sirenspull_logs | You're Never Too Old to Rock n' Roll [Closed]

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You're Never Too Old to Rock n' Roll [Closed]

Who: Mia Fey and Diego Armando
When: Backdated to the week after ~*TIME SHENANIGANS*~
Where: Skye Medical Center
Summary: Going a week without his medication lands Diego in the hospital again. And he's just thrilled. Mia runs damage control.
Warning: Diego's pissy mood.

[Diego's naps are rare, as he absolutely hates being so tired that there's nothing else to do but fall asleep. However, they're the only mercy that the hospital staff can expect to receive from him-- a short break from the grumbling and bitching that they have by now come to dread from the lawyer. Especially while his fiancee is out.

In fact, one nurse had gotten so sick of it that she swapped out his coffee for decaf. He noticed, of course, and complained even worse, but shitty decaf coffee was better than no coffee at all, even if it didn't counteract the effects of the drugs that made him sleepy.

(That was the other thing- putting that goddamn Void in the room just made all of this worse, and he wouldn't even need all these stupid machines if they'd just let his powers work...)

Whatever the case, he's asleep when Mia returns from her errands, though only just.]

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[After a brief trip home to see if they still had a home (mercifully they did, and two live and very hungry pets who were extraordinarily happy to see her), a stop by both her office to pin a note to the door and the Prosecutor's office to scope out the situation there and explain to Diego's co-workers what had happened, Mia made her way back to the hospital feeling exhausted. She'd managed a quick shower and change of clothes at home between fixing the chaos caused by a housebound Doberman and cat and going to check on their livelihoods, but she'd barely had time to stop since they'd arrived home and Diego was admitted to the hospital. Even the first night's sleep at the hospital hadn't gotten her much rest; curled up in a chair next to the bed was hardly the most comfortable way to spend a a night.

Day two hadn't been great and day three wasn't going much better. After another trip home to stretch her legs, feed the pets, walk the dog, open the office and pick up some work, she found herself heading back to the hospital feeling just as tired. She made her way past the nurses' station on her way to Diego's room and listened to a rather harried sounding nurse complain about a patient who, in her professional opinion, needed a full personality transplant rather than bedrest. Mia was under no false impressions as to who she was talking about as the nurse's professional opinion was rather audibly hushed when one of her colleagues caught sight of Mia around the corner.

Instead of chewing them out, she flashes them smile and carries on her way.

Diego's asleep when she gets there, and she's relieved that he appears to finally be getting some rest. Yesterday hadn't exactly been restful; come to think of it, none of the last week had been restful. On top of being upended and transported to a different time, having to sit back and watch as her fiance's condition began to deteriorate with nothing to be done except hope that he'd make it through until they could somehow find a way back had been horrendous. Mia doesn't think she'll forget some of the worse days for quite a while.

It's a relief that he's here and asleep; even though the fact that he's well enough to complain now doesn't mean that Mia's stopped worrying. She tries her best to work through it and be supportive, but sometimes when she does find herself catching some sleep she'll be jolted awake by that awful fear that something bad has happened and has to take a few minutes in the bathroom to compose herself before coming back.

She hates hospitals just as much as Diego does.

She adopts her chair by the bed and takes out her reading- a potential case that landed in the inbox that she really needs to decide if she's going to take. It will help her take her mind off things at least. Her eyes feel tired, so she takes her barely used glasses out of her purse and sets about reading as quietly as she can, taking occasional sips out of the paper cup of hospital vending machine coffee she brought with her.]

[Yes, Diego has probably become notorious through the whole hospital by now, if he wasn't already from his last stay. And it's not like he likes the reputation of being an unreasonable grump. He just can't help it in this place. There's nothing like returning to the sounds and smells and atmosphere of his least favorite place in the world, a vivid reminder of the worst time in his life brought beeping back to reality.

The only thing that makes it more bearable is Mia, so he might even say he's being nicer this time. At least Mia shushes him if he gets too irritated at the nurses and the doctors babying him. He doesn't like embarrassing her, so he tries to rein it in while she's there.

And he tries to sleep while she's gone, because he imagines she's sick to death of the sight of him asleep.

It doesn't especially matter. The longer she sits there, the slower he breathes. It would be alarming were the monitors not keeping careful time of his heartbeat, which is still steady.

After a few minutes he opens one eye, and it looks blankly in her direction.]

What in the hell are you drinking, kitten?

[Yes, that's what woke him up.]

[She doesn't answer immediately- the end of the paragraph looms, and a couple of seconds later she's done. With a sigh, she sets the case file down on her lap and looks over in his direction.]

I think it's dishwater pretending to be coffee. I'm not exactly sure, but I'm starting to wish I'd stopped to make some when I was at home.

[She takes another sip, sets it down on the floor next to the chair where it is soon joined by the case file as she crosses to the bed and brushes Diego's hair away from his forehead as she perches on the edge of the mattress.]

Have mentioned that I hate how you've turned me into a coffee snob? It makes it so difficult to get a decent hit of caffeine when I'm trying to live up to your standards.

