Just Kidding [Open]

[unrecovered]

Who: Wash and whoever wants to visit him
What: Guess who has another near-death experience to add to the pile!
Where: Medbay
When: The day after this, so also after Time Ripples and Mind Slayer
Warnings/Notes: None yet

Wash wakes up slowly. He's sore, and in an unfamiliar bed, and for a brief moment he thinks of Connie and wonders if he doubled down on that mistake-

Oh. No, he's in medical. Different kind of mistake, then.

It doesn't take long for the staff to notice he's awake and give him the rundown. The bullet caused massive damage to his lung (entry wound was fairly standard; exit wound was a mess); he's only alive because Chief and Dave brought got him to medical in time, and even then he was touch and go for a little bit; yes, that is Dave in the bed next to him, but it's exhaustion from power overuse and he'll be fine once he's had some rest; Wash has healed up fine thanks to his healing factor, but he's still on bed rest until tomorrow at the earliest. The nurse imparting that last piece of information has one of the sternest glares he thinks he's ever seen, and they don't let up until Wash raises his hands in surrender. "Okay. Bed rest. Got it."

That's evidently good enough, and they leave him to his own devices and thoughts he'd rather avoid. Superheroing for months, facing down assassins in his fucking memories and twisted amped-up comic villains and Darth Vader, and he nearly dies because of a sniper that wasn't in the briefing of a mission that should've been a milk run. Christ.

He wonders if the news got out. It's been more than twelve hours, so probably. That probably caused one hell of a ruckus. He can probably look forward to having company, then. Should be fun, for certain what-do-you-mean-you-nearly-died-again flavors of "fun."

Maybe he can catch someone before they come in and get them to bring him fruit from the mess. He can hope, right?

Comments

For Dave

[unrecovered]

[turntex]

Dave wakes up feeling like he just went toe to toe with some variant of Jack Noir again. Sort of. Physically, he kinda feels fine. No body parts are hurting, his muscles aren't sore or anything. But there's a sense of exhaustion that feels anchored in his fucking bones, and as he tries to sit up a little ow okay he also has a killer headache.

The pounding headache definitely isn't helped by the sterile white room and bright lighting, worse than normal because he's missing his ever-present shades. Someone must have taken them off for him.

It's that thought that reminds him of the lead-in to this situation, being carried by the Chief atop a dying Wash, crashing on through the threshold gate and towards the medbay, straining to keep the little bubble of frozen time around Wash going until he couldn't even see straight anymore and blacked out somewhere in the last leg of the trip.

Right. Fuck. Wash.

For a moment there's a surge of panic in him, not knowing what had happened after that. Shit, Wash would have started bleeding out again as soon as he was out cold, did they make it the rest of the way to the medbay in time--

Dave forces himself upright, ignoring the way it makes his head throb like a motherfucker, whipping around and... Oh. There's Wash. Cool.

Groaning as the headache hits him properly, Dave drops his head against his knees. "Hey," he manages after a few moments, voice muffled against the sheets draped over his legs. "Look at that, you survived a sniper shot to the fucking chest. Better be getting the goddamn Purple Heart for this shit."

[unrecovered]

Wash hasn't been awake for too long - long enough to know that breathing too deeply makes his chest ache, at least - before he hears the groan coming from the other side of the room, followed by the snark. Well, Dave sounds like he's doing about as okay as can be expected. Good.

"If I got a Purple Heart every time I got injured, I'd have enough to paint my armor purple. And I'm not doing that, because that's medic colors." A beat. "Are you holding up okay?"

For Chief

[unrecovered]

[prettycoolguy]

First, there was work to do. The Chief was the only member of the team left conscious, and he needed to report on what happened. Then, he'd hovered outside medical until they'd finally managed to get it through to him that hovering outside medical A) would not do anything and B) was making people nervous.

