After an unknown length of time, the Professor woke up in his temporary bed. He was lying on his back, far less propped up than when he had fallen asleep after dinner. He could feel a slew of new bandages populating his arms, chest, ribs, back, and legs. He was suddenly glad that his attackers had avoided his nether region.
The cool healing salve had seeped into his skin hours ago, but he could already feel its effects mending his broken flesh. As for the bones, he had no idea how they were faring, but he did know that his torso was fully immobilized. Funny, he couldn't feel any brace or splints, but he also couldn't move his hands enough to touch them. His muscles were too sore to move. Just trying made him tired enough to quickly give up and regret the attempt.
He breathed in deeply, pulling air through his lungs, and was pleasantly surprised when the act didn't result in another spout of coughing. Tongue prodding his lips, he tested the diminished swelling. His jaw ached when he further opened his mouth, but it didn't seem that any bones therein were broken. Opening his mouth, he attempted to speak, but all that came out was a pitiful creak. His mouth closed in defeat, lips stretching into a thin frown.
He wanted to cry, wanted to go back to before when the worst that ever happened to him was sitting uncomfortably in some lair for a few hours waiting for his girls to rescue him. He'd take that form of helplessness over this one any day.
At length, he heard footsteps, and his mood brightened at that alone. Following the sound was a warm aroma of food, which set his stomach to grumbling. The steps drew closer, then stopped within reach of his bed.
Utonium heard a tray be put down near his head, then a soft but sturdy hand slipped behind his head and propped him up to eat. As he was fed, the hand behind his head gently rubbed at his scalp, as though unaware it was doing so. He could feel a thumb and a few fingers. The thumb stroked behind his ear, releasing endorphins that helped with the pain he was in.
The soup was tasty, different than the previous meal's selection. It had a soothing, brothy quality that lacked solid chunks. But it was filling, and it rested easily in the Professor's stomach.
Utonium gave his best attempt at a smile once his nurse was finished feeding him. He was left to his thoughts as the tray was removed from his room. It was agony to be unable to properly thank his caretaker. There was so much he want to say, wanted to ask. Why hadn't his girls been contacted? Why wasn't he in a hospital? The Professor knew intrinsically that he was in a domestic residence rather than a professional clinic, although he didn't understand how. It was something about the atmosphere and the lack of noise or other individuals. For all he knew, it was only him and his single caretaker in this place.
He considered the notion that his caretaker may not realize he had family - he wasn't married and therefore had no ring, and the thugs that beat him up had taken his wallet and his car. He had been left with no identifiers of any kind. It was possible that the caretaker didn't even recognize him as the Professor who had created the Powerpuff Girls. Though he couldn't see his face to assess the damage that had been done, he understood that he couldn't have looked like himself at the moment.
He was still ruminating when the person in question returned to his side. A chair scraped across the floor, pulled to the foot of the bed.
"Nod if you can hear me," a feminine voice whispered. "I'm going to check your healing progress."
The Professor nodded.
"Okay. This may hurt."
His covers were rolled up above his feet, above his knees, resting in a wad across his thighs. Fingers prodded his feet, ankles, calves, knees. He cringed over a particular spot on his left shin where one of the thugs had stomped on his leg after kicking them out from underneath him when he tried to get away.
"I'm going to attempt to stretch your muscles so that your legs don't atrophy," she whispered. He nodded.
The pain that followed was nowhere near the level of the beating he'd gotten, and he tried his best to not cry out. After a few pumps of the right leg, his caretaker moved on to the left leg, which was in so much pain that Utonium couldn't bite back tears and ended up cutting the exercise short.
"I'm sorry. Your left leg is broken. It may have to atrophy until the bone heals." The covers were replaced and smoothed, then a damp cloth was wiped across his face and forehead. "You're doing so well," she whispered reassuringly. "The swelling around your face has gone down tremendously. Pretty soon, you should be able to talk. But it's best if you don't strain your vocal cords trying yet."
The Professor only nodded, but something was bothering him. Why was she whispering?
Could it be that his rescuer was hiding him from some abusive superior? Maybe she was a slave or a subservient minion. But for whom? The Professor could see Mojo or Sedusa or - heaven forbid - HIM having slaves. Or that one evil cat. Whoever it was, they would punish her greatly if they found out she'd been nursing him back to health.
He began to entertain the idea, fantasizing about how he would eventually rescue her from her evil master. It put his smile back on his face.
A small pat to his arm startled him. "I'm glad you're feeling better. You had me worried when I first brought you home. If I'm honest, I didn't think you would make it at first. There was so much blood... sorry, you don't need to hear that. But now I'm confident you'll make a full recovery."
The Professor tried to mouth the words "thank you."
"You're quite welcome," she replied.
