Chapter Text
Drifting was all he felt. A vast ocean of nothingness, perhaps he had finally died, but he had never had such luck. No, he couldn't be dead; he could hear the soft beeping of machinery nearby. Honestly, it was quite annoying. But the more he pretended to ignore it, the louder it seemed to get.
Squeezing his eyes tighter, Simon hummed a soft song to himself as an attempt to mask the mournful beeping tone. The song didn't have any words he remembered, and truthfully, he wasn't sure he even knew the tones, but it brought him comfort. But there was the softest exhale of a breeze on his skin. Someone was close enough that he could feel their breath.
Simon pried his eyes open with a little more force than he probably needed, but living in hell for a few years will do that to you.
"Easy lad, you’ve only just come out of surgery.” A hard voice spoke the kind that didn't bother sugar coating anything.
And boy—Simon wouldn't sugar coat the fist in the face he would deliver...as soon as the room stopped spinning, of course. Gripping the sheets, he tried to focus on the man who had spoken. He hadn't heard that voice in the cell before.
He stopped and grabbed the sheets again. Sheets?
A scream of confusion and maybe terror seated itself in his chest. He opened his mouth in gasps of air, trying to release his terror, but it wouldn't move. Understanding washed over Simon like a tidal wave. He was in surgery and well; he always knew a day like this would come. Roba had cut out his tongue and neatly tucked him into his hospital bay.
But Roba never used the hospital bay for Simon... no, he always had to close the wound himself with dirt or the tails of dead rats he'd catch. It wasn't a pretty life, okay? But he had learned how to live it.
Honestly, Simon wanted to live on, but a part of him couldn't wait for the day he was an unmarked grave. Not that Roba hadn't tried that either, but this time, hopefully, he'd be dead. Last time he had to dig, he was out, and that wasn't too fun.
Grabbing at his throat, Simon could feel the scars of the rusted knife that tore through his flesh when he was left to die in that coffin. Too bad Roba hadn't cut off his head then. Then he wouldn't have had to live through such pain. Now, the pain of not even being able to scream out his woes.
"That'll be from the breathing tube." The man who had been watching him said bluntly. "Anesthesia is still knocking you about. Goanna feel proper muddled for a bit."
What the hell was a breathing tube?
Squinting at the man, he willed the world to stop spinning and stared at the man. The face he found wasn't a comforting one. No, the man looked like he had met Roba when he had a tantrum. A jagged scar indented the man's face from cheek to cheek. On top of that, his hair was clipped so short it looked more like stubborn stubble than a style.
This 'Gruff Doctor Man', as Simon had come to call him, seemed lost and distant in his own thoughts as his brown eyes met Simon's blue ones.
Yet for a split—sickening, almost impossible second, the face of the man shifted and distorted into something impossible. Simon's heart thrummed against his chest as his own face crawled over the stranger's skull in an odd, melting mask. There was a small off smile that sat as if the man couldn't quite figure out how to use it.
Desperate, Simon jumped back against the bed and reached to grab anything g within reach. Hands met his wrists as the melting face drew closer and croaked. "Goanna rip me sutures!" In a groveling bubble of a voice.
Blinking wildly the illusion vanished, and only the Gruff Doctor Man remained in place. "Easy now," Gruffy said. He had the sort of voice that shouted over gunfire and paid the price for it. The hands were removed from his wrists as both men stared at one another.
"Easy." Gruff Man Doctor thing said in a quiet voice—or a voice he thought was quiet.
An ID badge hung from the bottom of his coat, and it read something along the lines of: D. Ghost—though someone had scratched out the full name in black marker. Only the words Dr. G were left. The man or Dr. G (Gruffy) didn't seem to care much for formality.
Glancing back to the man's face, Simon recoiled back into the bed like a snake aiming to strike. He bared his teeth instinctively. The carved lines on his mouth pulled back painfully, but he bared them anyway.
Not Simon's proudest moment there, but when you have lived in a cell of shit, rats, and things that are best not to mention—well, it becomes a habit. Fear, really, but each are tangible.
