Steve Burnside (
craaazyisland) wrote in
trans_92010-11-09 01:29 pm
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There's got to be a morning after [VERY OPEN]
It took a few moments for any thoughts to register for Steve when he opened his eyes. He recognized the inside of a quarantine bubble, that was for sure, but it took him longer to recognize the medical equipment hooked up to him, an IV in his arm and bandages wrapped around his bare shoulder and in a few other spots.
It didn't take long to recognize the feeling of having been run over by a truck, either. Every bone in his body ached, and even the slightest movement made him want to groan. It felt like he'd been asleep for a month-- a dreamless sleep, preceded by blurry, disconnected memories of what felt like a dream.
Memories of something he desperately, desperately hoped was just a dream. He had a sinking feeling it wasn't and part of him knew it to be the truth. But desperately hoping was the only way he could keep himself from screaming, which would hurt, so he'd keep on with that desperate hope anyway.
Steve lay awake and stared at the ceiling. Maybe if he stayed quiet they'd think he was still asleep, and he could put the truth and all the fear and sorrow that came with it off a while longer.
It didn't take long to recognize the feeling of having been run over by a truck, either. Every bone in his body ached, and even the slightest movement made him want to groan. It felt like he'd been asleep for a month-- a dreamless sleep, preceded by blurry, disconnected memories of what felt like a dream.
Memories of something he desperately, desperately hoped was just a dream. He had a sinking feeling it wasn't and part of him knew it to be the truth. But desperately hoping was the only way he could keep himself from screaming, which would hurt, so he'd keep on with that desperate hope anyway.
Steve lay awake and stared at the ceiling. Maybe if he stayed quiet they'd think he was still asleep, and he could put the truth and all the fear and sorrow that came with it off a while longer.
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"Leon?" he repeated, sounding mystified. "He was there?" And Steve was still somehow un-fried with a high powered electrical plasma cannon?
Huh. Maybe miracles did happen.
He reached up to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. "So you guys all... saved my life."
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"Thank you," he said quietly.
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"No," he finally murmured. "But- only if you don't want to."
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He was quiet in thought for a few minutes. "So the suppressant... worked, then, huh?" he said, opening his eyes quite suddenly.
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While he thought, Miku had continued to run her fingers through his hair, mindful not to accidentally catch the earring. The last thing she wanted was a terrible invasion of Steve's memory. "He said something very long and sciencey about it, but I think it boiled down to that this will never happen again."
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"It won't," he confirmed. He had the feeling that the full weight of that had yet to hit him. Or, rather, to be lifted off his shoulders.
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Miku was quiet for a bit, but then very carefully maneuvered herself onto the bed with him, mindful of the various cords. "Sorry, it was getting awkward standing," she apologized.
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"Thank you," he said again. He wasn't quite sure what for this time.
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"For sticking with me," he said finally.
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Perish the thought.
"Are you going to miss your bubble when you don't have to be in it, anymore?" Miku asked, as she changed the subject, to look up at the ceiling. Her fingers of her free hand went to touch her necklace... which wasn't there, and rested over her heart.
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"And... no. I won't miss it. Not even a little bit. Not even at all."
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She smiled against the top of his head, "Get well soon, okay? I brought you a bento, to help speed things along. It isn't cake, I know, but hopefully it's a good substitute."
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Miku settled in beside Steve, grateful for the warmth he provided. "Do you think they'll mind me being in here? I don't want to cut into your visiting time."
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A beat. "And have you ever made anything I didn't like?"
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