missingthekeep | [for Meredith]

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[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.

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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.

"Okay." Meredith's not convinced that's agreement of any kind, but there's no point in badgering him about it now, not when it's all just happened and she's still a little jittery now she has nothing to do, no reason to stay steady. She'll just have to watch him and make sure she's clear later, but for now, she gets up so she can sit on the edge of the bed instead. "How are you feeling?"

Sean casts his eyes down and gives a vague, one-handed gesture that's meant to imply he's either alright or something close to it. He feels like hell, honestly, and ignoring the urge to just lay back down isn't helping, but considering that he came damn close to being strangled and disemboweled, it's really not all that bad.

"If anything starts to feel worse, if there's anything I can get you," Meredith says, trailing off. Managing a small smile, she leans forward to kiss him, soft and quick, and tries to remind herself some of these bruises didn't even happen today, that it isn't as bad as it looks. "I'd take advantage of it. Short of another accident, there aren't many other ways you'll get me to just do your bidding."

Sean smiles, but it's small and halfhearted, failing to reach his eyes. Then, deciding that there shouldn't be too much harm in taking her up on her earlier offer as long as he doesn't make a habit out of it, he makes the motion of raising a glass and drinking, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Water?" Meredith asks, but it isn't really a question. He needs fluids, not alcohol, at this juncture, even if he didn't have this particular set of injuries (as if she needs another reason to keep an eye on him). "I'll be right back." Touching his arm, she gets to her feet and heads off. Even with the crowds and the pain in her leg, she makes quick work of it, returning a minute or two later and sitting on his bed again. The relief that comes with being able to do anything at all almost makes her feel even worse as she hands the glass to him.

Sean's not sure if the silence is made easier to bear without her around or harder. That probably just means that the difference is negligible, but he can't help but want to read more into it as he waits, and when she returns it's a relief if only so he can stop thinking about it. With a nod of thanks, he takes the glass and drinks, but some twinge in his throat has it going down the wrong way and he's coughing a few seconds later, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth.

Meredith grabs the glass from him and sets it aside before he can drop it, leaning forward to rub circles against his back. "Okay," she says quietly, "okay, it's fine, are you — are you okay?" It's such a ridiculous thing to be upset by, something that could happen at any time, but she finds herself a little panicked anyway, still on edge from earlier.

Even if he wasn't busy choking on nothing, Sean wouldn't be able to answer her, and the thought only serves to frustrate him further as he leans forward and tries to start breathing again. Still, he forces himself to nod frantically, because this is already about as pathetic as it gets and he may as well try to retain at least some of his dignity.

Edited 2011-02-03 09:54 (UTC)

Meredith turns around so she can sit beside him instead, slipping an arm around him. The process of caring for someone, removed from the medicine of it, is one she knows too well, one she doesn't enjoy in the least, but she has to pull herself together for this. He doesn't need to worry himself over her at a time like this, so she grits her teeth and bears it when her left leg refuses to join her right on the bed.

Sean leans against her for support automatically, but he draws back as soon as he's capable of drawing a complete breath without coughing again. If they were at home, maybe, but this is too public a place and he's already feeling far too vulnerable as it is. There's a long moment where all he wants to do is grab the glass and chuck it across the room, but he manages to restrain himself.

"Good," Meredith murmurs. "Okay." Until he starts wanting to rush things, they'll do this at his pace, so she waits for an indication he's ready to try again, lightly rubbing his shoulder in the meanwhile. Seeing him like this is more than a little difficult, but she's not going anywhere so long as he wants her around.

Sean shoots her a look, somehow affronted that any of this could be described with those words, but there's not a whole lot of feeling behind it, distracted as he is. Eventually, he reaches over her for the glass again, because as much as he's gone off the idea of it now, he's not about to act like he's been beaten by a task as simple as drinking. It's just a matter of paying attention, of being aware of his throat as he swallows.

Meredith doesn't let herself be fazed by that. She's dealt with worse looks — and more than looks — in worse circumstances. Lucid or not, her mother was never one to mince words. This is simple. This is temporary. It's a relief all the same to see him manage it this time around, to know she isn't going to have to bring out an IV to keep him hydrated and see him hooked up like that. "Good," she says. "I wasn't sure — with the damage you took... It might not seem like much, but this is good."

Sean gives a scoff, quiet and humourless and yes, still extremely painful, shaking his head. She's certainly right about the first part of that. It doesn't seem like much. He sets the glass back down without finishing it, having proven himself enough for the time being, still resisting the urge to just throw it at the wall like a petulant child. He's pretty sure he dropped the clipboard somewhere in the midst of all that, but he can't even bring himself to care.

Meredith leans back, quiet, incapable of getting comfortable when they're still so public and she's aware she's stopped working in the middle of a very busy, very complicated time. She doesn't feel like she's in charge of much right now, but there's no options here, no alternatives, no question of whether she stays at his side or not. She reaches for his hand again. They'll get through this.

Sean threads his fingers through hers, briefly lifting her hand to press a kiss to the back of it. He doesn't want to acknowledge it, but the fact of the matter is that he's scared. The last time he was left without a voice, for a weekend no less, it damn near wrecked him and he took it out on her. That was just this place toying with him. This is a far graver problem, and one of his own making, and he's honestly unsure if he has it in him to make it through intact.

Either way, he'll find out soon enough.

Meredith bites her lip, leaning over to rest her head against his for a moment. "You can come home as soon as it's reasonable," she says quietly. "I want you home, I want to go home now. I just don't want to take unnecessary risks." They've had enough of those already today. "I just need you to trust that I know what I'm doing."

Sean gives a terse nod, though he remains, to put it mildly, clearly displeased with the idea. If there's one thing left in the world that he trusts in, though, it's her. Whether that will prove to be enough to keep him here for as long as she wants is anyone's guess, but it's got nothing to do with his faith in her. She only wants what's best for him.

"Thank you." Squeezing his hand gently, Meredith musters up a smile. He's not happy with this, she knows, but she can't imagine any reason why he should be. She was anxious to get home when she spent less time in here than he'll have to or should, and she could still speak. That's the one that worries her most, that she doesn't know how long this will last. In the long run, a few weeks or even months isn't very bad at all, if they're so lucky, but a weekend was enough to break her heart over. They don't need the help. She hesitates, looking down, before she adds, "And thank you for... for what you did up there."

Sean shakes his head at that, but not unkindly. Privacy be damned, he reaches up with his free hand to tip her chin back up and toward him before he cups her cheek, rests his forehead against hers and watches her all the while. He doesn't deserve thanks. He did what he had to.

Breath catching in her throat, Meredith has to steel herself again not to start crying like an idiot, but it's a near thing. "I should have stayed down here," she says, "I shouldn't have gone. You wouldn't be here." There was never trouble before and she knows she couldn't have known, but that doesn't make it any easier not to think it's at least somewhat her fault this happened.

Edited 2011-02-03 12:38 (UTC)

Staunchly ignoring the part of him that agrees with her (the bit about staying on the ground, at least), he shakes his head more fervently this time, shushing her. She did nothing wrong, had no way of knowing what would happen. He's the one who made actual mistakes, avoidable ones. It's his own fault he's here and hearing her take the blame like that... it's unacceptable.

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