Syrie
Van had come to visit, only it wasn’t like her usual visits. Instead of Colin’s apartment or her own, it took place within the Destiny City Memorial Hospital on the second floor, room 206, and instead of greeting her with his usual effusive full-body hug, she had to come all the way to his bedside and navigate bandages and an IV line. There wasn’t as much pain now as there had been initially, the debridement of his burns had required they knock his a** out; at the start he’d been on Morphine but had been eased down to Percocet, which offered decent pain management while still allowing him the brainpower to do things like receive visitors and stay awake. Which had been good, as Van had been fair to bursting with news of the outside world. Including news of the strongman’s latest residence.
Colin’s eyes went wide as the lovely redhead told him about how Björn was apparently also a current resident of the hospital and that she’d found out through the gym he worked in. She hadn’t known the room number and said so, but he’d barely heard her for the surge of adrenaline that would have set his heart monitor racing if his nurses hadn’t long since given up keeping him attached to it. Questions flooded his mind like panic his system though he couldn’t get words out; Van, bless her, noticed his agitation and began apologizing. Colin had cut her off and asked that she find the room number, which she did while he eased himself out of his bed and onto colt-wobbly feet.
Naturally the woman had offered to go with him, but he knew she had errands to run and as much as he did adore her, he wanted to do this alone. It wasn’t until she offered to stand guard while moving his IV stand so he could drag it with him that he gave up arguing.
Why is he in the hospital? She said it had been for some time, what the hell happened to him? Why didn’t he contact me? Was he incapable, or was it something else? It didn’t occur to him to think that Björn wouldn’t have informed him because it wasn’t his place any longer; he’d planned on sending his ex a message about his hospital stay, but had mostly forgotten thanks to being on some delightful pain medication for his burns.
Colin stuffed his feet into a pair of Star Trek themed slippers and headed out the wide door of 206 and into the hall where Van was waiting, having talked to the nurses to find out where the missing strongman’s room was. Same floor, third pod, 235. The injured danseur tromped off towards Björn’s room with his IV stand - and Van - in tow, the latter likely amused by the slice of bare a** peeking out of Colin’s hospital johnny. Nurses tried to dissuade him, but he was determined and stubborn. He would see Björn, or they’d get no end of trouble from him.
Worked up as he was, the crispy danseur didn’t knock before entering Björn’s room, he just shoved it open and walked right on in, the pneumatics drawing the door shut with a quiet whump behind him.
Colin’s eyes went wide as the lovely redhead told him about how Björn was apparently also a current resident of the hospital and that she’d found out through the gym he worked in. She hadn’t known the room number and said so, but he’d barely heard her for the surge of adrenaline that would have set his heart monitor racing if his nurses hadn’t long since given up keeping him attached to it. Questions flooded his mind like panic his system though he couldn’t get words out; Van, bless her, noticed his agitation and began apologizing. Colin had cut her off and asked that she find the room number, which she did while he eased himself out of his bed and onto colt-wobbly feet.
Naturally the woman had offered to go with him, but he knew she had errands to run and as much as he did adore her, he wanted to do this alone. It wasn’t until she offered to stand guard while moving his IV stand so he could drag it with him that he gave up arguing.
Why is he in the hospital? She said it had been for some time, what the hell happened to him? Why didn’t he contact me? Was he incapable, or was it something else? It didn’t occur to him to think that Björn wouldn’t have informed him because it wasn’t his place any longer; he’d planned on sending his ex a message about his hospital stay, but had mostly forgotten thanks to being on some delightful pain medication for his burns.
Colin stuffed his feet into a pair of Star Trek themed slippers and headed out the wide door of 206 and into the hall where Van was waiting, having talked to the nurses to find out where the missing strongman’s room was. Same floor, third pod, 235. The injured danseur tromped off towards Björn’s room with his IV stand - and Van - in tow, the latter likely amused by the slice of bare a** peeking out of Colin’s hospital johnny. Nurses tried to dissuade him, but he was determined and stubborn. He would see Björn, or they’d get no end of trouble from him.
Worked up as he was, the crispy danseur didn’t knock before entering Björn’s room, he just shoved it open and walked right on in, the pneumatics drawing the door shut with a quiet whump behind him.