Only the second point, because it might affect someone's job, really made the difference. He'd retreated to get out of his armor, shower down, eat. But he hadn't been able to rest easy, and only managed a few hours of sleep. Spartans don't need much, and he's just been too wired for it besides. There's a bundle of raw new emotions running through him that he's trying to suppress and avoid naming, and it hasn't been easy.

It's not enough to stop him from showing up in medical entirely too early in the goddamn morning, though, and some poor soul let slip that Wash might be awake sometime "soon". With that blood in the water, there's been no chance of moving him from his vigil.

He's the first one to come in when they finally allow visitors, and though he's out of armor he still makes the smile sign when he catches Wash's eye. It's good backup to the somewhat thin one on his face.

"You slept in," he says as he sinks down into the visitor's chair. He deposits what he's been carrying onto the table next to Wash's bed. It's a single pear.

[thedreamisdead]

"You'd think the singer girl would've been enough warning for people to start watching their backs."

Hello, Wash. It's your favorite, wandering in without even a knock. Just three steps in, a glance to see if he's awake, and opening up. She hasn't even bothered to bring in any flowers.

America stands across the room and folds her arms. "I was in for a checkup, thought I'd see how bad it was. Looks to me like a case of malingering." She pauses. It really had been that. No sense of friendship or camaraderie here, they had no grounds for that, just making sure a co-worker wasn't going to die on them. "Going to ask them to step up the armor when you're getting the next one fabricated?"

[unrecovered]

There's a huge difference between giving the still-living a hard time for poor life decisions and speaking ill of the dead - especially those who had died giving their all. Of course, America's just tromped all over it, because she's America.

What she gets in return is his flattest, least amused look. "Your concern has been noted and filed in the appropriate locations," he says, miming tossing something in the nearby trash can. "Now kindly fuck off."

[goddamngrenades]

Things had settled (a bit) and sure, missions are a thing. Wash on an op with the Chief? Cakewalk, everyone's gonna come home fine. Must be him buying into that legend of the Spartans or some shit but when there's a team that's sort of invested in keeping everyone safe? Odds are in their favor they're gonna come home. York figured it'd be a milk run and nothing much would go off the rails.

And then there's word of them returning with wounded. Critically injured. And the flashbacks are really fucking unpleasant. Not as much as poking his head in and seeing Wash in the hospital bed and-

This part isn't familiar. He'd never spent all that much time checking up on anyone outside of the leaderboard and Wash was sort of...orbiting them even when he made the top ten. Another reason to kick his past self in the nuts. But here and now? He makes his way to the chair, dropping into it without much fanfare. Bullet to the chest. That-

Yeah, not gonna make this about him or his issues. Or at least that's the intention, then what comes out of his mouth is- "Dude, you're stealing my shtick, here."

[unrecovered]

Wash is dozing off when he hears someone come in. They've made it to the chair by the time he's shaken himself awake, and he realizes it's York when he opens his mouth and-

Oh, come on.

Wash just raises an eyebrow. "And I've already made it better."

[legionnpcs]

It's very difficult for an eight foot tall robot to tiptoe into a room. It's not a matter of balance, his gyros are advanced enough that Babbage could do ballet while carrying the team on his back. It's more the fact that he's heavy. It'd be better if he were walking normally, at least there'd just be a click-clack noise rather than the floorboards creaking in protest.

Still, he's pretty sure Wash is asleep, so he doesn't even spare a glance toward the bed, opting to go for a table and setting down a few 'get well soon' holos the fans had sent in and a box of chocos.

He pauses, then rearranges the holos in order of height. Better. Now, time to stealthily sneak back out before anyone spots him.

[unrecovered]

Wash has been a light sleeper for a good long while now, so the floorboards whining definitely wakes him up. He watches Babbage 'sneak' into the room, arrange what are probably fan gifts - fuck yeah someone sent him spacefuture Oreos - and turn to leave.

This is kind of amazing, actually.

"You know," he says conversationally, "you're not very good at the whole sneaking thing."

