missingthekeep | [for Meredith]

Entry tags:

[for Meredith]

He’s been hurt worse. That’s what Sean tells himself when he wakes up to the sterile clinic walls instead of his bedroom and feels a wave of frustration wash over him. Relief that he’s still alive is probably buried in there somewhere deep down, but he’s too busy being disgusted with himself for making such rookie mistakes as taking his eyes off his attackers and not having backup escape routes planned in advance. He never trusted that bloody space station from the get-go, but he was still caught unprepared. Not that one can ever really be prepared for robotically animated corpses, but he should have at least been able to put himself in a frame of mind suitable for protecting Meredith without sacrificing the basics.

He got sloppy. Just like the last time something like this happened. He got overly emotional (the emotion may have been different this time around, but the principle remains the same), and he lost his edge, and bad things happened as a result. Which is why, as true as it is, the knowledge that he’s been hurt worse than this doesn’t come as much of a comfort. Maybe he’ll be out of this place sooner, but that doesn’t mean much if he’s just going to screw up again the next time something bad happens.

Besides, at least the last time he found himself laid up somewhere, he was capable of complaining about it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sean freezes up at that, biting his tongue to keep from trying to answer her. He already broke his promise, he wouldn't be sitting here otherwise. What the hell does it matter now?

It matters because it matters to her, he reminds himself after a moment. There's no way he's going to be staying here for a week, mind, but that doesn't mean he can't do his best to do what she says in other ways. Eventually, he nods again, a tiny, hesitant movement.

"Okay." Even so, Meredith intends to keep a close eye on him to be sure. Back in the clinic, away from that spaceship, some of the damage, at least, is straightforward, but she's not chancing complications, least of all ones he causes himself. "Do you think you can drink something? You should have some water or something." She almost asks another question, then bites it back. One thing at a time. That's all he can answer right now.

Sean waves the offer off automatically, shaking his head with a scowl. His throat hurts like hell every time he so much as breathes in, but it's nothing a glass of water is going to fix and he'd rather not feel like a complete invalid.

"You'll have to drink something eventually," Meredith says, "or if you can't, I'll have to set something up." She doesn't want to hook him up to an IV anymore than she guesses he'd want it, though. She'll do whatever's best for him, but she doesn't want to see him like that if he doesn't need it. "You lost a lot of blood out there. I wish you hadn't come with me."

Sean's pretty much decided that the only way he's going to be drinking anything is if he goes to get it himself, but letting her know as much is going to have to wait because she goes and says that. He doesn't even bother shaking his head this time, just takes her by the wrist (his grip nowhere near as firm as he'd like) and stares, eyes narrowed, trusting that she can read him well enough to see just how wrong she is. He can't even fathom her being up there amongst all that madness without him.

Meredith sits back, looking away. His disagreeing doesn't change her mind any, but she feels stupid now for saying it aloud. "I just wish this hadn't happened," she says. "You could have died up there. You saved me, you..." She shakes her head. It wouldn't have mattered if she'd lost him for his efforts. She's not entirely sure she was lying about walking back on board if she had. "Dying is, is another thing you are not allowed to do, do you hear me? I can't do this without you, I can't, I just can't."

Sean draws back from her, lost in thought. There's so much he wants to say to her, to that, and without a means to express any of what he's feeling, he can't help but retreat into himself. Absolutely hating himself for what he's about to do, mostly because it means acknowledging that this is suddenly his new reality, he grits his teeth and makes the quick, vague motion of moving a pen across paper.

It takes Meredith a moment to realize what he means, lost in her own thoughts and emotions as she is, and then she nods, getting up. Heading across the room, she finds a clipboard, paper and pen and brings it back over, holding it out to him as she takes a seat again. As much as she'd like just to take his hand again and not put up with whatever counter-arguments he's probably planning to make, she can't do that to him. Instead she waits.

All those things he wants to say to her go swiftly out of his head the instant the pen is in his hand. It's so inadequate. There's no possible way for him get all that he's thinking onto the sheet of paper, so why bother trying? He stares at it for a good, long while, finally scratching out all of three short words before he passes it back to Meredith.

How's your leg?

