exsiliumlogs | (open) days go by and still i think of you

Entry tags:

(open) days go by and still i think of you

Date & Time: June 4th - 9th
Location: Initiative Hospital
Characters: Collette & Open!
Summary: Shenanigans while ill at the hospital.
Warnings: Hospital gowns, illness, trauma, silliness.

[ June 4th-7th ]

Her fever spikes the most during her first few days in the hospital. Collette hesitated to tell anyone; there was little to do but wait it out, and she was more preoccupied with the coughing when she was awake and aware of her surroundings than she liked.

She's even abstained from using the network that often, having difficulty concentrating on the bright screen.

What she didn't expect took her, and several nurses, and any potential visitors, by surprise. When the fever ran too hot, and her delusions started edging toward frightening territory, Collette reacted.

Once, where there'd been a sick girl, there appeared a crocodile. Mouth opened, it hissed and growled at everything that moved in the room, one lash of its tail taking out the IV pole. The privacy curtain is doomed to be half torn down while Collette isn't taking charge of the reptilian brain: it was one very frightened crocodile reigning over a disheveled hospital bed.

[ June 7th-8th ]

She had the crocodile under control when she found herself having episodes of coming to while morphed golden retriever or coyote, hiding under chairs, or wandering the hall with her hospital gown trailing awkwardly between her legs.

Twice she ended up in the cafeteria. Collette really didn't quite understand how she got there.

[ June 9th: after this ]

On the 9th, the fever broke, but it wasn't something she noticed. Not after everything else that happened after she escaped to the hospital roof.

Collette was shaking from something entirely unrelated to her illness, even if the shivering could have been attributed to it. She was scared to close her eyes, scared of coughing because it left her vulnerable, tired and sick and scared all around.

This, she decides, Takes the award for royal suckage.

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The crocodile growls in the low, thrumming, rumbling way of its kind, thrashing its tail at the sound of the paper bag. It hisses, opening its mouth wider in an ongoing threat display, the abused IV pole knocked further askew. What part of the privacy divider that remain hung on its track pulls down with a rip, startling the crocodile into snapping in its direction.

It's his scent that breaks through, before his voice, or his image, or anything else that should be recognized. The crocodile catches his scent, and a strong memory is evoked in a consciousness that has nothing to do with instinct or blank-slate memorylessness that qualifies any creature morphed.

She knows that smell, and so Collette wrestles for control, bleary and confused as she realizes something's gone wrong. The crocodile's mouth closes slowly, head lowering down to the bed as it ceases territorial posturing. There's no Thought Speak at first. Collette has to be sure of her control before sparing energt away from it.

< Caesar? > The slow question she makes of his name shows some of what her impassive, cruel and reptilian face never will. < Is that really you? > She leaves the implied, Are you real unasked in words. It carries in the emotional sense of her 'tone' of mental voice.

Questioning and uncertain. More confused still as reality asserts itself. < When did I go croc? > And at last, < Oh no, how long have I been in morph?! >

The last carries a sharp, sobering burst of panic. No, no no no no no, she is not going to be scaled for the rest of her life! She doesn't stop to think, the panic propelling herself into demorphing in the disjointed, horrifying way of most morphers.

The growl makes him stop at only a few steps. He's not stupid enough to get within snapping range of that thing, not with those teeth, not when he's well aware this is her so-called battle morph, even if he hasn't quite seen it in action before. He really doesn't want to see it in action, either. At least, not right now.

So he holds still where he is, impassively watching it knock things over and snap at curtains until the familiar voice sounds off in his head. He lets a breath out and relaxes, somewhat startled that he'd been so tense without really noticing it. Odd. He was worried?

Probably.

But she's obviously more worried than he ever was. Caesar opens his mouth to answer, but Collette's already morphing. He finally cringes, what the crocodile couldn't get him to do, and holds an arm up to shield his eyes.

"You scared the nurses out only five minutes or so ago. It hasn't been anywhere near two hours, so calm down, will you?"

The problem with calming down is she can't. Morphing is about control in so many ways that losing it was frightening in a way she hasn't had to think about before. Of all things she has done in the year plus of having the ability to morph, subconscious controlled morphing is new. New, unexplained, and unprepared for.

