The suit had sunglasses in his shirt like all ominous dudes did and was carrying a stack of papers. The doctor took one look at him and yeeted himself out the door. He was obviously not willing to stick around for whatever fresh hell she was about to get in.
"Katherine Pinion. Age 20. Born in Portland. Raised in Portland. Recently moved to Mission City," the suit said before taking a seat in a chair.
"It's Katie," she said sourly. She already was not a fan of this guy.
The suit clicked his pen with a dry look on his face and wrote something down before focusing his goddamn laser eyes on her again.
"Father paid for college that you didn't go to. Mother is off somewhere in the bowels of Portland. Am I missing something?" he said, clicking his damn pen again.
"I had my last period on the 28th in case you missed it," she said smugly, hoping to ruffle the guy.
He blinked but otherwise had no reaction.
"You need to sign this NDA," he said sternly, pushing a piece of paper towards her.
She glanced down at the paper before looking up at the guy again.
"I ain't signing shit," she said before roughly pushing the papers back at him.
That finally got a reaction. His face turned just the lightest shade of red.
"You will sign this NDA. There is no other option," he said sternly.
"There is another option and that is me not signing it. I won't," she said stubbornly.
"If you don't sign this, you'll go to jail," he threatened.
That did cause a sliver of panic down her spine but then she remembered one teeny tiny little detail. She couldn't walk. This would be a piece of cake.
"I always thought I looked good in orange," she said breezily.
"This isn't a joke," he said, anger starting to bleed through into his words.
"I'm not fucking laughing. I won't sign your goddamn NDA," she said roughly. She was not going to sign an NDA for an event she didn't even know what happened. She was injured for life. This wasn't something she could just fib about saying she fell or some shit.
"You will sign it," the suit said before standing, straightening his jacket and leaving, papers left behind.
She tossed them onto the floor. She wasn't going to sign shit. She was done. She needed something to do and fighting the suit was fun. There wasn't all that much else she could do as currently she was bound to her bed.
The suit came back the day before they were going to crack her arm open and take a peek.
"Sign the NDA," he said, shoving a new set of papers at her.
"I won't fucking do it," she said, crossing her left arm across her chest and much as she was able.
"This comes down from the President," he said warningly, as if that would scare her.
"Then the President can come down here himself and kiss my ass," she said, done with this suit.
That got his face turning a bright red. She internally danced at her victory.
"I'm warning you girl-"
"And I'm telling you! I'm not signing a fucking NDA," she screeched. She wasn't going to do it.
"Have you even read it?" he asked tiredly.
"No and I don't plan to," she said stubbornly.
"If you don't sign it, there will be consequences." He shot her a nasty look.
"You won't like them," he added quietly.
"You don't know me. Maybe I get off on being in trouble," she said, head disconnecting a bit. She knew she was starting to go too far but she was in this deep.
She couldn't surrender. That was the one thing she couldn't do.
The suit left, papers again sitting innocently on her bed.
She decided to read them for shits and giggles. It was almost exactly like she thought. She couldn't say anything about what happened in Mission City. Nothing about the accident. Nothing about what she might have seen. It was bullshit. How did she explain her permanent changes to anyone?
So she pushed the papers off the bed and rolled over. It's not like she had a lot going on in her life.
She was running from responsibility. Her dad had paid for her to go to community college in Portland and she decided to just not. She got a job, paid her way to Mission City, and started over. She was hiding from him. From it all really. Her mother was god knew where being a hippie in Portland somewhere. She didn't have any siblings. There was no point in trying to resume her life. She had just been floating. Trying to resume it with a wheelchair attached? That sounded like hell.
The surgery went poorly. She was going to become a cyborg. It sucked but there was nothing that could be done for it. She was going to have a metal rod in her arm. They warned her that it would be heavier but waking up to an arm that felt like it weighed a million tons wasn't what she was expecting. She couldn't even lift the damn thing.
It was then they brought up physical therapy and she knew she would have a greatest foe. She was not thrilled with the idea of straining herself to that extreme when she wouldn't even get to walk out of the deal.
The next week she got to really recover from surgery before they started her on exercises. She was squeezing balls and shifting her weight around like a champ. She hated it. Squeezing a damn ball shouldn't have made her tired and sweaty but it did. Apparently she needed the hand strength for her fancy new wheelchair.
Not that she'd seen it. They were probably expecting her to order one on off the internet or some shit, the bastards. It's not like she'd even seen her wallet since she was put into this hell hole.
