heyfreemagic | Cabin Fever [Open to Wash's friends]

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Cabin Fever [Open to Wash's friends]

[Wash sat on his bed, legs crossed at the ankle, arms folded, staring at the wall. There was exactly one book in the room, and he'd finished it yesterday. No point in rereading it - not when he could remember the whole thing down to the goddamn word if he wanted to. The network was fairly quiet. There was no TV or radio in here. He was bored out of his goddamn mind and had been for - he checked the clock - the past two hours, at least.]

[Bed rest was bullshit.]

[Bones had insisted, and when Wash had insisted he was well enough to at least walk around the damn apartment, Bones had lifted him straight off the floor with his magic and hauled him back down the hall. There was no arguing with that.]

[Well, no, there was plenty of arguing with that. There was just no winning.]

[So he was stuck in his room, rapidly running out of distractions and reduced to staring at the wall. Great. Just great.]

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Under highly specific circumstances with incredibly specialized equipment us'n shit that I'm pretty sure breaks five to ten kinds of intergalactic law and ethics. Yes. Damn near killed me t'do it, but yes.

[ Because he bleeds for his people. He cuts out every piece of him that he can if it will help find a cure. ]

The hell do you mean that- THAT ain't standard! The hell kinda army puts PORTS in the back of a man's skull and rewires his brain?

[Oh for fuck's sake they've talked about this.]

Eventually you're going to remember that we're from different dimensions, and maybe then you'll get off your high horse.

[You can afford to be a pacifist when you don't have a war to fight.]

No, idjit, I come from a reality where that kind of augmentation? Ended in a genuine world war, genocide, and a lot of genetic tampering that damn near wiped us out after the fact. Maybe hav'n antagonistic aliens t'fight against kept it from happening where you're from so far, but it don't take that much for someone to look at mak'n man better and end'n with gett'n rid of everyone else.

[ His hands are actually shaking, the visceral, violent reminder of Khan never all that far away. The war that created him. The new war Marcus wanted to kick up- for what? Glory? To get a head start?

Leonard takes a moment to scrub at his eyes and breathe through it. Lets it pass. ]

Know'n the end of a story makes hear'n the same beginn'n, no matter the variation, disturb'n, Wash. Tricorder reports the wir'n as benign. It's standard issue mean'n it's been done often enough that it's been tested, right? I'll make a note to ignore 'em aside from trauma induced deviations.

[That...was not an outburst he expected. For once, Wash stays quiet, not pointing out the differences or trying to defend decisions or anything. If it's fucked Bones up to this extent, then it's not something he should be poking holes in.]

They wouldn't be standard issue if they hadn't been tested extensively. They're fine.

[The scarring around them definitely isn't standard issue; that's his own doing, and he is not about to share the story behind that.]

You would be surprised the deviances medical trials will allow when a war's on. [ He's seen the historybooks. Buried himself in them while working on Jim. The Augmented soldiers were meant to be better, yes, but also stable. They were not. ] Scar tissue doesn't seem t'be impairing your quality of life and I don't have a neural regenerator on hand and no means t'build it, so if that changes we're gonna haveta find Aaron. Or someone else with heal'n magic.

[ He hates admitting he can't do anything, but it is what it is. Realistic expectations, realistic results. ]

You can tell me t'get out or go to hell if you like but- what set you off about the hypo? I haven't seen an attack like that since med school.

[For a moment, Wash just stares. Boy is there a lot to unpack there.]

Okay, one: neural regenerator? Two: You don't want to find Aaron. Trust me on that one. And three... [He hesitates. He doesn't want to tell Bones anything, but...but he needs to know enough to prevent it from happening again.] I've...been forcibly sedated before. It was always a shot to the neck. [He can draw his own conclusions from there.]

Suppose if I got the right tolls I could build one see'n as I invented the damn thing but with this place that's kinda unlikely. [ A beat, his eyes narrow but- Wash has been steady and honest with him, with everyone, no reason to doubt him. ] We'll get someone else then.

[ The last, though.

That makes his jaw clench. ]

...Anything else I oughta avoid when treat'n you?

[He invented it. Bones invented a way to fix brains. Wash files that away - that's a conversation that's going to need to happen later, once this whole bed rest thing is no longer an issue.]