She's demorphed and sprawled belly down on the hospital bed, all turned around facing the wrong way, without pausing to consider if that'd be a good idea or not. It's hard to tell how she feels about it. Soon after, with her attempt at pulling in enough oxygen to combat the adrenaline rush leaving her system, she starts coughing. It's not one of her worse fits, but the congestion can be heard in her lungs as she forces herself onto her side, presenting her back to Caesar.

It's a small blessing for both their sakes, considering her hospital gown had not survived the morphing process.

When she is able to speak again, she doesn't say much. "What's going on?" Something like involuntary morphing has never been mentioned. Even Animorphs getting sick like this, that's different. Learning about new risks first-hand scared and thrilled her, in unequal portions. She wraps her arms around her torso, tucking her chin in to her chest and concentrating on steadying her breathing.

Even with her turned away, it's not as if he can just leave her like that, which presents a whole new and unexpected problem. Caesar looks back at the door in some vague hope that a nurse will appear and handle this, but no, of course not. He could go get her, but...

"Maybe whatever it is that lets you morph is being effected by your fever," he takes a wild guess. It's the best he can do, not know exactly how it's supposed to work. Was it plausible? He couldn't see why not, considering it must be as biological as anything else.

There's a rustle of the bag opening from behind her. He's turned around as well, pulling the blanket he'd brought along from her place out and setting the bag aside on one of the chairs near the door.

"Hang on a moment," he cautions her, unfolding the blanket all the way out and holding it way up like a big, clothy shield. That'll do. Just a few steps forward until he bumps into the bed and then he tosses the blanket out over her. "There."

Some modesty has been preserved?!! He sure hopes so.

His explanation was a good a guess as hers. One year, a little over one year of this by now. Collette doesn't know what is or isn't possible.

Hang on to what? She leaves the just-to-be-a-pest question unasked because she's aware enough to know the answer to it. She's not sure what she expected. A shirt out of nowhere, her favorite sweater, the one she had kept from Isaac.

Her eyes flutter open as the blanket settles over her, producing a cool breeze as it falls slantwise over her body. It's enough to make her laugh, realizing he's followed through for her. This isn't what she'd wanted the blanket for, but it's oddly comforting to have, even if it's far too small and impractical to use as ongoing cover.

"I don't think I'm all that hideous to look at, 'Sar," she croaks, making a jest out of this whole situation. Whatever laughter she has is more of a light, breathy kind; anything more sets her off coughing. She avoids it for now.

He does wish it was a bigger blanket, but it does the job that's needed for now. Caesar's free to search for any fallen covers now, which might be better for covering her with. There must be one somewhere. Failing that, he should call for a nurse and send them off to fetch one or a new gown or...

Where were those nurses?

"No, but I've heard rumor that peeping at girls gets you slapped. Or punched, depending." Since he could think of plenty of women and girls who would outright sock a guy for it. "I should go yell at those fools. Running off like that! I don't know where anything in this room is."

Though he can figure it out quickly enough. There's the sound of him opening the closet to look, going into the bathroom to search for towels, but in the end he's left to approach the bed and check if the sheets have fallen on the other side or if they're still on her bed, perhaps trapped under her.

She snorts, coughing as she exhales too hard. It turns into a small fit, curling in on herself best as she can while under what's meant to be little more than a lap blanket. She swallows whatever she coughs up back down, despite knowing it's not good for her. She doesn't feel like trying to find the tissues.

It's kind of slowly penetraing in another way that it's not just funny: she might be fairly sure of herself, but she's also sick, and embarrassed. Caesar wasn't supposed to ever have to see her like this.

With the coughing fit ending, she can clear her throat to speak. "I dunno," she says, "They're nurses, not animal handlers." She wasn't acttually watching him by then, pulling the inadequate blanket up under her chin, careless in leaving her legs exposed in favor of making sure her torso and upper thighs are covered. The shakes are setting in again; she wishes that, too, hadn't been apparent.

"'Course peeping gets you hit. That's peeping. Pretending you actually want to look every once in a while's just nice for the ego." Actual discussions on social politics behind things like opposite-sex peeping would need a far clearer mind than her muddled one, partly truthful, partly joking still. She glances his way when he's by her bed, near where the sheets half drape off the far side. The rest are underneath her. They're all tangled and twisted up either way.

She'd been a very cranky croc.

This isn't how anyone ever wants to be seen, something Caesar is very aware of. He himself hadn't been keen on the idea himself, back when he was poisoned. It's a weakness, being seen like this, being seen as just human after all. Or merely mortal, if one takes races beyond human into account.

