wickedchouette | (no subject)

[ The Machine makes the hospital arrangements for Zenaida Martin, on behalf of her beloved uncle, Harold Swan; and since he is a wealthy man with no children of his own, he spares no expense for his niece, who was orphaned young and now only has him and a handful of friends.

A private hospital room with the best view the building has, chairs comfortable enough to make a person weep with joy, and on-demand room service for Zenaida and her guests. Uncle Swan is busy, but he'll be by to visit as soon as he's able. In the meantime, family friend Detective Lionel Fusco makes rounds, and Zenaida drifts in and out of sleep thanks to a steady stream of gradually weaker painkillers.

"Zenaida" isn't sure how much time has passed since she was in the car with "Uncle Swan," but that's fine. What matters is that she's alive, that the bullet caught her in a less deadly place on her body. She's alive. She survived. She fought so hard for them all, and then worked hard on herself for a year and a half, and now she's back, alive, waiting to be healed up enough to start walking again. ]

[Shaw has never actually doubted the deals - or at least, she hasn't doubted them any more than she's doubted everything else around her. If the Admiral's weird-ass magic is fake, then it's because everything is fake, and she's in a long-con simulation (one that's possibly the result of Greer, Lambert, & co. getting really into doing shrooms). But if the Barge itself is real, then it's ridiculous to think that the Admiral is full of crap and every single warden with a graduated inmate under their belt is in on the lie. She's paranoid, but not that paranoid.

All this is to say that when Fusco relays to them that Root is at St. Mary's, being treated for a serious but non-fatal gunshot wound, Shaw isn't surprised. But she sure as hell is relieved, and she finds that hearing it out lout makes breathing a little easier.

Fusco and Reese both immediately offer to send Shaw to the hospital, but she demurs, wanting to play this out as similarly as she can to what she remembers of the few days between Root's death and her own summons to the Barge: it's better not to risk activating some weird butterfly effect, after all. So she heads off with John, and everything proceeds as expected until Fusco calls to tell them that Root is out of surgery and able to have visitors. Go, John says again - and this time, she does.

Root will awaken to find her curled up on a chair at her bedside, conked the fuck out. It's been a long day.]

Edited 2024-12-03 04:45 (UTC)

[ Oh, what a sight for sore eyes. Root watches her for a while, drifting back to sleep every now and then, until her system gets used to post-op consciousness. And still she watches, waiting until Shaw shifts or moves a few times in a short while, before speaking, strength of voice reined in by the anesthesia slowly leaving her bloodstream. ]

Hey, sweetie.

[Shaw mumbles in her sleep, then opens her eyes just a little. Without saying anything - maybe even without fully waking up - she climbs out of her chair and into Root's hospital bed, curling up there instead.]

[ Aww yes, gentle post-op (and post-mission?) cuddles. ]

Tired out, huh. Hope it was worth it.

This alternate universe stuff is a trip.

[She murmurs, flopping an arm over Root's abdomen.]

How's the gunshot wound?

Mm, [ Root murmurs. She agrees.

The wound is... ]

Very medicated. Healing.

[ She sighs, all of her relaxing with the breath. Healing. Because she survived. ]

So if I poked you in the stomach, you wouldn't feel it? That medicated?

[Shaw. Shaw, no.]

I'd rather you didn't.

[ No passion play for a little bit, baby. ]

Did we win?

[Shaw huffs out a laugh, shaking her head.]

We're working on it, but, uh-- even with that boost from the Admiral, it's a tough job. And anyway, you know there's no chance we can get this done without you.

Yes there is.

[ The protest is weak, but she does believe they could do the job without her. That's how much faith she has in them, and why she was willing to lay down her life in that car. ]

But... I'll help however I can.

[ From here, in and out of pain and consciousness. ]

Punch Greer really hard for me, okay?

Sure. I already shot Lambert for me; this one I'll do on your behalf.

[Slooooowly, she strokes her fingers up and down Root's arm.]

It's weird, knowing for sure that you're going to pull through this. How long do you think the Admiral's lucky touch lasts?

Long enough.

[ That's as far as Root is willing to think about it. She'll blame surgery for that.

Gingerly, she puts a hand on Shaw's arm. It's as much of a hug as Root can give right now. ]

And then the Machine will help us again. Because She'll be okay. We'll all be okay.

[ She wants to see everyone. Harold and Lionel and Bear-- even John, though he doesn't have to come and say hi. The others do, though. ]

Are you hungry? We can share my jello.

Nah, I ate already. Stole some chips and a donut from the cafeteria downstairs. And you should eat everything they give you; you need your strength after that surgery. Just let me know if you need me to move.

[Granted, she says this against the skin of Root's clavicle, her face resting in the crook of her neck.]

You're perfect like this.

[ In every way. Root turns her head slightly, nestling her chin in Shaw's hair. ]

Please eat some protein before you go back out there. I worry enough as it is. About all of you.

Give me your wallet; buy me a steak. You think anywhere around here does delivery?

[She says it lightly, joking, but now that she thinks of it--

Wiggling her hand down to her pocket, she pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through Google Maps.]

It's in the drawer.

[ But, ah, the sweet "sound" of the Machine's voice. A warm blanket on a chilly afternoon, the scent and taste of fresh brewed coffee, a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves, sunset colors, the serenity of knowing they're safe.

Root chuckles very softly. ]

She can order one for you, if you want. Her treat.

What about two, can it manage that?

[Both for her, obviously. Root is in the hospital and should not be eating outside foods.]

[ Another quiet snicker. ]

Just tell Her how you like them. She'll have them delivered.

[ Root has to work her way back up to solids. Very little is appetizing right now. ]

Medium rare is the only right answer to that.

[Shaw digs her nail lightly into the skin of Root's arm in a way that's intended to be affectionate.]

Thanks.

[ That's her little food-motivated Sameen ♥ ]

They'll text you when they're here.

[ She pauses, smiling, dipping her head a little so she strokes Shaw's head with her chin. ]

Of course. And thank you. For everything.

Are you petting me with your face.

[Root, you weirdo. She snuggles in, careful not to press any part of herself against Root's abdomen.]

Keep doing that.

[ In response, Root chuckles and does it again. 'I love you' is the easy (and very much true) next thing to say, but she thinks back to the Barge and how she learned to communicate the sentiment differently.

So-- ]

I feel so warm right now. The anesthesia had me feeling cold and weak. But now, with you... everything feels cozy and relaxed.

Not too warm, right? You gotta tell me if I'm overheating you.

[But her eyes drift closed, half-lidding.]

I'm warm, too. My, uh--

[She'd learned her own lessons on the Barge: about picking out physical sensations that might match well with emotions.]

My muscles are relaxed, even though they were tense a few hours ago.

Perfect warm.

[ Root carefully manages to turn her head enough to kiss Shaw on the head. ]

Relaxed is good. Nourished is good. You'll be back to kicking ass in no time.