The Nightingale Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Lab Rats/Elite Force and I am not a doctor.
Chase's head felt thick and swampy as he wandered through the desert. The sun was blindingly bright and his mouth felt gummy. His face and shoulders were burning from the sun, white patches of skin peeling off. The sand scorched the bottom of his feet, it was so hot you could almost smell the heat. From every direction, there seemed to be nothing except endless sand, shimmering in the midday sun.
His mind was consumed with the idea of water, he kept imagining the next dip in the sand would reveal a lake or stream. Chase heard his voice being called from far off in the distance, but he had no idea from where. His exposed chest was still dripping blood from the large gash going down his front. Chase wanted to drink the sweat off his body but he knew the saltiness would just make it worse.
He looked down and saw a rock in the sand. When he reached down to pick it up it morphed into a small piece of bread.
"Chase…" the mysterious voice said again, calling out to him.
Chase felt his body swaying, he was so tired. He lay down in the sand, and felt himself blacking out again.
"Chase!' the voice said again. It felt like someone was patting his face, the desert seemed to be disappearing.
"Wake up Chase" Bree said, sitting next to him. He was suddenly in a bed back in the penthouse. Chase looked down to see his chest had been stitched up, the large gash partly healed.
"I was so worried about you loser" Bree said with relief in her voice, still stroking the back of his hand. "Patrick said you would be waking up today since he cut off the anesthesia".
So many thoughts raced through Chase's head, who was Patrick and why was he under anesthetic? And was the rest of the team alright? His mouth felt too dry to speak though.
"I'll go tell Douglas and Patrick you're awake" Bree said before rushing out of the room. Who was this Patrick she kept speaking about? The desert was less confusing then talking to Bree.
Chase looked around his bedroom and saw a glass of water on his bedside table. He grabbed it gladly, wincing as the stitches pulled, and gulped it down. He heard the approaching voices of Mr. Davenport and Douglas coming down the hall as well as a voice of a stranger.
"I know you want to find those supervillains" the stranger said "but if Chase doesn't have more recovery time we'll be forced to go back to square one with his progress".
'Plus, I haven't been able to figure out how to fix his chip yet either Donnie' Chase heard Douglas say.
Why was his chip out? Chase suddenly noticed his lack of super-intelligence, like a phantom limb. He had a dreading fear the chip was broken.
The three men walked into his room then, Douglas and Mr. Davenport in the front, followed by a younger man wearing scrubs, presumably Patrick. He was tall and lanky, with tufts of sandy blond hair and brown eyes. He was wearing black hipster glasses and was wearing scrubs with what appeared to be multi colored balloons on them.
"What's wrong with my chip?" Chase blurts out unable to stop himself. Images flood his mind of the chip shattered from the attack, irreparable.
"How are you feeling?" The assumed Patrick pipes up from behind Mr. Davenport, looking over the chart in his hands. "Especially your head and the cut on your chest".
"I feel tired and a bit sore, but no pain" Chase answered, still wondering about the chip. "And who are you by the way?"
"My name's Patrick, and I was a nurse back at Mighty Med before it was destroyed" Patrick answered "I was hired to look after you because I have some experience with special abilities".
Mr. Davenport moved into the room to sit in the chair Bree had left vacant when she had left, his face was drawn with anxiety, as was Douglas'.
"What happened?" Chase asked, running his fingers over the stitches on his chest. The dark pink line seemed to zigzag downward, making him look like he was Frankenstein's monster.
"When Roman and Ryker attacked, their blast sent you through a pane of glass, that seemed to have cut up your chest badly" Mr. Davenport said, finally speaking. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hand was clenching and unclenching at his side. Chase had never seen him look that anxious.
Chase was still confused about what had happened to his chip. Even a major injury such as this shouldn't affect a small piece of technology in his brain. "No one's answered what's wrong with my chip yet" he asked, feeling very worried they weren't telling him everything.
"Technically the problem isn't with the chip" Donald said finally, after a prolonged silence in the room. "We had to take it out so the medicine and blood transfusions would take. The chip was causing your body to reject them because it considered it a foreign substance."
"But once I'm better you can put it back in, right?" Chase asked, feeling panicked. How he missed his super smarts right now, he was so used to a solution just popping into his head but right now he had absolutely no idea on what to do.
"We hope so, but we can't know for sure" said Mr. Davenport quietly, looking forlorn. "You needed a lot of blood and we're worried the chip will never accept the altered composition"
"So, I could be stuck without my chip forever?" Chase asked looking desperately from face to face, the sense of dread settling in his chest. He'd be a normal human for the rest of his life, and completely lose his identity. What would he do?