Disclaimer: Again, I only own this story, as in the plot and dialogue, but not the characters or the source material. Please don't sue me, Marvel.
Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long to update. I discovered a godly series of books (read all six) and I discovered a passion for poetry, and you can read them over on Fictionpress.net, under this same username (duh). Not to toot my own horn, but some are pretty good. But you're not here for poetry. You're here for X-Men. Woo. I just hope this chapter doesn't disappoint too much.
-----------------------------
Teetering
Chapter Six
"...isn't looking good..."
"...fracture, multiple cuts and bruises, and enormous blood loss..."
To say that I had a killer fucking headache would have been an understatement.
Maybe this was what alcoholics felt like after they drank waaaaaaay too much.
No...all the liquor in the world couldn't make someone feel like this. At least they'd be fortunate enough to die from alcohol poisoning.
Me...I could only hope to be so lucky.
The first thing I noticed (other than searing pain) was that I couldn't see anything. I think I had my eyes open, but I wasn't sure. Everything was just black.
Not that I really cared, what with the throbbing inside my skull.
I can't really describe the feeling. It's like Genghis Khan and his Mongolian hordes rode across the length of my brain, like someone drove a bulldozer into my skull, like a Mariachi band was in a perpetual state of playing 'La Cucaracha' inside of me, with no signs of letting up.
It was perhaps the most miserable feeling on the planet.
The real kicker was...I've had worse.
Crashing your car into a tree is never, ever a good thing. But it's nothing compared to freefalling out of an airplane and landing onto the cold, hard ground.
And I knew that if I could survive that, I was going to survive this.
But it didn't make it hurt any less.
I probably would have sighed if I had been able to, if I remembered how to sigh.
Exhaustion. That was the word of the day. And I was in no condition to argue with it.
~~~
"...massive head trauma..."
"...be worse before they get better..."
The headache had diminished, but by no means was it gone.
I opened my eyes but couldn't see anything. Complete and total darkness.
But then, I wasn't even sure if I was opening my eyes or not. To say that my senses had been dulled would have been an understatement.
I tried to blink and look around, but it was still dark.
Basic motor functions were still intact...I think. I opened my mouth, and somewhere down past the scratchy and painfully sore throat, a made a noise. A moan, groan, whine - something, anything.
"Scott?"
If I hadn't been bone weary, I probably would have jumped a few feet into the air from the shock.
Pinpointing the voice and putting a face to it seemed difficult. A constant ringing in my ears numbed the sound, but it was definitely feminine.
I tried to reply to whomever it was that spoke to me, but it probably came out as a groan again.
It wasn't long after that I lost all coherency, and I fell asleep.
~~~
"...if only a skin laceration was the least of our problems..."
"...the injuries are bad...terrible, in fact..."
I've made a lot of mistakes in my time. Following Magneto to that God-forsaken rock, allowing Mystique to kidnap the Professor, and letting down my friends and teammates, time and time again
And while this time may not be nearly so impacting, it hit much closer than anything else
I had finally decided, once and for all, that I wasn't dead. If I were dead, my head wouldn't feel like a crucible in an iron foundry.
I must have had a bandage over my eyes, because I certainly couldn't see when I opened my eyes.
My chest felt heavy, and my throat bone dry. My ears were still ringing and the rest of me felt like a prickly, throbbing mass. It was like my whole body was asleep, not just a leg or an arm or something.
And then the really killer thought hit me. I'm not sure when it surfaced, but it really hit hard.
I could be a vegetable.
Complete loss of all outward motor functions. My brain still worked, but the rest of me didn't. But I thought it was the other way around - the body still ran but the brain was closed for all eternity.
I didn't like to think thoughts like those. But it was inevitable.
The real kicker was that I'd had worse.
~~~
"...fortunate that she isn't nearly as injured as he..."
"...that sweet ride trashed…what a shame..."
I've been having strange dreams. Probably induced from the head injury.
I dream about the plane crash - when my life ended - about when my powers first manifested - when my new life began - about the accident, about Rogue, about Jean - all worries in my life - about the Professor, sitting in vast emptiness with me, reaching out to me, but I'm just barely out of his reach. All strange and confusing, but then, dreams aren't known for their clarity.
Drifting back into consciousness, I heard a voice beckon me again.
"Scott? Can you hear me?"
Oh, I could hear. Very much so. It was the reply that was difficult. I tried to open my mouth, but I don't think I was met with much luck.
The voice wasn't feminine this time. The source was definitely masculine, and sounded older, wiser. Meaning it was probably the Professor.
