Already bored.

[evillurks]

Once the chest tube is out, and various tests have revealed extensive damage to his shoulder that his continued activity has prevented from healing, The Shadow is returned to his bed in a private room. He is very clearly not happy about any of this, but never once does he complain, which would only invite criticism for his not seeking medical

Comments

[myra_reldon]

Myra leaves after his tests are back, returning home.

Not much more than an hour later, she pops back into the receiving area and quickly makes her own way to The Shadow's room. She's cleaned up, and totes a small purse over her shoulder as she walks into his room.

"The Chief asked me to give this to you." She holds out the envelope, with its impressively familiar script on the front, bearing his alias in vivid blue. The back has a small wax seal on an edge of the envelope flap to keep it closed, and it is intact.

[evillurks]

He is propped up on the pillows, and has an unnattractive hospital shirt on, that only makes him look too thin and angular. The hospital paperwork has been moved to the tray, and he has refused to even try filling it out. The interns may be beginning to recognize a note of passive resistance. Instead it is his PINpoint that sits in his lap, and he taps the side absently between thoughts. At the very least he is still wearing the girasol ring, without which he truly would feel naked.

"...What? You didn't-" His eyes flash at her briefly in rising annoyance, as the idea she might have informed his alternate of his infirmity flits into his mind. As soon as the thought is formed he dismisses it, relaxing his gaze. "Nevermind. You can't have slept..." He rummages in the folded heap of black cloth and withdraws his reading glasses.

[myra_reldon]

"This was on my counter when I arrived home." She has picked up on his annoyance, and hopes her words dismiss the idea. "I have to report back, but I don't know if this is urgent." She refers to the envelope she hands to him once he's fetched his glasses.

[evillurks]

He does not apologize for the assumption, but does put it quickly out of mind. "Between the two of us, you may never sleep again." A wry smile creeps into his expression, briefly, as he puts the glasses on and carefully breaks the seal. His hands are steady today, as well. Much of his strength seems to have returned, although he's still favouring his left arm, but he has been since the initial injury.

The Shadow reads quickly, having anticipated fading ink. He put the reading glasses on first for just that reason.

[metody_green]

Metody had devoted a great deal of thought to what the Shadow would read. He couldn't see him going for mysteries, or anything along the lines of James Bond. Beyond that, he came up blank.

Metody arrived with four books. One was his current and enduring favorite, a compilation of the first three books of the Miles Vorkosigan saga, by Lois McMaster Bujold. Just in case the Shadow didn't like sci-fi, he also had a book on the discovery and science of Lucy, the Australopithecus, and another discussing the anthropology of the South Seas. The last was a book on how to knit, and came with a pair of needles, a crochet hook, a stitch counter, some folding scissors, a darning needle and a ball of very soft black yarn, all in a little pouch.

He also brought flowers. Orange and yellow roses, with daisies. Cheerful things. He leaned into the room, giving the Shadow a tight, nervous smile.

"Hey."

[evillurks]

It is just possible that The Shadow, as a boy, absolutely devoured mysteries. They do tend to pale, however, in comparison to his current work. Works on science and research are always interesting, and he just may appreciate science fiction for the technology, but the day The Shadow sits around knitting sweaters, even with black yarn, will likely be an extremely frigid day in the realm of Lucifer.

He is sitting up in bed, looking somewhat old and too thin in a hospital shift, as well as slightly cross. He seems to have been at his PINpoint again, keeping Burbank busy with possibly unecessary details. Any kind of distraction is a welcome one.

"I thought you might be around. Your work has confounded the nurses." There is a hint of a wheeze in his voice yet, but apart from that he seems sound enough.

[metody_green]

You never know. Metody has more experience than he cares to speak of with long, boring nights and hovering nurses. When you can't sleep, you can knit and find a certain oblivion of the mind in the repetitive motions.

"Oh. Oh, dear. I never really thought about that being a problem." But of course it would be. Flesh always failed before bone. He sets the books down beside the bed, and makes an anxious, abortive motion towards the Shadow. "Do you need me to undo some of it?"

[evillurks]

Oblivion in the mind is certainly something The Shadow struggles to find, although thus far only meditation has helped him find it. He regards the ball of yarn and needles doubtfully, though, as they roll off the top book.

"No, thank you. I simply meant the lack of an exit wound when I was shot, and that my collarbone is whole, confused them." He sets his PINpoint aside on the bedside tray. "You said you didn't mind speaking of your abilities in the Nexus, so I told them to seek you if there were any questions I couldn't answer sufficiently."
His bones are quite well, at the moment, and it is indeed the flesh that is failing. The lack of seeking medical attention is a very large part of the problem, of course.

[courtneycrumrin]

Courtney is busy, between brokering an agreement between her uncle and Arlen Arkenstone, her studies, and general worry. Very busy. But when she sees the message on the Shadow's journal, she takes a break to find out what the hell happened. When she pops into the clinics, she looks a little stressed and tired, but she does have a book. It's titled: Why Summon Demons: A Psychological Study of Necromancers Through the Ages.

She thinks it's one of the more entertaining books in her vast, dark library.

[evillurks]

She's directed to a room, where The Shadow sits propped up in a bed and wearing a hospital shift. His black clothes sit in a neatly-folded pile on the bedside table, which is slightly overburdened between those, his guns, some pointedly ignored hospital paperwork on a clipboard, his PINpoint, and a stack of four books courtesy of Metody.
He looks terribly ordinary and unimposing, and even a mild echo of her uncle in his current weakened state. He is also, incongruously, playing a very complex game of cat's cradle with some black yarn, and his girasol flashes as his fingers move. His eyes are closed, expression distant and weary. However muddled they made his thinking, the higher does of painkillers did let him sleep.

