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trans_92011-07-30 03:11 am
so-pregnable.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92011-07-30 03:11 am
Adjustment Period [open]
The first thing he'd insisted on them fixing was the clone brand, but the surgery to fix his arm had come first, to allow all the tissue to heal right. His tendency towards fast healing was taking care of the rest. Then they got rid of the stupid clone brand after.
His hand was gone.
It was still a thought he had to get used to. One second it'd been there and now it was gone. It hadn't even been all the dramatic, like things like that were in the movies. It wasn't some moment over a gaping pit, with a villain chopping off his hand and revealing he was his father. He didn't have to saw it off to escape from some deadly trap, horror movie style.
There'd been a fight, he'd fallen on the teleporter pad, there'd been a bright light in front of his face and that was it. Apparently, it could happen just that easily.
Then again, it wasn't the first time he'd lost a hand--that same hand, in fact--but after healing for a thousand years under the North Pole, all the damage from the fight that had killed him had disappeared, and the thing had apparently regrown. So losing limbs wasn't exactly something he never expected would happen, when it already happened once. This time, he was fairly sure it wasn't going to grow back, though.
Ultimately, he decided that was okay. He was a little freaked out about it, but he'd cope. You rolled with the punches, right?
Sometimes you have to roll with the accidental amputations, too.
It was war. This stuff happened, it was going to keep happening, and at least it hadn't been his head.
It was war, and people got hurt in wars, just like you made decisions you weren't sure were the right ones. Just like his decision to let Moses free all the clones was one that was weighing on his mind. (He was just WAITING to hear from Leon on that one).
Superboy sat upright on his bed in Medbay, arm bandaged and in a sling, and played Tetris on his omnicom one-handed. Hopefully, they'd let him out of Medbay soon, and then...then he'd figure out the rest.
His hand was gone.
It was still a thought he had to get used to. One second it'd been there and now it was gone. It hadn't even been all the dramatic, like things like that were in the movies. It wasn't some moment over a gaping pit, with a villain chopping off his hand and revealing he was his father. He didn't have to saw it off to escape from some deadly trap, horror movie style.
There'd been a fight, he'd fallen on the teleporter pad, there'd been a bright light in front of his face and that was it. Apparently, it could happen just that easily.
Then again, it wasn't the first time he'd lost a hand--that same hand, in fact--but after healing for a thousand years under the North Pole, all the damage from the fight that had killed him had disappeared, and the thing had apparently regrown. So losing limbs wasn't exactly something he never expected would happen, when it already happened once. This time, he was fairly sure it wasn't going to grow back, though.
Ultimately, he decided that was okay. He was a little freaked out about it, but he'd cope. You rolled with the punches, right?
Sometimes you have to roll with the accidental amputations, too.
It was war. This stuff happened, it was going to keep happening, and at least it hadn't been his head.
It was war, and people got hurt in wars, just like you made decisions you weren't sure were the right ones. Just like his decision to let Moses free all the clones was one that was weighing on his mind. (He was just WAITING to hear from Leon on that one).
Superboy sat upright on his bed in Medbay, arm bandaged and in a sling, and played Tetris on his omnicom one-handed. Hopefully, they'd let him out of Medbay soon, and then...then he'd figure out the rest.
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He shrugged.
"I'm gonna try managing without. I have telekinesis. Between doing that and learning to do a lot of stuff one-handed, that should be enough."
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"Maybe the medicalfolk will get something out of the technology we have now, too," he added. With everything that had happened ... he almost forgot why they went there in the first place.
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He still had his life this time.
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"Still, while you're adjusting, if you might need any help," Jr. made a mental note to himself to not slip up and use the phrase 'need a hand' because that was just wrong, even if unintentional. "Well, some of us've got a thing for helping."
See: what they just tried their best to do for the clones' future.
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"And by worse I meant...worse. Dying. I died before. Pretty messily. It was kind of gory."
He said it as matter-of-factly as could be.
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Then came Jr.'s response. Somehow, 'oh' sounded too shrug-worthy. The explanation hung there for a moment, should he ask how exactly he died? How it felt? He looked down, blue eyes focusing on the space between the 'bed' and the 'floor' of the ship.
"... Sorry," was all he could manage to say when he opened his mouth.
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He shrugged.
"But when you've been through that, nothing really fazes you anymore, as far as gruesome injuries go."
He was still coming to grips with it himself. Still figuring out what it meant now that he remembered it happening.