legionworld | (no subject)

Entry tags:

justice/vance astrovik

(no subject)

Who| Robbie and any injured Legionnaires.
What| Visiting hours.
Where| Medbay
When| After Cancerverse.
Warnings/Notes| None.

Visiting teammates in medbay is far mandatory, but it’s just what you do, even if they’ll probably be out by dinner. Then again, Robbie’s technically been a medbay inmate himself for more than a day.

He’s allowed – encouraged – to move around at this point. He had several dips in the goo tanks and robotic surgery to repair the puncture wounds, but broken ribs are still broken ribs 1000 years later. They can accelerate the bones knitting back together, but it’s just pain management and keeping mobile enough to prevent things healing too tight and help his lungs stay clear.

Despite this, he still had to enlist one of the nurses to get him gag gifts for the other Legionnaires getting treated. Because flowers are great, but laughter is the best medicine.

Robbie approaches the bed quietly with only a wave and waits to see if his teammate even wants company at the moment.

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Rich is in one of the private rooms instead of one of the beds on the main Medbay floor. Dr. Gym'll and Dr. Ry'kerr had thought it best for him to have some peace and quiet.

He doesn't see Robbie at first, but it's not because his attention is occupied by anything else. He's just staring straight ahead, at the bare wall.

There's a tension in his jaw that shouldn't be there, when all he's staring at is nothing. It suggests that he's simply...somewhere else.

He's not alone. A nurse has been put on one-to-one with him, to make sure he's okay whenever his friends aren't in the room. The nurse smiles when Robbie comes in.

"If you want some time alone, I can leave," he offers. "But you need to let me know when you're leaving so I can come back in."

Rich himself says nothing. It'll take a little more effort to get his attention.

“Hey, Rich.” It’s hard to take in the tableau and continue breathing. Luckily, Robbie doesn’t have to breathe properly. He can blame gasps and wheezes on the ribs.

He tries to breathe right anyway. He spent the better part of a year … probably looking exactly like Rich does right now. Robbie knows how much you can hear and notice while “ignoring” everything. Sometimes, he caught the tiniest details. Others, he saw so little he lost track of time for days or weeks.

He doesn’t like the scene. Rich not even glancing at the newcomer, the nurse just chilling there – like Robbie doesn’t know why medical people sit in rooms.

But Rich isn’t in a padded cell. And he’s not wearing a straight jacket. Those are solid improvements. Robbie doesn’t know how he’d have handled seeing that forced on a friend, but this is manageable. “You can go. I’ll stay until he kicks me out. If that hasn’t happened by the end of your shift, just pop your head in and make sure I didn’t pass out.”

Robbie’s hand rests on the back of an empty chair as he stares at the patch of wall that Rich is focused on. He wants to sit there, force Rich to see him, acknowledge him, talk to him.

Rich doesn’t have much control over his current situation, though. After a moment, Robbie pulls the chair up in the traditional hospital-visiting bedside position. “I got you something. Well, I got Ne'ekg the Space Station Orderly to get it for you.”

Robbie reaches into the bag and pulls out a lump of heavy brown folds, sitting the terrycloth overcoat (overrobe?) on Rich's lap.

It still takes him a moment. It shouldn't take this long, with Robbie talking to him and dumping something on his lap, but it does. His brain has to work hard to drag itself up out of the pit it's in.

But it does. And he finally comes back down to Earth.

When he's back, he suddenly breathes in, like he's surprised to find himself in the Medbay, and he looks up at Robbie with wide eyes, taking him in, checking to make sure he's all in one piece. It's clear that he didn't hear anything Robbie just said.

"Hey. Hey, Robbie. Hey."

His speech is flitting around all over the place, incapable of deciding if it wants to manic or slurred and it's making a mess trying to be both at the same time.

He looks at the robe.

"Aw, is this - is this for me? That's nice."

He starts running the fingers of his flesh and blood hand over it, methodically, like the very idea of "soft" is a novelty he's forgotten and he's trying to remember it again.

