Participants:
| Scene Title | Fucking Is Like Family |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Most people have next of kin. Logan has Wendy. |
| Date | February 14, 2010 |
Even his fingernails look like they hurt, blossoming blue bruises beneath the manicured veneer at the end of lax fingers. But sleep looks peaceful, however, restful, and he's been doing it for some time. In that time, no one's come in and out except for doctors and nurses making their rounds — no family, no lover, no friends either. Just Wendy Hunter. Found though he's been just this morning, word would have gotten out to next of kin as soon as a name and identity was attached to John Doe #3 of the Broadway and Worth bus accident.
A broken arm is kept stiff and straight, broken leg secured into a complicated looking harness. What skin is visible is bruised, marking red and yellow, and the rest of it is papered over with gauze, although red, shining burn marks are still visible at the edges. It goes as far as his face, which is turned away loosely. Electrolytes, antibiotics, pain medication feed into him. Outside, it's snowing.
Waking up, not for the first time since he's been here, is a slow process. A dry-throated groan comes first before he squints his eyes open, blinking and feeling like sand got under the lids. Bruised fingers twitch and curl inwards.
"Happy Chinese New Year" Probably not a voice he'd expect to hear when he first comes to but, Wendy is indeed there. Allowed to sit there because there's no one else who is available. Wendy doesn't even know if he has family and Eileen Spurling is the one contacted to let her know that he's found.
"You know, midnight bus rides John, they're pretty crappy. You can get mugged, murdered, in accident." Wendy gets out of the chair where she'd parked cross legged waiting so that she can move to stand beside the bed. "Need me to get you a nurse or anything?" Hair is back and up, both ears there for the world to see and the look on her face is one of worry, not of pity for the situation he's in.
Eeeveryone is calling him John these days, even in his dreams. Maybe Logan will start calling himself that. The good news is, he focuses on her, green eyes a little dazed from all the damn white everywhere, and the fact he feels no urge to move whatsoever. He takes a deeper breath than the shallow intakes he's been doing, rhythm enough that you could set your watch by them. "'s… no," he says, voice coming at a rasp. He shifts, like he wants to sit up, but a breathy "hh" later at the effort and what comes from it has him settling again. The harness at his leg creaks.
"'s okay," he tells her. "'s just a dream." Morphine is a wonderful thing. The corner of his mouth even shifts up on the side that doesn't have bandaging up to his eye socket. "She'll be here— " Another slightly laboured breath in. "— any second."
Just a dream. "Who will be here?" Black brows furrow slightly at the corners, drawing fine lines across her forehead. 'Don't sit up, don't try. Your leg is broken, you were in a bus accident John. You're badly hurt" The look on her face as she glances down to the rest of him and then back shows that she's sure as hell not faking it. She wants to lay a hand on his shoulder but is very much aware of the damage done to him and knows it's not a wise idea. "I'm gonna call your boss soon, see if he's willing to come down, help you out of this. I can't.. I can't stand to see you like this"
"Mar'lyn," doesn't sound like much at all, slurred not just from the painkiller coursing through his veins, but the knowledge that no, no devestatingly beautiful blonde pin-up princess or shining noble steed is going to get him out of this. Bus accident. Logan's eyes slide shut again, relaxed enough like maybe he's gone and blacked out again, but he opens them again a few moments later, patiently allowing for double-vision to slide back to normal. Pale eyes have gone glossy, and the fingers making claws out from his arm brace splay out, as if in invitation.
She'd think he was calling for the nurse only the nurses name is nowhere near that combination and her heart does a little fluttery dance when he seems to fall back under. Drugs too much? body can't take it? She's never dealt with someone with this sheer amount of hurt and unlike some other people, doesn't know how to take care of it. You can't throw money at burns or hire a lawyer to make it go away.
Wendy's hand slides ever so gently into his, careful, cautious and every other possible word to go with it, afraid that she might hurt him or worse. Earn the wrath of the doctors and the nurses who let her stay despite the lack of blood ties. Maybe she threw money at that too. "Take it easy John. No.. no ones coming. It's just me. Eileen called me from your phone, she said you'd been in an accident, to check for john doe's. We found you. I'll try and call your boss, we'll make you right, even if I have to touch every fucking evo in this city and find you a healer"
The clench of his fingers around hers' is probably surprising in their strength, but it doesn't last for too long before they relax in that tangle, hooked enough to discourage any moving away. He registers her words like someone listening from far away, processed if not interacted with, though his eyes seek her's for confirmation when she says the name Eileen. "Name's Logan," he finally, absently, corrects — and what a time to do so, and of all people. But the sound of his first name is developing more of a bitter ring each time, and so he spends his energy and breath on making sure it doesn't happen again.
