ArchivedLogs:Signs Of Life

Signs Of Life
Dramatis Personae Flicker, Melinda, Micah
In Absentia	21 August 2014 Hospital sitting, refreshments, and planning.
Location <NYC> Mount Sinai Hospital – Harlem
There's a sameness about hospitals, same antiseptic smell, same background beeps and the roll of wheels and crackling of intercoms, same mix of interminable waiting and lots of /bustle/. Same cafeteria food and vending machine meals after cafe hours. Flicker is at the moment poking his way through a falafel sandwich -- at any rate it purports to be a falafel sandwich though his expression as he nibbles at the dried out chickpea patty is /skeptical/. Having come here straight off work, he's still dressed in Mendel red and black, one sleeve pinned at his side. He sits curled in a chair by Hive's beside, very faintly twitching at every groan of the ventilator pushing air in and out of Hive's lungs. There's a cup of herbal tea cooling beside him, and he sips at that with more relish than his mediocre sandwich. Mel reappears in the doorway a fairly common sight in the room. She's still covered in a mild tan from her weeks in the Thai sun, but the dark circles under her eyes put off any notions that she has been relaxing as of late. The scent of coffee wafts in with her, the aroma sticking to the mocha colored slacks and the white blouse that wraps across her front. She's carrying a couple bags instead of her daughter, work and food that allows her to spend time in the hospital room and still get paid. As she continues into the room, her gaze shifts away from her inspection of Hive to Flicker, her concern remaining constant as she moves over to his side to press a kiss to his temple. "How's your tea? Wow, that sandwich looks sad." She moves over to the surface she's pretty much claimed as her own and settles out the spillables from one bag, stacking up a couple sandwich boxes as well. "I'm not confident it's a sandwich." Flicker lifts his hand to wrap his arm around Mel in a small squeee of hug when she leans in to kiss him. His voice is soft and vaguely distressed, and when he drops his hand he pokes a finger tentatively into the crumbling falafel. He turns wide green eyes on Mel as she lays out the contents of the bag, a little bit puppyish in his hopeful look. "Please tell me some of that Real Food is stealable." "Well, only if you intend to steal from yourself," Melinda replies, giving a little shrug before wheeling the tray closer to Flicker for his perusal. There are a couple halves of vegetarian sandwiches, filled with fresh cut veg, hummus, sprouts and Goddess dressing and a few that look like turkey sandwiches with a very clear 'vegan' scribbled in black permanent marker over the wrapping. There are two thermoses as well, one labeled 'coffee' and the other 'mint.' "Take what you want. I've got someone else bringing dinner by later. Home cooked. Tove insisted." She moves to settle into a chair and relaxes a little. Her eyes return to gazing at Hive, a wrinkle forming between her brows, followed by a deep inhale and exhale. "They say anything while I was away?" "You're a saint." Flicker wraps the falafel back in the bit of plastic wrap it came in; he blinks out of his chair and back /into/ it nearly too fast to see, but when he returns the sandwich is no longer on his table but instead in the trashcan across the room. In its place he nabs a hummus-veggie sandwich, giving a pleased hum as he takes his first bite. "Can I steal from myself? Is that allowed?" His forefinger swipes a bit of Goddess dressing from the corner of his mouth. His eyes lower at the question, his head shaking slightly. "Nothing new. Brains are delicate. Joshua's been by to -- I think there's less /bleeding/ actively in his skull now but he's still not --" He waves his sandwich towards Hive with a small huff of breath. "I think we just. Have to. Wait." "I think stealing from yourself is either an attempt at insurance fraud or a symptom of some type of self-esteem complex. Maybe. I haven't given it much thought, and I'm certainly not remotely qualified to speak for the mental health community." Mel straightens in her seat only to tilt forward a little. Hands rub fingers into the hollows of her eyes and she takes in the news and lets it settle. "Okay. Waiting." She stretches her neck and turns to study Flicker. "How are you holding up?" "I have /so/ much self esteem. Sanity, though --" Flicker's hand (still holding sandwich) wobbles back and forth in the air. Iffy. He curls his feet up beneath himself -- socked feet, his boots from work have been abandoned beneath the bed -- and shifts his gaze back to Mel. For a moment he's quiet, hesitating on the question and filling the pause instead with another bite of sandwich. His