Recovery Post: Guardian Angel
There was so much pain. The sensation of flying through the air was missed on him entirely, until he collided hard with Bruno, getting the wind knocked out of him as the least of his worries. There was a gunshot, ending with a sharp and intense pain, and spread from the middle of his abdomen. Dazed and confused, he felt himself being pushed, and then another sharp, intense stab of pain, localized around his chest.
It hurt to breathe. It even hurt to think. And yet.. he wasn't afraid. Even when Mia and Phoenix came over, he was wondering what they looked so upset about. And the concern that settled on his face, noticing that Phoenix was injured. A chiding comment about Phoenix getting himself injured formed in his mind but never reached his lips. The energy needed to actually say those words wasn't there.
There might have been a good reason for them to be upset. He just couldn't figure out what it was. Maybe it was the blood, as Miles could see a lot of it. Or the noises around him. The pain made it hard to focus on anything else, and eventually he just stopped trying to fight it.
He wasn't afraid, because, even as he closed his eyes, he knew there was nothing to be afraid of. Everything was going to be fine...
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When he awoke, he was in a room. It looked familiar: it wasn't as ornate as his home was, but it certainly struck recognition. Placing it exactly was difficult, but it was just a weird feeling he had.
"Hello, Miles."
Miles turned quickly at the voice. There was a man on the couch that he was surprised he didn't notice before. He was smiling, sitting there casually, in a way that seemed so normal. The shock was clear on his face.
"..Father?" This was his living room, back when he lived with Gregory. And.. yet there he was, drinking tea, motioning for his son to join him, as if nothing ever happened. Miles wanted to protest, to mention that this was impossible, that Gregory was dead..
It never occured to him that he might be, as well.
"I made some tea for us. Would you like some?"
Miles wanted to join him, he really did, but.. "What are you doing here?"
Gregory looked over at him with a moment of concern, before pouring a cup for his son anyway. "What do you mean? I never left, Miles." He pauses, and looks over to him once more. "Is something wrong?"
The question repeated itself over and over in his mind. Something was wrong, but he didn't understand what it was. It nagged at him, and yet he found himself walking to the couch, taking a seat next to his father.
Gregory looked at Miles with a small smile, before he laughed a little. The expression on his son's face was so odd, so confused, he couldn't help it. It was a light, good natured laugh, as he handed Miles' cup to him.
"You're.. supposed to be dead." He mumbled dumbly, taking the cup from him and staring at the tea inside. It was something he hated thinking about, and yet somehow it was always on his mind. Verbalizing it seemed so rude, as if he was only thinking of it.
The smile left his father's face, and he sipped on his own tea, filling the room with momentary silence before the tea cup was sent down with a soft clink. "I know."
Miles tightened his grip on his cup a little. "So then, I'm.." The realization hit him, finally, although his emotions were confusing. He felt a little sad, but..
"You are not dead, Miles. You just got injured.." Gregory's face flickered with concern again as he watched his son's face, reaching over to gently set his hand on his shoulder. "You were shot in the chest, but thankfully, you survived it.."
His father's touch felt so.. real. It stirred up unsettled emotions long buried within his chest. Miles felt like crying, something he hadn't wanted to do in a long while. He trembled, setting the cup down and staring at his hands. "It's.. not fair. I don't.. want to leave you, now that.."
"...You have to, Miles. It isn't your time to die.." Seeing his son and the conflict on his face, he reached over and pulled the prosecutor into a gentle embrace.
"But it's not fair! Why does something kill you and yet..." Miles bit onto his lip, and squeezed his eyes shut, returning the hug with a clingy one of his own. The words were there, it was just hard to say. Why was he allowed to live while his father died of the same thing?
Gregory gently rubbed his hand against Miles' back. "Shhh.. Miles, it's okay.. You have people who need you.."
Mia and Phoenix. The two most important people to him. Concern nagged at him, and he wondered how they were doing. If he stayed with his father, he would miss them terribly. "But.. but I.." That didn't change the fact that he missed his father, and being here right now with him, even if it wasn't real, was making him very selfish.
