WARNINGS FOR RACISM/POTENTIALLY RACIST LANGUAGE IN THIS FIC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
I would like to thank my friends secretbraintwin, for help with medical knowledge, and reaby, for agreeing to help my pasty white butt with ensuring racist events are treated with all due respect and consideration.
Rating will likely change. ;3
Disclaimer: I do not own The Stormlight Archive. All affiliated characters are property of Brandon Sanderson and Tor Fantasy. Not copyright infringement is intended; no profit is being made.
Adolin regained conscious slowly, his thoughts feeling thick and muddled—kind of like that time he'd fallen into a swamp and Renarin and Jakamav had to pull him out. Like that, only with his...thoughts.
He stared at the sky. There was a lovely rainbow today. It kept moving every time he blinked, though, and sometimes the colours inverted. The sun was nice today, though, and it didn't even burn his eyes.
"Still with us, Highness? Or...back with us?"
"...God?" His voice was croaking, dry. He needed the rain. It could get everything wet... Too bad he'd missed it.
"Yeah. God here. Wondering how you're feeling."
"...rain? It should rain again."
"Right. Okay. I'll mention to the doc to turn down your IV drip..."
Adolin continued to stare at the sun. What a nice day...
"Okay, seriously Kholin. We need a proper exam. How many fingers am I holding up?"
"He's not concussed, Kaladin."
A new voice? And there was something blocking the sun...
"You sure? I suspect a head injury."
"Head injury? I don't think so. He's just high as a kite on opiates."
A soft grunt. "I hadn't noticed."
"Look...go get the family. Tell them he's awake and they can come in."
"Whatever you say, doc."
Kaladin strode to the waiting room, where an older man and a young man sat quietly in the uncomfortable hospital chairs. The father and brother, respectively. The young man napped on his father's shoulder, while his father sat dozing with chin to chest.
Kaladin strode over to them. "Dalinar Kholin?"
The man's pale eyes cracked open, then he sat up hurriedly, nearly dislodging his son in the process.
"Uh, doctor?"
"Nurse," he corrected, watching while the young man sat up also, a serious look on his face while he fixed his glasses. "Doctor Taravangian sent me to tell you Adolin is awake."
That really woke them both up. "Can we—?"
"Yes, for a short time."
"Should I call Aunt Navani, Father?"
"I will, Renarin," Dalinar assured. "After we see your brother." The man's attention then redirected to Kaladin.
"How is he, do—excuse me, Nurse...?"
"Kaladin. Kaladin Storm. And he's...high as a kite, but his vitals are good."
"Does he know about...?"
"He thinks I'm God," Kaladin said frankly. "He also muttered something about pretty rainbows, I think."
"I don't appreciate the humour, Nurse Storm."
"No, he doesn't know. We'll tell him once he's more coherent. It shouldn't be long," he said, leading them to the room. "His body just needs to metabolise some of the painkiller out of his system."
Opening the door, he motioned them inside.
The little brother hurried over. Adolin, whose eyes were looking a little more focussed, looked surprised, and then smiled.
Dalinar nodded to Kaladin, then strode over to the doctor, thanking him profusely. Kaladin paid little mind, however, as he kept his gaze on the two brothers.
Renarin took his brother's hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. Kaladin forced back a stab of jealousy at the scene. This was a good thing. Jealousy was unnecessary. Just because Tien was...
He turned his attention back to the father. Dalinar Kholin was a man with bearing, straight-backed and head high, shoulders set and feet squared. If he hadn't been a cop, Kaladin could almost have liked him. His status put a significant damper on Kaladin's opinion of him, however, even if he was the city's first black police chief. A step forward, but...forgiveness did not come easily to him.
Doctor Taravangian gestured to him, and with one last glance, he followed the man out into the hallway. Time to give the family some alone time.
It had been about an hour since he had awakened, and Adolin's head was finally clearing. He was fully certain, now, that he was in a hospital. Not...Heaven. Or a field? Honestly, he wasn't even sure what he had thought, before. Whatever it was, it hadn't been hospital.
"Son? How are you feeling?"
Groaning softly, he turned his head away from his brother, gaze seeking his father—there. He offered a weak smile.
"I...really mucked up this time, huh?" Why did Dalinar look so...pensive? "What's the...doctor saying?" Damn, did his voice ever sound dry.
"You...should make a full recovery, however..." Yes, pensive, and a touch evasive. Not like his father. "There is one...other thing."
