Prompt - Dying, Not Dead
A short (very) piece based on the prompt "Dying, Not Dead" from the NaNo forums. I just really wanted to write something Arkadiy-based, even if it's small...
--------------
The world was black and suffocating around me, a dark veil drawn across my eyes, and I began to panic. You can't blame me: the world was closing in and I couldn't breathe...
Then a blinding light fills my vision and makes me cringe away and from somewhere far distant, like the voice of an angel, a voice filters through my terror: "Captain Olenov, for a man with no legs you're the most mobile patient we have." Opening one eye tentatively, I can see a vision in white, glaring down at me whilst holding a thick pillow in one hand. The nurse did not look impressed with me. "Are you trying to eat this pillow, Captain? I can assure you, it does not taste pleasant."
"You've tried it?" is all I can mumble.
The nurse rolls her eyes at me - now the world is coming into focus I can see it - and drops the pillow on my stomach. "I don’t know how you do it."
"It’s a talent." I can open both eyes now and she looks better now I've got depth perception. A veritable archangel. "I'm just that skilled."
With both hands on her hips, it almost looks like she's got wings. Short, stubby ones, too little to fly with, but hey, they look sexy on her nonetheless. Who wants swooping white things anyway; pain to keep clean and get in the way at every opportunity. "Captain, the night before last you almost swam out of the bed in your sleep."
"I'm very skilled?" I venture, pulling the pillow from my stomach and tucking it behind my head again.
She shakes her head at me, eyes closed and a smile far too close to derision on her lips. "Captain Olenov, it is not a skill you should aspire to."
I grin up at her and pull myself into a sitting position. I know I'm supposed to sleep in the regulation white shirt, but it gets so warm and the shirt is so very, very not flattering. It achieves the right reaction anyway: her brown eyes widen. I guess all that time spent in the gym has paid off; even if this isn't the way I’d envisioned using these muscles, it's pretty satisfying all the same.
The nurse shakes her head slightly, then laughs. It's a beautiful sound alright, but I can't help feeling it's not so much aimed at her own reaction, but at me in particular. "Captain Olenov, I heard that you were flirting with the field medic when you were brought in."
I can't remember that. Actually, there's a pretty large gap in my memory starting with hiding next to a dead guy on a battlefield and ending with coming to in a white room with no legs and a drip attached to my arm, but I try not to think about that. "You can't blame me for trying, can you?"
"You were almost dead."
"No, I wasn't almost dead." Her eyes widen again, and I realise I'd better elaborate. "I was dying. That's heading towards dead, sure, but it's not almost dead. I still had a way to go." I'm making it up on the fly here; I hope she doesn't notice.
She laughs again, but this time she gives me a strange look. "You were complimenting the medic on their beautiful long hair."
"That sounds like me, alright." I grin up at her again and hope to God she can't see the doubt I know is in my eyes right now.
"The medic was a man."
I'm lost for words. She shakes her head again and smiles, then walks on to the next bed to speak with the patient there. He's more deserving than me anyway: he had half his face removed in some accident he can't remember. I don't begrudge him her attention.
The next time I'm dying, even when heading towards dead, I think I'll damn well try to remember more. That was just embarrassing.
--------------
The world was black and suffocating around me, a dark veil drawn across my eyes, and I began to panic. You can't blame me: the world was closing in and I couldn't breathe...
Then a blinding light fills my vision and makes me cringe away and from somewhere far distant, like the voice of an angel, a voice filters through my terror: "Captain Olenov, for a man with no legs you're the most mobile patient we have." Opening one eye tentatively, I can see a vision in white, glaring down at me whilst holding a thick pillow in one hand. The nurse did not look impressed with me. "Are you trying to eat this pillow, Captain? I can assure you, it does not taste pleasant."
"You've tried it?" is all I can mumble.
The nurse rolls her eyes at me - now the world is coming into focus I can see it - and drops the pillow on my stomach. "I don’t know how you do it."
"It’s a talent." I can open both eyes now and she looks better now I've got depth perception. A veritable archangel. "I'm just that skilled."
With both hands on her hips, it almost looks like she's got wings. Short, stubby ones, too little to fly with, but hey, they look sexy on her nonetheless. Who wants swooping white things anyway; pain to keep clean and get in the way at every opportunity. "Captain, the night before last you almost swam out of the bed in your sleep."
"I'm very skilled?" I venture, pulling the pillow from my stomach and tucking it behind my head again.
She shakes her head at me, eyes closed and a smile far too close to derision on her lips. "Captain Olenov, it is not a skill you should aspire to."
I grin up at her and pull myself into a sitting position. I know I'm supposed to sleep in the regulation white shirt, but it gets so warm and the shirt is so very, very not flattering. It achieves the right reaction anyway: her brown eyes widen. I guess all that time spent in the gym has paid off; even if this isn't the way I’d envisioned using these muscles, it's pretty satisfying all the same.
The nurse shakes her head slightly, then laughs. It's a beautiful sound alright, but I can't help feeling it's not so much aimed at her own reaction, but at me in particular. "Captain Olenov, I heard that you were flirting with the field medic when you were brought in."
I can't remember that. Actually, there's a pretty large gap in my memory starting with hiding next to a dead guy on a battlefield and ending with coming to in a white room with no legs and a drip attached to my arm, but I try not to think about that. "You can't blame me for trying, can you?"
"You were almost dead."
"No, I wasn't almost dead." Her eyes widen again, and I realise I'd better elaborate. "I was dying. That's heading towards dead, sure, but it's not almost dead. I still had a way to go." I'm making it up on the fly here; I hope she doesn't notice.
She laughs again, but this time she gives me a strange look. "You were complimenting the medic on their beautiful long hair."
"That sounds like me, alright." I grin up at her again and hope to God she can't see the doubt I know is in my eyes right now.
"The medic was a man."
I'm lost for words. She shakes her head again and smiles, then walks on to the next bed to speak with the patient there. He's more deserving than me anyway: he had half his face removed in some accident he can't remember. I don't begrudge him her attention.
The next time I'm dying, even when heading towards dead, I think I'll damn well try to remember more. That was just embarrassing.