Prompt Two of My Forty-Theme Challenge
Prompt: Death
Warnings: Blood, Coma, Illness, Eye Gore, Swearing, Dying Character
Characters: Dr. Schneeplestein, Jackieboy Man
This is an introduction of sorts to my apocalypse AU! It will probably mostly be kept to my Tumblr blog (blitzindite), though things I'm particularly proud of may be put her. Right now it's just the Septics, though I may work some Ipliers into it eventually
A tickle in his throat brought Henrik to clear it as he adjusted his surgical mask. The one he'd worn for the morning now rested in the bio-hazard bin, and the doctor had to wonder how long it would be before he had to replace the current one, too. He hadn't been able to bring himself to look at the old one as he peeled it away and dropped it in the bin. He swallowed as he thought of it; at remembering the horrified look that had crossed Chase's face before he and Marvin left to scavenge with masks fitted tightly over their faces.
The iron tang of blood in his mouth made him swallow again at the bile that threatened to come up. He was so sick of the taste. So goddamn sick of it.
In more ways than one, he thought bitterly as he crossed to Seán's little corner of the lab. Tired eyes scanned the man's vitals; flickered over his still face and wished his eyes would twitch or—or something! Henrik moved to reach for his friend's limp wrist; to hold his hand, give it a soft squeeze, but he stopped himself before he could touch the man. He…he couldn't risk it. Seán's immune system was already compromised. He didn't need to catch whatever Henrik had on top of that.
Turning away from the comatose man when another tickle crept up his throat, Henrik stumbled toward the nearest flat surface to steady himself when a coughing-fit hit. Blood flecks sprayed the inside of his surgical mask, and he was left trying to gasp for air between each convulsion. Panic welled in his chest. He felt like he was drowning again. He could feel Anti's hands around his throat, forcing his head under the water. He could still see how filthy and green it was when he squeezed his eyes shut; still taste the sickness as he swallowed mouthfuls of the diseased water in a vain attempt to gulp in breaths of air.
The floor tiles stung as his knees smacked against them when his hand slipped from the counter.
"Henrik!"
Jackie? It took too much effort for the doctor to lift his head at the sound of hurried rummaging.
"Easy, easy." Jackie's voice was muffled behind a surgical mask, now. His gas mask had probably been abandoned in one of the decontamination rooms.
Gloved hands rested against his back and helped guide him to lean back against the counter.
"Just breathe for me, Hen."
"'m okay," the doctor finally rasped when he could breathe again. His vision was swimming and head pounding; bandaged eye throbbing from the force of the coughs.
The older man didn't say anything as he leaned in to remove Henrik's mask. Jackie wiped the blood from his lips and chin with a scrap cloth, then replaced the mask with a fresh one. Henrik barely even noticed the time it took for the other to dispose of the bloodied one before he returned. Jackie was scanning his face when he did, gaze lingering on Henrik's right eye. The infection to the damaged eye was already bleeding through the morning's fresh bandages to turn them a sickly yellow. Both he and Jackie dreaded when they would need to be changed again, and the infection cleaned. The pus made the cloth stick, and just peeling it off was agony in itself. Cleaning it was a whole different story in itself. The last time it was done, Chase and Marvin had had to help hold Henrik down for it.
"Have you found anything yet?" There was hope in Jackie's eyes. Henrik could only shake his head, and his heart broke as that hope practically shattered.
The doctor leaned his head back against the counter. His lab had so much, but it didn't have the best means of creating a cure for something he'd never seen before. With the poison in the air, and the ground, and the water, he had to wonder exactly what virus had been mutated. What new strain of…whatever it was, that he had. "I…I am trying, Jackie."
"No, Hen," Jackie's voice cracked and he blinked rapidly to keep the tears from coming, "you're dying. What if you can't find a cure in time? This disease is fucking killing you!"
"I know. I know!" Henrik tried to raise his voice, but his own broke as another, short, coughing-fit started.
"I am t-trying."
He knew—they all did—that without a cure, Henrik was a dead man.