[She bends to press a kiss to his forehead, fingers still gently combing through his hair.]

Do you need anything?

You ought to be thanking me, kitten. I've saved you from thinking that that kind of sludge is palatable.

[He grins, his head still leaning back against the pillow as she leans in and kisses him.]

Only if you can get me a real cup of coffee. The nurse cut me off. She hates me. She's trying to punish me.

[She laughs softly, shaking her head.]

It's not even dense enough to be called sludge, it's that bad. And the nurse doesn't hate you, she's trying to make sure that you get some rest so you can better quicker and get out of her hair. Stop being such a baby.

[Although the same nurse's grumbling about him at the nurse's station would certainly add weight to his hypothesis. She decides not to mention that.]

But if you promise not to make any nurses cry today, I'll try and get you a real cup when I go out to deal with the animals later. Do we have a deal?

Edited (hurr durr typos; this is why I shouldn't tag before coffee) 2013-01-23 23:13 (UTC)

No, I'm pretty sure she hates me. You didn't see the look she gave me.

[He tilts his head sideways on the pillow, turning towards the sound of her voice.]

You don't need to bribe me to get me to behave. [Aaapparently she does.]

But if you promise to bring me a thermos later, I'll be good.

Well if you act like a brat then you deserve every dirty look that gets thrown your way, and if she really hated you she would have some other poor nurse switched to your service to put up with you.

[But he's bartering for a thermos, and while ordinarily that would be fine for him on a normal day and he drinks the stuff like it's water, she wants him to be well rested instead of sleeping minimal hours like he usually does.]

I will bring you a small thermos, and the deal can be renegotiated for a bigger one tomorrow pending your continued good behaviour.

You're such a slave driver.

[He sighs, then finally nods.] All right, fine. I agree.

Can you grab my visor for me, kitten?

Sure, hold on.

[She reaches over to get it and then laughs and kisses him between the eyebrows before putting the visor into his hands.]

If I'm such a slave driver then that says something about you if you acknowledge it and still want to marry me knowing that.

[He smiles happily at the kiss, taking the visor from her with a little sigh.] You're a very beautiful and amazing slave driver.

[He slips on the visor and ignores the familiar headache as his vision reappears in his consciousness. Sometimes he wishes he didn't have to take the stupid thing off... he's self-conscious about his blind eyes and his face while he's blind, but he can't "close his eyes" while he's wearing the visor. Which makes sleep pretty damn near impossible with it.]

And you're pretty complimentary for a slave, but flattery will get you everywhere while you're being so sweet about it.

[Being playful and flirting in a hospital room is a far, far cry from how it had been all those years ago, and even though he's better now and getting stronger every hour, this episode has been a wake up call that she won't forget in a hurry.

He does a very good job of managing how sick he is, but now that she knows the extent there's a part of her that's terrified they won't be so lucky next time. She will share every part of her with him except that one, he doesn't need to hear it or he'll only blame himself.

For now, he's in a good mood and she'd like to keep it that way.]

How are you feeling, handsome?

[He just laughs at that reply, settling back into the bed now that he can see. His hands are itching for something to hold... like a ceramic mug is what he's really thinking, but he knows the futility of asking for coffee around here. And even Mia says he has to earn it.

It's really amazing how much more tolerable this place is while she's here. Sure, he still hates it with every fiber of his being, but at least Mia lifts a lot of the weight and pain off of him with her presence.

It makes him think of back then, and wonder how things would have gone if she'd been by his side. If he'd had her, or anyone like her to talk to him and sit with him and keep him company. If Godot had never come sauntering into his life.

He doesn't like to think on those lines for long, so he lets her question change the subject.]

All right. Better than I was. It doesn't hurt as much today. [The last few days it felt like acid burning in his veins as his body readjusted to the pills.]

That's good, you're sure looking better, you've got some colour back in your face.

[She scoots back over to where she left her cup of coffee- inferior and cruddy as it is- and holds the paper cup out to him.]

Here, try this and see what you think. I think we should start to petition for a better machine for the relatives room.

[She has a sneaking suspicion that he really would rather drink sludge than this mess of a cup though. She manoeuvres herself onto the edge of the bed again and seems to ponder something for a moment as she looks at him. She hates the sight of him in a hospital bed, but it's far better to see him sitting up than lying prone and lifeless and hooked up to machines.

She knows it's a very real possibility that she might not get her wish to never see him that way again, especially after last week hammered it all home to her and scared her witless.

Mia's always hated not having a game plan.]

So... I've been thinking. About March 2nd.

Good. I hate being pale.

[He still isn't a big fan of what happened to his hair, though he has a little too much pride to dye it. Not when it would be so obvious, and also because he doesn't want to know what Diego Armando's dark hair would look like paired with this stupid visor.

He takes the coffee cup from her and gives it a sniff.]

Some idiot stuck two filters in the machine. The coffee is stale. [Then he takes a sip, and nearly chokes. A pause, then he swallows the rest of the cup, almost reflexively.] Thin, filthy garbage water. I just did you a favor, kitten.

[He hands her the cup back and shakes his head.] You should probably petition some human rights group about that coffee, actually.

