quicklog, vegas hospital (ocean's eleven): neil & mere
[Meredith wasn't talking. Doctors came and went, nurses in their softer shoes that checked this and that, the scratch of pen on paper, the beep of some sort of monitor that she couldn't see let alone name. They came and went and the world around her continued to revolve but Meredith didn't say anything.
What was there to say? Things had happened that were beyond a proper, logical explanation. She was attacked, she was raped, and that's all there was really to say. So she didn't say anything more, even when they spoke to her, instead simply curling in on her side to let the world pass by around her. She had been moved from ICU the day prior, and with it came a little more peace, for which she was grateful for. But that didn't make any of it okay.
If someone had asked her, before all of this, to imagine what it was like being blind, she would have imagined darkness. But it wasn't about darkness, not in the absolute sense. There was simply nothing. A grey expanse of nothing, though there were shadows, dim and barely there, when they removed the bandages to check the progress of the healing. But the grey came back when the bandages were replaced, hiding the mess of her eyes, swollen skin that had only recently started to cool from infection.
There were IVs in both arms, antibiotics, pain meds, and pale skin was still covered in a plethora of bruises. The worst was hidden beneath the blankets that were pulled up to her waist, the stitches and the bruising, the worried whispers of a possibility that she wouldn't be able to have children again. Meredith tried not to listen, tried not to worry, but it was a battle she was losing.
When Neil arrived, she was sleeping - actually asleep, not the faking that she often did. There was a white swath of bandages around her eyes and head, bruises peaking out from beneath, lips parted slightly in sleep. She had lost weight, shadows at her cheeks, her hands a little bonier. She slept, and she didn't hear him enter.]