[closed]

[justice_from_above]

Who| Pharah, Junkrat, and Roadhog
What| Recovery
Where| Junker's hab
When| Three days after this
Warnings/Notes| injury, will update as needed

Fareeha awoke with a start, eyes snapping open with a sharp intake of breath. A fire erupted inside, her lunges pressing against bruised rips and battered body that left her wincing and holding back a cough (which also hurt. In fact, everything hurt). She closes her eyes again and focuses on regulating her breathing, but even then there was still a certain level of agony.

She remained still, flexing her fingers, curling her toes, quietly assessing her body and coming to her own conclusion that she was mostly alright. She had all of her limbs, at least. She blinked her eyes open and looked around the space. It was bright, and hot, and as her eyes focused her suspicions were confirmed; she was lying in Junkrat's bed in his faux-Aussie habitat.

Thinking back, she couldn't remember how she got here. The last thing she recalled was Lemuria; buildings crumbling, water rushing in, trying to recover citzens and herd them towards the evacuation routes. Roadhog ... she'd been clearing a building with Roadhog ...

With a grunt and a wince, she attempts to push herself up. If she's back on the ship, she should be in medical. Why wasn't she in medical ... ?

Comments

[justice_from_above]

Both of them, of course, forgetting the extent of advanced medical here. Fareeha sags into the bed and closes her eyes, just breathing in the moment. She wasn't looking forward to being any amount of incapacitated but it looked like she didn't have any other choice.

"I gotta warn you, Jaime: I don't do well with boredom." It's in part a plea to help keep her stimulated, as well as the blatant warning its dressed as. She knows she's going to be restless and discontent.

[muroieda]

"Good thing we didn't take ya ta med then."

These two have more in common than anyone else would guess. After all, there's more freedom in bedrest at home than in a ward.

"I was gonna sponge ya down, but ya wanna try taking a walk around the garage first? Get the blood flowin' again?"

[justice_from_above]

Fareeha chuckles for a moment before suppressing it with a cough; bad idea, chest on fire now. She figures he had a point. After she's able to regulate her breathing again, she nods gingerly.

"Yes, a walk sounds good about now." She reaches her hand out to him for assistance, because she's at least learned she's not going to be moving easy or well on her own. At least, not for another day or two.

[muroieda]

Junkrat nods once and stands up, only to lean back in, putting his head over her shoulder as his arms wrap around her waist.

"Here we go..."

He helps her not by forcing her up, but rather allowing her the chance to move on her own to get up on her own feet--he just provides the support that if she needs to lean on anything, or if she loses her strength in a reflex response to pain, she won't find herself back on the bed or the floor.

When she gets back on her feet, Junkrat guides her arm to wrap around his waist, as he does with hers. Before they set off, he gives her a look-over to make sure she's still doing okay.

[justice_from_above]

Fareeha wraps her arms around his neck, and shifts her legs over the side of the bed. She aches all over, but her lungs and ribs respond the worst. The flex of abdominal muscles as she moves to stand leave her feeling flush and faint with pain, but she swallows back any complaint. There might be a hesitation or two as she shifts herself into the most comfortable position, resting her weight on Junkrat when she needs, but she's determined not to take this lying down.

When he looks over, her expression is pale and drawn, sweat beaded on her brow, but there's also a look of determination to her.

[muroieda]

"Don't push yourself." It's the first thing that comes to mind when he sees her face under the strain of being upright for the first time in three days. "Ya don't have anyone ta prove wrong. Not me, not yourself."

He knows it's going to be easier said than done with Fareeha, a career woman who takes on any challenge as a dead-set goal instead of picking her battles. Recovery is not something you can rush.

"Let's try getting to me bench first," he says, gesturing his head in the direction of said workbench. It's not like it's a short trip, necessarily speaking -- they still have to get past the living room area, and the garage is quite spacious by default. "Then we'll figure out where ta go from there."