Björn had been laying on his bed, on his stomach as recommended and since it was more comfortable. He didn't have to wear the strange house dresses because they didn't really fit, nor were they necessary with the amount of dressings he was wrapped in. It was like the longest Rocky Cosplay he'd never wanted to partake in.
There weren't visitors. His cell phone had rung and he'd been well and with it enough to answer- the gym asking after him. He'd been gone for a month and more, no word, no anything. They'd been less worried about the training he was supposed to do with some of the regulars than if he'd fallen victim to the city's troubles. Three days later and there were cards, pictures, and a stuffed bear on the nightstand holding a 'Get Well' heart brought in by the nurses. It was like visitors. He didn't know how long ago that was. The days ran together into the nights and terrors.
At least there is no quota. No home either, when they move to outpatient. He didn't heed the sounds of people in the halls. It wasn't time for nurses for him, so maybe someone had a visitor. Or a specialist finished from some overbooked surgery coming for consult. Then the door flung open and shut and it was his door. And his visitor? "Colin- ?"
Was it Colin? But how? The danseur wasn't in regular clothes at all. He was in one of the silly reverse house dresses that most of the patients were required to wear. "Why are you...in the hospital? Here? "
Syrie
Colin moved further in, clutching his IV pole with a bandaged hand for grounding while wide eyes took in room and inhabitant. His heart was laying in the hospital bed on his stomach, bandaged extensively but looking surprisingly well - though if Van’s news had been accurate, the strongman had been in the hospital for some time so he had to consider that when Björn had been brought in, he’d been in horrific shape.
“Björn--” He was no longer as rough looking as he had been when admitted, though the stitched hole in his side pulled dreadfully when he didn’t keep his breathing measured and his eyebrows would be some time yet growing back in. Colin’s hair had been shorn, so much of it damaged by the flames of the draconic greater youma that he’d just told them to shave it - it would grow back, in time. Words with a bit of a rise at the end came from the blond in the bed. A question. He’d been asked. Something. “Oh. Um.” Right, he’s asked why I’m here. In a hospital johnny. ********. Do I tell him the truth? I can’t, not right now. Even if he’d wanted to, something would have made Colin hold back.
“I was in an accident.” There was a chair for visitors, but he ignored it in favor of going right to Björn’s bedside and reaching to touch, a movement that was aborted before completion. So many bandages, what the hell happened to him? Colin’s hand rested on the bed, held somewhat stiffly as moving his fingers caused pain as the granulation tissue stretched or compressed. “Got a little dinged up, a little burnt. What are you doing here?”
Understatement of the year, but at least the crystal spike hadn’t punctured anything vital, and the burns hadn’t been too bad. The worst part - without pain medication - was the continuous debridement. New scars for both of us, whatever the cause…
“Björn--” He was no longer as rough looking as he had been when admitted, though the stitched hole in his side pulled dreadfully when he didn’t keep his breathing measured and his eyebrows would be some time yet growing back in. Colin’s hair had been shorn, so much of it damaged by the flames of the draconic greater youma that he’d just told them to shave it - it would grow back, in time. Words with a bit of a rise at the end came from the blond in the bed. A question. He’d been asked. Something. “Oh. Um.” Right, he’s asked why I’m here. In a hospital johnny. ********. Do I tell him the truth? I can’t, not right now. Even if he’d wanted to, something would have made Colin hold back.
“I was in an accident.” There was a chair for visitors, but he ignored it in favor of going right to Björn’s bedside and reaching to touch, a movement that was aborted before completion. So many bandages, what the hell happened to him? Colin’s hand rested on the bed, held somewhat stiffly as moving his fingers caused pain as the granulation tissue stretched or compressed. “Got a little dinged up, a little burnt. What are you doing here?”
