wall to avoid detection. She heard voices, and with an interested ear, settled just outside the half-open doorway. Leaning forward, she caught a glimpse of the nurse that had tended to hear earlier that day. She stayed silent as she listened and watched, a fly on the wall.