"You're okay, right? You look okay. They said you were okay." He adds quickly, "M'sorry. I let them hurt you. M'sorry. Sorry."

That didn’t take long. Apparently, the thousand yard stare got boring. Robbie smiles a little. He didn’t have to cause a powers-related distraction. “Hey, Kid Nova.”

The scrutiny makes him more uncomfortable. He knows he’s not breathing deep enough yet, but forcing a deep breath will make him wince. He’s not going to try to pretend and make it worse.

“I’m okay. Everything's stitched up and accelerated healing gooed so you can’t tell at all.” Robbie hikes up one side of his shirt, to show off that there aren’t even stitches anymore. “I think that goo fades the old stuff too, but it could be in my head.”

He lets the shirt drop and, while he’s fumbling it into place, adds quietly. “Don’t be. I know it’s not the hammer’s fault. Doc tells me that a lot.”

Robbie doubts Rich will listen, but he says it anyway and reaches over to touch Rich's good shoulder. "Nothing to be sorry about."

Everything after getting back and Rich breaking down is a blur. He remembers hugging Rich, trying to say the right things and feeling clumsy in a way he hasn't for a while. He remembers getting to the medbay and doing his best to make sure the others were treated first.

Then he found a bed and just collapsed. Honestly, it probably wasn't the best way to handle a concussion, but it also wasn't the first time that he'd fallen unconscious with one, either.

And, apparently, it wasn't the first time a Legionnaire had done something similar, either. By the time that Robbie finds him, groggy and just starting to come back around, Vance has been treated for his injuries and changed out of his uniform and into something a bit more like pajamas. It takes him a moment to get his bearings before he starts trying to sit up.

Trying. Because Vance immediately winces and lays down again. "Oww."

Wasn’t anything going to be easy today? 'Ow' is not anything near reassuring, and Robbie’s been worried since he woke up. It’s more than his friends being on a mission without him. One of them was possessed and clearly knew how to hurt them.

Clearly knew the best way to take out Vance was a headshot. Hell, Vance can’t sit up without pain. That’s gutwrenchingly bad. If Rob hadn’t gotten hurt if Vance had let him stay, he would have protected Vance.

Of course, Robbie couldn’t have stayed because he’d been bleeding internally and externally, but he’s grumpy about it now. He wasn’t there. That’s his fault.

“Are you okay? They told me you were okay.” He sounds every bit as worried as he is. “I would’ve come to see you first if I knew you’d gotten hurt.”

It's almost second nature to react to that worry. Vance doesn't try sitting up again. But he does turn his head so that he can see Robbie. "I'm okay, Robbie," he says immediately. Then winces. "Well. Mostly okay. I just got to play teke ball with Giant Man." One corner of his mouth quirks up. "Main problem being I was in the ball."

He frowns at this response and tries to cover it with a whiny joke. “Aw, come on. You guys played catch without me? I have permanent dibs on being the ball.”

Which, he sort of does. Ha Robbie drops into a nearby chair and tries to not lean over the bed and fuss. “So what’s the prognosis? Should I spring you now?”

It's normally Vance doing the fussing. So this is a little strange. But not anything that Vance won't accept.

"You know how it is. They tend to just use whatever is available for a ball." After another few moments, Vance starts pushing himself up again. Slower, this time, which causes some tightening around his eyes but not as badly as before. "Concussion. Nothing worse that I've dealt with before, promise. Should probably be okay to return to my own rooms soon." Well, he's guessing about that, mostly.

Vance is determined to give Robbie grey hairs because not worrying about Vance isn’t happening. Seeing Vance intends to force himself to seated, no matter how much cringing it makes him do. Rob sighs and reaches over to help haul him up as gently as he can. Then, he props him up.

“As long as they say it’s okay.” All joking aside, Robbie wouldn’t help him leave if it was dangerous. “I volunteer for waking you up every hour duty if I get to choose the method.”

He grins to let Vance know that he should prefer the Medbay to that prospect and then he digs into the canvas bag he’s brought with him. “Got you a present to keep you busy while they put Humpty Dumpty together again.”