[lovernotafighter]

"What. The. Fuck."

It wasn't that Tucker was mad; he wasn't, at least, not at Wash. Shit happened on missions, and sometimes it was getting stabbed and sometimes it was getting shot through the lung by a sniper, but either way it was all crap. People died sometimes and it bitterly reminded him of Chorus, even if Wash was still alive.

We're supposed to be retired, dammit. You're supposed to have a dumb weird beard and we're fighting dinosaurs and that's it. No more getting shot. No more getting fucking almost killed. That was the rule.

So no, he wasn't mad, he was scared, and Tucker hated feeling like this. He walked into the room, trying to downplay all the other shit in his head for the moment. Wash was okay. He was breathing. He'd...he'd be fine, right?

"Do you know what Dr. Grey would say about this shit? Do you know how loud the opera would be?"

[unrecovered]

That didn't take long. Wash had known that Tucker wouldn't be happy when he heard about what happened, but this is still a quick turnaround. "Nice to see you too," he says lightly, because why the hell would either of them talk about what they're actually thinking when they can be sarcastic instead? "And she'd probably consider my healing factor a medical miracle and call dibs on dissecting me the next time I get shot."

[nofortunateson]

Word gets around when a mission goes sideways - and there was a time he would have been hanging around, waiting for Wash to wake up. When he had done that, months ago in his own reckoning and however many years it's been to Wash's.

Hell. Everyone back to their right ages, and there are still timelines giving him headaches.

The waiting gives him a chance to find somewhere that does a decent fruit basket - Earth-sourced fruit for the most part, at that, and he splurges and goes for the one with decorative flower shapes and chocolate-dipped whatevers in the mix. No one stops him as he walks into medical with it, either, which must mean he's doing well enough to eat it.

He's not sure anything can really be normal again, or that it could be even on the same timeline. But he's come through one fight intact with Wash fighting alongside him, and that feels like close enough to teammates to knock on his door and peek in, basket tucked under his arm.

"Hey there. Is hospital food any better in the 31st century?"

[unrecovered]

Wash is currently balancing on that line between bored enough to check the network for the umpteenth time and not quite bored enough to start looking up fanfiction about himself just to see how insane people get. North showing up is a welcome distraction; North showing up with a fancy fruit basket is a fucking godsend. "It's all still vegan, so no," he deadpans.

[whyarewehere]

Grif hesitated before deciding to come see Wash. On the one hand, it's what he should do because Wash is his friend. But on the other hand, he just blew up at his friend in a pretty public and stupid way. He's cooled down now, and hopefully Wash has too, but still? Right after a mission that went to shit seems like an awkward time to have the next conversation.

Grif supposes it's his own fault for putting it off. It's never going to be a non-awkward time to have the next conversation.

After a lot of arguing with himself, he finally heads down to medical to see how Wash is doing. He debates on bringing some kind of peace offering, but he figures that by this point? Dude has to be loaded down with fruit. He has thoughtful friends that have to have visited by now. And really, while he's thinking about it? Showing up at all is a pretty big peace offering by his standards. If that's not good enough, Wash can-

No. He was trying not to be like this, really trying, and he crams that feeling back down where it belongs as he steps in.

"So Wash," he says. "I heard you found somebody who could actually aim a sniper rifle."

[unrecovered]

Honestly, Wash is surprised to see Grif of all people show up. He's pretty sure Rich helped, because that tends to be Rich's default state, but "I got mad at you and then you nearly died" is a shitty conversation to have regardless of what side of it you're on. He'd figured Grif would wait until things had blown over before talking to him.

The past 24 hours have just been full of surprises, haven't they.

"Nope. I'm still here, so obviously they have no idea what they're doing." It had been a competent kill shot and he's only still alive because he had two quick-thinking teammates with the exact right combination of powers, but he's perfectly fine not addressing that.