"Just continue to be strong for me, Miles." Every time he heard Gregory say his name, his real name, the prosecutor felt more and more like the scared little child he tried to forget about so long ago. "I'm so proud of you, I always have been. You have no reason to doubt that."
It hurt to breathe. It even hurt to think. And yet.. he wasn't afraid. Even when Mia and Phoenix came over, he was wondering what they looked so upset about. And the concern that settled on his face, noticing that Phoenix was injured. A chiding comment about Phoenix getting himself injured formed in his mind but never reached his lips. The energy needed to actually say those words wasn't there.
There might have been a good reason for them to be upset. He just couldn't figure out what it was. Maybe it was the blood, as Miles could see a lot of it. Or the noises around him. The pain made it hard to focus on anything else, and eventually he just stopped trying to fight it.
He wasn't afraid, because, even as he closed his eyes, he knew there was nothing to be afraid of. Everything was going to be fine...
------------------------------------
When he awoke, he was in a room. It looked familiar: it wasn't as ornate as his home was, but it certainly struck recognition. Placing it exactly was difficult, but it was just a weird feeling he had.
"Hello, Miles."
Miles turned quickly at the voice. There was a man on the couch that he was surprised he didn't notice before. He was smiling, sitting there casually, in a way that seemed so normal. The shock was clear on his face.
"..Father?" This was his living room, back when he lived with Gregory. And.. yet there he was, drinking tea, motioning for his son to join him, as if nothing ever happened. Miles wanted to protest, to mention that this was impossible, that Gregory was dead..
It never occured to him that he might be, as well.
"I made some tea for us. Would you like some?"
Miles wanted to join him, he really did, but.. "What are you doing here?"
Gregory looked over at him with a moment of concern, before pouring a cup for his son anyway. "What do you mean? I never left, Miles." He pauses, and looks over to him once more. "Is something wrong?"
The question repeated itself over and over in his mind. Something was wrong, but he didn't understand what it was. It nagged at him, and yet he found himself walking to the couch, taking a seat next to his father.
Gregory looked at Miles with a small smile, before he laughed a little. The expression on his son's face was so odd, so confused, he couldn't help it. It was a light, good natured laugh, as he handed Miles' cup to him.
"You're.. supposed to be dead." He mumbled dumbly, taking the cup from him and staring at the tea inside. It was something he hated thinking about, and yet somehow it was always on his mind. Verbalizing it seemed so rude, as if he was only thinking of it.
The smile left his father's face, and he sipped on his own tea, filling the room with momentary silence before the tea cup was sent down with a soft clink. "I know."
Miles tightened his grip on his cup a little. "So then, I'm.." The realization hit him, finally, although his emotions were confusing. He felt a little sad, but..
"You are not dead, Miles. You just got injured.." Gregory's face flickered with concern again as he watched his son's face, reaching over to gently set his hand on his shoulder. "You were shot in the chest, but thankfully, you survived it.."
His father's touch felt so.. real. It stirred up unsettled emotions long buried within his chest. Miles felt like crying, something he hadn't wanted to do in a long while. He trembled, setting the cup down and staring at his hands. "It's.. not fair. I don't.. want to leave you, now that.."
"...You have to, Miles. It isn't your time to die.." Seeing his son and the conflict on his face, he reached over and pulled the prosecutor into a gentle embrace.
"But it's not fair! Why does something kill you and yet..." Miles bit onto his lip, and squeezed his eyes shut, returning the hug with a clingy one of his own. The words were there, it was just hard to say. Why was he allowed to live while his father died of the same thing?
Gregory gently rubbed his hand against Miles' back. "Shhh.. Miles, it's okay.. You have people who need you.."
Mia and Phoenix. The two most important people to him. Concern nagged at him, and he wondered how they were doing. If he stayed with his father, he would miss them terribly. "But.. but I.." That didn't change the fact that he missed his father, and being here right now with him, even if it wasn't real, was making him very selfish.
"Just continue to be strong for me, Miles." Every time he heard Gregory say his name, his real name, the prosecutor felt more and more like the scared little child he tried to forget about so long ago. "I'm so proud of you, I always have been. You have no reason to doubt that."