His eyes opened. It was so quiet! Was it night? Ric? He regretted the attempt at sending immediately because there was a tremendous buzzing in his head. Concussion? Maybe. Damn, it was so quiet!
Mik looked around him, just barely able to move his head for the wrap of bandages on it. He could see the room, though things were fuzzy and when he blinked to clear the fuzziness, things were worsened, doubled. He sighed softly and felt the vibration of the cot on which he lay. He turned his head as far as he could to see someone was walking across the floor. It hit him then that he couldn't hear the sounds of heels clicking, scraping or
thudding on the gray tile.
Hey, what's going on? He tried to say but maybe he'd only thought it. Hey, WHAT'S going ON? Dammit. What's wrong? "HEY!" He knew he'd spoken then because he could feel the shout in the way his chest constricted and his lips felt the air. He panicked. He didn't just feel panic rising, he literally panicked. "I can't hear!!" He felt hands on his face, a soothing touch but he didn't want to be touched soothingly. He wanted to know
what was wrong. "Why can't I hear?"
He could see the face of the man. Brrace. "You Bastard! You tried to kill us!"
Brrace's mouth was moving - clearly he was speaking but Mik couldn't hear a sound. "What? I can't... what's wrong with my ears? Write it down, Brrace, write it down!"
Apparently, Brrace had been prepared for this. He took up a faded legal pad and in powerfully penned block letters wrote: STOP SCREAMING. It'll be okay Mikkaill.
Screaming. I'm screaming? Gods, oh gods. RIC!
After that someone injected him with something and everything went dark.
---
The darkness pressed in on Ricohh, and for the thousandth time he tried to rip the bandages off his eyes. His arms wouldn't respond to the commands of his panicked brain. Someone had lashed his wrists to the metal sides of the hospital bed. He struggled with the restraints, feeling walls close in on him, forcing his breath into rasps until a spark of memory stilled him. Myrr had said the room he was in was three times bigger than hers was. And the
room contained Mikkaill, somewhere on his right. Mikkaill, who slept still. Damn him. Leaving me alone like this. It was a desperate attempt at connection. The first tries had left his head buzzing with static. Panic turned the attempt into a spike, sharper than the knives he wielded (would he ever be able to again?). Wake up!
The world was quiet. He felt the thrum of his own heartbeat, the surge of blood through his body, the rasp of his breathing in and out of his lungs - his body hurt; but all these things were distant feelings; except for the nasty burn where no burn should damn well be! Ric? Ric where are we? He hadn't opened his eyes because he didn't want to be awake; not really. He'd awakened once before and had a vague memory of Brrace... Brrace writing
something to him... something like, "Stop screaming." He didn't want to scream again. They'd sedated him when he'd screamed. He remembered that.
The static backlash made Ric flinch, made him almost miss Mik's answer. Had his eyes been working right, he would have blinked back tears. Relief flooded their connection, the intangible thing that made them unique in what seemed to be a tide of twinning. Gods...thank the gods...Mikkaill. Hospital. We're in the hospital in New Rydynn. That was all the information he could give. Details were sketchy, denied him under the guise that he needed to
concentrate on healing before anything else.
Both of us? Then... it's over..?
Resigned, Ric's head flopped against the pillow and just for giggles, he had a go at the restraints again. I dunno. Brrace is here. So is Myrr, but I don't think she was the one who brought us here.
All Brrace told me was it would be all right. I heard him, Ric... I heard him at the safehouse... dammit, why's it so quiet here? Brrace had written it down that he'd be all right. It was all there in his head... the things to connect with the fact that he couldn't hear; but he wasn't connecting it; wasn't willing to admit it. Mik tried to lift his arms, because he could feel Ric tugging against the restraints that held his down;
and, found himself - free.
I can move, he thought to his brother, with all the layers of meaning that had.
Freakin' noisy in here is what it is. Machines beeping and whirring. Docs thinkin' cause I can't see, I can't hear either. And of course you can move. You ain't tied to the bed.Frustration welled up inside and all he could do was lay there. Dammit, dammit dammit!
Noisy? It's like the inside of one of Sidd's rectories, it's so qui... oh damn. Ohcrapohcrap. Ric... I can't hear! Say something... something LOUD! Mik's hands shot up to his head and he felt the bandage that wrapped around his skull. It hurt when he moved to sit up, but he did... and he couldn't hear anything; not the scrape of the IV tube over the bed rail, not the rattle of the arm, not the beeping ... not the whirring... Not one
thing.
I ain't yelling anything, Mik. That'll just bring them in here. If they ain't here already. Geezus. Mik's panic laced with his own. Something was going to explode and Ric thought it might be his head.
Mik was breathing hard and fast, but he reached for and grabbed onto the training they'd been given... panic was too easy, panic made you make mistakes... no mistakes. Okay... okay... it's gonna be okay, right? We're alive... Ric couldn't see, it filtered in with the words, "if they ain't in here already..." Nobody's here, I can see that... he looked around.