Is there anyone else here with healing magic?

[He sees that reaction, and...well, that's a very loaded question. No way is he going over the horrors of Freelancer - not now, and not ever if he can help it. He'd be scraping Bones off the ceiling for a week.]

[There's also the fact that he doesn't want to talk about it, but that's a constant.]

I'm kind of a minefield. Your best bet is to check with me before you do anything.

Not that I know of. Not like anyone's put word out and gone 'Hey new people register your magic powers here, please and thank you'. Cuz that'd end well.

[ He massages the bridge of his nose and sighs, reaching into his medkit to pull out a hypo. ]

This is another round of immunoboosters, nutrients, and a mild painkiller. If I show you how to use it, would you be more comfortable administering it yourself?

[Time for round two, evidently.]

What part of "I'm fine" did you not get?

Your mouth is tell'n me one thing and your biometric scans are tell'n me another. T'ween the two of you? I'm go'n with my equipment. Past month or so of liv'n here has leveled out your nutrient intake but that blast of magic did a number on you.

Are you gonna self administer or am I gonna do it?

[Look at that frustrated expression. Look at it. Medical science has betrayed him yet again.]

[He knows when he's beaten, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.]

Does it have to be the neck?

It's your neck or your ass and we're friends, Wash, but we ain't that kinda friend.

[WHAT.]

I meant a shot in the arm! Why is that not an option?!

Why would I use your arm?

Because it's a normal place to get a shot!

If I was us'n a needle, like a savage.

[He makes a frustrated noise low in his throat. One of these days, he'd like to win an argument. Just one.]

Fine. Just get it over with.

Deep breaths, yeah? S'just me. [ He approaches slow, not wanting to startle Wash into another fit. ]

I know.

[He keeps his voice steady and folds his hands in his lap. It's Bones, and he knows what's in the shot. He just has to focus on staying calm.]

You'll feel a slight pinch. It's gonna hiss. [ He presses the head of the hypo against Wash's neck, presses the button, and there's the light pinch and hiss and he's moving away just as slow, just as gentle. ]

I know. We've done this before, remember?

[His throat works for a moment at the pressure, but that's it. Nothing else. He's fine.]

No big deal.

Triggers, phobias, and attacks are a big deal. Work'n through or around 'em ain't easy.

[ He slides the hypo back in his case and unrolls the bundle, handing Wash the knitting needles and skein of soft yarn inside. Well. A set. He's got one for himself. As he talks he starts casting on a row of stitches in thin black yarn, eyes on his hands rather than Wash. ]

I'm a CMO of a starship that went into the Academy with crippling Aviophobia. Since I got lost I can't sleep in the dark. Last mission I went on back home didn't end all that well either. I am not gonna say I know a fragment of what you been through or even have comparable experiences. I don't. But I know a little 'bout work'n through them, cop'n with 'em, and liv'n with 'em.

[For a moment, Wash just stares at the needles and yarn in his lap. It would be that particular shade of sky blue. Just his luck. He sets them aside and listens instead.]

[He pauses, thinking over his words. Part of him wants to tell Bones, because it might help in the future, because that's how this sort of thing works; the other part knows it's a bad idea.]

This isn't the part where you get my tragic backstory. I don't think I'll ever tell you. It's not that I don't trust you; it's...well, if you heard half of what happened to me in Freelancer, you'd have a fit. The Director didn't have our best interests in mind.

[He's getting off topic.] The point is, I don't sleep much anymore anyway, especially not with Casey waking me up every time he sneaks out. If you can't sleep and you want to talk... [He trails off and shrugs. It's an offer.]

No. It's the part where I teach you how t'knit. Don't like that color, I got more.

[ Coping. Busy hands keep a mind from being idle. Projects. It keeps him sane when there's not as much research to mind, not as many lives to juggle. It's a blessing and a curse, not being on the ship. Fewer ways to die on the ground. Fewer people to worry about. Just means he has to worry that much more, care that much harder. ]

What happened, happened. Unless it's medically or psychologically relevant and effect'n your quality of life? I don't rightly need t'know. This ain't about where we been. S'about work'n with it now. Don't know if you've had a lot of time to really sit back and do that. God knows I haven't.

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