ArchivedLogs:Rude Awakenings

Rude Awakenings
Dramatis Personae Lucky, NPC-Michael
In Absentia	2014-11-15 '
Location <NYC> Mount Sinai Hospital - Harlem
On the cutting edge of many medical technologies, Mount Sinai Hospital is often ranked as one of the nation's best hospitals. The medical school attached is one of the best in the world, meaning that even your med students know what they are doing. Chin up, then -- when you come in here badly mutilated after the latest terrible catastrophe in Times Square, you're in good hands. It's been a year - maybe longer. It's hard to keep track anymore because it's felt like much longer. Time passes strangely when someone cared about is in a coma. The staff, they've been bickering for a year. Carolyn, Jason Lucky's chief of staff, has been a proponent of taking him off life support just after the first month came to a conclusion. The chances of him waking up period were astronomical, and even if he did wake, there was a huge chance he would be disabled in some way, less of the brilliant individual she had come to know and love. Worse yet, his political career would be over, given the amount of care he would likely require afterword. Her worst nightmare was the notion that he would be a shell of his former self and he would know it, watching his life from this husk and being unable to reach out. Michael, his administrative aide, refused more than anyone to pull the plug. The explosion had been a tragedy in and of itself, but the night before had been worse, making the incident more of a blessing in disguise. Lucky had confided in him his greatest secret and it had stricken the young assistant to the heart. They had gotten close over the years. Mike had started look up to him as a hero. Initially, Jason didn't speak much of the past, as most of his life was classified and kept off the books, but after a few years, in the quite nights after long campaigns, when no one else was around, and Mike sworn to secrecy so resolute that he dare not breathe a word to anyone, even to help Jason, they began to trickle out. These war stories fascinated him, imparting visions of years past and conflicts that could have torn the world apart - but didn't, thanks to Jason Lucky's intervention. The stories and the faith Jason had in Michael's ability to keep them to himself drew them closer than ever, causing the young man to regard his employer as the father he never had. They were magical - and most of all, they were his. As time went on, however, they began to be a little confusing. He kept referencing locations and scenarios that didn't make sense in the Vietnam war, and when he did his research, they didn't make sense in the Korean war too. There was no way - being the age he appeared - he could have possibly been in World War II, but that was the only way any of that made sense. When Michael first confronted Jason, it was laughed off, no serious details given. The aide felt off kilter at that point, the logical sides of his brain warring with his admiration and devotion. The tension was felt throughout the office. Being a professional, Michael grew quiet. He did his work in a perfunctory manner, never poorly enough to be called out on it, but certainly without the heart that he had before. The pair skirted around each other for a while, attempts to rectify the situation, but there was no resolution until that night that Jason asked Michael to deliver some things to his house. They spoke, quietly at first, awkwardly offering up polite conversation, the silences dragged out a little longer than is normal. Eventually, Jason offered the truth. They sat down and he told him one last story - the first story - about how he had died back during World War II, just a few weeks after Pearl Harbor. He knew he was dead, but he woke up some time after, feeling the pain of his wounds and remembering the horror of the whole situation - but just a little while after, he was well enough and strong enough to head back into combat - like it never happened. He explained that he didn't know how or why or what it all meant, but it was real. Michael took it all in, trying to process it. He had told Jason that he appreciated his honesty, but needed some time. Jason had made some joke about it hopefully not affecting his support in the next election and the pair had a laugh about it, even if Michael hadn't felt any joy in that moment. Today, Michael sits in a hospital room, hoping his boss never wakes up. But Carolyn, desperate, annoying, thinks she knows everything Carolyn, was done. She had gone to all the trouble of working with the hospital, striving for some compassionate end to Jason's life. She goaded them into getting the courts to appoint a legal guardian in order to move the case forward - eventually winning over the ethical counsel at the hospital and gaining the approval of the courts to take him off of life support. He was old. His birth certificate said 94, though he didn't look it. There was no way for him to recover from the injuries. They had put him through enough dragging it out this long. And now, today was the day. And all Michael could do was watch. He sits uncomfortably in his chair, staring at his hands. They had unplugged the machine ten minutes ago. Most everyone had said their goodbyes and left the room. He could not. He sits there, waiting, spent. He sets his teeth in the silence, waiting for a little while longer, holding his breath, hoping it doesn't happen. He waits. And watches. There's a bit of a slight odd warmth in the air from the time he's unplugged from the machine, and yet it doesn't seem to be happening. Everything is nice and quiet, and it looks like maybe, just maybe he was just being a bit crazy about