[DRP] Cognitive Liberties

[medigel]

hibernation medication

All he wants to do is sleep when they get back. The first day Jack is out for almost sixteen hours. The second, third, and fourth day play out similarly, though his sleep cycle is broken by periodic check ups (what he calls the surgery, the stitching, the bandaging, the bone-searing pain), which make him exceedingly grouchy but quick to fall back asleep. He loses count of what day it is afterwards, but he always manages to remember the result of the fight: one broken arm, one dislocated shoulder, three fractured ribs, grade three ACL tearing, and a multitude of scars and bruises and burns that sounded more boring in comparison.

The hours he spends awake vary from boring to bizarre depending on how much medication is in his system at the time. He can't quite remember why he got hit so hard in the head, so the techs repeatedly tell him: attacked a dragon. They're treated to similar looks of vacant delight at the idea every time. Other days he spends in a daze, half-asleep and somewhere else completely. Sometimes he mumbles, other times he holds complete conversations before losing track midsentence, and still others the very idea of having someone breathe by him is enough to spark his temper.

The fluorescent lights hurt him too much; eventually he's given his sunglasses back, which one way or another have managed to survive the disastrous mission. He can't text or handle any electronic surface whatsoever, and even reading causes his constant headache to spike in seconds. He can barely even move in his own bed without setting off shooting pain from some of his deeper scars. Existing really seems to make everything worse: nausea is a semi-constant risk with every action, and he quickly becomes acquainted with his own personal bucket. Only sleep can let him escape the agonizing and frustrating haze that is being conscious.

(He understands vaguely why Chel likes that concept now.)
 

[chiickadee]

hibernation medication

Chel's wounds aren't so egregious. She has stitches up her left leg (it's going to scar, according to Tenebrae), one infected wound near her collarbone (it could be serious if it progresses, but the techs don't seem too concerned- faster cell regeneration means apoptosis from infection is nothing). She's released shortly after a few days, with a warning not to strain herself (but she probably will, they mutter, ******** sun).

Every day she comes in to visit Jack, he's asleep. She figures that's better, because having to watch him move and be in pain would probably hurt more than seeing him the way he is now. What's really scary is that due to the narrative built by her schedule, it feels as though Jack has entered a coma he will never wake up from. The techs asure him that yes, he's been up for various medical procedures, but she always squints suspiciously at them for a moment before saying something like, "Aight, if you say so."

Chel can't spend all her time laying over Jack's bed. She has Jerome to visit, Emil to comfort, Talia to berate for ditching (she's heard that Talia is going to get a hearing for it, and she lets up), Serah to reassure that yes, it's still her body, Chris to greet tiredly, her room to fix, her ceiling to stare at, his kiss to reminisce, the sun run to vent (<******** suns), the pods for duty-

But she comes and spends some time with Jack anyways. Most days she hopes she won't find him there (either death or recovery, it doesn't matter anymore) so the cycle will end. However, she still has her report to write. It's been put off and they've given her an extension for the trauma (from the mission) and induced headache (a combination of headache and mission). That doesn't mean it isn't still due though, so she's writing it in Jack's room in hopes that he will pass on his writing skills through aerial osmosis.  

[medigel]

the pen is mightier

At some point he manages to loll his head to the side so that it's not agitating his shoulder, squints an eye open, and realizes he's not alone. His head hurts, but for now it's a gentle throb he can manage. With a soft groan, he inhales and sighs through his nose audibly. "Hey," Jack croaks then closes his eye. His voice is heavy from sleep. "S'that y'got there?"
 

[kuropeco]

checking in


He was doing a word search that he'd stolen from the break room of the infirmary (who it actually belonged to, he had no idea), Ian carefully marking off the words as he found them. The particular puzzle he was on had something to do with chocolate; he circled the word cocoa before casting a glance at the bed beside him.

Jack was still asleep. Or unconscious. Or something that was probably very bad, especially since he looked like s**t on a piece of burnt toast.

Ian went back to his word search.

medigel

 

[medigel]

checking in

It was quiet for a while. Jack jerked in his sleep similarly to a dog, his good leg twitching like he was trying to run. Then his breath became more labored and his mouth parted slightly.

And then abruptly he sat up, blearily blinked, and gasped, "<********' dragons..." He blindly groped at his bedsheets.  

[chiickadee]

the pen is mightier

Chel jumped at the noise at first. Two weeks of being in a nest of hostility had made her alert to inhuman sounds, and whatever Jack had just made was gastly.

"Report," she said calmly, not having made it past her name. "Wren's doing a temp one for ya both but yer gonna have to do yers later." She set the paper down, mostly because she wanted to procrastinate the report as long as possible and Jack was providing her with a reason. "How ya feelin'? 'Cause ya look like s**t."  

[medigel]

the pen is mightier

Jack gave a long groan that might have also passed for an angry cat's growl. That's how he felt. "You?" he asked. Apparently better since she was actually sitting up and trying to write. Why do that in the infirmary?