His head still felt foggy, and he was tired and thirsty. "Just say it. Did I...offend someone? They want me in...court?" Good grief, he could barely remember what had happened.
"No, Adolin, it's nothing like that..."
"So? What...?"
Renarin caught his hand, squeezing.
"They couldn't save your leg, son..."
Adolin blinked. His thoughts were foggy and muddled. He could almost swear his father had said... Reaching for a cup of water someone had left for him, he drank it down to calm his nerves.
"...say again?"
"Adolin...you lost your leg." The hesitation in his father's voice wasn't right. Renarin wouldn't make eye contact. Why...?
He pushed himself up on his elbows—and it was damn hard—to look down at his own body. Sure enough, the sheets showed the shape of his entire right leg, but the lump ended suspiciously just above the knee on the left. He swallowed.
"I...can still feel it."
"That's normal," Renarin quickly supplied, always more comfortable with book facts than real emotions. "Phantom limb is the psychological term. Your body will take time to realise it's gone, and even still it may never fully adjust..."
Renarin's voice was shaking as he spoke, a fact Adolin didn't miss. His head had cleared with the news, and without missing a beat, he plastered on a smile for the benefit of his brother.
"Hit the books as soon as you heard, huh? Well, fine. I'll just have to get a peg leg and take up piracy. Which eye should I put the patch on? And you'll have to help me name my parrot, Ren."
Silence followed his words, and Adolin dropped back to the pillows. That little tirade had taken everything, every last bit of willpower he had. Passing an arm over his eyes, he sighed. "Someone laugh."
"Adolin..."
"Son..."
His other arm hit the mattress. "Trying, here. You could meet me halfway."
"...how about Gallant? For the parrot?"
Adolin forced his smile back, lowering the arm over his eyes. "That sounds like something father would name it."
Dalinar raised a brow, but said nothing in response.
"What would you name it?"
"I'm a pirate, right? How about...Sureblood."
"That's a dumb name for a parrot."
Adolin huffed. "Good thing you're not the pirate..."
The nurse came in not long after, urging his family out, and promising to notify them if anything came up. For now, visiting hours were over. The good news, though, was that it seemed Adolin was fit to be moved to a hospital closer to his home.
With promises to see him in the morning, his father and brother left, looking more relaxed than he imagined they had been since the accident earlier in the day. Good. Though now he was stuck with nothing but his own thoughts. Oh, they'd brought him a few magazines, his phone, and his Nintendo DS, but...frankly, focussing on any of that would be impossible right now.
Sighing, he cut a glance at the set of blue scrubs bustling around the room. "Who're you?"
"God, remember?"
Adolin flushed, then huffed. "It's rude to mock a man for being a little drugged."
"A little?" The man turned to look at him, and Adolin stopped paying attention. The nurse was tall, ridiculously so, with dark, curly hair and intelligent, brown eyes. He was, frankly, gorgeous.
"In there, rich boy?"
"Huh?"
"I said—oh, never mind. How are you feeling? Any pain?"
"Oh, uh...no, not really."
"Fine. Just let someone know if it comes back. Frankly, you're more entertaining drugged off your rocker."
Adolin frowned. "Is your bedside manner this bad for all your patients?"
"Only the obnoxious ones."
"...you have a problem with me, nurse boy?"
"Nurse boy? What happened to 'God'?"
"He turned out to be a rude prick."
"I think you're mistaking the mirror for me."
The nurse hesitated, then a small smirk curled his lips. "Not bad, rich boy."
Not sure what had happened, Adolin's brow furrowed. "...thanks?"
"Don't mention it. Now, get some rest. Someone will be in to move you in the morning, but you're free to do whatever you like until then—you know, other than getting out of bed."
He scoffed. "...right."
"Buzzer's there if you need anything. Now, I have to—"
"Wait." A cocked brow urged him to continue. "Can't you stay? I—" It was easier not to dwell on the...phenomenally bad news with someone to talk to. Even hot, obnoxious nurses.
"Some of us work for a living, rich boy."
"I'm not—" Okay, they were a little rich. "I work."
"Right. Instead of working your mouth any more, why don't you get some sleep. See you later."
The door clicked shut, and Adolin's protest died on his lips. Staring after the nurse, he sat in silence, with nothing but his thoughts for company.
...it was easier to be optimistic when he had someone to be strong for.