sirenspull_logs | this needs to stop happening

Entry tags:

this needs to stop happening

Who: Gilbert Nightray & whoever wants to visit
When: afternoon of the 17th
Where: Skye Medical
Summary: Xigbar's creepy monster dog-thing messed him up good for his part in the newcomer hunt raid. He never saw it coming.
Warnings: slight spoilers for PH, mentions of blood and injury

Gil has been overcome by the darkness a few times in the last few years. For the most part, every time he's gotten out of the situation with scratches and bruises, a couple larger wounds, a bullet wound once. But this time had been different. This time the monster seemed far more interested in hurting him; in killing him. And it was quick enough to do damage while he floundered through attempting to use Raven and failing, miserably. The familiar pain in his left hand told him that he was putting too much strain on the Hatter and B Rabbit's seals, and he'd hesitated as he'd been struck.

Again. And again.

If he'd been conscious, he would have told whoever transported him to take him home. If the Core reacted the same way that it did last time, he'd be healed in no time. A day or two, and he wouldn't have to waste time away from his master in the meanwhile. But he stays asleep during the pick up, transport, and the initial check-in to the hospital. He doesn't wake until halfway through the day, several ribs shattered, a wrist and ankle broken, a concussion, bruises and cuts and gashes up his neck and across his chest and legs.

And every single one of those injuries is healing, slowly but surely, without anyone needing to lift a finger to help him.

Crap.

His eyes snap open at the sound of familiar, rhythmic beeping. That's all it takes for him to realize where he's ended up, the memory of this morning rushing back all at once. Crap, crap, crap! Not good!

He doesn't bother to check if anyone else is in the room first before throwing back the blanket and attempting to run as fast as his healing feet will take him, no matter how many wires and tubes are currently attached to him. Stop him, egg him on, catch the aftermath upon failure. He'll be here for a couple of days.

[ooc - have at it, visitors. also I'm still sick, so tags will probably continue to be slow, but I promise I'll get to them all! thank you for putting up with me!]

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He's grateful for the extra hand, even though there's no way that his manly pride can admit it! Except that it can because hah, what manly pride is this. He exhales slowly and lets her help him settle back onto the bed, face going red in embarrassment around the bruises and bandages.

"Sorry, sorry."

Aoko knows a thing or two about manly pride, at least, so she doesn't say anything about the hand. Instead she resorts to open satisfaction as he resettles, scooping up the flowers she let fall when he faltered. "'S better. If I came to visit, you should darn well be here, anyway."

She plucks a leaf off his bedsheet, twirling it in her fingers, lips pressing together tightly. In spite of the feistiness -- or rather, because she is this feisty -- she's worried about him.

"What happened?" she ventures at last.

Somehow it's easier to fuss than deal with the truth.

Oh no, there are flowers too...ugh, his manly pride hurts even worse now! His face stays flushed red as he catches sight of them, unsure if he should thank her for being thoughtful or answer the question. But somehow, the thought of discussing a brutal attack by a monster that he was too weak to fight off properly hurts worse than thanking someone for a thoughtful gesture.

Because pride...and because no one ever does nice things for him so he doesn't know how to deal.

"I was attached by a creature in the darkness. I'd never seen one like this before - it was...ah." He's not even sure how to describe it without sounding pathetic and weak.

"It took me by surprise. My guard was down..."

Don't read into that, Gilbert, as any kind of comment on your manliness. They're just flowers. You're supposed to bring flowers to someone in the hospital. It's almost a requirement. And Aoko pays attention to requirements.

Meanwhile, though, her focus is completely on him and the incident.

"Don't think anyone could be prepared." She hasn't quite picked up on his embarrassment yet. "Especially in the Darkness. Stuff . . . just really comes out of nowhere."

He shakes his head, unwilling to make that excuse. Danger always appeared from nowhere; no one ever announces when they're getting ready to attack you before they actually do it, especially not the mutilated creatures that came out after dark.

"I should have been paying attention." He sighs. "It doesn't matter. I'll be fine soon."

Maybe not, but who was on their guard every single moment?

. . . And for those who were, weren't they a nervous wreck?

Aoko released a breath out her nose, tugging a nearby chair up to the bed. The flowers were placed aside on the table; she could find water for them later. "You're not actually feeling guilty for getting surprised, are you?"

Nervous wreck, yes, that sounds about right.

"Ah..." he starts, sitting up a bit to make himself more comfortable and try to look a little less awkward.

"That's not exactly it. More like...I'm disappointed?"

Yes, that's a question.

Her fingertips brush the back of his hand if he'll allow it -- more for the touch than anything else. For comfort, for grounding him, for a reminder that she's there and wants to hear. As he moves, she moves too, immediately, reaching for his pillows to help prop him upright.

"Disappointed." She echoes the word back to him, a small frown emerging between her eyebrows. "How?"

His fingers twitch beneath hers, but he doesn't move his hand away. He just stares down at where their skin is touching, hoping that the embarrassing flush on his face isn't too obvious.

"A servant should be strong enough to protect their master...and if I can't even protect myself, how am I supposed to face him like this?"