Understatement of the year, but at least the crystal spike hadn’t punctured anything vital, and the burns hadn’t been too bad. The worst part - without pain medication - was the continuous debridement. New scars for both of us, whatever the cause…
‘Being unwell’ for dancers, for accidents or otherwise, had seemed conspicuous before in how strenuously it avoided face and hair alterations. As physical art, and living, moving art, the aesthetics of appearance and (relative) health were paramount. The extent of Colin’s injuries, even as far as his prince-like, curled coif, grew more uncomfortable by the moment. The strongman motioned to the ubiquitous, vinyl-upholstered recliner in the near corner of the room. “Can you sit? It looks more than a ‘little.’ “
How far could Björn lie? He didn’t want to lie. He’d hoped the other wouldn’t ask his own circumstance. It was inevitable, being asked and lying both. At least if he answered to any length. The thought of the small cell and the memory scent of flowers turned his stomach. Maybe I can’t talk about it yet. But when? It happened. Not saying anything won’t make it go away. It was real. But I did not tell the hospital it was a man who did this, either.
“There was a problem practicing for truck pulling. The doctors called it something with the machinery. Avu...l? Something else...with gloves. Ungloving?” Talking of skin like taking off an article of clothing drained the color out of him. Something deep down, though, tried to rally it to humor like the laughs of Skeld, Helfdane and Weath before the Wendol. “ An excuse to shop new shirt and pants, ja? Maybe new gloves.”
Syrie
“I can.” But he wasn’t going to do it far away in that corner, oh no. Instead Colin grabbed the chair back and dragged it closer before gingerly setting into it with a slight wince. God but that still smarts. The piercing wound in his right side had been patched up, but it ached horribly and made moving his torso touchy, so honestly, Björn’s estimation of his injuries being ‘more than a little’ was accurate, but the danseur really didn’t want to think about just how bad it was, or how awful he must look. I didn’t think this out. At all. I look a fright and the chair is chilly on my a**. It’s what I get for running off half-cocked. I just wanted to be by his side, to see him.
Hearing the cause of Björn’s injuries caused a sharp intake of breath; what the strongman spoke of was degloving and Colin knew enough about it to feel his stomach twist and a sharp, metallic taste to fill his mouth. “Björn...I can’t imagine-- That’s-- It’s really. Awful.” Even with his ex trying to laugh it off, all he could manage was a slow shake of his head while trying to not picture the event in his mind, trying not to remember the raw, stinking wounds Thraen had left on Titan. Colin’s mind shied away and he felt better for it; some things weren’t meant for contemplation at such times.
“I guess so.” Another try, Colin’s fingers twitching in their bandages against bared knees. “Not a good time for us and vehicles, I guess.” Knowing Björn would probably ask, Colin went ahead and gave the explanation that he’d decided to use. “I was in a car accident, burned myself pulling a friend out. The worst part has been regrowing my eyebrows.” They were still somewhat spare, though he’d been assured that such regrowth usually only took 65 days or so for people of his age. Lying didn’t come easy, especially not to Björn...but he felt compelled to do so, to continue his cover story. It wasn’t as though Isaiah hadn’t been wounded badly enough to play the part Colin had drafted for him. “Maybe we can go together, find me some gloves too.”
Hearing the cause of Björn’s injuries caused a sharp intake of breath; what the strongman spoke of was degloving and Colin knew enough about it to feel his stomach twist and a sharp, metallic taste to fill his mouth. “Björn...I can’t imagine-- That’s-- It’s really. Awful.” Even with his ex trying to laugh it off, all he could manage was a slow shake of his head while trying to not picture the event in his mind, trying not to remember the raw, stinking wounds Thraen had left on Titan. Colin’s mind shied away and he felt better for it; some things weren’t meant for contemplation at such times.
“I guess so.” Another try, Colin’s fingers twitching in their bandages against bared knees. “Not a good time for us and vehicles, I guess.” Knowing Björn would probably ask, Colin went ahead and gave the explanation that he’d decided to use. “I was in a car accident, burned myself pulling a friend out. The worst part has been regrowing my eyebrows.” They were still somewhat spare, though he’d been assured that such regrowth usually only took 65 days or so for people of his age. Lying didn’t come easy, especially not to Björn...but he felt compelled to do so, to continue his cover story. It wasn’t as though Isaiah hadn’t been wounded badly enough to play the part Colin had drafted for him. “Maybe we can go together, find me some gloves too.”
Brows knit, trying to parse what a car accident could mean for many aspects of the danseur’s life. At the least, Colin had walked freely into the room. His ex minced, like there was damage somewhere, but it seemed to come from his torso. Some injuries there can take long enough it would be serious to his career. As Serious as his legs.