[But the subject changes quite suddenly, and he glances over at her. She's spared from the five minute rant about coffee that was about to happen.

March 2nd?]

What about it?

[Well that plan backfired spectacularly, he wasn't supposed to finish the whole cup. Mia shakes her head and sighs, taking the cup and aiming it with precision at the trash can in the corner. She pumps her fist in celebration when she makes the shot and laughs.]

Yeah, March 2nd. I don't know if it counts as the first, the sixth or the eighth at this point, but it's going to be pretty novel to actually celebrate an anniversary together, wouldn't you say?

Ha...!

[He shakes his head.] That math's almost too depressing to think about.

[He turns his head a little and smiles slightly.] But you're right. It'll be nice.

Well... how would you feel if we reset the counter?

[This is something she's been thinking about ever since she was assured that he'd be okay after getting him to the hospital, something that has been in her mind since Christmas and the moment he slipped a beautiful ring on her finger. A wedding day in the future, a promise to be his wife, that was all very well, but a particularly awful thought had struck her the week before, when she'd stayed awake all night in a sheltered place watching over a feverish Diego as he'd tried to sleep.

What if he didn't make it? What if he vanished one day, or she vanished, just the way that the rest of their friends and family had without warning?

Life was too damn short as it was, without having to factor the Core interfering into it.]

There's an opening at the court house.

Hm?

[It takes a moment, but only a moment. And then he understands what she's asking.

There was a reason he didn't ask her for a date when he bought her that ring-- because it was a complex balance. He didn't want to look too far into the future; there was no telling how long the future would have him in it. And yet he didn't want to rush her, push her into marriage, speed her to the altar and make her miss the wedding she deserved just because he was paranoid.

He stares at her quietly for a moment.]

Are you sure?

[She laughs, wishing with a pang she could see how he looks beneath that mask at this moment.]

You're not having second thoughts now are you?

[She lets her flippancy drop, covers his hand with hers and brushes her thumb over the silver band on his finger. She'd given it to him so many years ago, only now it had a new place on the ring finger of his left hand.]

I'm sure. I love you Diego and I want to marry you, I realised last week that anything can happen in this place and I don't want to miss marrying you because I was waiting for everything to be perfect.

[Perfect would be having Maya walk beside her to give her away, to have Pearl in an adorable dress with flowers in her hair and blushing happily at everything, but while Mia hasn't given up hope she'll see her sister again, she knows it's a hope that gets less likely every day.]

Maya... you know that Maya'd tell us that we've spent enough time waiting to do this.

No. No, I'm not. And Maya would be right. But...

[He turns his hand over to touch hers, clasping it with his other one-- the one on an arm strapped down by IVs and tubes and wires all up and down it.]

But I want everything to be perfect for you. I want to be perfect for you. After last week...

[His meaning was subtle, but Mia would probably be able to guess. I'm not.]

This is me, Mia. This body in this bed. This is how it's going to be someday. When you tie yourself to me...

[This is what you'll get, he doesn't say.]

I can't help but feel like you're getting the short end of the deal.

Diego, you're marrying a dead woman. Your end of the deal isn't a picnic either.

[She hates to think of herself like that, but right now she doesn't want him seeing himself as useless baggage. Neither of them are perfect, not at all.]

Neither of us are exactly likely candidates for a dream wedding, but here we are. Here I am, I'm not put off by a hospital, or IVs or heart monitors. I can handle that, and maybe one day far in the future I'll have to pick myself up off the floor and handle worse, but what I can't handle is the thought that I might wake up one day and realise that I let you slip through my fingers because I was holding out for a fairy tale.

[Her fingers tighten over his.]

I died waiting for you, I'm not letting you go again no matter how bad things get.

Don't say that.

[He doesn't want or need the reminder. Sometimes he still wakes up from a light sleep and reaches beside him to make sure that she's real and there and alive. It's a habit he wishes he could get over sooner rather than later.

But she does have a point. The two of them do make quite a pair. The odds are with them now, for once, miraculously, and they're not going to last this way forever.

He goes quiet, holding her hand tightly in both of his and staring down at the tubes piercing into his arm and held in by tape.]

You're right.

I don't want to waste time when I don't know how long it will last.

[He's learned to never take a moment for granted, because a moment was all it took for his life to fall apart around him and within him.]

March 2nd, you think?

I think so, unless you think we need more time to get everything together. I mean, we don't need anything too huge, we don't need fireworks or the whole city. Just us and the people who matter the most, maybe a party afterwards too.

[She laughs and rests her forehead against his; the mask gets in the way but she doesn't mind.]

And you better believe we're having a coffee cake.

[He's careful not to bump her face with the visor, grinning back at her.]

I'm starting to like this idea more and more.

What are we waiting for, anyway?

For you to get better, which means no complaining when you're told to get some rest or snapping at the nurses.

[She kisses the tip of his nose, a playful gesture to highlight that she's not being too stern with that quid pro quo.]

Anyway, it's going to take us a little time to get things together.

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You're Never Too Old to Rock n' Roll [Closed]

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