[isthisapidge]

Does Wash go to the hospital an inordinate amount? It sure feels like it, though Pidge would have to analyze the actual hospital records to say for sure. Either way, it's too often for Pidge's tastes. Every time is a brand new set of odds that he makes it through whatever misadventure it is with his life.

You can't play that many time and not risk snake eyes.

"You're the only guy I know," she says, peering through the door to see if he's awake, "who can go on a mission with a super-solider and a time traveler and still end up the target."

The humor in her voice is ever so slightly strained. She's just...still not used to this.

[unrecovered]

Wash does wind up in medical quite a bit, namely because he's usually first in line to volunteer to take a bullet for someone else.

Not that that's how it played out this time, but nonetheless.

He raises an eyebrow as Pidge peeks in. "In sniper lingo, they call that a sure shot." Go for the one you can actually kill: in this case, the dumbass in front of the open window.

[muroieda]

Between his aptitude to get injured while on missions (to varying degrees of severity) and lingering symptoms of radiation sickness, Junkrat is a frequent sight at medbay. Ironically enough, around these parts he's developed a reputation for being well-behaved, if mostly accredited to the combination of positive reinforcement and his keen sense of delayed gratification. In other words, he's found that treatment in Legion World is pretty damn effective, and curse him if he'll do anything that would put a distance between him and these drugs.

It's even earned him the privilege of wandering medbay as he wishes, tethered to an IV drip while dressed in his casual tank top and capris. While he stays out of the way of the medbay staff, that doesn't mean that he leaves other patients alone. Strangely enough, no one's really complained...because more often than not, he's been able to provide company to those who never have visitors, or put a smile on someone's face who needed it.

He peeks his head into the room that Wash is laid up in, but hesitates when he gets the feeling that he knows this guy. He can't remember a name, or even where he's met Wash before--despite the major chew-out he got a few weeks ago, but he lingers way too long to just simply leave without saying anything.

"Uh. G'day," he offers awkwardly.

[unrecovered]

Wash, on the other hand, absolutely remembers Junkrat. Nearly half a dozen movie nights and he's only ever had to boot one person out the door, so something like that leaves an impression.

But here Junkrat is, standing at his door, looking awkward and slightly confused...which is a look that everyone wears in medbay at one time or another, honestly. Being hooked up to an IV with God knows what in it probably doesn't help. "Hey," he replies, nodding to the IV. "You okay?"

[bachido]

When the medics finally allowed Kubo to come visit, he surprised the orderlies by instead leaving the medical wing, but only briefly. He had to go get Wash a fruit basket.

It's not a fancy fruit basket, it's just every fruit Kubo has ever seen Wash eat put into a basket and toted along for his visit. It takes a whole arm to hold up, though, because after all Kubo had to get enough for the both of them.

"Are you awake? Are you hungry?"

He's a little winded from his dash between the mess hall and the medical wing. Fresh fruit for Wash after a near-death is worth a little exertion.

[unrecovered]

It occurs to Wash when he sees Kubo come in, laden with an overly large fruit basket, winded and worried, that Kubo has already lost both of his parents and that Wash nearly biting it would have made three. No wonder Kubo is upset.

Not for the first time today, he feels guilt gnawing at the edges of his stomach. He should have kept his guard up. He never should have let this happen.

But he can worry about that later. Right now, Kubo is his priority. He takes the fruit basket from him, setting it on his bedside table, and pats the bed next to him. Come get a hug, Kubo. "A little, yeah. You plan on having some too, right?"

[agnominal]

"Hn. You survived."

That's the greeting he gets when he comes around and finds Locus peering in on him from the door, arms crossed. It's hard to say if he looks more displeased, concerned, or annoyed. It's some vague mix of the three, but regardless, Wash is getting eyeballed pretty hard at the moment.

[unrecovered]

Wow, and here he'd thought America's bedside manner was terrible. "Yeah, I tend to do that," he replies with all the inevitable sarcasm that comment deserves. "You of all people should know that by now."