Flash Fiction Friday prompt 139 - It Doesn't Hurt
What's happened? I have no idea!
Scott startles awake, almost falling from the chair. When had he fallen asleep? One leg does in fact fall, from where he had it crossed on top of the other, slapping onto the floor. Was that what woke him up?
Maybe not, because when he can manage to focus – and it takes a few blinks – John is looking up at him owlishly, one hand lightly clenched on Scott's sleeve.
"You looked like you were having a nightmare," John croaks, eyes sunken and rimmed with dark circles.
"Yeah, a little bit." Scott gives John's hand a gentle squeeze, being careful of the line taped just below the wrist, and lays it back down on the crisp and sterile sheet.
It was fading fast, the nightmare, only a few whisps remained and they were confusing and disconnected, if they'd ever made sense at all. Trying to hold on to the substance of the dream was a fruitful as catching smoke and honestly Scott was glad to let it go. The crushing fear still had Scott's heart pounding, the feeling of helplessness echoing his waking thoughts. If only they were so easily erased.
"Have you slept?" Scott asks his brother. John tries to reply with a shrug, but that is obviously too painful; a grimace chases across his tired face.
"John, if you're in pain – "
"It doesn't hurt." John interrupts.
May any gods listening give me strength to deal with brothers and their stubbornness.
"I'm going to adjust your meds." Scott decides, too tired to have an argument about it.
"Ok."
Meak acquiescence? From John? That's as good as a demand, a scream for help. Scott adjusts the drip, and records it for when Virgil takes his shift later.
"You might sleep easier in bed you know." John whispers, shifting his cast wrapped limbs slightly.
"I doubt it." The nightmares would chase him for the next couple of weeks, that was for sure. "Today was almost the worst day of my life"
"Yeah." John says so softly it's barely audible, being carried aloft on the wings of morphine "Mine too."