You cannot be so dense, Owain said, tired but affectionate.

chiickadee

 

[kuropeco]

checking in


He was in the middle of circling the word cookies when Jack awoke. Ian nearly leapt out of his own seat, his hand jerking and causing a sharp black line to be drawn straight through the middle of his Word Find. It fell to the floor a second later as Ian twisted around to face the bed.

"Woah, dude, woah," he said hastily, reaching out and patting Jack's shoulder awkwardly. "Lay back down, buddy, do you know where you are? You're like, injured all over the place, lay down - "

medigel

 

[chiickadee]

the pen is mightier

"More scars," she replied plainly. At least one was evident on her face (though she doubted Jack could see it given his generally terrible eyesight and trauma), the others were hidden by her clothes, but what was apparent was the ugly red skin around her collarbone where the infected wound was still barely kicking (it's mostly died down now- it was positively atrocious before). She had to wear low hanging shirts all week because of it, and in the middle of winter it wasn't fun.

Because of it she also hadn't touched Jack since the cliff. The lifers don't want to risk any infection with Jack's weakened state, and Chel understands that and complies.

"You should probably go back to sleep..." But the sentiment is half-hearted because Chel saw that he was trying to sit up.  

[medigel]

checking in

"No but--" He flinched when Ian touched his shoulder and recoiled away, panting as if he actually had been running. A thin sheen of sweat shined his brow. "No no no," Jack mumbled as he wiped down his face. He remembered where he was after a moment, but then he wished he didn't.

"Mom," he said to Ian with a serious if still somewhat under-the-influence look on his face. "Mom, they--they wanted t'dance." He sounded horrified. "So many teeth n' feet n'--tap dancing--said would eat me i-if I didn't--" A vague motion with his good hand. "Jurassic party."

kuroopu

 

[medigel]

the pen is mightier

"M'always sleepin'. F'I do, it'll be okay for a while. Then I'll wake up to no-one again n' again." Another sigh through his nose. "Oblivion n' isolation or pain n' still isolation but 'least with chance f'company."

He squinted his eyes open again and saw the angry color blossoming around her color, though he couldn't tell if it was actually bad or just an awful blotch made to look worse thanks to her pale skin. Jack swore for a moment that he could smell the wrongness of it--or maybe that was the lemon pledge someone had been using to clean outside his room earlier. There was a sour taste in his mouth either way.

"Wanna try not sleepin'. Things don't make lot've sense either way..." He lost his train of thought and blinked. "Want help with the report?" he asked, like he was in any position to be working.
 

[chiickadee]

the pen is mightier

"You sound high as ******** dude," Chel commented. She would know. "But you're right- you do gotta stop sleepin'. World's got a severe lack of a*****e right now."

When he offered her help, she snorted and repeated his dumb line. "How are you supposed to help me when ya can't even help yerself~~~"  

[kuropeco]

checking in


Ian had zero idea of what had happened to Jack, having basically spent the past several months living in a bubble with Shiloh. But whatever it was had been severe; Jack looked terrible, to say the least, wrapped in bandages, covered in sweat, and as pale as death.

"Uh," said Ian, blinking. He tried not to let the worry show on his face. "Uh. Dinosaurs?"

He wasn't even going to touch the mom thing yet. Ian's grip on Jack's shoulder became a little more sturdy as he tried to encourage his friend to lay back down on the bed.

"It's okay," Ian said, as soothingly as possible. "There's nothing here, don't worry. No teeth, no eating people, no...tap dancing, no nothing. Lay back down and rest, you'll be fine here."

medigel

 

[medigel]

the pen is mightier

His brow creased; the callback line flew over his head, but he didn't like being reminded of how helpless he was. He must have been on some really good medication, though, as his attitude was more blunted than a spoon. "Dunno. But--should, right? Can't just...see stars...y'know?" He sounded drowsy, but his gaze was a little more lucid. "Still see 'em. M'drifting, but stars don't move. We do. Earth--"

trembles and shakes and breaks

Jack grimaced and leaned his head more into the pillow. For a while it was just regulated breathing. He wanted to talk, but it was infuriatingly difficult. If all of his problems could be coalesced into a physical being, he would've broken his other arm punching it out. He hated being confined; more than that, he hated not having agency to do anything about it.

"I have to do something," Jack forced himself to say clearly.
 

[medigel]

checking in

A soft and strangled and sad laugh left him. No eating people, Ian said. Too late. Sorry, mom. "Dinos and dragons," Jack repeated soberly, unable to articulate himself any further on the matter.

He put up some resistance put eventually laid back against the pillow. He laid his hand over his face but didn't slide it off this time. "Wrong. Always something here, always," he muttered. "F'it's not out there s'here, s'in your head. Nothing's fine. Everything's...noise. No order. No order, Ian, just human noise."

Jack pressed his fingers into his forehead with a grimace. "Water?"

kuroopu