Two Idiots and a Cape

Chapter 31: In Which Pam and Carla Save The Day (Again)

"–Had fallen unconscious– Bleeding–" There was a flash of light.

"–Pupils are dilated. Concussed–" Another flash. A hand squeezing his.

"You hear me? You're gonna be fine." Sounds; Beeping, whirring, people yelling. Too loud. Too bright. Make it stop.

"Mr. Karlstin, please relax, I'm– You're in– Hospital–" No. No, he needed to go. He needed to be left alone. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? He– He needed–

"Administer Ativan! He– Combative!" Hand's were everywhere, and they burned. He flinched, moaning, the world shifting and swirling in an ugly mess of colors. He needed...

He needed Edward.

Carla paced up and down the length of the hall, surely looking like a half-crazed mess, but she couldn't care less. She and Pam had managed to bring the guys to the hospital in her van, though it was far from a smooth ride, and both Edward and Micheal's conditions had declined by the time they got there. Only two nurses came out rather than the flood Carla had expected, and she thought it probably had something to do with how full the hospital was after the attack on the city. She couldn't focus on that, though, when Micheal was limp as a ragdoll and more beaten-up than she'd ever seen him. They'd been friends for years, and she's seen her fair share of injuries during that time, but nothing like this. She followed next to the gurney as it sped down the halls, holding Mike's hand firmly.

"You're gonna be ok, Mike. You hear me? You're gonna be just fine." She let go as he was taken through the double doors to a section of the hospital she couldn't enter, feeling numb and disconnected as she made her way to the waiting room. Pam placed a hand on her shoulder silently, but Carla shook it off. She needed space to move and think, which brought her to here; Pacing and glaring at anyone who looked at her. She was wound up, and she knew it wouldn't get better until she and Pam got word on the boys. 

Pam wrung her hands as she watched Carla distantly, mind preoccupied and foggy as she went over the image of Edward again and again. He was someone who was always moving; Flapping his hands, smiling, dancing. He came from a busy family, after all, and staying still just wasn't an option. But when she'd seen him lying in Micheal's arms, and in the van, and on the gurney, he'd been completely unmoving. Not so much as a twitch or a shift. She tried telling herself he was just asleep, but even that didn't work because he was a restless sleeper at the best of times. There was nothing to say or do to escape the reality that this time, he'd gotten himself badly hurt, and he may not get back up. She shook herself. No. That wasn't an option. He'd be fine. They would both be fine. She had to believe that. She leaned back in the chair and prepared herself for a long, hard wait.

Micheal woke in stages and not all at once. The first was smell. He was completely asleep, lost in foggy darkness where he did nothing but float and be when the smell of something sterile and bitter suddenly registered. There wasn't much to do to react, so he didn't, and eventually, he sank deeper into sleep. Next was sound. There was this droning beep somewhere nearby, and it was driving him a little crazy, along with other soft sounds he couldn't place. Voices would filter in now and again, soft and impossible to understand, nothing more than garbled whispers. The sounds were harder to ignore, but he was able to sleep on them. Finally was feeling. There was something on his face and a weird weight on his left hand. His body felt slightly achy but mostly numb and tingly, and something rough and scratchy underneath his fingertips. He tried to move his hand and see what it was, but it only twitched. He frowned, and the beeping picked up, and the whispers came back, only they were a little easier to understand now.