As he looked, his eyes finally landed on Ric... *Gods...* He wasn't about to keep anything from his brother and he lent him his vision as best he could, even with the fuzziness between their psychic communication that their injuries seemed to bring to them.
Mik could see, but couldn't hear. Could things get any worse, Ric thought? He groaned into the dark and latched onto the tunnel visions Mik sent him. The panic abated, replaced by fascination. That's me?
Yeah. Look like crap. Grenades are really nasty…Mik was carefully disconnecting things so that he could move toward his brother. They must think we're gonna crash anytime... all this crap around us... How long's it been now? He had no sense of time.
I dunno, a week, maybe? Myrr said the bandages would probably come off in a couple of days... What the hell do you think you're doing? He was stuck in the hated bed and there Mik was, unhooking himself. Mik wouldn't leave him alone, would he? He'd never been so scared in all his life.
I'm gonna undo your godsdammed restraints... We're both awake. You don't need them. Ever practical was Mikkaill... but when he swung his feet onto the floor... Ohh... gods. His hands gripped for the rail and it's support... the bed moved an inch or so on it's wheels. He slid down to his knees. This is probably a really BAD thing, he thought. "Makabb..." he breathed softly, unable to hear it himself but certain he'd said it.
The vertigo hit him like a slap in the face. Get back in bed, Mik. I'm okay...It'll be all right... He was babbling and struggling to get free so he could get to Mikkaill. He saw the floor slowly rise up to meet him -- no to meet Mikkaill. He was stuck, elevated by a firm mattress. Machines around him complained with loud beeps and whistles. Dammit! You're gonna make them come in here!
He may have needed them to do just that just then, but he sent Ric comfort. I got it... I'm good... and forced himself up. Wow, he thought, sweating a lot... A week... What happened to the body after grenades went off real close? Why did his chest hurt so badly. Felt like a Violator class tank had reamed him. He tried to remember what he'd seen before... in training... after... and then decided that was a baaad idea. He grabbed
hold of his rolling IV stand and murmured, "C'mon IVan..." and dragged it, half supported by it, toward Ric's bed. He made a step shuffle, roll, step shuffle, roll sound he couldn't hear.
He'd detached the little round sensors, which, yes, would bring *someone* in. He knew that. But the fact was he couldn't bare the thought of Ric blind and restrained, it wasn't fair to his brother. Ric needed to see... needed the light... He could feel the rumble of his own voice, rough, as if sore -- probably from having tubes shoved down it during operations. He could feel the pull of stitches just about everywhere -- in his throat so he knew
he was speaking. "Get you untied in a sec, bro."
His greatest fear, he realized in a moment of clarity, was not death or the dark or close walls. His greatest fear was helplessness. Unable to see and now even move to help his brother take those first, struggling steps to help him killed Ric. He said very softly, "Just go back, Mik," unable even to push his brother away.
Mik couldn't hear him anyway, though he felt the sentiments. "Don't worry..." Mik whispered. "I'm getting you out... stupid doctors..." His fingers reached for the broad straps of the restraints... and he belatedly heard what Ric had said before... Myrr was here? He leaned his aching body against the bed and let IVan stand on his own while he worked and worked the strap til it was free.
Frighteningly slowly, his newly released hand found Mik's forearm and latched on. Physical connection sparked through his veins. When I first woke up. She said I'm still a lady-killer despite the bandages.
A stab of jealousy that Myrr should be awake when Ric woke and that he should not flickered through him, but it didn't go through to Ric. He'd never allow that. He'd never be so selfish as to deny his brother any or all of the joy he could have. Mik had been sedated after first waking and he hated that he'd been out of control. He should have been awake for his little brother... dammit... he worked the buckle free and for a moment just let the
tactile contact be enough. He'd have to walk around the bed to get to the other one! "I'm glad she was here for you bro..." he said, and meant it, and his eyes scrutinized his brother's face.
His face was hidden more effectively by bandaging than the veil he usually sported could have ever hidden it. His hair had been cut short, buzzed close to the scalp and was only now starting to grow back. Tufts jutted out from between swaddling swipes that hid his eyes and protected the hundred tiny stitches that held the gash along the side of his face closed. Ric held onto Mikkaill as tight as he could. His grip was much weaker than usual. I can
get the other one.
She's right...you're as ugly as ever. Mik finally told him; letting the joking camaraderie that was always between them reassure his brother. What the hell had he looked like before the bandages? And how the hell do I look, Mik wondered to himself. With his free hand he took a moment to search his head. The bandage wrapped around behind, almost down to his neck. He remembered dimly how the roof had come down atop him… and
again, his chest ached with the wound there. He remembered that too, as the roof came down and he'd fallen atop Ric how the metal had come between them and pierced them both. He sighed. His hair had been short to start with, so they'd left the part on top alone, but under the bandage, he suspected it had been shaved bald and growing back. It itched like hell.
Hoarse laughter shuddered through him, vibrating through his grip on Mik. That's what I thought. Now I'll match you...
You'll always be uglier than me... * He laughed too, though he couldn't hear Ric's, only feel it. Even that felt good.