It didn't take a genius (or a fully-functioning brain) to figure out that I was not dead and back in the safe confines of the mansion.
I worked furiously to try and speak, but my parched throat still stood as a barrier, even as the throbbing in my skull diminished.
I'm not sure when it happened, but I fell asleep again.
~~~
"...we're lucky they're both in better shape than the car..."
"...think of the adverse affects it might possibly have on his mutation..."
"...lucky they had their seat belts on..."
I don't know how long I was out of it before I was finally able to speak. Minutes, hours, days, maybe weeks, or even months.
If I had some way of knowing what would happen, knowing what fate had in store for me, I probably would have opted to stay unconscious…
But the proverbial deck was stacked against me, the Sentinel being the first of many bad hands that life has dealt me, with this being the latest and probably not the last…
The ringing in my head stopped. So did the numbness, the throbbing, almost every feeling of discomfort that had been plaguing me before. All that remained was a slight prickling, like I was being poked with a sewing needle.
I groaned. And this time I was positive on that.
A simple act, but one that caused intense emotion to fill me.
Joy, for finally breaking my being mute for so long.
Sorrow, because it hurt.
And…different.
My throat felt almost…obstructed. I didn't notice it before, so why just now?
I waited a moment before I tried to make another noise.
Again, the obstruction, but it still worked.
"S…Scott?"
I moaned a response.
"Scott? Can you hear me?"
"Uh huh," I replied, or as much as I could.
"Oh my…Charles! Come quickly! I think Scott's awake!"
Female voice. Sounded like Storm. Had her reassuring, almost motherly tone. The confident, commanding voice that made you feel like everything would be just fine.
I made another noise.
"Scott, be still."
I complied.
Then…I can't describe the feeling. It was like…something came up from my throat. Up my windpipe, and out my mouth. It rubbed against my bottom lip, and something tickled the back of my throat, triggering my gag reflex.
I coughed, painful gulps setting my lungs ablaze. I retched, and I think I may have even dry heaved.
Irregardless, I felt drained. All my fuel reserves had been depleted from the onslaught of whatever it was in my throat. I never felt more relieved to know I was laying down.
I was so consumed in my newfound pain that I didn't even notice myself speak.
"Shh…you will be fine. I believe that's a fairly common reaction."
Huh? What was she talking about?"
"What do you mean, child? You just said that you were in much pain."
I did?
"Yes, you did."
"I didn't know I was talking…" More coughing cut me off.
God, my throat…
"I'm not sure when it's possible, but I'll get you something to drink as soon as it's clear that you can hold it down."
"I coulda sworn that something was down my throat…"
"You were intubated to allow for easier breathing. I removed it when you awoke."
That made sense. I guess with everything else going on with me, something like that can slip by unnoticed. Something like that.
"Oh…okay." I paused for a brief moment. "Wait a second…'we'? Who's 'we'?"
"Yes, Scott. 'We'." That was definitely a different voice.
"Professor?"
"I'm here Scott…" his comforting tone replied, and I felt a hand gingerly touch my arm.
"So I'm not dead?"
"No, my dear boy. Far from it."
"That's good to know, I guess. For a while there, I wasn't so sure myself."
"How are you feeling Scott?"
"To be honest, tired. Feel like I've run a dozen Danger Room sessions with no rest in between."
"That's to be expected," the Professor chuckled.
I tried to sit up. Not a good idea.
"Why do I feel like Blob is sitting on top of me?"
"Scott, you were in a car accident…"
"I know," I said calmly. My chest felt as heavy as lead. Staying down on my back seemed like the wisest course of action.
"And your car…"
I winced. "Don't. I just…I'd rather not hear abou—wait! Rogue! Is she okay?! Is she hurt?!" My hands gripped the handrails of my bed and I propelled myself forward…
…Only to fall back in mind numbing pain. My hands balled into fists so tight that my fingernails began to cut into my skin. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I groaned in between frantic gasps wishing that I hadn't lurched forward so quickly.
But in the midst of all that, the proverbial lightbulb went off in my head. Something that overshadowed pain, confusion, the car, my throat, even Rogue.
"Professor," I began calmly, taking a deep breath. "Do I have a bandage over my eyes?" The fact that everything was completely dark never completely dawned on me until that moment.
"No, Scott. Why do you ask?"
You know that feeling of intense dread, where all seems hopeless and forlorn, when it seems like God and every other religious deity is working against you?
Yeah. Take that, and multiply it by ten.