right shoulder -- or at least his right /side/ -- twitches up, lifting in a somewhat truncated shrug. "Tired." This is low, halfway to a whisper. "You?" Mel lips spread slowly in a grin, amused by his grasp on his own sanity. She shakes her head and lets her attention drift, focusing on nothing in particular for a while. "Tired. Overwhelmed. Kind of drifting. I feel like I'm in that place where if I don't think too hard, don't try too much, and just relax into a balanced posture, the little tiny boat I'm standing on won't overturn before it fills up with water and sinks. The only question is, am I floating in a shark infested ocean, or a tiny little pond I can easily swim out of?" She draws in a deep breath and offers both shoulders in a shrug. "Apologies for the metaphor. I'm okay right now." She shuffles her chair closer to Flicker's and leans a shoulder against his as she settles in again. Flicker rests back up against Melinda, eating slowly as he considers this. "The tiny pond in our courtyard," he finally points out with a small tug of amusement on his lips, "is often shark-infested." His tongue swipes across his upper teeth. "I don't know where that fits into the metaphor." "I suppose that depends on the last time we fed the twins." Mel considers afterward, her eyes vaguely out of focus. "I suppose, we could extrapolate for the sake of wasting time, that feeding the sharks, for us, has a very real correlation with taking care of the needs of our families as a way of taking care of ourselves. Neither is wholly separate from the other. The assumption is that the boat will eventually sink, so we should be prepared for that and hopefully in taking care of our immediate surroundings, we'll be helped by our loved ones and not torn apart when we let them down? Wow, that's kind of dark." She takes another breath and lets her attention settle on Hive again. "How tired are you?" Flicker's lips purse. He sets down his sandwich and picks up his tea, sipping at it slowly. "Maaaybe." He doesn't sound wholly convinced. "Maybe it's not dark. Maybe it's that even if some places seem bottomless and terrifying and full of danger, there's always going to be support. Family. Pulling us through it." Another slow sip of tea finally drags up the answer: "I think it's kind of. Left the realm of /measurable/." "I definitely prefer your interpretation." Mel chuckles quietly and closes her eyes. Her arm moves from hovering over her lap to wrapping around his shoulders. The movement is tentative and definitely gentle, keeping him close for the time being if he doesn't resist. "You do know that if you're tired beyond measure, it's probably time to rest." The words are less instructive, but more verging on concern. "You've been through a lot lately. You're also still going through it. I feel like I should be checking you over for metaphorical teeth marks." With a small wry smile Flicker hooks a finger into the collar of his uniform shirt, tugging it slightly down to reveal two healing puncture wounds in the side of his neck. "I have real ones." He drops his hand back to the table, toying with picking up his sandwich though he doesn't yet do it. He leans into Mel's touch instead, closing his eyes and resting his head on her shoulder. "I just -- how?" His voice has shifted back to low, to tired. "He's needed me so much. I don't -- know how to." Rather than pick up his sandwich he lifts a hand, fingers fidgeting against the side of his skull. Mel rolls her eyes a little, a good natured sniff of amusement following. "You know what I'm talking about," She inhales deeply and squeezes his shoulder a little tighter. "Yes, he's needed a lot lately. Pretty much everything. And now all we can give him is time." Her lips purse as she turns her head toward his, letting his skull rest against the bridge of her nose. "I don't know how you rest... but maybe you should make an experiment of it. Try something. Sleep in? Stay in bed all day. Make it a goal to find some television show on Netflix and watch it all the way through? Just... think about what you want to do for once?" A small shudder passes through Flicker, and he's quiet once more for a good long while. Slowly, his head shakes. "Usually when I rest it's with him. Go climbing, play video games, play basketball, I -- but he's /gone/ and I can't even /do/ those things anymore and I don't --" He cuts himself off sharply with a hitch of breath, his fingers clenching into a tight fist that thuds down into his lap. Then lifts again to circle meekly at his heart. "Sometimes I just wish there was a rewind button." "You can't..." Mel begins, a small frown pulling at her lips. The expression deepens as she begins to grasp his true meaning. Her brow furrows and her lips