He doesn't say a thing about it, though. Instead, he focuses on the task he's set for himself and frowns at the sheets pinned under Collette. He gives the edge of one a tug, but that's no use. He would need her to move to get them out from under her or...

"And yet somehow I don't think now is the right time to pretend to look," he at least comments on that. A second tug is given to the sheets and they do move a bit, but it would be a slow process to drag them out. "Okay, so, we have a few options. I can go to the door and try to get someone's attention from there, I can try working these out from under you, or I can rip the sheet off the privacy curtain and use that."

No matter what, he's not leaving the room until she has something better and bigger to use as a cover, even if only a temporary one.

Her eyes open through her coughing fit, flicking his way as she tries to figure out what he's doing. It sinks in a few moments later. Oh. The sheets. Just like his words take a moment to sink in, and her coughing almost sounds like laughter before it tapers off and she's breathing with ragged regularity.

"No," she admits, wheezing a last half laugh, "You're right. It really isn't." Something she's glad for right now. She doesn't even mind that he's the more modest out of the two of them. It's a better balance, she figures, but she's never been properly appreciative of the fact before now.

She's also never been more acutely aware that he cares, and that, more than the embarrassment she also feels, turns her feverish cheeks even more red. She hopes it doesn't show. He's probably not going to look at her face, or any of her that he can avoid, but she just hopes it doesn't have some magical neon-sign like obviousness.

"Um, I can move." She shifts the blanket, feeling cool air on her back as she presses her elbow into the bed and uses her opposite hand to help prop herself up. "If you tug, I can move." I'm not that weak yet, is what she means. I'm not deadweight. I can help. You don't have to worry about taking care of me. It wasn't his job, and she doesn't really want it to be.

She needs to apologize to the nurses. It's scary -- for her, for them -- to have a patient turn into something entirely unexpected without warning.

"I should," she starts, coughing and swallowing. Whatever else she meant to say is left unsaid for now as she keeps herself modest with one hand's grip on the blanket, and keeps herself propped up with the other arm. She hopes Caesar just trusts her on this one. If he tugs, she'll move, section by section. Between the two of them, they can pull these stupid sheets out.

"Good. Then we have a plan."

Her true meaning isn't entirely lost on him, but only because he had thought of it beforehand. It's why he asked what she wanted to do, not just deciding on his own. If she said she can move, then that's what they'll do.

"Okay, I'm going to start pulling them," he cautions her. He finds a better spot to grip the sheets at, then does just that, slowly trying to pull the covers out from under her. He trusts she'll figure out how to help with that as he does.

"Okay." What'd been trapped by her torso at first was the easiest to have him pull away, hopping her hand out past the sheets themselves to be resting on the fitted sheet that wouldn't be going anywhere. She can feel the movement of fabric underneath her, until someplace like a line across her hip. Small adjustments and the like work well enough, until what's caught under her lower half is what remains.

Ideally, she'd have both hands for this. She's concentrated on her breathing being even, shallow as it is, to reduce the risk of another coughing fit. Her arms are stating to shake from exertion, and that irritates her, because she does so much more on a regular basis that makes this look like child's play.

She knows it's just for now, but she also knows if this lasts out the week, she's going to have dues to pay on the far side of it.

"Close your eyes, please," she says once she knows the biggest point of contention lies under her hips and buttocks. There's no easy way to move herself off, not without using both arms for leverage. She'll have to let go of the lap blanket to do that. With Caesar warned, she waits for his compliance before dragging herself up and over with a calculated roll to one side, shoving the sheets past the center of much of her supposed balance. It takes two tries to push up into a seated position again after the fact, let alone pull her legs closer once she was properly sitting.

Taking the time to adjust the small blanket around her, coughing again but with less severity than earlier, she waits to give Caesar the okay. One hand preserves her modesty by clasping the blanket in place; the other holds on to her shins to keep her legs from pulling entirely along with the sheets. Without the handlebar at the small of her back, she'd have fallen over trying to support this awkwardness.

"Okay, see if you can pull them all the way out now." She aims for her voice to sound chipper; it falls closer to cheerfully helpful, as if this were some sort of adventure she's helping out on.

Edited 2013-06-13 06:05 (UTC)

With the sheets nearly free, he had hoped it wouldn't come to that. Figured. You just couldn't hope for anything these days! Her warning has the expected effect, with him immediately closing his eyes and even turning his head away from her. Even without seeing anything, it's difficult not to take his turn with going red in the face, since he suddenly has oh god she's naked isn't she on his mind. It's embarrassment, plain and simple, and, unfortunately, it's much more obvious on him than it was on her. Pale skin and all.

