Cabin Fever [Open to Wash's friends]

[unrecovered]

[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.]

Comments

[unrecovered]

[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?

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

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

[unrecovered]

[WHAT.]

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

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

Why would I use your arm?

[unrecovered]

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

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

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

[unrecovered]

[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.

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

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

[unrecovered]

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.]

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

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. ]

[unrecovered]

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.

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

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.

[unrecovered]

[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.]

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

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.

[unrecovered]

[He laughs, and it's short and ugly. Psychologically relevant and affecting his quality of life. Right.]

I don't really work with it. I just- keep ahead of it.

[He still hasn't picked the needles back up. He honestly doesn't know what to make of this turn of events.]

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

That is ask'n for a breakdown. [ A beat passes as he pulls out a different skein of yarn, tossing over a heather grey. ] Which I'm about due, t'be honest. Hence, knitt'n. Keep ahead and keep count of your stitches.

[unrecovered]

[Wash stares at the new yarn, making no move to pick it up. Seriously? Your color choices aren't helping, Bones.]

How many of these do you have?

[He skips right over the breakdown comments; after all, he had one of those not long ago, and another few during his stint in the Realm of Dreams. Trying to get the fuck out of this room is an attempt to stave off another one.]

And what makes you think I know how to do this?

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

Keep ahead or stitch?

[ He looks back up to Wash, brow lifted. ]

Keep ahead cuz you've hadta. Stitch? Don't figure you do. So I'm gonna teach ya.

[unrecovered]

[He'll get a flat look in return. Don't be a smartass.]

If it's all the same to you, I think I'll read instead.

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

Got any requests for the next time I head out? Couldn't find much, nearest bookstore was less than accomidat'n.

[ But he's slowly getting used to that. Slowly. ]

[unrecovered]

[Well. That was easier than he expected.]

Something on car repair?

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

Any model in particular? Also. [ He sits back, already working on his second row, hands clicking automatically. ] Colors. Since I can't pick one you like.

[unrecovered]

[He just shrugs in reply. He has no idea what Greg's getting. The basics are pretty much the same, right?]

I just said I'd rather read.

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

At the moment, sure. Idle hands are the devil's plaything. [ He shrugs and keeps on clicking away, settling back and letting some of the exhaustion from the past few days sink into his bones. Around Greg and Casey the need to keep up a strong front is a little overwhelming. ]

[unrecovered]

I think I'll manage.

[He shrugs again and picks up a book, watching Bones out of the corner of his eye. He can recognize exhaustion when he sees it.]

You okay?