“Your dancing? And your friend? Are they alright?" Björn hesitated only enough to ready himself and then shifted. Slowly he reached over a paw to the danseur just in offer of holding his hand. Slow and steady won the proverbial race, and it didn’t pull at anything healing. “Both will be okay?”
“How did you learn I was here? It is a happy surprise. But it is a surprise.”
Syrie
It wasn’t hard to parse what was running through Björn’s mind, he’d started with the intent and worried look at the word accident. Björn knew just how much his career meant to him and also what a severe injury could mean to continuing on with said career. It was definitely something he’d been worried about as well - especially since his injuries had put him out of commission for the remainder of the winter season and would be until fall at the earliest, but more likely the next winter season. Colin hadn’t been happy about it, but at least he still had a job waiting for him - Christopher and the owners had been more concerned with his recovery than anything and reassured him they’d keep a place for him.
He’d just have to work back up when he could. “Um, he’ll be okay. He was burnt pretty badly.” Colin reached for Björn’s hand when it was offered, taking comfort in the contact even through the bandages. “I’ve still got a job, at least. I’m probably out until late next fall season.” If the danseur sounded a little bitter, it was to be expected - his life was on hold and he was stuck being still, which he hated.
“Oh, Van told me. She came to visit and asked if I’d heard you were here too.” A small smile and a little bit of a squeeze of Björn’s hand, careful and light in pressure but obvious, “And here I am.”
“So, you’re kind of stuck with me for a bit.” Which brought up another pertinent question, “By the way...do you know how much longer you’ll be here?”
He’d just have to work back up when he could. “Um, he’ll be okay. He was burnt pretty badly.” Colin reached for Björn’s hand when it was offered, taking comfort in the contact even through the bandages. “I’ve still got a job, at least. I’m probably out until late next fall season.” If the danseur sounded a little bitter, it was to be expected - his life was on hold and he was stuck being still, which he hated.
“Oh, Van told me. She came to visit and asked if I’d heard you were here too.” A small smile and a little bit of a squeeze of Björn’s hand, careful and light in pressure but obvious, “And here I am.”
“So, you’re kind of stuck with me for a bit.” Which brought up another pertinent question, “By the way...do you know how much longer you’ll be here?”
Out until next fall?! Grey eyes grew wide, and the strongman’s brain skipped over anything, question and all, that came after the possible implication that the danseur was hurt badly enough that he would have to spend that long of time in a hospital. The difference between, and distance of separation of, leave of absence from a job for recovery and actual hospital stay didn’t occur. His own job at the tea house loading dock, such as it had been, had been part of the same Negaverse operations that were ‘other job’ and reason for being injured and in the hospital. “ They will not keep you a year in the hospital??”
“It is not that bad? Is it? More than burns if it is that long? An accident...is it your organs? Nothing is removed inside? ” It happened often enough that force caused injuries that were worse inside than the outside showed. There were plenty of customers the city wide that visited the gym, and asked for personal trainers help and guidance, but had specialized conditions on their training for partial spleens, colonoscopy, single lungs, and more. Many were very fit, but it didn’t change the fact that their training had to make allowances not to cause more stress or damage to what remained.
Dancing as a profession caused a lot of stress on everything body, mind and otherwise.
Syrie
From the expression on Björn’s face, it was pretty clear that he’d gotten stuck on something. What it was Colin couldn’t really be sure, but he wouldn’t need to wonder about it for long before the strongman made clear what his worry was. With a bit of a laugh, he shook his head and gave the other man’s hand a squeeze, “No, no. I’m not going to be here that long, but it’ll take a while to get back to speed.” What a dear to worry so much. I’m worried too, what if this really does cut my career short? Being out so long means a huge handicap coming back. Not much to do for it now I suppose…
“I got run through with some...metal, here,” Colin gestured with his free hand to the right side of his body, “Clipped a kidney, punctured my liver...not horrible but enough to keep me from dancing for a good while.” And if I didn’t heal faster, if I weren’t Aegir at the time, I might actually have died...but telling him that would do no good. Although he’d been smiling, his expression turned somber; he might try to make light of his injuries, but they really weren’t anything to laugh about. If he wasn’t careful, dancing might not be in his future the way he wished it to be; Colin knew this, but didn’t want to put voice to it lest that make the prospect a reality.
