Part 2
"It's been three days, man." Sam whispered, pain in his voice. "The least you could do is say something. Anything. I will take a… 'God damn it. That fucking hurts.' Just… say something."
Dean had nothing to say. There was nothing left to say. They had taken down six demons in one go and not gotten out of the proverbial pit unscathed, or he hadn't. He didn't feel any pain because morphine was a wonderful thing. In fact, he used his good hand to peel away the bandages over his left eye and just blinked against Sam's many and loud protests. Eventually, he could make out the ceiling tiles just enough… but not perfect. Lifting his right hand, he moved it around and let out a sob.
"Dean?"
He cleared his throat against the next one. His depth perception was shot. Turning his face away from his brother, he bit back the next three sobs because he couldn't stop the tears from coming… to his right eye.
"Is something wrong?" A voice. That voice. Why did it have to be that voice?
"I don't know." Sam's stomping feet moved away. "I think there's something… really wrong with his eyes. He's still not talking."
"I'll get the doctor."
"Thanks."
--
"How's he doing?" Bobby.
"Not good. He's not talking."
"Physically?"
"Healing like textbook, they said."
Right arm up, middle finger extended.
"I see he's still Dean… just a mime, then?"
Waved his arm around, jutting his finger at their general direction.
"Nah, mimes have something to express. That's the only communication he gives us." Sam was already tired of Dean and his birds.
"Don't the doctors ask him how his pain is?"
"Sure, and all he'll give them is a nod or a head shake. Man… They gave him an eye test and he wouldn't read it out. Just a thumbs up or a thumbs down."
"When do the bandages come off?"
"A few days… a week. Just depends on if he keeps healing the way he does."
"How bad is it, really?" Bobby lowered his voice but Dean could still hear him. "The damage?"
"We haven't looked yet but the doctor… wants to talk about plastic surgery in a few months but…"
"He doesn't have a few months."
"Right."
Dean threw his pillow at them and flipped them off again before rolling as far as he could onto his left side.
"So, he's aware, he's just being pissy… Sounds like him." Bobby cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Cover that ass before I start charging admission to all the nurses in the hospital." There was silence. "Excuse me, miss… there's a patient in there who wants you to have a look at his ass. Maybe we can arrange a few viewings a day?"
"How about I get a blanket to throw over him?" The voice. There was some rustling. "Mr. Winchester, as nice as the view is, I'm gonna have to ask you to cover it or I'll cover it for you." Dean ignored the pain and turned his face into the mattress. A moment later, the blanket fell over his hip and thighs. "Has he spoken?"
"No." Sam was pouting. "He's with it though. Lucid enough to be himself without the words."
"Maybe that's a good sign." Dean squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out their voices. "Call me if you need any more help with your exhibitionist." Then her voice lowered. "Sometimes, a bit of mild embarrassment will work to get the voice going. Just… call one of us before offering to show his can to the world."
Bobby and Sam laughed… and it sounded good to Dean… for about a minute.
TBC