The next month was sheer hell. She was coming down from pain meds and becoming aware of every little ache and pull in her body. She was constantly going through it with the physical therapy. Everything sucked. Everything.
She wished for once she could call her dad and have him make it all go away but of course, no calls. Her flip phone had vanished with her wallet and there was no phone in the room, not like she could reach it if there was one.
Of course, right when she got into the groove of things, the suit appeared again.
He looked downright tired this time.
"Look. Katie. If you don't sign this, I can't guarantee you're going to have a good time. I don't know what will happen but it won't be pleasant. You must sign this NDA."
She took the very professional stance and blew a raspberry at him. He sighed, dropping his head into his hands and scrubbing a bit.
"Katie. You are the only person from the incident who hasn't signed an NDA. Because of your situation, I don't know what they'll do to you. You need to sign it. Your life is at stake," he said quietly.
"So what? They'll kill me if I don't?" she asked, still pissed as hell. She wasn't signing the damn papers.
He paled, glancing down at the papers before meeting her gaze.
"No," he said hesitantly. Didn't that bode confidence. She was not thrilled with his response on that one.
"Ok Mr. Suit, let me tell you why I won't sign it. I'm permanently disabled from whatever the fuck happened. I can't just walk out of this situation. How do I explain it to anyone? I can't even say I got in a car wreck because there'll be no proof of it. What happens when I go to the doctor in the future, huh? All these records will be wiped and then where will I be? I'm looking out for myself by not signing it," she said firmly.
"That's not how it works. You would be taken care of-"
"There's no fucking promise of that. I don't take words as fact. I know that NDA is solid and I'm not signing it. I can't risk it. Not to mention I don't want to bow to the government just because they asked me to," she said stubbornly.
She didn't know what or how but she was going to win this, consequences be damned.
The suit studied her for a long moment, taking her in.
"I'll see what I can do," he said quietly before he was gone.
She had no idea what that meant but hoped it was positive for her. In one way or another.
She had another month of just straight up torture. Her arm had healed enough for them to do more strenuous exercises and she hated it very much. They were trying to build her arm strength up for the eventual chair she would be saddled with but that was all details she didn't give a fuck about when she was too busy sweating.
She hated physical therapy with a burning passion. They were all so bright and cheery when she did it and all she wanted to do was punch them. There wasn't anything to be excited about. There was nothing to be happy about. She was permanently injured like for the rest of her life.
Of course, saying that brought in the therapist.
She was a nice lady, a little on the firm side. She didn't do much except try and weedle out of her what happened and then give her meds.
She took the meds like a good girl but she wasn't entirely thrilled with the process.
When they brought in the chair, it was suddenly real. Very real. This was her new mode of transportation.
She hated it on instinct. Mostly because the next part of physical therapy involved her getting strong enough to lift herself into the fucking chair. She didn't think she weighed all that much but she couldn't do it after multiple attempts.
She felt weak, exposed. She loathed it.
Her physical therapist though was as cheery as ever.
"Katie! You're not going to get it right away but that's ok! Just keep trying," she would say with that damn smile on her face.
Fuck her, honestly. She didn't know how fucking hard it was to lift your whole body up and out of the chair.
She was starting to get to know the staff at this place pretty well. She didn't really know where the fuck she was as no one would tell her. Clarissa, her favorite nurse, even got into the habit of gossiping with her which is how she knew she was there far too long.
Clarissa told her all about all the scandals and who slept with who and who did what. Apparently there was a significant amount of gossip for a hospital. She would never look at Martha the same.
It did get boring as all hell when there wasn't that much to do. They didn't give her any sort of access to the internet so she was stuck with TV and card games. She became a wizard at solitaire and even learned how to shuffle properly.
What she didn't learn was what the fuck would happen to her. The suit never showed up again and she was just stuck in limbo, eternally trapped in a cycle. Physical therapy, sleep, watch TV, repeat. It was dull.
She needed more. Something to stimulate her.
It didn't help that she was still having the dreams that made no fucking sense. They were giant robots talking in some weird chirpy language like she was supposed to understand what it meant. It was annoying to not have an answer for it.
That all changed the day she could finally lift herself into the chair. She was still aching and sweating but she had managed it. She felt good for the first time in months.
Of course that's when the suit came in, a sad look on his face.
"I'm sorry," was all he said before a rush of military guys were in the room.
BTW this is crossposted on AO3 but ya know it's not like it's here right now :(