Aoko is silent for a long moment, her opposite hand poking at a bit of fuzz on the bedsheet. She's not looking at Gilbert's flush at all.

There's a chorus of questions that could come to mind, including the fact that she didn't realize he had a master in the first place. But she decides to just contend with the issue first.

"I've got . . . someone in my life I'd do anything for," she says at last, softly. "'S not the same sort of thing, but. There was a time really recently when I couldn't protect him. I let something get the better of me, and . . . it nearly cost me him. It nearly cost me, too. I barely even wanted to look at him after that. I thought he'd see exactly who I was and exactly how weak I am."

She shifts slightly on her seat, pressing her lips together briefly. "But . . . It turned out he was just scared for me. Everything else, it barely even crossed his mind."

The words are all too familiar to him, really. There was a time not long before he was brought back to this world for the second time when he and Oz had spent days bickering back and forth, ignoring each other's gaze, making sure that the other couldn't see the look of grief that each of them still wore after the coming of age ceremony. It had been Alice that pointed it out, much to Gilbert's dismay, that they were only saying the same thing, mirrored concern and dismissal of their own pain. Oz had been the one to say it out loud; Fighting because each of us is worried about the other - it's really pointless! I was worried about you, Gil...

They were both fools back then. I still haven't learned anything.

He slumps forward a bit, hands clenching into loose fists.

"And now? Can you look him in the eye...?"

"'M not sure I can still look myself in the eye." Her voice stayed soft. "But he doesn't accept anything else. So . . . I guess I keep trying partly because I want to be . . . worthy of it."

He nods, takes in a deep breath. It still hurts a bit, but already the broken ribs are mending.

"I understand that...entirely."

Her smile is quiet, lopsided. "I guess the people who really care are always easier on you than you are on yourself. I don't know . . . Maybe they're trying so hard to protect you too."

Her fingers rise, tapping his just briefly -- a reminder, a query. "Maybe Gilbert-san's master is also like that."

He'd never say that Oz went 'easy on him' (because his young master might just see that as a challenge...!) but it was true, he'd always thought less of himself while Oz promised him the opposite. He had too much misplaced faith in his useless servant; Gil would never be able to see that potential that Oz seemed to see.

His expression turns softer, an almost-smile tugging at his lips. "When I met Oz for the first time, he told me...that from that moment on, he'd protect me because 'that's a master's job'. Even now a decade later he still believes that."

He shakes his head, lets his eyes close again.

"But to let his fragile body take on any more burden after everything - I can't allow that..."

Her own features soften -- both at his description and the fact that the release in him is almost tangible. "It sounds like he really cares about you."

A brief pause, pressing her lips together, her fingers folding around his hand. ". . . I don't know him at all, but I guess if it were me and I felt like that . . . it wouldn't be about 'letting.' I make my own choices . . . and when I do, if I feel that much about it, I don't even let Kaito get in the way."

Her mouth twists a bit, wry. "Sometimes he just has to keep up with me."

Being comforted is a difficult thing to get used to. Gil is the caregiver, never the one who asks for anything in return. He could break into a thousand pieces and still want to be the only one to put himself back together. His hand tenses beneath hers, but he tries his best to allow himself to relax, not wanting to accidentally offend her because of his inability to understand what it is to comfort someone else like this.

"Oz is always moving forward. I'm the one who has to try and keep up with him."

But he doesn't make it sound like a bad thing. On the contrary, he sounds enthused by the idea, to a small degree. Having someone else's steps to follow is a better way to live than to wander aimlessly.

This time Aoko takes note of the tensing, sending her eyes downward to their hands. The tendons in her own fingers tense, arch, hesitating.

"S-Sorry -- is it bad if I touch you?"

Not "is it okay." Because . . . honestly, she'd like to if he'll let her. Sometimes he almost seems to need it -- some kind of contact with the world to ground him, remind him that he's human.

"Ah-!"

He's quick to shake his head, but he doesn't exactly understand the question entirely either.

"It's fine. It doesn't hurt or anything!"

Mental sweatdrop. She'd hope it didn't hurt.

"Mou. I mean -- it bothers you. You don't like it."

Both question and statement at once.

His face heats up, and right away his gaze goes back down to his feet which he's trying to burrow beneath this pathetically thin sheet at the end of the bed.

"No...it doesn't bother me. I'm just not used to it."

A blink at that -- for both statement and his flush . . . before her fingers tighten again around his hand, very gently.

"Sometimes, maybe . . . Gilbert-san doesn't give himself all the things he needs."

"I've never needed much."

All he's ever really needed was to be at Oz's side. The rest has never mattered.

"I'm a very simple person..."

"Nobody's simple," Aoko retorts. (Though wouldn't it be so much easier if it were true.)

"Or you probably wouldn't seem miserable a lot of the time."

. . . Yes, this is Aoko. When she gets to know you: Not At All Shy.

--And she's clearly hit the nail right on the head, if his stupid expression doesn't make that obvious enough.

"I-I'm not!"

He is. He knows it.

this needs to stop happening

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