sink into an upset purse, nostrils flaring as she works this out. "I... see." There's a stretch of silence before she speaks again, the tip of her nose starting to pinken as her eyes moisten. "He's.. not completely gone. He's just... doing something alone for once. I can't imagine how that feels for you. How any of this feels for you. I just... have you spoken to Micah at all yet?" Flicker shakes his head, eyes focusing down on his fist. "Everything's just been so -- like how could I even think about." His eyes close slowly, a distinct tremble to the breath he exhales. "There's been so much else to deal with. I didn't really know how. To think about everything at once. And there was so much I wanted to talk to /him/ about but he kind of had. A lot. On his plate." "Bah. Flicker. You can't just keep going like this. We all support each other." Mel frowns as she presses another kiss against his temple. "And I hate to say it, but part of the reason why we are here right now is because Hive waited so long to take care of himself. Not saying circumstances really allowed him to act sooner, but medically speaking he would be a little better off if he had had the surgery sooner." She hangs her head when she finishes, gnawing on her lip. Her free hand moves up to her chest to circle an apology. Speak of the devil and...okay, maybe you just get a Micah in this case. He /fits/ easily in the hospital, navigating the halls with little attention paid to the task, no one even stopping him to obtain a visitor's pass on his way in. It could be that his slightly-rumpled TARDIS-blue polo and khakis, left arm splotched brightly with purple cross-hatching from fibreglass cast dye, assists him in the latter. As has been his way for some while, he looks a little overworked and under-slept, auburn hair an untended mess and eyes heavy-lidded. It seems like he had rather a similar idea to Mel, fingers of one hand curled tight around a Busboys and Poets bag. “Maybe I should've called ahead,” he observes lightly, the vague upward tilt of his lips giving more a suggestion of a smile than a true one. “Never can have too much food or coffee, though, really.” Approaching the table, he rests the bag on it, looking from Mel to Flicker and then around the room for a moment before speaking. “How've...things been here? Since this mornin'?” "I know. I know. I /do/ know, I just. I've never /had/ that caretaker problem, you know? Try to tend everyone else and forget about your own needs on the way. I didn't. But /Hive/ -- all the things we kept asking from him he never really had a chance to look after /himself/ and now that he finally /was/ I just." Flicker stumbles on his words, biting down at his lip and finally reaching for his sandwich for another bite. His eye widens slightly when Micah appears, a small smile flashing across his face then disappearing. "... Wow, it's like we summoned you." He looks back down, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "I didn't really have space. In my brain. For dealing with /everything/. So I /wanted/ to deal with him first. Because he wouldn't do it on his own." It's only then that he looks back to Micah and shakes his head. "Same. Empt-- Quiet." Melinda nods quietly, looking over at Micah as he comes in. There is a smile that follows and a quiet agreement with Flicker's summoning sentiment. She stays quiet though, as her seated companion begins speaking again. Her attention drifts back to Micah, gesturing that he join in with a her of her head. As soon as she feels that she got the point across, she looks down to Flicker once more. "It... I'm not trying to give you a hard time. I apologize if it sounds as if I was. I... just wanted to say that now is a good time." “Was I just summoned? Guess that means I can't activate any powers for a round.” Which roughly correlates to flopping into a chair, right? Micah digs a thermos of mocha out of his ever-present messenger bag before hanging that off the chair's back. “Quiet's...good. Stable,” he asserts, as much for himself as for anyone else. He looks between Flicker and Mel once more at the ongoing thread of conversation. “Did I interrupt somethin'?” "Which is kind of a shame because we were just talking about needing your powers. Here, though, this'll cure you of summoning sickness." Flicker picks up his mug, offering the strawberry-mint-lavender tea over to Micah. He shakes his head though, at the question of interrupting. "No. Only me whining." His head bonks lightly against Mel's shoulder. "I didn't feel like you were giving me a hard time. Just -- trying to explain. Where my head's been." "Yeah, summoned, I suppose." Mel agrees and slowly pulls her arm off of Flicker's shoulders for the time being, wetting her lips again