Robbie holds up a Lisa Frank sticker book. Yes, they still make them, although the stickers are vegan vinyl now, not paper.

Grif got out of the cancerverse in better shape than some. Some cuts, some bruises, and the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that wipes a person out after they use, say, a speed power for way too long, but he’s alive. Alive, and checking in on friends.

“Hey,” he says. “They unscramble your insides?”

Grif’s visiting-the-injured manner is as incredible as ever.

By this point, Robbie should probably be used to it. After all, Vance has never been good about doing things that are good for him when there are others around who need him.

He nods slowly, looking interested when Robbie grins. Then can't help but laugh when he offers over the stickers.

Which makes his head hurt, sure, but it's a good hurt. "Robbie, that's a terrible thing to spring on a man with a headache."

Laughing, Robbie shook his head. “They’ve been trying to unscramble me since I was 15. Ain’t nobody come close – oh, you meant the stuff from today.”

He can’t just answer it straight. It’s a compulsion to cover up the worst of the worry. “How about you? You look you're okay.”

Vance is laughing. The relief is palpable. Vance isn’t so hurt or, worse yet, so angry wirth or hurt because of Robbie that he can’t laugh at Rob's jokes.

But it’s okay. They still fit the way they should. They’re going to be normal.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Robbie leans over to flip through the book, peels off a sticker, and plunks the neon bandage sticker into Vance’s temple. “They’ve got something for that.”

Sure, the last few weeks have been awkward as anything and Vance knows neither of them have slept well. After all, Vance is used to Robbie coming to his room when he's having nightmares. But this is...this is pretty much normal, honestly. And it loosens something up in his chest that makes the laughing easier and his head not hurt so much.

The sticker gets another laugh out of him, settling back against the pillows. "Feels better already," he says, taking a moment to look over Robbie properly. "You're looking better, too."

“It’s amazing how good I look when all the blood's on the inside. Excessively so, I had rosy cheeks this morning, although it was probably because of how warm they keep that gel.”

It is normal, and that does catch up with him. He’s missed this, the familiar old-jeans comfort of this friendship. Robbie doesn’t have time to think 'why am I making myself miss this?' when he remembers. Because it was hurting Vance.

But Vance seems like he’s enjoying himself now, and Rob benefits from the greatest thrill he allows himself: making Vance laugh. It’s not the biggest challenge, but it gives him the warmest fuzzies.

Maybe this is okay. Vance certainly deserves to feel better.

"I'm not complaining about the heat of that gel, even if I haven't had to use it. It's got to be better than going in cold."

The fact that it's normal is...it's good. He didn't fuck everything up by admitting his feelings. It's something that they can ignore and things can just be like they were before, with luck.

“They didn’t put you in?” That it wasn’t so bad as to need the gel tank makes Robbie happy. It’s that whole 'not wanting Vance hurt' thing.

“Maybe I really will try to spring you tonight,” he muses. “If they let me go, I could tell them I’ll keep an eye on you. And you can keep an eye on me, and we can get out of all this sterile white.”

Vance reaches up, rubbing the back of his head. "I might have been pushing for everybody else to get checked out first, then kinda went and found someplace to sleep it off." Which...isn't the best thing to do with a concussion, but he's done it before. "But since I didn't wake up in the gel, I'm guessing they figured it couldn't be that bad."

Since he isn't still wearing his uniform. And he definitely didn't change out of it himself.

Robbie’s expression darkens at that. He gets why – really, he does. Take me last. I’m fine. Help my friends.

But when the person delaying treatment isn’t Rob – when it’s Vance of all people – it’s so much harder to understand without comment. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. You shouldn’t mess around with head injuries. You could never be the same.”

Despite knowing exactly how much of a hypocrite he is I’m this moment, the worry is back in his voice, because where would he be in a world without Vance? Taking care of him. Or alone, and that would be worse. The past few weeks were bad enough. “You’re worth twice of any of them.”

Vance frowns, but doesn't argue about the fact that he should have let somebody see him earlier. It's not like he really can, anyway. He's always been lucky with the head injuries he's had. Doesn't mean that luck won't run out some day.