the whole affair. There's never been a story of a mutant coming back from the dead like this, right? After all that time of nothing something completely bizarre begins to happen. It's slow at first but by all accounts Jason's looks almost like he's aging backwards, his hair growing shorter, and darker the wrinkles in his skin beginning to fade. All of that excess weight he'd put on over his time in office bleeds away his clothing becoming slowly more loose on his body. The needles and connections in his arms slowly pop themselves out of place falling to the ground with a clatter his iconic mustache slowly fading back into his upper lip to be replaced by a thin layer of five o'clock shadow. Inside Jason is panicking he can feel every moment of this process the pain of every needle, every wound he'd had since his last regeneration running over him. He couldn't for the life of himself remember it ever being this painful before, but then again he hadn't exactly aged this much before. For the last year he'd been able to do nothing but listen to what was being said around him the dirty dealings people didn't really think he could understand the pain that the doctors said he wouldn't be able to feel. He didn't like hospitals on a good day, and after this he doesn't exactly have many plans of coming back to one. Before long his hair is a dark brown again, his face smooth as silk. His face doesn't really look completely at peace as it had when they'd pulled the plug on the aging politician. No it's much more of a sort of pained rest the kind you get when you've already been sleeping on sharp rocks for a few nights. There's no peace to it at all when his chest suddenly surges into the air, his eyes bolting right back open to look up at the ceiling. Michael inhales sharply when he hears the noise, shifting his attention from his hands to the face of the man in front of him. His eyes are wide and large at first, but then narrow in sadness, hands moving up to his face to scrub at the weariness in his features. He sighs and gets to his feet, looking down at the man in the bed in front of him, who know looks younger than himself. As he stands and watches, Mike can't quite figure out where to put his hands. He clasps them in front of him to start, then moves them behind him, out of sight. After a couple breaths, he stuffs them into the pockets of the gray slacks he put on so many hours before. The silence drags out for a while longer before Michael speaks. "I hoped it wasn't going to happen. Hoped it wasn't true." It takes Jason a bit of disoriented wheezing looking around the room with his eyes moving in and out of focus. He can't seem to even find words to speak, trying to remember where he is. The first word out of his mouth when he can finally move his mouth to do more then try and take in air is "Michael" wheezing a bit as he speaks, trying and failing to sit himself upright. "You're Not," A long pause to collect himself moving as if he's just realized he has arms again trying to clean off his eyes, "The only one" coughing up a bit of blood onto the sheets in front of himself. However this works it takes its toll. Michael sucks in a breath and turns away, trying to keep the blood Jason is coughing up from splattering on his albeit dingy white button down. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and tugs at the shirt, scowling at the small flecks of red. He purses his lips in frustration and stuffs his hands back into his pockets. "Shit." His jaw clenches once more as he starts to keep his distance now. "Don't worry Michael" Lucky starts wiping the blood off of his own face, before continuing to try and rub something out of his eyes. There's a while where he almost looks like he's just going to keep over and die again, but he manages to say "Not contagious,". He's trying to make light of the situation as he turns off to the side, taking in another deep breath of air, this one sounding much more accustomed to his surroundings. There's a small attempt at a smile on his face, as he places his hands down forcefully on either side of the bed, trying to bring himself back to a stand. "I'm not concerned about contamination." Michael replies, gruff and tired. "You ruined my shirt and you're accusing me of catching ... what?" He can't bring himself to say it. His frown deepens as he watches Jason begin the process of getting out of his bed, his attention turned away so he doesn't get an ass shot from between the johnny's back closures. "So, that's it, eh? You're just going to get up and walk away?" Coming back up to a stand in his patient robes Jason tightens the little tie on the back of them so the two overlap, making them a bit more comfortable in some ways. "Michael, what other option is there" His mind finally back at top shape. "I announce that I was the first mutant senator?" He's not exactly sounding the happiest he has since Michael started working with him, trying to look around for his favorite jacket to try and grab a pack of smokes but not finding it. As he makes his way over to the tray with all kinds of faded platoon photos and whatnot beside his bed he can't help but look down to the photograph of his Border Collie "The media would have a field day, and how do I tell Margarette?" He takes care to close the blinds the rest of the way so someone doesn't see the young him walking about. There's that sort of lost look in his eyes as he thinks to himself trying to peice everything together "Exactly. You can't just walk out of here. You have... to... decide who you're going to be now and, hell, I don't know. Go be it." Michael runs a hand through his hair. "Shit, Jason. Your dog is going to have the least problem with this. Focus on the people. I