[courtneycrumrin]

Courtney finds the echo of her uncle's infirmity unsettling, seeing for a moment Aloysius in the hospital bed and the hospital gown...Then she shakes her head and clears her throat. "Uh...hey. It's me."

[evillurks]

The complicated tangle collapses as he lowers his hands and opens his eyes. "Afternoon." His gaze fixes with interest on the book, although he hasn't the faintest idea of the title from here. "How have you been? How was your birthday?" Despite the surroundings and the fact that he is stuck in bed, he behaves as more or less himself. The sense of weariness is neatly pushed aside for a visitor.

[cailisairgid]

After a brief text exchange, Nuala absents herself from the main forum of the nexus - carried by Lonán to the clinics. She's known about this place, but while she shared the benefit of the surgeries her brother received, she's never set foot in it herself.

It takes her a short while to locate the correct room and occupant, but as promised, he has a visitor: an elf princess, standing just shy of six feet tall in the doorway and ... there are hooves settling to a stop in the corridor behind her, which she is serenely ignoring. "Hello. I am Princess Nuala - you answered my question, about histories."

[evillurks]

The man in the bed is well over six feet tall, thin, old, and looking terribly mortal in the hideous hospital shift. There is a definite aura of command and keen intelligence in his bearing, however. He gives her a sober nod, hands settling around the PINpoint in his lap. He finds himself using it for text messages even more than for getting around.

"I did, and to continue the conversation, it probably is arrogant." There is the hint of a wheeze to his breathing, but his voice is expressive and subtly powerful. This is not a man who is accustomed to being consigned to a bed. His current infirmity chafes at him. "But I have struggled through too many wars, and seen too many people die, and the thought of standing by while it happens all over again in the world of a..." He hestitates to call Myra a friend. "In another version of my world, is too much to ask when I might prevent it simply by providing them with information."

((Very regrettably, I have to step out, but I will reply as soon as I return.))

[cailisairgid]

"Surely it cannot be so simple," she notes wryly, letting the door shut behind her and sitting down by the bed (arranging her skirts neatly in the manner of a very specific sort of delicate ingenue, a role she ought to be thousands of years too old to play and somehow isn't).

"Not when you speak of war," and she's far too familiar with that for someone so obviously inhabiting an ivory tower. On a pedestal. In a gilded cage. Throw as many 'sheltered' references as you got at her, they'll stick. (All the same, the unassuming melancholy comes out of understanding.)

[[ty for the head's up :D]]

[evillurks]

There is a chair beside the bed, and he has a hospital tray which is rather taken up with a pile of dark clothes, a pair of holstered automatics, a sizeable and eclectic stack of books, and an incongruous ball of black yarn and knitting needles. There are no signs of knitting, however, as he has yet to accept that ridiculous if well-meaning suggestion.

"Probably not, but I'm limited in how far I'll be allowed to help. I don't want to overstep my alternate's boundaries, because I know how I'd react to that." He appears to be a man who has seen war, possibly from the front lines. The hospital shift leaves his arms bare from the elbows, and they are covered in an assortment of scars. There is also a remarkable silver ring set with an immense fire opal on the third finger of his left hand. As his hands themselves seem restless, it flashes in the light.

[myra_reldon]

While various people visit The Shadow, a message appears on his PINpoint over a day after Myra has left, from her PINpoint number.

Unexpected development concerning Reldon: Bureau forced decision, left due to recent activities. Manhunt issued but will not succeed. Situation being monitored.

The message in itself is almost an inquiry about the turn of events. The Shadow on the sending end is not asking what to do, but rather, if this is expected, as it certainly complicates many matters, current and future.

((sorry for the multiple edits, I have it this time.))

[evillurks]

He is, regrettably, still there. He will heal, but it will likely be a number of days before the doctors even think of suggesting he go home. There is also the matter of his quiet refusal to fill out the paperwork...

The message is noted immediately, as he jumps for anything to occupy his mind, but when he reads it he scowls. He chides himself for not expecting the Bureau to make a fuss over all her recent disappearances, but he's quick to shift some of the blame to his unmet alternate. His first direct contact with the younger Shadow is terse with underlying anger.

Should have been forseen. Previous absences made situation precarious.

Can provide assistance in new identity. Superior forgery technology available here.

This last is an offer, because he feels some obligation, but it is hardly a demand. He fully expects the other Shadow to provide Myra with protection.

[myra_reldon]

In the Sanctum, The Shadow narrows his eyes at the reply. Reprimand and some reprisal was expected, but not a threat to his Agent's life or career. The most logical reason behind the way things had played out, pointed to pressure from higher up and that concerned The Shadow. There is no temptation to explain his lack of foresight to his double however as he sends back a message that takes a short while to compose. After all, he's had to figure out how to use the PINpoint without a manual, and without Myra.

Aid should not be necessary, but will keep in mind.

[evillurks]

The older Shadow had a manual at hand, but within a week he was taking them apart and putting them back together. Without the familiarity of as advanced electronics, it might take his younger alternate two. The Shadow at any age is a very quick student.

Report Recieved. Keep updated.

Thank you for loaning her.

This courtesy is a late one, and almost grudging, but he's glad to have her back from the dead, even if he only gets her on a part-time basis.