Ric finally let go and felt his way to the last of his restraints. He fumbled at first. Unable to see and having to cross his prone body with his arm, made releasing him an awkward endeavor. Myrr says that blindness is normal after a grenade blast. I guess maybe deafness is too.
I hope so. I don't like not hearing ... He watched Ric with the other restraint, his funneled sight hopefully helping his brother's struggle. He looked over the ticker tapes connected to the machines, the readouts, the gauges... *Sometimes I wish I knew what in the abyss these things meant.
He used his brother's vision, even though the difference in perspectives made him dizzy, to unlatch himself from the bed and once free, he pushed himself up, jostling the wires and tubes that stuck to or out of him. We're wired to Elliot now, I guess. One with the machine.He flexed his bandaged hand. What are we gonna do, Mik? Where do we stand now?
His older brother shuddered at the thought of being connected to Elliot as much as he'd been a conversationalist buddy with him in the Deep Dark. Elliot wasn't alive even if he seemed like it sometimes. The Messenger, the one Mik talked to at the Hope installation, he had to be alive. He was far too erratic to be a machine ...
"What do we do... " he thought about that.
He had to study himself as much as the question. His body felt right, only subtly different. It was as if something wasn't the same or was missing. It hurt to move his legs and he remembered how the blast came from behind with such force that it had lifted him even as he jumped onto Ric to block the grenade... not entirely successfully, it seemed. "I wonder how many stitches we used up between us," he mused quietly.
And then... "What do we do... We find out exactly why this happened and who we can trust. We find out if the Secret is out or if in fact, the protocols are still intact. If it's out, we're free to lead our men the way we've always wanted to and Pray for Sidd Neverr and his Church because if we're free, we're not waiting any longer to go after him." After all, everything bad that happened was ultimately the fault of the CotNM, wasn't it? He was
more angry than he'd realized and he took a deep breath. Speaking such things out loud might not be a good idea, but Brrace was here and he'd had them put in the same room together, in a public hospital. Now who's idea was that? Mik wanted to know.
I can't lead anyone if I can't see, Mik. What if... He was almost afraid to go there. If his eyes didn't recover then everything he was ever good at would be nullified. What if my eyes don't...recover? The panic that got him restrained in the first place overtook him. A hand raised itself to the bandages around his eyes.
What if they don't? Mik's own hand went up to his and gripped it.:: What's the worst thing that could happen? He didn't want to contemplate it either... it surged through him that if he could just take off the bandages around his ears maybe he *could* hear something. Maybe the damage was complicated by the bandages... maybe... But they weren't dead yet and someone wanted them alive enough to have broken all sorts of rules to get them here,
together.
Ric didn't struggle with his brother's grip, just pressed his face against their hands. His eyes stayed dry beneath the cotton padding, even though a single sob rocked him. If they don't, I ain't no good to anybody. I can't fight what I can't see, Mik, and you know it. Damn them all...
*You're all good to me. Blind or sighted. I need you. The Gods can't be that cruel, I won't believe that. I won't let it happen, he swore silently. I promise, Ric, you'll have your eyes whole again or you'll have mine. It's gonna be all right Ricohh. I promise. He leaned down, touching his cheek to their clasped hands, lingering in the moment, comforted, aching miserably. "I promise."
He'd spent his life watching out for Mikkaill, trying to shield his brother from punishments at the complex, keeping the worst of the lewd comments and attacks away from him in boot camp, taking the Legion over for him while he recuperated and finally hiding himself away. And here Mik was promising that he'd make everything all right. Ric had to believe him. The consequences of lying were too great. *You should lay back down, Mik. I can't catch
you if you fall, bro. Maybe they'll tells us what's going now that you're awake.
Mik nodded. They knew each other intimately and despite the static they'd been through and the grenades and the frightening future, the now presented the biggest hurdle. Hell, getting back into bed was gonna be a trip ... Maybe he didn't even know it yet; but something had altered him, there in that blown to bits shack in Iminn. Good idea. I won't let them strap you down again. He smiled. I'll just... be right over here... He
squeezed his brothers hand, weakly, but he did it, and took hold of IVan again. He shuffle-stepped his way back to his bed. These damn things are higher than they look...
By now the sensors he took off had alerted the staff via Elliot that their 7th floor patients were in need of assistance. Ric hated letting go, but already he could hear the steps of someone coming toward their room. Even so briefly in the dark, his other senses had stepped up to fill the gap. Hurry, someone's coming. He tracked his brother's progress by feel and the visitor by sound. He hid hands beneath the thin sheet that covered him.
Mik muttered, "hurry he says," his back was hurting badly and he wasn't sure, but when he pushed up to get into the bed, he though he felt a stitch or two pop. He hissed quietly but managed to lie back down. The disconnected sensors would have to wait. He'd look and act as calm as possible. He did NOT want another sedative. He drew up the sheet slowly in unconscious imitation of his brother.
All was --quiet?-- as Asche pushed open the door leading to the room of her most important patients. How could that be? She looked between the pair, both seemingly sleeping... and frowned.
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