He doesn't react immediately once she speaks up again, even after the sound of movement has settled. The tension on the sheet does seem to be gone, but he can't know without looking first and he'd rather not blindly pull anything.

"Um, does that mean I can look now...?"

It's very difficult to prevent herself from laughing when he looks like that. The situation doesn't feel funny right now. Hindsight might change that all around, but for now, it didn't feel all that funny.

Yet in looking up at his face, studying him like his question required the extra time and consideration she was giving it for reasons other than her own internal misery that made focusing on outside details alternately difficult and all too easy, she found that she was amused.

"You're blushing," she noted, as if she hadn't been, both surprised and utterly unsurprised. She sounded curious, erring on the side of wondering. Collette takes a moment to remember he'd asked a question she needed to respond to. "I mean, yeah, it's safe!" Her fist tightened in the fabric of her blanket. She balanced herself more purposefully, pressing backward just enough to be reminded there was something there to catch her if she fell. "I'm all covered Nothing to worry about here."

"Of course I am!" Caesar really hoped she wouldn't notice. Oh well. "You're... you know. Indecent."

The entire situation is awkward, okay! She could have at least let him blush in peace! He finishes his grumbling as he turns back to look again, checking the sheets for any further tense spots before pulling the rest of it free and off of the bed. It piled down, half onto the floor, but not for long. He reels it all back up into his arms and, taking hold of two corners, went ahead with tossing the sheet out, up, and over the bed and Collette both.

Chances are it won't all land over her, but it'll be enough of the way over her legs that she'll be free to figure out how to arrange the blanket and the sheets on her own.

"Right. There." That's done! Now she won't freeze! Yeah. "I should go and, uh, find those nurses now."

His aim worked well enough, though she made a strangled noise somewhere in the back of her throat when moving her supporting arm to catch on to some of the mass of sheets and blanket he'd tossed back on the bed. Consequently, she teetered with her balance off center, until she pulled on the sheets herself and slammed her fisted hand back onto the bed's surface. She caught her balance, determined, and distracted from the whole of his blushing for now.

Sure, she was indecent. It happened around here sometimes! Which she figured he knew, it just wasn't him usually having to deal with it. Hence at his not so suave announcement of his intentions with the nurses, Collette collected herself enough to smile. Her huff of laughter was brief and shallow. She didn't want to trigger an early coughing fit.

"Let 'em know you went all Caesar, Crocodile Wrestler for them. I'm sure they'll love that," she said, smiling in amusement as she envisioned the looks they'd give him. Her eyes traveled up to the ceiling, examining the light fixtures and the tiles. "And say I'm sorry. I'll tell them that, too, but I don't know if that won't happen again."

She resolved to herself it wouldn't, but it was an unknown, and frightening, factor.

In retrospect, he should have pulled the sheets up for her, but... It didn't matter now. The implication that he wrestled any crocodiles gained a look torn between wanting to find it funny and wanting to be embarrassed again, since that would imply--

Not that the nurses would know.

Since she had turned into a giant lizard and...

Nevermind. He settled on shrugging and trying to recover whatever nonchalant look he could from the moment.

"I barely ever apologize myself, what makes you think I'm going to deliver someone else's apology?" He shook his head and turned to go. "I'll tell that running away and not returning at all isn't acceptable. Or even sending someone else! Do they even know how to do their jobs?"

Collette was ignorant of causing any potential embarrassment as she joked to make herself feel better about something not all that funny in immediate context. She adjusted the sheets and blanket, pulling and tucking. The nurses would do a better job down around her feet when they got back. Or when they changed shift, whatever came first and made them forget fastest.

She looked up as Caesar turned away to leave. She figured she probably wasn't supposed to find it reassuring as he continued to complain, but it was exactly that.

So she exhaled sharply, a sort of amused sound that was followed by her coughing. It's more congested this time, for all its brevity. "I'm thinking they weren't expecting to be zoo handlers when they showed up at work." Collette can't hold it much against them. Her own mother would have been freaked at first, though she would have checked back in to figure out what was going on, and would have at least stopped to close the doors. "Don't chew them out too badly!"

She wouldn't mind if he did.

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(open) days go by and still i think of you

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