don't know. Maybe we can declare you your own illegitimate son, try to find an identity you can assume, get you out of the city after the memorial service. Spend the rest of your life in Tahiti or Jamaica." Jason mutters something under his breath about trying to find his smokes, despite having made a big deal of quitting smoking some ten years ago. He's already started pacing soon after, running his hand across his face. There's some sort of inaudible speech that bleeds over from inside his head out loud, for a bit before he says "I've done enough lieing," The cogs and gears are turning in his head. Finally speaking up at a more full volume Jason adjusts his shoulders as if he were trying to get more comfortable in a suit, "Michael". He supports himself on the windowsill still unsure if this is a good idea himself. "Michael, when I took you on, I told you we were going to change the world." "Yeah, sure. Change the world. You could have done that before. Now? Now, you're going to spend all of your time trying to convince people that you're even who you say you are. Mutants are scary, Jason. Fucking terrifying. You may think what you do is harmless, but it's not. And you don't look like you anymore. Most of all, guess what? There were no video cameras trained on your body. No proof to say that you went from being an old, mostly burned corpse into this." Michael jabs a hand out at Jason, gesturing to all of him. "You're going to have your hands full trying to just BE. Don't you think it would be easier just to not try. Change your name. Leave public life." "To quote a wise man, we do these things" He turns back to face Michael, going into the same stance he does every time he goes into a speech, and immediately resorts right to the JFK quotes "not because they are easy, but because they are hard" He then goes into his own speech using hand motions and general body language in his favor "Would it be easier to just have let the Germans have Europe?" He puffs out his chest slightly as he speaks having gotten into the spirit of it already "Would it have been easier to let the Ruskies beat us out in the space race? Would it have been easier to stand by while honest Americans were treated like cattle? Yes, it would have been easier, but evil men triumph when good men do nothing Michael!" "The space race? Seriously?" Michael shakes his head. "Look, Jason, there's a difference between being on the inside, a favorite child, the rallying point. You've always had the whole country behind you. Now, you're actually going to feel what it's like to be on the outside - to be right and have no one listen to you." He sighs and reaches a hand up to scrub at his face again. "Fine. I'll... go find Carolyn. We should probably tell her soon, as it'll take her a while to recover - if she does. If she doesn't, you're going to have to hire someone new." Jason sighs his motivational speech not exactly working out quite the way he'd intended it to. He was so used to people cheering, smiling faces, and applause for one of his speeches even a fairly simple one. There were always people who didn't agree with what was said, or even sometimes boo'd him, but there wasn't really anything like this. It's an odd thing to go from a war hero, and a senator with a massive fallowing to, well to this. The expression on his face remains stoical never faltering, but even he knows when a battle might be a bit too hard to fight. There's of course always blood samples, and fingerprints to say he's the same man, but by the same token who's to say there's not a mutant that can have the same. Grabbing the nearest bit of clothing and throwing it on, Jason rather calmly states, "I'm going for a walk, let's wait to tell her" "Jason, I don't know how to tell you this, but you're dead. Yeah, you can probably walk yourself out of here - I don't think anyone is going to hold you, but once you've been declared dead and your death certificate has been signed, you're going to have a hell of a time doing anything else." Michael moves toward the door to get there first. "You should get back in bed. Lay down. Take a load off. I'll go find the doctors and we'll do this right. Get all the documentation now - while there's still time to stop this from spiraling out of control and get ahead of things." There goes his chance for a smoke, Jason goes right back over to his bed, sitting back down with his hands on his lap. He doesn't really argue with the man, Michael having not really steered him wrong this far. "Going to have to register, aren't I?" A rather soft spoken question from an often so outspoken man. If there's one bill he'd loved to have gotten shot down it's the reregistration act, the whole thing never set right with him, like it was one step towards invalidating the civil rights movement altogether. "Yes. Definitely. Amongst other things. Okay. You wait here." Michael takes a deep breath and unbuttons his collar button and runs his hands through his hair. He looks a bit more the mess when he's done, slapping his face a little to try and bring some color back. "I have to look surprised and out of sorts. Just... get under the covers and be ready to look like you just woke up. I'll go get things started." He draws in a deep breath after helping Jason get tucked in once more. Then he turns his face toward the ceiling and starts to yell. "Oh... god, what is... Oh. Doctor! DOCTOR! I need a Doctor!" He turns toward the door and breaks into a quick run. There's only a couple feet of linoleum that he has to cross to get there, so the journey short. Then he pulls the door open and yells into the hallway. "He's awake! Hell. He's awake! Someone get a doctor! He's coughing up blood, but he's awake! Get help!"