"If there's no bandage, then why can't I see anything?"
********
Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long to update. I discovered a godly series of books (read all six) and I discovered a passion for poetry, and you can read them over on Fictionpress.net, under this same username (duh). Not to toot my own horn, but some are pretty good. But you're not here for poetry. You're here for X-Men. Woo. I just hope this chapter doesn't disappoint too much.
-----------------------------
Teetering
Chapter Six
"...isn't looking good..."
"...fracture, multiple cuts and bruises, and enormous blood loss..."
To say that I had a killer fucking headache would have been an understatement.
Maybe this was what alcoholics felt like after they drank waaaaaaay too much.
No...all the liquor in the world couldn't make someone feel like this. At least they'd be fortunate enough to die from alcohol poisoning.
Me...I could only hope to be so lucky.
The first thing I noticed (other than searing pain) was that I couldn't see anything. I think I had my eyes open, but I wasn't sure. Everything was just black.
Not that I really cared, what with the throbbing inside my skull.
I can't really describe the feeling. It's like Genghis Khan and his Mongolian hordes rode across the length of my brain, like someone drove a bulldozer into my skull, like a Mariachi band was in a perpetual state of playing 'La Cucaracha' inside of me, with no signs of letting up.
It was perhaps the most miserable feeling on the planet.
The real kicker was...I've had worse.
Crashing your car into a tree is never, ever a good thing. But it's nothing compared to freefalling out of an airplane and landing onto the cold, hard ground.
And I knew that if I could survive that, I was going to survive this.
But it didn't make it hurt any less.
I probably would have sighed if I had been able to, if I remembered how to sigh.
Exhaustion. That was the word of the day. And I was in no condition to argue with it.
~~~
"...massive head trauma..."
"...be worse before they get better..."
The headache had diminished, but by no means was it gone.
I opened my eyes but couldn't see anything. Complete and total darkness.
But then, I wasn't even sure if I was opening my eyes or not. To say that my senses had been dulled would have been an understatement.
I tried to blink and look around, but it was still dark.
Basic motor functions were still intact...I think. I opened my mouth, and somewhere down past the scratchy and painfully sore throat, a made a noise. A moan, groan, whine - something, anything.
"Scott?"
If I hadn't been bone weary, I probably would have jumped a few feet into the air from the shock.
Pinpointing the voice and putting a face to it seemed difficult. A constant ringing in my ears numbed the sound, but it was definitely feminine.
I tried to reply to whomever it was that spoke to me, but it probably came out as a groan again.
It wasn't long after that I lost all coherency, and I fell asleep.
~~~
"...if only a skin laceration was the least of our problems..."
"...the injuries are bad...terrible, in fact..."
I've made a lot of mistakes in my time. Following Magneto to that God-forsaken rock, allowing Mystique to kidnap the Professor, and letting down my friends and teammates, time and time again
And while this time may not be nearly so impacting, it hit much closer than anything else
I had finally decided, once and for all, that I wasn't dead. If I were dead, my head wouldn't feel like a crucible in an iron foundry.
I must have had a bandage over my eyes, because I certainly couldn't see when I opened my eyes.
My chest felt heavy, and my throat bone dry. My ears were still ringing and the rest of me felt like a prickly, throbbing mass. It was like my whole body was asleep, not just a leg or an arm or something.
And then the really killer thought hit me. I'm not sure when it surfaced, but it really hit hard.
I could be a vegetable.
Complete loss of all outward motor functions. My brain still worked, but the rest of me didn't. But I thought it was the other way around - the body still ran but the brain was closed for all eternity.
I didn't like to think thoughts like those. But it was inevitable.
The real kicker was that I'd had worse.
~~~
"...fortunate that she isn't nearly as injured as he..."
"...that sweet ride trashed…what a shame..."
I've been having strange dreams. Probably induced from the head injury.
I dream about the plane crash - when my life ended - about when my powers first manifested - when my new life began - about the accident, about Rogue, about Jean - all worries in my life - about the Professor, sitting in vast emptiness with me, reaching out to me, but I'm just barely out of his reach. All strange and confusing, but then, dreams aren't known for their clarity.
Drifting back into consciousness, I heard a voice beckon me again.
"Scott? Can you hear me?"
Oh, I could hear. Very much so. It was the reply that was difficult. I tried to open my mouth, but I don't think I was met with much luck.
The voice wasn't feminine this time. The source was definitely masculine, and sounded older, wiser. Meaning it was probably the Professor.
