The Linoleum Floor, a code lyoko fanfic

Disclaimer: Like you all have probably realized by now, I do not own Code Lyoko (it's sad, I know) and of course I do not own the song "Camisado" by Panic! at the Disco. Party on.

The Linoleum Floor
-by magicalfairy12-

"I feel kinda faint," I had said, putting a hand up to my forehead and furrowing my brow. That actually hadn't been the truth. I had had a brain-splitting headache, an urge to throw up everything I had eaten at lunch, and the feeling that I was going to faint. But they hadn't needed to know. They'd just get worried and I hadn't wanted them to get worried.

Too late.

Now, as I sit at the wooden picnic table, most of my upper body slumped against the splintery tabletop, I wonder, how long before they find me? Never? One part of me says, that would be ideal, because that's what you wanted, right Yumi? And the other part of me screams: I am going to die.

My parents had been too stupid to take me to the doctor. They didn't want to face the fact that their daughter had a serious case of depression. Not their perfect daughter. No, never.

My mind is perfectly clear, that's the funny thing. But I can't move a single muscle or bone. Paralyzed but still able to function.

I wait. Maybe I could just die here.

The world becomes hazy. No, wait, is that a voice? A voice yelling? No, it can't be. It's too far away, to be a…

The I.V. and your hospital bed

The world swims back into focus, and I feel like I had just struggled up to the surface of the ocean after being kept under in the cold unforgiving waters for hours. The lights are so blinding and uncompromising. And I know where I am. Unlike most people that just regain unconscious, I know everything about me. I have my bearings. And I know that this is a hospital.

This was no accident
This was a therapeutic chain of events

"Yumi? Yumi!" someone's screaming my name. The voice is getting fainter and fainter. I sink farther into the pillow that I know is snow white and spotless. Why they make hospital sheets spotless, I don't think I'll ever know. I mean, they are made to just get dirty.

This is the scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor
This is the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital

I am moving. I bet a million bucks to an invisible person that I am on a wheeled bed, being moved to another room, away from the prying eyes asking what the hell is going on? I know what is going on. I just don't have the ability to tell you.

"Yumi, you are going to be okay," someone says close by me. My eyes are closed to block out the lights of the real world. But I know that voice. I love that voice. I feel his warm hand briefly close around mine before we turn a corner into the room that I bet I'll be staying in until I get "better". But, unlike them, I know I'll never be "better".

It's not so pleasant and it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal

The doctors are saying a jumble of complex, medical lingo that from my perspective actually sounds really stupid. I hear the sound of those scary white plastic gloves snap on the skin. What are they going to do to me? I didn't faint because I had a liver problem, for goodness sakes.

The anesthetic never set in and I'm wondering where
The apathy and urgency is that I thought I phoned in

"Doctor, will she be okay?" Another familiar voice. I scroll through the list of names and faces I have stored in my brain. Bingo. Jeremie with the blonde hair and glasses is the match. I feel a little touched. The two of them came here just for me?

"What happened to her?" Another familiar voice. Bingo, the match is Odd. Wow, they all came here just for me.

"We don't know yet, but we're going to find out," the doctor says. How menacing. No wonder people are deathly afraid of doctors. Haha, the irony.

It's not so pleasant and it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal

I feel hands on me, clammy plastic hands. No, no, this won't do. I hate it when people touch me, not to mention strange doctors. I squirm and feel the hands clamp down. Okay, that didn't work.

Just sit back, just sit back
Just sit back and relax
Just sit back, just sit back
Just sit back and relapse again

I decide to drop the "I'm actually half-conscious" act and open my eyes. First I am blinded when the lights take another free shot at my poor pupils. Then I am back and ready to function. I get a glimpse of Ulrich, Jeremie, and Odd, looking at me with surprise, no doubt because I had been half-dead a minute ago and I now was sitting up, looking right at them.

Can't take the kid from the fight, take the fight from the kid
Sit back, relax, sit back, relapse again (ba ba bada)

My action causes a ruckus among the medical staff around me. They immediately surround me on all sides, closing me in with a human cage. Not gonna work, dudes.

Can't take the kid from the fight, take the fight from the kid
Just sit back, just sit back

"Don't touch me," is the first and last thing I say before they ignore my order and start trying to push me back. I suddenly have never been more certain about a statement than any other in my life: I hate doctors. And I also hate hospitals.

You're a regular decorated emergency

They want to cure you, but they actually make you worse. What a dose of irony.

You're a regular decorated emergency

"I said, don't touch me," I scream, fighting them off. I feel my fists connect with a face or two, a chest here, an arm or hand there. Moaning is added to the mix. Someone calls for reinforcements. I see my parents in the doorway, gazing in horror at their perfect daughter. It's their fault for not admitting it.

This is the scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor
This is the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital
It's not so pleasant and it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal

"Hold her down!" some stupid individual calls out. Like it's not already super obvious. What losers, I think as I easily punch down another poor nurse. It's then I see the tell-tale flash of a needle.

The anesthetic never set in and I'm wondering where
The apathy and urgency is that I thought I phoned in
It's not so pleasant and it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal

No fricking way are they getting that stuff into my bloodstream. Touch me all you want now, but my veins are off limits. Sorry.

Can't take the kid from the fight, take the fight from the kid
Sit back, relax, sit back, relapse again (ba ba bada)
Can't take the kid from the fight, take the fight from the kid
Just sit back, just sit back

"Get away from me!" is my new battle cry. Violently I swing myself off the nice white bed, kicking two doctors in the chest as my feet search for the linoleum floor. You see, fighting in Lyoko pays off a great deal. My sneakers squeak in protest as I turn to fend off another incoming medical personnel.