Pain is kind of like a distant idea, too, tided back for now, but beginning to nag at his awareness. Gives him a sense of time and deadline. He swallows. "Dreams," he says. "Listen. It was— he put me there. Like he hurt you. It was 'im."
He'd never told her not to call him John and there's a dumb nod of her head when he informs her in all his wounded glory to call him Logan. "Logan it is" A tiny smile coming to her lips. Perhaps that he's issuing that instruction/request makes her calm a fraction. He can't be that bad off if he's doing that?
The dreams though. He's not the first to warn her and wendy's ponytails slithers to one side as she crouches closer to look him in his green eyes. "The dreams.. made you get on the bus?" Bella's warning slithers through her brain from the back to the front and catches in her throat. "Bella told me. She phoned me and told me that there was something. Peyton too." Hasn't stopped her from touching the refrain. "This Ni-Nightmare man?"
Slight nod. Just the one. "Makes you hurt yourself. It put me there." Of course, Logan doesn't know how that worked. He doesn't know how the other driver, a Refrain user, fell asleep at the wheel and was likely guided just like he was guided to make a burning spectacle outside of Soho just for him, just for Hokuto. Without those details, it doesn't make a lot of sense, but he's very sure. Anger is beginning to crest faster than pain ever does, jaw tensing before the latter writes itself across his features. Miserably, he says, "Only used it once. 's fucking— not fucking fair."
He's right. He used once, likely because of her. He's the one in the hospital burned, broken and hurt in more ways than one. "No Logan, it's not" There's the gentlest of squeezes back, tears starting to gather on her lids. "I'm still using and he hasn't come near me again and you.. you're here in the bed and you only tried it once" She knows others who have used it only once now, and are getting hurt. "No use getting angry Logan, it's not going to do you any good right now. Angry's not going to get you better and out of here" Straight teeth bite down on lower lip and she grabs a chair, dragging it closer to the bed so she can sit. "What can I do? TO help you. Is there anyone I can call? Get? Throw money at?"
Nightmare Man can't be bought off. This is a fact he'd like to raise his voice around, throw something, even if it's not even close to what she means, but he can't summon up the energy for any such thing — but he does the next best thing. A sudden frission of heat, and it isn't the fuzzy warm kind — that same flutter her heart went under at seeing him drop back under again happens against with a nudge of adrenaline, a brief, panicked sensation that warms her skin unpleasantly, his eyes flaring green as this rakes through her system. His jaw trembles enough to think, perhaps, this was uncontrolled— and maybe it was, on some level— and he stretches his fingers in an effort to loosen without moving his arm.
A whine comes out upon the next exhale, saline lines of tears now leaking. "Nurse," he utters. "Linderman." And that's about it on the short list of people Logan needs, his mind not even making it much further from his own body to think of things like how Burlesque should be notified or the terrorists he contracted to burn 40,000 units of Refrain or how the Nichols girl is doing or—
Anything like that. He already has someone who was holding his hand, but he'd rather not let her see him cry, even if he's a little late on that front.
Burlesque will be notified, Eileen's probably already taking care of that, even as Wendy's body kicks up at Logan's application of his evolved ability. Her hand pulled back at the feel - the first unlikeable one that he's ever given her - and clutched with her other. She won't blame him, knows already that he did not just because of his eyes. He's hurt and in pain and… who knows what else. "Get a nurse, get Linderman. I'll do that. You just close your eyes and rest Jo-Logan. I won't be going anywhere okay?" Fucking is like family right? It's good enough for her even as she turns away to give him privacy to cry so she can grab her purse. Cellphone and smoke. Try and calm her own body from what he inflicted and start making the necessary calls. Figure out how the fuck she was going to get a call to Linderman that didn't involve being waylaid by a million secretaries.
If he was more helpful right now, he could recite to her the direct line to get in contact with Linderman's publicist and go from there. But Logan is not being helpful, simply turning his head from her with a soft crinkle of gauze and a shuddered in breath. The pain is already starting to remove him from the situation enough that he really will need a nurse, as much as he'd like to go have a smoke too. It's not so much stubbornness or willpower, but sheer vanity that has him giving into pain only after Wendy leaves the room. Fortunately for him, the Nightmare Man can't hear him from here.