He sighed a bit, but then pushed such depressing thoughts from the forefront of his mind, “Really, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself until I can start dancing again. It’s going to be difficult staying still.”
“I got run through with some...metal, here,” Colin gestured with his free hand to the right side of his body, “Clipped a kidney, punctured my liver...not horrible but enough to keep me from dancing for a good while.” And if I didn’t heal faster, if I weren’t Aegir at the time, I might actually have died...but telling him that would do no good. Although he’d been smiling, his expression turned somber; he might try to make light of his injuries, but they really weren’t anything to laugh about. If he wasn’t careful, dancing might not be in his future the way he wished it to be; Colin knew this, but didn’t want to put voice to it lest that make the prospect a reality.
He sighed a bit, but then pushed such depressing thoughts from the forefront of his mind, “Really, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself until I can start dancing again. It’s going to be difficult staying still.”
Clipped a kidney, punctured liver Björn grimaced, the sound of his lips moving clicking in still air of the room.
The downtime was secondary, really. With someone as energetic as Colin, it would be a problem keeping busy enough to not get irritable, but that was just finding the right combination of part time job or class or hobby. “Take it seriously and don’t push too fast- those….”
“Those are important organs. They need to heal very solid. You could take a photo class, maybe. You always keep many photos. You’ll have therapy for moving. Does your mother know? Have they visited?”
Syrie
The care Björn showed for his well-being was warming, pleasant. “You know me too well, Björn.” Well enough to know that it would be extremely difficult for him to not be active, to keep himself from overdoing it and perhaps causing issues with his recovery.
But what to do? I could maybe give Quenton a hand at the Cat Cafe, or teach some of the youth classes...no, no teaching. I’d be too tempted to demonstrate. I couldn’t just teach -- too bad, it’d be fun. Or he could take a class, as the prone strongman suggested. Eventually, he would have more to do than just rest and heal the way the doctors and his mother wanted - physical therapy, slowly building back up to pre-injury levels, and - hopefully - performing again. His prognosis was quite good, as long as he did nothing to complicate it, so he was tentatively hopeful in that area.
“Yeah, mom knows. She’s been around quite a bit. Actually, I’ve had a lot of visitors, between family, friends, and DCBC...” Colin shifted in his seat, scooting a little closer and easing some of the ache in his side by leaning away from that side. “I got one hell of a talking to from Mom about being reckless, but...I had to do it. There was no choice - it was a matter of life and death.” He shrugged a bit, hating that he had to lie about how he’d been injured but also glad that he could actually tell most of the truth: it had been life or death.
Colin shook his head a bit, smiling at Björn again as he thought of something, “Oh! I bet Mom and Miri would like to come visit you - would that be okay? I don’t know if it’d be weird since we’re not together but..you’re hurt. I think you need a mom to fuss over you, not just me.”
But what to do? I could maybe give Quenton a hand at the Cat Cafe, or teach some of the youth classes...no, no teaching. I’d be too tempted to demonstrate. I couldn’t just teach -- too bad, it’d be fun. Or he could take a class, as the prone strongman suggested. Eventually, he would have more to do than just rest and heal the way the doctors and his mother wanted - physical therapy, slowly building back up to pre-injury levels, and - hopefully - performing again. His prognosis was quite good, as long as he did nothing to complicate it, so he was tentatively hopeful in that area.
“Yeah, mom knows. She’s been around quite a bit. Actually, I’ve had a lot of visitors, between family, friends, and DCBC...” Colin shifted in his seat, scooting a little closer and easing some of the ache in his side by leaning away from that side. “I got one hell of a talking to from Mom about being reckless, but...I had to do it. There was no choice - it was a matter of life and death.” He shrugged a bit, hating that he had to lie about how he’d been injured but also glad that he could actually tell most of the truth: it had been life or death.
Colin shook his head a bit, smiling at Björn again as he thought of something, “Oh! I bet Mom and Miri would like to come visit you - would that be okay? I don’t know if it’d be weird since we’re not together but..you’re hurt. I think you need a mom to fuss over you, not just me.”