giving away her nerves despite the calmness of her demeanor. "We're talking about learning to make take some time for ourselves again." Then, Flicker's words sink in and she nods slowly. "Okay. Yes. Please. I can only guess where your head and your heart have been. If there's more, I'm listening. " “My powers? What's up?” Nevermind the fact that Micah just took a huge swig of mocha, he'll drink the tea, too. Who says you have to choose? He does return Flicker's mug after a long draw from it, though. “You? Whinin'? Can't say I'm familiar with it.” His brow furrows slightly, eyes darting over Mel before regarding Flicker more closely. “Seriously, though, what's goin' on?” Flicker takes his mug back to sip from it again, straightening up away from Mel when she drops her arm from his shoulders. His answer comes with a small furrow of brow, short and kind of uncertain: "I lost my arm." Melinda doesn't stray far from Flicker, but leaves some space for Micah. She doesn't have anything to add at the moment. Micah nods at that statement, simple acknowledgement. “Yes y'did.” He sets his thermos aside, as well. “Did y'wanna talk about that now? Y'didn't seem...quite ready b'fore. I didn't wanna push you where y'weren't set t'go.” "I wasn't. Quite ready." Flicker bites at his lip, drinking at his cup again until he has realized he has drained the lot. "There was just so much going on and I didn't have /space/ to deal with it. And Hive. And I --" He shakes his head, slumping lower in his seat. "... I still don't know how to have -- space. To deal with it. It kinda just feels like so much that --" His hand turns upward. "Where do you even start? Especially right /now/ when --" His eyes skim back over to Hive. "We can probably start with something small, I guess. Try to just... do something you want to do that you don't think you can do. Find some tiny bit of normal, maybe? Or am I completely off here?" Mel looks between the pair quietly to gauge their reactions. “You're doin' all y'can for 'im right now, hon. The doctors an' healers're the ones gotta take care of 'im right now. All /we/ can do is...be here. An' we been doin' that in shifts. /You/ should maybe stick t'shifts an' rely on the folks as're here when you're not t'call when there's more we can do, yeah?” Micah slides his chair closer to Flicker's, its legs groaning slightly in protest as they scoot across the floor. “As far as dealin' with it...where we start depends on where you are. If y'just wanna talk 'bout what you're feelin'? That's fine. B'lieve me, I get it. But if you're too worried t'do that with us, it's pretty common for folks t'hook in with psychologists after losin' a limb. Honestly, it wouldn't be a bad plan t'do /both/. If you wanna get into what comes next, what options y'have an' how t'prepare for those? I can lead y'through that, too. You just let me know where you're at an' I'll meet y'there, right?” "I haven't been feeling like I can do /much/, lately," Flicker admits, a little guiltily. "I don't like feeling helpless. Or sorry for myself. But it just feels like. Between this and not having Hive here really it's. I don't exactly /know/ how to -- do. Life." His cheeks are burning deep red, fingers fidgeting restlessly with the hem of his uniform shirt. "I guess knowing options would be helpful. More helpful than just feeling overwhelmed like there are none." Melinda nods and gets to her feet, moving over to the sandwiches she brought earlier and picks out as veggie for herself. She listens as she also pours herself a cup of coffee, leaving the lid off the thermos near Hive's bed, as if the aroma will wake him. She lets the other two talk about the important business at hand as she gets out her laptop and starts to work on... well, some work. Mel's movements at Hive's bedside catch Micah's eye a moment, a shadow of smile surfacing at the coffee left there. “I think maybe a good first step'll be for y'to go /home/ when the next folks come in. Get some sleep. Spend some time with Dusk. He's been rattlin' 'round that empty place an'... I think it'd d'you both good.” Twisting in his seat, he digs in his messenger bag to retrieve a tablet. “If you're wantin' t'go the prosthetic route, which it sounded like y'did last we talked 'bout this, there's some real basic set-up y'can get started in on immediately. Stretches. Desensitisation. Strengthenin' exercises. Prob'ly should find you a PT and an OT at the Clinic. Plus side is that bein' an' employee there, expense isn't gonna be a huge barrier t'any part of this, I'd imagine.” He starts sliding through applications on the tablet, looking for catalogues already stored there. “I think you'll find it's less an overwhelmin' lack of options an' more an overwhelmin' /abundance/ of 'em.”