[CLOSED] there's a pattern in the system, there's a bullet in the gun
Who: youresoshort, goneonenight, and gunpowderreason
What: Yoruichi keeps Roy from dying, and then he and Riza have a tough discussion.
When: Directly after the fight with Envy.
Where: Hospital wing.
Warnings: Hawkeye showing emotion. :O
Style: Prose.
Riza keeps track of time by the click of the IV.
She pretends she can follow the liquid's journey down the length of the tube, looking away before it meets the needle feeding into his skin, keeping him alive. The chair beside his bed is comfortable, for all it matters to her stiff posture, and the room feels too cold but her bloodied coat had disappeared with the surgery staff. There was a steady stream of doctors and nurses, earlier, all advising her to relax, get some rest, would you like a cup of tea? They mixed these messages with words like hemorrhaging, lacerated kidneys, shock, chances for survival, and though she knows the bandages around his abdomen have to be that loose she wants to tell them to pull them tighter.
He still looks ridiculous in a hospital gown, his hair even more of a mess than usual. She doesn't reach over and fix it. She never touches him. To start now would seem like an admission that something is changing, and she refuses to entertain the thought that he won't wake up.
So she doesn't touch him. Instead she empties the chamber of her revolver to reload it for the third time, trying to keep her fingers steady and pretending to ignore the significance of the repetition. The remainder of her hypersensitive attention is divided between a wary, impatient focus on the door, and listening to the beeping that monitored the Colonel's heartbeats--painfully aware of every hitch in the rhythm of his inhalations and the strain that comes with every exhale.
Once or twice, she allows herself to sigh.
Please don't die.
He never seems to listen.
What: Yoruichi keeps Roy from dying, and then he and Riza have a tough discussion.
When: Directly after the fight with Envy.
Where: Hospital wing.
Warnings: Hawkeye showing emotion. :O
Style: Prose.
Riza keeps track of time by the click of the IV.
She pretends she can follow the liquid's journey down the length of the tube, looking away before it meets the needle feeding into his skin, keeping him alive. The chair beside his bed is comfortable, for all it matters to her stiff posture, and the room feels too cold but her bloodied coat had disappeared with the surgery staff. There was a steady stream of doctors and nurses, earlier, all advising her to relax, get some rest, would you like a cup of tea? They mixed these messages with words like hemorrhaging, lacerated kidneys, shock, chances for survival, and though she knows the bandages around his abdomen have to be that loose she wants to tell them to pull them tighter.
He still looks ridiculous in a hospital gown, his hair even more of a mess than usual. She doesn't reach over and fix it. She never touches him. To start now would seem like an admission that something is changing, and she refuses to entertain the thought that he won't wake up.
So she doesn't touch him. Instead she empties the chamber of her revolver to reload it for the third time, trying to keep her fingers steady and pretending to ignore the significance of the repetition. The remainder of her hypersensitive attention is divided between a wary, impatient focus on the door, and listening to the beeping that monitored the Colonel's heartbeats--painfully aware of every hitch in the rhythm of his inhalations and the strain that comes with every exhale.
Once or twice, she allows herself to sigh.
Please don't die.
He never seems to listen.