Sit back, sit back
Relax, relapse
Sit back, sit back
Ba ba bada

This smart guy is trying to give me a punch. I guess I've made them just that desperate. I block it easily, bending on my knees to give me room and then deliver a punch of my own right to his gut. Poor guy.

You can take the kid out of the fight

I make a break for the door only to get held up by a bunch of nurses and such, armed with needles with stuff in it that I know will make me drop into a incapacitating sleep as soon as it breaks my skin. I try some proper negotiating techniques. "I know what is wrong with me, and if you just let me go, I might just tell you nicely," I say, my breathing labored. Not as labored as theirs'. The nurses and doctors exchange looks of, should we believe her? I edge my way a little closer to the door as they deliberate.

You're a regular decorated emergency
The bruises and contusions will remind me what you did when you wake
You've earned your place atop the I.C.U.'s hall of fame
Camera caught you causing a commotion on the gurney again

It's unfortunate for them that they don't understand the concept of moving and keeping your guard up at the same time. One of the more bulky and stronger looking doctors charges me without warning. I bend at the waist a little to avoid him, doing a Matrix-esque move that must prove to them that I am okay physically. But still, they keep coming. They file around me, blocking my view and way of the door. I feel as if they have given me an injection of bottled Anger. This is getting old.

And then suddenly, the room is filled with battle cries of all kinds. I blink and the scene has changed right before my eyes. Ulrich has launched himself onto one of the doctors from behind. Odd, ever the gentleman, is herding ten nurses away from the fight scene gently, but firmly. And Jeremie even shrugged in a what-the-hell fashion and jumped into the chaos, swinging fists blindly. There is a shot of bottled Love that courses through me now. I jump in myself, kicking shins, punching shoulders, blocking arms. I am just fine.

Can't take the kid from the fight, take the fight from the kid
Sit back relax, sit back, relapse again (ba ba bada)

Someone grabs my arms from behind and holds them up, preventing me from punching anymore. I feel a shiver of pain from the spot he is holding me with. That doesn't make sense; his grip isn't all that tight anyway. I could easily slip out of…then I realize what it is. Some of the doctors and nurses have gasped or stopped to stare.

Before this whole escapade, I had almost fully pretended to forget that I used to cut myself.

Can't take the kid from the fight, take the fight from the kid
Just sit back, just sit back

All the fighting has stopped now. The chill of silence sweeps over everyone. The doctor that had held me drops me now. But oddly enough, I don't even think of bolting for freedom. That freedom is not freedom to me anymore. Everyone knows. My mom is crying in the doorway, her head crumpled into my dad's chest as he looks at me with pain, betrayal, and horror. Ulrich's face is blank, but his mouth is open, as if he's about to say, "That can't be right." Jeremie is just shocked. And Odd is looking at the ground, as if he can't stand the sight of my ravaged arms. Most of the nurses and doctors have recovered enough to start cleaning up the room.

And I just stand here in the mess of emotions, actions, and reactions, not knowing what to do now.

Sit back, sit back
Relax, relapse

"That is what is wrong with me," I say to them loudly. I feel the tears starting to come from within me and surface in my eyes. Down my cheeks. "This is my problem." There is comprehension dawning in the faces of the doctors that are looking at me with concern. I hate them. I could have handled this by myself.

Sit back, sit back
Ba ba bada
You can take the kid out of the fight

My parents are leaving now. They can't stand the sight of a blemish in their offspring. Jeremie and Odd have retreated to the hallway outside the door. The doctors and nurses are milling about, doing whatever. I stand there, rubbing my arms and staring right into the brown warm eyes of Ulrich. It's okay, he's telling me. It happens. No matter what, though, I'm here for you. Don't let any of the other assholes make you think otherwise.

Relief fills me up. Ulrich's there. Everything will be better one day. My cuts will heal, the scabs will fall, my heart will be lifted up, and hey, maybe even one day Ulrich and I will…

I stop thinking anything when I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder. Ulrich's nice eyes have turned a bit hostile staring at the thing behind me.

The I.V. and your hospital bed

"Yumi Ishiyama, our therapist would like to see you in a couple of days," says the doctor behind me in what he thinks is a kind voice. Really, he's branding me with DEPRESSION in big bold letters. I can't do anything though. I have to stand here and take it, and then I'll have to suffer through the therapy sessions. Because they won't believe me if I tell them I can handle this on my own.

This was no accident

"We'll call your parents and schedule an appointment. Until then I want someone with you at all times. A friend, a parent, a teacher, I don't care who. I just don't want you alone, all right?" I nod numbly. I can pretend that I'm listening. Yes, I can pretend very well. As long as he shuts up soon, I can pretend.

The pressure on my shoulder is lifted. The doctor walks away toward some of his colleagues. They are injecting the knocking out liquid back into it's own little clear tube. I take one last look at the stuff. I record it into my brain, label it ENEMY. Then I turn to face Ulrich again. He has extended a hand. I walk over and take it.

"You'll be okay," he says simply. Our fingers intertwine. I feel a new sensation, a warm glow spreading from my hand to everywhere else. He squeezes my hand in assurance. And I believe him.

I'll be okay.

This was a therapeutic chain of events

A/N: So, folks, I would just like to say no offense to those people with relations in the medical field. The opinions in this one-shot are purely just for the tone of the story. I hope this will not offend anybody. Anyway, cheers!