A/N: Sorry for the wait between chapters! I just really hope you guys like this one. Things have been looking up for me, and I now how two jobs. I'm going to be moving again soon! Anyway, enjoy.
Ian awoke in a room with fluorescent lights. He was curled up on a bed with no blankets, pillows, or sheets. His entire body ached, most of all his arms. His neck was a close second.
Next to his bed, a woman with a needle and supplies to do a blood draw loomed. "Good morning!"
Her voice was too cheerful for her ominous presence.
"I'm Sandra. Ian, right?" She asked. It was also too early for her to be this loud.
Ian nodded.
"Great! I just need to take some blood from you this morning. Is that okay?"
Ian shrugged. It wasn't as if his saying no would have changed anything; they would still need blood from him one way or another. His voice was raw and it cracked when he said, "Sure."
The nurse bent over his arm, going all the way to the inside of his elbow. That skin, at least, had been spared and would allow her to get into the vein.
"Alright, here's the poke," Sandra said, pushing the needle in. Then she cried, "Oh no! That didn't get it. Let me try again, hold on…"
It took three more sticks before she finally landed a vein. That only gave her half a tube and so it took another four times for her to find a vein on his other arm. By the time she finally managed to get the other three tubes of blood from that vein, Ian felt exhausted.
"There you are, sweets!" Sandra chirped. Her smile was plastered on. "It's time for you to go out for breakfast."
Ian shook his head. "Not hungry."
Sandra looked personally offended by his refusal. "Now, Ian. You need to go out so we can check your vitals and give you food and get your meds in you."
Ian shook his head. "I don't want to go. I'm not hungry."
Sandra sighed. "You have to go, Mr. Gallagher."
Her voice was stern this time, so he just nodded. Everything was better if he just nodded.
Sandra's shoulders lost their tension for a moment, and she led Ian back down the darkened hall and into the light.
The smell of the dayroom reminded Ian of Carl's cooking. It lingered somewhere between tolerable and revolting and Ian wasn't even sure what he'd requested to eat.
There was a large metal cart filled with trays. Not knowing which was his, he walked passed it without pausing to inspect.
"Over here. We need to get your vitals." Sandra said. She was standing next to a chair that was large and plastic. When he sat down, the chair moved very little and he became aware that it was filled with sand. He frowned, trying to get comfortable against the hard material.
Leaning back, Ian closed his eyes as a very pregnant nurse put a thermometer under his tongue. A blood pressure cuff was slipped over his arm. It squeezed his arm tighter and tighter until finally it deflated and was removed. The thermometer followed.
"Good! you're looking good. You can go and eat. Your tray is the one with your name on it." She said, voice cheerful. She gave a wave to the metal box and turned to make the seat ready for the next patient.
Ian headed over to the box and located the tray with his name on it. Then, he took it over to a corner and studied what he had been given.
What sat before him was a tray of various foods, including grapes, bacon, regular toast, and French toast sticks. While he usually liked all of these foods, these looked disgusting. The French toast sticks and regular toast were soggy, the bacon was flimsy, and the grapes were withering. He wasn't hungry as it was, but this wasn't something he could stomach anyway.
"What happened to your arm?" A woman with dark hair came over to Ian's table, sitting down with her tray. He wished she wouldn't.
Ian shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Why?"
"I just..." Ian couldn't think of a good enough reason. "Don't want to."
The woman shrugged. "Whatever. I'm Anne."
"Hi, Anne. Could you please leave me alone?"
Ian picked at the food in front of him. He wasn't sure exactly what compelled him to, but he began to tear the bacon in front of him into tiny pieces. Out of curiosity, he popped one of the shreds into his mouth. It was a struggle to swallow; the food was just that bad.
Anne paused, her tray on the edge of the table. She looked as if this wasn't something she'd been asked before. It took her a moment to reply. "I want to sit here."
"Fine," Ian said, "then I'll go."
Before he could stand, the redhead realized that every table was occupied by at least one individual. There was no place that he could go where he could be alone. Fuck.
Ian looked away from Anne, beginning to pick at the food again. Finally, he shoved the tray away from himself and stood up.
"You have to put that away in the metal box over there. You can't just leave it on the table," Anne scolded.
Ian shrugged, snatching the tray up again. The grapes went skittering out of their bowl and across the plastic. Some fell onto the floor, but he didn't bother to try and fetch them.
He had just shoved the tray into place when his name was called. Heat rose on his neck and into his ears as he whipped around and asked, "What?"
A male nurse had a small cup with medicine in it. "You need to take these."
"Fine," he snapped. The paper cup was taken in a flash and Ian threw back the medicine. Then, he crumbled up the cup, tossed it into the trash and made his way back to his room. He needed to go back to sleep if he could, and even if he couldn't, he needed to be alone.