[justice_from_above]

It's a gut instinct to push, decades spent trying to prove herself to her mother, to herself. It's not going to be an easy habit to break. There will always be a part of her that pushes, because that's just who she is, but he makes her aware of the fact that this is one of those moments she needs to lessen her intensity.

She nods, and leans against him, hand tight around his waist. Each step is slow and measured, each breath is shallower than she'd like, but again she moves without complaint. That is, until they get to the workbench and she reaches her free hand out to grip the edge, and lets out a careful breath.

"I think I need to reassess my goals here." A lengthy walk may not be in the cards just yet.

[muroieda]

Junkrat lets out a well-meaning giggle, not giving her a moment to rest when she reaches the edge--rather, he leads her to take a seat in his chair. Despite being made with an amalgamation of random things to make a chair, it stands sturdy under her weight, backrest enough to lean back on comfortably.

"Take a breather, mate," he suggests, leaning back against the bench to half-sit on it. He reaches out and runs his fleshy hand through the hair on the crown of her head, mussing it up affectionately.

[justice_from_above]

That the chair is more sturdy than it looks is par for the course; she's familiar enough with his constructions by now to know he's got an otherworldly idea on how things fit together that don't at all seem like they should. Fareeha settles herself gingerly on it and lets out a shaky breath.

She does attempt to sway out of Junkrat's reach, but it's more out of playful instinct than any real desire to avoid it. Also, she's not able to move too far out of the way anyhow. She smiles, though, and reaches up to catch his and and interlace her fingers with his. "Just a short one. I don't want to get too comfortable."

[muroieda]

He chuckles as she tries to get away. Not on his watch, she won't! Aw, but he'll always take hand-holding. He gives her a little squeeze as their hands rest to a comfortable neutral while still lace together.

"First ya wanna reassess yer goals and then ya don't want ta get comfy? Yer sendin' me mixed signals, Fee."

Worse comes to worse, he could always carry her. He's a lot stronger than he looks.

"Do ya wanna try the living room or would ya rather return ta bed?"

[justice_from_above]

Her small smile fades as she thinks about her own hypocrisy. This was going to be a challenging recovery, she could tell. She looks over to the living room; that's where she wants to go, but her lungs are on fire, her head is playing out a percussion concerto in stereo. She purses her lips, her breathing shallow but measured, and eventually concedes the point.

"Back to bed." There's a certain level of defeat in her voice, but she's trying - trying - not to push herself. It'd be too easy to extend the goal, to press forward, even if it meant further pain and suffering, but with his encouragement and honesty, she's now far too aware of what that pushing really meant. There's nothing to be gained from throwing herself back into the battle; Legion is full of capable heroes (Junkrat being one of them), and she's not going to be as missed as she would be in a small fireteam like her Helix family was. She looks up at him and smiles, but it's clear this is a tough decision for her and pride is a bitter thing to swallow.

[muroieda]

As soon as she makes up her mind, he's at attention like earlier, providing primarily support and a little bit of force if needed. The walk back is just as eventful as the first one, a muted smile on his face the whole time.

There is a little bit of obvious relief in his energy after he helps her back into bed, safely horizontal once again. He lets out a sigh and leans down to peck her forehead.

"I'm proud of ya, Fee. Good walk fer just comin' out of a three-day coma."

If she feels like she has to swallow her pride, he'll make up the difference. Junkrat pulls a drafting stool aside and takes a seat on it, hands on his lap.

"We can make a bit of exercise with washing ya up. Lift and shift when needed, but ya can always rely on me if it ends up bein' too much. Sound like a plan?"

[justice_from_above]

Her body is relieved itself to be settled back in bed, and she sinks down into it with a sigh. Junkrat's affection and words help keep her mind from falling into a dark thought spiral, and she looks over at him with a small smile.

Three days. She kept forgetting she was out for so long. "Mm. Yes, I like the sound of that." It's at least doing something, with less exertion than taking a walk around the garage.

