Sequel

I wrote this in my anthropology class while we were watching a boring movie. That... subsiquently broke down just as I finished this post. I found that odd.

Cookie to Surryalee (sp?) for thinking outside the box. Though. Whisper has been dead for over twenty-four hours by that time, so I'm thinking he didn't have anything directly to do with it and no one was trying to kill Rel. As far as the Sidhe are concerned he doesn't exist... or... didn't or... it's complicated.

Read, Review and enjoy.




He came to long before he opened his eyes. His first order of business was to check himself for any permanent damage. All his fingers and toes were there, there was stiffness to all his joints and muscles. Grogginess throughout. The tips of his fingers tingled, like he had just held them over one of those electrical gizmos that made his hair stand on end. His knuckles felt like he had been in a fight… and possibly won.

His stomach did a number of flips and threatened to empty its contents, but by the taste in his mouth, it had already done that. Bitter and fuzzy, his mouth seemed stuck shut, so stiff was the joint. His throat was throbbing and aching.

His mind swirled around and around, taking the world with it.

Thus Rel finally forced his eyes opened. It took a bit of trying, there were gummy bits in the corners of his eyes that were trying to keep his eyelashes shut. He raised his hand to wipe away the gunk only to find himself shackled to the bed.

Shackled.

To the bed.

Like he had ever offered anyone any kind of fight whatsoever. Rel dropped his hand to the bed, regretting it when his wrist and hand complained of being jarred.

Rel turned his head to the side and wiped his eyes as best he could with his upper arms. All the while trying to avoid the damned oxygen tube that was wound around his head. No assisted breath, at least that was a good sign, but he hated getting oxygen. It made his head all light and fuzzy and hazy and it was hard to recall the words he wanted.

Like library.

He looked to one side of his bed. A curtain separated him from the rest of the infirmary. He was in what the nurses called ICU. Even though the only thing that separated him from the rest of the world was a thin sheet. The area was larger than that given to a regular prisoner. Enough room to pace, enough room for several people to move about as necessary. All the equipment was here, to ensure the prisoners didn’t die on the warden’s watch.

Against one wall was a lighted panel. On it. An MRI. Rel’s name was scrawled down the side of the image, so he could only assume it was his brain. One was his from his physical, the one the doctors forced prisoners to take before entering the prison. The other was… his brain on prison? There was a mass just above his brain stem, pressing right on the important stuff. But the mass was so large that if it was real. Well, he would have to have been dead.

When had they had time to do an MRI?

Right beside his bed was an IV stand. Two bags. One of saline, one of a wonder drug. Rel squinted his eyes and read the side of the bag. A new drug that he didn’t really know. The chemical make up was. Rel had to think that one over. A coma drug, a combination of just the right chemicals to jumpstart Rel’s brain. It was supposed to be like speed. For coma patients. Wake them up, bring them out of the coma before brain damage could be sustained. This new strain had several chemicals in it that had been theorized to prevent brain damage, or even reverse it.

Ah. Tahluens.

Side effects of the coma chemicals were hallucinations, dry mouth, haziness, foggy eyes, indigestion and in severe cases. Death. Luckily he hadn’t gotten that one.

The IV needle itched in his hand at the thought of the drugs coursing through his veins. Taped against the skin with a splatter of blood down the back of his hand.

Rel wondered if perhaps he was shackled to the bed because he had, in a delusional state, tried to rip out the IV needle. Even though his odd dream had only lasted a fraction of a second? Even though he couldn’t recall the trip to the infirmary or the MRI or the reason why he was shackled? How much time had passed? Had he had some kind of… break?

Impossible. He hardly fit the symptoms of a break. Then again, he was viewing the problem from the inside and that gave him a very biased opinion. He was healthy. That was what he believed, that was what everyone always believed. Was it not the ability to question one’s own sanity that made one sane?

He was having a debate with himself. Again.

Rel sighed and turned to the other side of the bed. Rahluen was passed out in the chair that sat beside the bed. The man’s glasses were crooked, a book spread over his chest. The ever present briefcase sat on the floor by the chair.

Why was Rahluen there instead of at home with his young wife? How long had he been there? If Rel was on coma drugs… it may have been weeks or even months. Years. Rel grimaced at the idea of losing his youth to a coma even as he laughed silently about the stupidity. Losing his youth to a coma would be better than losing it to prison.

As Rel laughed to himself Rahluen jerked upward, as if he hadn’t meant to doze off, and grunted out something that might have been the watcher prayer. A prayer said by one watching over a sick person as they slept, as Tahl-ra insisted that a bedside vigil could do more for a healing body than all the herbs in the world.

The lawyer realised that Rel was awake about the time Rel realised that the lawyer had been truly worried about his well being. There late at night? Keeping a bedside vigil when the nurses in the infirmary could hardly be bothered? Either Rahluen cared, or he was having some serious marriage issues.

“You’re awake.”

Rel tried to make a sound of agreement, that was all. What came out was a squeak. His throat burned at that small sound and Rahluen sighed.

“Don’t try to speak, your throat is pretty torn up. You had a seizure earlier today, do you remember that?”

Rel gave a small nod and turned to look at the IV pointedly before looking back at Rahluen. The lawyer would surely know that Rel would know what the medication was for.

“A precautionary measure. The doctors said you fell into a coma, refused to set up an EKG and put you through an MRI instead. During the MRI masses appeared all over your brain tissue, it seems, but a moment later they were gone and then the MRI broke down. That was the clearest picture they could get. If that mass by the brainstem existed, the doctor has informed me, you would be dead. Just a shadow on the screen.”

Rahluen paused and adjusted his glasses so that they sat properly on his nose, “You’ve been in an unresponsive state for the last twelve hours. The doctors can’t explain it. Nothing in your history or your family history could explain this.”

Rel shrugged and tried to lift a hand once more, forgetting that he was shackled to the bed.

Rahluen gave the shackle a menacing glare, “they claimed it was necessary, supposedly you are a high flight risk. I told them it was rubbish and that I was surprised there wasn’t a DNR on your file. Do not resuscitate. For a man who wants to die, you sure are not making it easy. Your heart stopped three times. The first time they took the paddles to you. The second time, I swear they were trying to kill you. The paddles didn’t work or they’d not be near enough. The doctor called your time of death twice and each time your heart started again. Completely strange.

“Almost as if someone wants you alive…” Rahluen muttered, tucking his book into his briefcase, “Oh, as I would have told you, had you not had your seizure earlier, I think I may have found an out. However. Circumstances at the moment prevent me from taking it. The moment it comes available, I will tell you. Of course, there is a good chance of you dying in the process despite all and all, so I suspect you will actually be up for doing it. I’ll come back in a few days and hopefully, given that your supposed tumour and your heart do not kill you in the mean time, you and I can have a nice little chat about it.”


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