Doctor, doctor, gimme the news

[thepull_mods]

Who: Sick people and their well-wishers
When: May 13th-June 4th
Where: Hospitals and clinics all over the Port
Summary: A catch-all log for hospitalized people and their visitors all over the Port during the sickness plot. Everyone feel free to centralize your hospital visit threads here for convenience!
Warning: Please mark your threads if you'll need any.

Comments

[retraced]

[He winces and sits on the edge of her bed, just to keep from falling to the ground, mostly. He's already passed out on the way to the cab and in the cab today. Picking up the pen again, he writes:]

Do you want some water?

[motioned]

[She shakes her head, trying to smile again.]

No thanks.

[retraced]

[He blinks, thinks about it a second, and then writes just beneath it:]

Sorry. My handwriting is worse than normal.

[Because that's...something that needs to be apologized for, apparently.]

[motioned]

[She shakes her head again.]

I can read it.

[retraced]

Some people at the bakery can't read cursive.

[Just an observation that he's made lately.]

[motioned]

Really? That's weird.

[She stifles another cough, wincing.]

[retraced]

[He nods and drops the pen, reaches up to pat her shoulder.]

[motioned]

[She looks down towards the sheet, drawing her legs to her chest even though the pain that causes makes her shut her eyes for a moment.]

Think they'll find good medicine soon?

[retraced]

[He has no idea, but with all the talk of research, and the fact that he doesn't want to worry her any further, he nods and writes:]

They're working on it.

[motioned]

[She nods, then takes the pen. Easier than talking.]

mhmm youll be okay soon dont worry

[retraced]

[He tilts his head curiously as he takes the pen back from her and flips to the next page.]

Does your throat hurt worse?

[motioned]

[She takes the pen again, pausing before writing just a small amount below his question:]

not wors it just hrts a litle

[retraced]

[He still doesn't look completely happy with that, but takes the pen back anyway.]

Have they been taking good care of you?

[motioned]

ys i feel beter

[Though she obviously doesn't look it.]

[retraced]

That's goo--

[His writing is interrupted by a sneeze, which actually sounds hilarious given that he has no real voice. He'd probably laugh at himself if he weren't so miserable. brb, finding a handkerchief.]

[motioned]

[She smiles, though the small laugh turns into a cough after a few moments. Taking the pen while he's looking for a tissue, she adds a 'd' to his sentence, and then:]

thnks for comng

[retraced]

[He holds the handkerchief over his face while he writes in underneath:]

Sorry I can't be here more.

[motioned]

stop, im just glad your here now

[She reaches forward to take his hand again.]

[retraced]

[He finishes cleaning his face and then takes her hand again.]

Has anyone else been by to see you?

[motioned]

[She gives his hand a frail squeeze before taking the pen.]

a lot of peple. im not lonly

[retraced]

[His head droops a little more as he reaches back for the pen, and even though he doesn't look upset, he can't quite manage a smile.]

I'm glad.

[motioned]

[She nods, but that expression, neutral as it may be, still gives her pause more than it would normally. Maybe it's the hazy, fevered thinking, or the exhaustion, or the pain, or the reports of deaths on the network, or a combination of the four, but she's not feeling as optimistic as normal. Taking the pen, she looks thoughtfully at the page for a moment.]

i know nothngs going to hapen but if somthing did to ether of us i jst want you to knw

[She stops, wincing as another wave of pain moves over her, before she lets go of the pen. A deep breath, then, before she reaches over to squeeze his hand again and say:]

I love you, Dad.

[retraced]

[He's still reading the words on the page as she speaks, and though he hears those words, he doesn't understand them. They can't be words spoken to him, a person who would never be the type to enter into a situation where he would ever father a child. His place was at Oz's side, and it would be long after Oz decided to marry and have children. To do so himself...to allow someone to love him equally; it would be selfish, wouldn't it? Because his heart could never make that sort of allowance. Anyone who tried to love him would never receive anything equal in return.

Selfish...so selfish.

The words on the paper end up as blurred as his thoughts as he feels himself start to cry. He can't even blame it fully on the fever this time. No matter how sick his body has become over the last week, this truth has always been obvious to him. He'll never be able to be responsible for the state of anyone's heart, not without concurrently living in shame and guilt.

It takes him a long, fevered moment to realize, however, that this isn't what Ahiru is asking for. She isn't a person who would request that sort of responsibility from him, nor require him to fill that type of role in her heart because she's never expected anything more from him. She would never ask him to forgo a moment with Oz for her sake; she would never demand any level of treatment reserved for his young master. She would never make him choose his path based on a division of loyalty.

...Or maybe he's just over-thinking words that should be rather simple at their truest meaning. Wasn't love just another word for the devotion that he's already come to understand? In his strange place, where the core of his duty and his burden still existed, that was one thing that he'd come to understand.

Seeing her smile was enough.

He bows his head and rests his forehead against her hand, respectfully. The world tilts and sways, but though his mind fights to black out, he remains upright. Perhaps, he thinks, he's just waiting for her permission to fall.]

[motioned]

[The seconds move on without a word before he begins to cry. Concerned, she opens her mouth to say something, but what is there to say? If she'd upset him so much with something she thought would be a comfort, wouldn't it be better to remain silent for now? Really, she shouldn't be surprised that he didn't repeat those words. She's always told him not to lie, after all, and really - what has she done for him, besides create needless worry?

When he leans his head forward, she remains wordless, trying to ignore the growing tension in her chest. After a few seconds, though, she looks towards him, fighting to keep her voice steady.]

You can leave if you want.

[retraced]

[He opens his mouth to reply, to explain that he's not upset, that this isn't her fault, that his head has been on fire for so long that he can't remember what it was like to have a coherent thought about anything, let alone something important like this. But the only thing that comes out is a few wheezy, struggled noises.

Still holding tight to her hand, he fumbles for the discarded pen and writes with a shaky hand:]

I'm sorry. Thank you for trusting me with those words.

[And, though he still doesn't understand just what those words fully mean, he writes beneath that over the top of where his tears have fallen and dampened the paper:]

It's going to be fine, but I love you, too.

[Because even though he doesn't understand it, if he can make her feel better somehow by saying it, that would be enough.]