[muroieda]

With a nod, Junkrat reaches out to take her hand with his metal one. He pulls on her arm to stretch it outward towards him, while his free hand reaches for the water basin and squeezes out excess water from the rag.

When he wraps his hand and rag around her arm, it becomes immediately clear that this isn't just for cleaning. His pressure is just aggressive enough to get the blood flowing, which might be a little excessive now that she's awake and managed to move around...but it still acts like a light massage featuring the slight abrasive texture of the rag.

[justice_from_above]

It's an odd sort of stimulus, sort of refreshing in a painful way. Fareeha watches him, expression fairly neutral aside from small winces with the abrasion. It's good, though, and she doesn't complain. She just continues to observe quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"You, are a diamond in the rough." Her voice is tired and soft, but there's a deep affection in it.

[muroieda]

He's easily distracted by the comment, having just finished going into her armpit.

"Uh." The rag hangs in his hand, now cold from the task and needing to be dunked in the hot water again as he stares with a dumbfounded expression. "Come again?"

[justice_from_above]

"I'm glad you asked me to accompany you on the Olum mission. Thank you." She reaches for his shoulder, as he's leaning into her armpit, and gives him a squeeze. "You're a treasure, Jamie. I love you."

She wasn't generally a really openly affectionate person, but his careful attention in helping her recover is noted and appreciated. She smiles warmly at him.

[muroieda]

"T-treasure?"

What. Him? He'd always deflected it when people told him he was a waste of space, garbage, a failure, a mistake, an embarrassment--he'd have to, if he wanted to hold onto his self-worth. But treasure? I love you? Junkrat feels like he's put his face too close to an open fire, which isn't that far off from reality--the embers at the tips of his hair inflame, becoming actual licks of fire like lit matchsticks.

"Me? Nah, nah--no, y've got the wrong bloke," Junkrat holds up his hands up in defense, his grin crooked and awkward, as the rag falls to the bed. All but a second passes before he gets off of the stool and climbs onto bed with her, hovering above her as he kneels on all fours.

"But the ancient Egyptians...they had a thing fer treasure, didn't they? Put it in those temples, leavin' 'em under the watchful eye of their gods, yeah?"

His eyes pointedly trail the length of her tattoo before looking back up to make eye contact.

"Think I remember readin' somewhere that they left the hearts inside of their embalmed pharaohs." Even with his hair still lit, he leans down to press his ear against her chest, closing his eyes to focus on her heartbeat. "Yer heart is the best treasure I've ever stolen."

[justice_from_above]

"Wrong bloke? Are you saying I married the wrong person?" Her tone is soft and playful as she runs her hand up his flesh arm. She takes small breaths, settling her hand on his shoulder as he leans his head against her chest. She resists the urge to run her fingers through his hair because well, she's injured enough; she's not interested in adding burns to the list. Eventually she will trail her fingers down his spine and settle her other hand over his metal arm.

"Better take good care of it; the wrath of the gods is never pleasant thing." She's joking, of course, because he's already excelling at that particular task.

[muroieda]

"I'd take 'em all on if I had ta."

Junkrat pulls his head up again, this time settling his chin into a cradle that he makes with his hands, chin resting on the balls of his hands, as uneven as the terrain is. He seems to have completely forgotten about the task at hand.

"Thankfully I have no intention of pissin' em off."

[justice_from_above]

She continues to run her hand idly up and down his back. She's still feeling the press of exhaustion and pain, but she appreciates having this quiet, peaceful moment with him. She smiles, a little devious, and pulls in a careful breath.

"Ah, but these gods can be fickle; they're flawed and prone to ego. Unpredictable at best."

[muroieda]

"Even with all of their flaws, they should be able ta see..."

He leans in and leaves a kiss on her lips, only a few moments long, before pulling back and giving her a relaxed grin.

"ٲنَا بَحِبِّك"

His pronunciation has improved by leaps and bounds in an exceptionally short amount of time.