“Oh, no, “ the strongman lifted his other hand in a calming or stopping motion, resting his weight on the elbow. “Don’t trouble them. I will not be here very longer. I will be outpatient soon. I am alright. “
Maybe sooner than he should, pressed into leaving Against Medical Advice, in order to avoid the obvious contact. Hospital staff wasn’t likely to write down two patients talking to each other once. There were socializing rooms on some floors with puzzles and coloring books, even, for some of the longer term patients to get a change of atmosphere once they could get out of bed. But actual visitors would mean questions and associations that could be asked after, and names given. Danger to more than just Colin, but the danseur’s family. “Bandage changes are not so much now. It was what the doctor was worried about. ”
But Björn’s attention drew to Colin’s leaning and discomfit. “Are you allowed to be standing and walking yet? “
Was there going to be a distressed nurse coming from down the hall with a gurney?
Syrie
At first he couldn’t quite figure out why Björn wouldn’t want to have anyone come to visit him, especially since he was fairly certain his healing wounds weren’t the sort that would let him leave as quickly as the other man was making it seem he’d be released..but then something clicked.
Ah, wait. He’s still worried about...whatever his trouble is. About them or it finding out he’s talked to me - or anyone - and causing trouble. This sucks - why does he think I need caring for? There’s no trouble in Destiny City worse than the Negaverse and I deal with them all the time. Maybe Björn really had gotten himself into some major trouble with the Negaverse? Perhaps that was why? Colin didn’t want to think about it, didn’t feel like contemplating the possibilities there too hard, but it had to be a consideration.
“You’re still in trouble, then. That’s why you don’t want to have mom visit...and why you think you’re getting out of here soon when it’s obvious you shouldn’t.” Colin frowned at the big blond, then sighed and gave him a wistful little smile. “Don’t leave on my account. If you’d rather I didn’t come back, I won’t. I..know you’re okay now, that’s the important part.”
Or most of it. And he’d be better if he stayed longer, through the rest of his recovery, without skipping out like an idiot against medical advice. “Hmm, well...they won’t send anyone after me. I told them where I was going. But I’m supposed to take it really easy, not wander around so much.” Was it a bit silly to answer that after the rest? Perhaps, but he still did it, giving Björn’s hand a small squeeze. “I should probably go back to my room, get some rest.” The blond stood slowly, a sad little smile on his face, “I’m really glad you’re going to be okay.” Colin leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Björn’s cheek and gave his hand another squeeze.
“Take care of yourself Björn...please.” You’re more precious to me than gold, even separated. Whatever trouble you’re in, I do wish I could help somehow… With that the green-eyed danseur turned to slowly make his way back to his hospital room (and a rather annoyed nurse).
Ah, wait. He’s still worried about...whatever his trouble is. About them or it finding out he’s talked to me - or anyone - and causing trouble. This sucks - why does he think I need caring for? There’s no trouble in Destiny City worse than the Negaverse and I deal with them all the time. Maybe Björn really had gotten himself into some major trouble with the Negaverse? Perhaps that was why? Colin didn’t want to think about it, didn’t feel like contemplating the possibilities there too hard, but it had to be a consideration.
“You’re still in trouble, then. That’s why you don’t want to have mom visit...and why you think you’re getting out of here soon when it’s obvious you shouldn’t.” Colin frowned at the big blond, then sighed and gave him a wistful little smile. “Don’t leave on my account. If you’d rather I didn’t come back, I won’t. I..know you’re okay now, that’s the important part.”
Or most of it. And he’d be better if he stayed longer, through the rest of his recovery, without skipping out like an idiot against medical advice. “Hmm, well...they won’t send anyone after me. I told them where I was going. But I’m supposed to take it really easy, not wander around so much.” Was it a bit silly to answer that after the rest? Perhaps, but he still did it, giving Björn’s hand a small squeeze. “I should probably go back to my room, get some rest.” The blond stood slowly, a sad little smile on his face, “I’m really glad you’re going to be okay.” Colin leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Björn’s cheek and gave his hand another squeeze.
“Take care of yourself Björn...please.” You’re more precious to me than gold, even separated. Whatever trouble you’re in, I do wish I could help somehow… With that the green-eyed danseur turned to slowly make his way back to his hospital room (and a rather annoyed nurse).