It didn't take a genius (or a fully-functioning brain) to figure out that I was not dead and back in the safe confines of the mansion.
I worked furiously to try and speak, but my parched throat still stood as a barrier, even as the throbbing in my skull diminished.
I'm not sure when it happened, but I fell asleep again.
~~~
"...we're lucky they're both in better shape than the car..."
"...think of the adverse affects it might possibly have on his mutation..."
"...lucky they had their seat belts on..."
I don't know how long I was out of it before I was finally able to speak. Minutes, hours, days, maybe weeks, or even months.
If I had some way of knowing what would happen, knowing what fate had in store for me, I probably would have opted to stay unconscious…
But the proverbial deck was stacked against me, the Sentinel being the first of many bad hands that life has dealt me, with this being the latest and probably not the last…
The ringing in my head stopped. So did the numbness, the throbbing, almost every feeling of discomfort that had been plaguing me before. All that remained was a slight prickling, like I was being poked with a sewing needle.
I groaned. And this time I was positive on that.
A simple act, but one that caused intense emotion to fill me.
Joy, for finally breaking my being mute for so long.
Sorrow, because it hurt.
And…different.
My throat felt almost…obstructed. I didn't notice it before, so why just now?
I waited a moment before I tried to make another noise.
Again, the obstruction, but it still worked.
"S…Scott?"
I moaned a response.
"Scott? Can you hear me?"
"Uh huh," I replied, or as much as I could.
"Oh my…Charles! Come quickly! I think Scott's awake!"
Female voice. Sounded like Storm. Had her reassuring, almost motherly tone. The confident, commanding voice that made you feel like everything would be just fine.
I made another noise.
"Scott, be still."
I complied.
Then…I can't describe the feeling. It was like…something came up from my throat. Up my windpipe, and out my mouth. It rubbed against my bottom lip, and something tickled the back of my throat, triggering my gag reflex.
I coughed, painful gulps setting my lungs ablaze. I retched, and I think I may have even dry heaved.
Irregardless, I felt drained. All my fuel reserves had been depleted from the onslaught of whatever it was in my throat. I never felt more relieved to know I was laying down.
I was so consumed in my newfound pain that I didn't even notice myself speak.
"Shh…you will be fine. I believe that's a fairly common reaction."
Huh? What was she talking about?"
"What do you mean, child? You just said that you were in much pain."
I did?
"Yes, you did."
"I didn't know I was talking…" More coughing cut me off.
God, my throat…
"I'm not sure when it's possible, but I'll get you something to drink as soon as it's clear that you can hold it down."
"I coulda sworn that something was down my throat…"
"You were intubated to allow for easier breathing. I removed it when you awoke."
That made sense. I guess with everything else going on with me, something like that can slip by unnoticed. Something like that.
"Oh…okay." I paused for a brief moment. "Wait a second…'we'? Who's 'we'?"
"Yes, Scott. 'We'." That was definitely a different voice.
"Professor?"
"I'm here Scott…" his comforting tone replied, and I felt a hand gingerly touch my arm.
"So I'm not dead?"
"No, my dear boy. Far from it."
"That's good to know, I guess. For a while there, I wasn't so sure myself."
"How are you feeling Scott?"
"To be honest, tired. Feel like I've run a dozen Danger Room sessions with no rest in between."
"That's to be expected," the Professor chuckled.
I tried to sit up. Not a good idea.
"Why do I feel like Blob is sitting on top of me?"
"Scott, you were in a car accident…"
"I know," I said calmly. My chest felt as heavy as lead. Staying down on my back seemed like the wisest course of action.
"And your car…"
I winced. "Don't. I just…I'd rather not hear abou—wait! Rogue! Is she okay?! Is she hurt?!" My hands gripped the handrails of my bed and I propelled myself forward…
…Only to fall back in mind numbing pain. My hands balled into fists so tight that my fingernails began to cut into my skin. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I groaned in between frantic gasps wishing that I hadn't lurched forward so quickly.
But in the midst of all that, the proverbial lightbulb went off in my head. Something that overshadowed pain, confusion, the car, my throat, even Rogue.
"Professor," I began calmly, taking a deep breath. "Do I have a bandage over my eyes?" The fact that everything was completely dark never completely dawned on me until that moment.
"No, Scott. Why do you ask?"
You know that feeling of intense dread, where all seems hopeless and forlorn, when it seems like God and every other religious deity is working against you?
Yeah. Take that, and multiply it by ten.
"If there's no bandage, then why can't I see anything?"
********