Meredith looks at it longer than necessary, lips pressed flat as she shakes her head. "Fine," she says, a little too high, unsteady. She's almost forgotten the injury herself; that he remembers, that he asks, at a time like this makes something in her chest ache. "It hurts, but it's not that bad. Don't worry about me." It's a pointless request, she knows that, but she isn't going to stop making it.

As if that's going to happen. That's just what they do, they worry about each other. They worry about each other, because neither is willing to worry about themselves. Figuring that they can both use as much of a break as fate will allow them, though, he takes the clipboard back and starts writing again, his expression impassive.

Do we know what happened up there yet?

Meredith shakes her head, though only because she still doesn't entirely understand it. She's kept herself running in circles to avoid thinking. It makes putting the pieces together difficult. "I don't know," she says, "I... I don't know why it happened. They got people off, though. Brought them back down. The ship still crashed." She reaches for his wrist as she speaks, wanting some tether to him, some way of keeping him here.

It doesn't tell him much, but maybe there's just not a whole lot to tell yet. Sean doesn't even know how long he's been out. Balancing the clipboard on his knees to keep from having to disengage from her grip, he goes on.

But everyone's all right?

"I don't know," Meredith admits. "There's a lot of information flying around. I doubt I've heard it all. There were a lot of injuries, but no casualties yet that I know of." She's not convinced that won't prove to be a temporary thing. There was too much happening up there and too many close calls. Not everyone could have pulled through that and there are patients they have to watch carefully for a while, him included. She's not calling anything yet.

Sean nods slowly, relieved, but not entirely at the lack of severe problems. It just feels good to have a little information, to feel a little less blind and deaf in addition to being mute.

As long as you're okay.

"I'm fine," Meredith says. "It didn't hit anything major. I just want you to be okay." In the scheme of things, in relation to everyone else's hurts and her own previous experiences and what he's going through now, her leg isn't a problem. She's bruised and still scared, as if her body hasn't yet realized she's safe now, but that doesn't mean anything.

Well, that makes two of them. With the way he's already feeling restless and kind of panicky, and with no end to it in sight, he's not so sure how feasible a hope it is, though. Suddenly remembering a particular sticking point that has something to do with that, he hesitates for a moment before biting the bullet and bringing it up. He's not about to try jumping out of bed right this second, but he should still get it out of the way.

I'm not staying here for a week.

"You are," Meredith says firmly, then sighs. "Five days. Can you give me that much? You still have to rest when you get out of here, Sean, I... This will take care of itself if you rest." She wouldn't have a problem bringing him home sooner if she thought he'd actually relax, actually stay in bed; even five days seems like pushing it to her.

It's something, but not enough. He's fairly confident that another good night's sleep should be enough to get him back on his feet. Anything longer than that will only serve to drive him utterly mad, remind him too much of the last time he was in a similar situation. Having Meredith at his side helps, but it's not enough.

I can rest at home.

Meredith bites her lip, shaking her head, although it's not exactly a refusal yet. "But will you?" she asks. "If I took you home, you'd actually rest? Even when I'm not looking?" She's not at all sure she believes that and she watches him closely for some sign she's wrong not to.

Sensing that 'If I have to' would probably be the wrong response, Sean tries a different tack. He's slightly hesitant, but then, why shouldn't he be?

More than I will here.

It's not even stubbornness. It's just the truth.

Meredith sighs, glancing away. At least he's being honest, she has to give him that. "I'm still keeping you here a few days," she says. "If something goes wrong, if there's a complication, I want you here. I'm not accepting arguments on this one. And when you're released, when you go home, you have to listen to me on this, okay? I'm not being overprotective, I'm not just being your girlfriend, I'm your doctor. Okay?"

Sean sighs, silently fumes when even that hurts, and gives a noncommittal shrug, not a yes or a no. If it gets too bad, he'll have to duck out on his own whether she likes it or not, but he can do his best to be good until then. It was for her sake that he landed himself in here, the least he can do is try to see it through.

"I mean it," Meredith says. "You have to actually follow your limits this time or you're going to wind up back in here and I won't negotiate the stay next time. It'll be longer. This can turn into very serious problems." It could also sort itself out, but that's only in the scenario where he actually somewhat listens to her on this, which looks doubtful to her.

There's still nothing can say to that, so he shrugs again without looking at her, throwing in a reluctant nod for good measure. Contradicting her right now isn't going to accomplish much of anything beyond make her watch him that much closer when he does need to get out.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject