12 • Virus Cure • [Voice/Backdated to the 31st]

[wildkotetsu]

[Crunchcrunchcrunch—blurry images, mostly just colors, flash in his vision. He thinks he hears voices screaming; then he thinks he hear's Barnaby and Kaede, and then Nami... and then himself? Raw and unrelenting pain pounds at the sides of his head and he screams something inhuman—

October 31st, 9 PM, another piercing yell rips through the trees. Unlike the miserable cries months prior when Bunny died, this is all blind shock, something teeming with some residual rage before he realizes he has nothing to be angry about (yet, until he remembers what happened, what he'd done). There's a thud and a rasping, heavy set of breaths that verge on the edge of panic; he shakily throws his journal open. The screen is blacked out with his palm, which is basically what's keeping him upright at the moment.]

Is—everyone...? Where's everyone?

[Everything's dark at first, and even when his eyes adjust it's still dark. He's in the forest. He hadn't even realized he'd walked into it until just now, but it's the last thing on his mind as he tries to talk to the journal. His stomach is all twisted up and he's covered in grime. No, this is... What happened? He'd been with Nami, and he... Shit, he's not sure what went wrong. He remembers his powers suddenly shutting down, the infected biting down on him... He moves to touch the raw wound on his neck and realizes he has no clue what's going on (don't touch it, don't touch it). The one on his arm is still there... Did he have more? He couldn't be bothered to know-

He's covered in blood.

His stomach flips, but no matter how hard he tries to remember the hours beyond him turning...

Nami.

His voice is suddenly louder over the journal, raspy with concern.]

Nami, did she—is she okay?! Did people get out? Dammit, someone tell me what happened out there-

[He curls inward suddenly, his body feeling all wrong, and his hand pulls away from the screen. Coming back from... From whatever he was, it really fucked up his body. He feels too hot, beads of sweat dotting the page. He needs peace of mind, because right now? He thinks he has flecks of something under his nails... He doesn't want to think about it.]

If you were on the draft, let me know you're alright... Please. I didn't hurt any of you, did I? I can't remember... What'd I....

[He, uh. Isn't good at moving right now, but he's not even sure how to bother with it, with what's happened. He just curls up and waits for answers, because how do you even pick yourself up and dust yourself off when you're pretty sure you've hurt innocent people? Possibly... no, he can't think of that. He's too tired to budge, and frankly, that doesn't really matter at all. There were a few times in his life he hoped, when he woke up, that it was all just a nightmare.

This is one of those times.]

Comments

[mikangirl]

Sanji is fine. [The loss of the -kun is more or less accidental. She doesn't like to think too long on Sanji right now.] I can't speak for the others, but you can't do much if you can't get to them without falling over. See them tomorrow.

[Here's the bedroom, Kotetsu. She toes the door open with one foot.]

[wildkotetsu]

[He shifts and grabs the doorframe with one hand, all but ready to collapse with the next few steps. He thought the shivering was from the herculean effort it took to walk, but as he crumples at the bedside and uses the side of the bed to try to keep himself upright, he finds maybe he's shaking regardless of whether he's moving or not.

Just his body's way of saying 'WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOOOING'. Just maybe.

But he's too good at persistence to give up too much.]

Alright... Tomorrow. After a little shut-eye...

[mikangirl]

Yeah. After a little. [She lets him hold onto the bedside and leans over to pull back the covers. The cottage isn't heated, but the piles of blankets are plenty warm enough.

...he's a mess. She'll do something about those injuries in a moment, okay? Just...get comfortable first. She can wash out the sheets tomorrow.]

[wildkotetsu]

[Yeah, he's a mess. He knows it, too, so he just collapses to the bed at last (no effort needed there, he assures you). And then he half-laughs, hiding behind his hands.]

I really did a number on myself... huh...?

[mikangirl]

[There's a measured silence, and she carefully pulls his shoes off, watching those hands. Hiding, isn't he? Just...

How did it feel? To lose control, become something terrifying, no power to stop it...

...]

Kotetsu. [She stands, taking the edge of the quilt with her to drape over him.] It's not your fault, you know.

[wildkotetsu]

[He's quiet. Maybe because, truth be told, he's scared any response with his true feelings on the matter would only serve to piss her off; it wouldn't be the first time he's said something stupid. She's had a lot happen, too. He doesn't need to know the details to know that it's a fact.

Finding words for what he'd done... He's not sure he could. His fingers are scraped and raw, and one hand has a messy, untouched wound; Nami would probably recognize it as where her staff had jabbed to keep him at bay.

Finally, a small choked reply.]

... It's not yours, either.

[And despite what she may think... he's sorry he let you down like that, Nami.]

[mikangirl]

[She freezes on those words, hands still fisted in the blankets. She wasn't. Expecting to get those words flung back in her face. Not how Kotetsu intended, she knows. But...

Then whose fault is it?

The blankets drop down those last few inches, resting crookedly across Kotetsu's shoulders, and she reaches out to straighten them with shaking fingers, eyes blurring with tears.]


...get some sleep.

[This is not a topic she can handle right now.]

[wildkotetsu]

[He couldn't help but reach out and touch her arm at that, dazed and feverish as he is. It's a pathetic looking hand, really—heavily bruised, scratched up, the bullet wound from Tony's gun wrapped in ripped shirt—but he's focused his strength to the genuine motion. But he's not sure how to even encapsulate all the things he wants to say, wishes he knew how to say. It's a strew of words that don't reach his throat.

But he can't just... leave it.]

I... Ll'help you—with the orchard... when I get better.

Should never have to work through it by yourself...

[You can decide if that was ever really about the orchard, Nami.

For now, he trails off, burning up and agonized silently by the affects of the virus. Sleeping would help, wouldn't it? Staying awake hurts too much, but... the dreams that could follow make him afraid to drift.]

[mikangirl]

[She doesn't answer him, but reaches up to take gentle hold of his wrist, picking gingerly at the makeshift bandage. And finds a smile from somewhere, through the tears. It's meant to be reassuring. She doubts she succeeds at that.

Then she leaves the room.

If he's still actually conscious when she returns a few moments later with a bowl of water and the first aid kit, then she'll at least be more composed to deal with him. Either way, though, she sits down on the edge and starts working off that bandage properly.

She can't do anything about what he's thinking, but she can make sure his fever doesn't get worse.]

[wildkotetsu]

[Kotetsu's quiet. Actually asleep for a bit, in fact. The only motion he offers is uncomfortable squirming at the removal of the bandage. There's already obvious healing done from Kotetsu's powers to the gunshot wound (from Tony, with love) where muscle is sloppily repaired. He at least tried to keep his body together through the draft and after it. That had to count for something.

A while later, when she's got that all cleaned, his eyes crack open blearily to watch her. He's exhausted, half-dazed from fever, but he can see enough. What a good kid. She pulls her weight around the place too well. She shouldn't have to.]

Good... kid...

[He didn't really mean to say anything; his brain to mouth motor is broken even on a good day. He doesn't seem to notice, though, letting his eyes close again. Not asleep, but not quite awake. He's not as tense as he was being dragged in, anyway.]

[mikangirl]

[She doesn't say anything, but smiles a little at that; less a desperate smile, more a tired one. Putting your hurts back together again with Nala is exhausting, Kotetsu. Especially with the sheer wreck of your arm.

Though she really isn't sure if that was aimed at her or he's thinking about his daughter. Hard to say; he's burning up.

Honestly, looking after him-- well, it doesn't exactly improve her mood, but it loosens the knots a little. Not entirely useless. She'll find his other injuries and patch those, too; try and bring his fever down.]

[wildkotetsu]

[After a while, he finds awareness. It's difficult, and he drifts before he can even get himself focused. When he finally remembers where he is and what happened, he feels a thin film of sweat on his brow and a sharp ache in his limbs and skull. Now that he's settled, his body certainly doesn't want him moving any time today. Or tomorrow. Maybe for a bit.]

Sorry. I'm--a real piece of work...

[He cracks open his eyes with some effort to look at her.]

You should sleep. When's the last time you really slept good, na?

[mikangirl]

Don't know. [That prompts a short huff of air that might have been a laugh.] I'll sleep when I'm done, don't worry about that.

[She pauses, drawing back to look him over.] You need it more than I do.

[wildkotetsu]

[He wrinkles his brow.]

... That bad looking, huh?

[Not like he's looked in a mirror recently. Poor soul.]

[mikangirl]

That bad looking.

[Solemn agreement. Besides, he's currently in the only functional bed in this place. She kind of destroyed the other one.]

...you want something to help you sleep?

[wildkotetsu]

[... It's a pretty pathetic look he shoots her, but he's in no condition to be stingy. Not about that.] You... got something for it?

[mikangirl]

Always. [There's a faint edge of bitter amusement there. Nami shakes her head, and stands up, taking the handtowel she was using with her.] I'll go get it for you. It... it'll help with your dreams.

[Restful sleep. Sorely needed, she thinks, after what he's been through. He'll feel better once he's had a night between him and the draft. She hopes.]