The rest of it, though, does make him shake his head. "I'm not worth more than anybody else, Robbie. But...I guess it's just the whole 'leader' thing I can't ever seem to let go of. Making sure my team is taken care of." Like how he'd made certain Robbie was going to be okay before going off to the Cancerverse to make sure Rich would be okay.

One had worked a lot better than the other.

It’s not like the argument is unexpected. Vance is a good person, with all the kind, humble traits that entails. Robbie suspects that sometimes humbleness is poor self esteem, but that’s part of why he’s boosting his ego here.

“Yeah, you are. It's why people follow you. I know you’re not going to accept it, because that’s the catch-22. If you did, you wouldn’t be anymore.”

The other, more awful reason is that Robbie unflinchingly believes that Vance is worth more than almost anyone. He's trying to picture a Sophie’s choice of only being able to save one and, while he’d try to save everyone, Vance is prioritized against… almost any one, really. “You’re worth that much to me, and I know you…”

He was going to jokingly threaten that if Vance worries over him as much as Robbie suspects, he should be glad to know that keeping himself safe keeps Robbie sane. Comedy is truth, and it’s a little too true. Robbie thinks about their last real conversation, blushes faintly, and looks away.

Some of it is lousy self-esteem. In this particular case, though, it also comes from the fact that he's seen far too many people who consider themselves better than others. Worth more than others. It never ends well for anybody around those kinds of people.

He laughs softly, trying to think of something to say when Robbie says that he's worth that much to him. Which could easily have just gone past him had Robbie not looked away. And was that a blush?

The laughter fades as he watches Robbie, a crease between his eyebrows as they pull down. But he reaches out, squeezing Robbie's shoulder. "Well. You're worth that much to me, too."

There's more he could say, but... "I'm sorry, by the way. For making things uncomfortable between us."

This is why Robbie had been embarrassed by the admission. He couldn’t say things like that anymore. The weirdness of talking about feelings would not be dismissed with an easy arm punch. Things were different for now, maybe forever.

It isn’t Vance’s fault, though, and they are apparently talking about feelings and relationships again. Robbie doubts coming to visit was a hot idea. He isn’t any less confused, except that Vance is guilty only of bad timing. “No, don’t apologize. I’m the sorry one. I…”

Robbie tilted his head to one side and shifted his gaze further away, a sheepish expression out of place when he normally tries to look confident. “… Freaked, and it’s not freaking material. I knew it, too, but I couldn’t get it under control. I tried getting advice, but you weren’t an option so I asked Rich.”

Here, he makes a face and does a breakdance arm wiggle to mimic tentacles. “I thought I asked Rich. I’m not so sure. I knew texting you was shitty, but I couldn’t look you in the face. He said that was okay. In hindsight, I should’ve known right then that there was something wrong with Rich, but I was too confused and committed to following the advice to just have some answer. Some plan to make everything okay. But it’s not, and I’m back to confused.”

Robbie risks looking at Vance, out of some belief that apologies carry more weight when you don’t duck someone’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I told him what happened to get his opinion. I couldn’t bullshit it. You’re the only other old friend here.”

"Robbie. You're absolutely allowed to freak. I kinda dropped a lot on you in one go. I could have gone about things in a better way." And he's had plenty of time to think about things since then. About how he should have handled things differently.

Still, he smiles when Robbie admits to talking to Rich. "I can't say I'm surprised. If things had been the other way around...well, I'd probably have done the same thing." Sure, they both had other friends in the Legion, but nobody was the same sort of level as Rich for either one of them. "I'm not upset about it." He pauses. "I'm not upset about you asking him. I'm pretty upset that he screwed things up the way he did, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't him, either." Another reason to be glad that entire dimension is dust.

Vance settles back. "I won't say I wasn't hurt by the texting. I'm pretty sure you could read me well enough to know that would be a lie. But the whole thing was difficult and...honestly, I kinda hated it. The avoiding thing more than anything else."

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