"I'm not gonna touch ya." Dr. Gruffers explained. His eyes drifted over Simon's face, searching for something only he knew.
The sterile silence of the room and growing understanding between the two was tossed out the window like a bag of shit as the door flung open. A tallish woman strode in with more force than needed.
"Right, move aside." A Texas drawl hung in the air. "Of all people here—you—should not be the first thing a patient wakes up to."
Only a sigh escaped Dr. Gruffles before he spoke. "Ashley wait—"
"Ah-Ah," the woman named Ashley chided before pulling gloves on with a snap. "I'm savin' this poor man from heart failure.
Dr. Ashley flashed Simon with a kind smile that he was in no mood to reciprocate. Her hair was a dazzling gold with a soft-looking texture. Like gold fabric? Not sure but—long wavy strands of it fell in front of her face, framing picture-perfect doe eyes—round cheeks connected to plump lips that dazzled with a glossy sheen. And lastly, there were these long, swooping earrings that were almost invisible. They bent into her long gold locks.
She was like goldy-locks. Simon had heard that story somewhere before.
Behind Goldely hurried—Sam—a taller man with blonde curling hair dangling in front of his eyes. Reading glasses slid down his slender nose, obstructing his view as well.
This man just couldn't see them.
A clipboard was clutched in Oblivio's hands like he was somehow trying to impress everyone in a fifty-foot radius. He scribbled something down fervently before pushing his glasses up—they didn't stay there.
Truth be told, this Oblivio looked like he should be tending a wheat field and not looking after ICU patients. His scrubs—which were light blue—literally had flannel patterning sewn to the front as pockets.
OblivioRancho
"Looks like his vitals are stabilizing." Oblivio narrated while looking at the monitors. He had a warm voice that seemed learned. "Temp is normal, BP rising appropriately, and oxygen is good."
Simon understood nothing of that, but Goldely and Gruffeluferis nodded. No, Simon would not be remembering their names. Why the hell did he need to?
Goldely smiled and bent towards Simon. "We are going to get you feeling better here." Her voice may have meant well, but her body stood directly in the sight view Simon had of the door. And that smile of hers—wellll...Simon saw that as a threat.
He inhaled painfully, and his eyes darted towards the shadows—looking for any kind of escape route from the mass of people who just seemed to keep entering. Honestly, he was waiting for more people who'd come in and laugh at him. Their greedy stares were drinking up his life force like he was just another caged animal. All of them would cheer and clap as he jumped through rings of fire.
It was always the same; he would be a pawn for someone to use.
Dr. Gruffer stepped forward, seemingly noticing every little twitch. "He's trying to orient himself, Ash." The man turned towards Simon and spoke slowly. He didn't need them to speak slowly, that wouldn't help him.
They wouldn't help him, and he wouldn't—couldn't be a caged animal anymore.
Something inside Simon snapped; there were too many people studying him—all watching. It made him dizzy to try to keep each figure in his sights.
Now, we kindly ask you to look away for this next part, it's not pretty. Remember, he was trapped in the desert and treated like an animal... yeah.
Grunting, Simon grabbed the bed and dragged himself sideways with jerky movements. Unceremoniously, he just about toppled from the bed. One knee buckled, and a snarl broke from his jagged teeth. The IV line in his arm held Simon there, desperately trying to keep him in the bed. A rough, distant whisper of a whine slipped from his lips at the pulling force.
Sam—er—OblivioRancho moved forward to stop Simon, but Goldely's words broke through as she grabbed Sam to be sure. "Whoa—okay, okay, let him move."
Simon wasn't bothering with listening to the words; they didn't mean anything to him. None of this fucking did. He wanted to go back to the damn cold comfort of his cell. Curl up in his blanket of dead rat hides and forget all about this shit!
And that's how he really feels. Sad? Yes—but it became a comfort.
Now here his side hurt from a fucking new built rib? How is that even a thing? He didn't know or really care to know. All Simon knew was that it sure hurt when he hit the ground. That didn't stop him, though—no, no, that fueled the desperation. Turning, he planted his back against the soothing corner just as his legs decided they were done.
Dr. Gruff took a deep breath and smoothed the stress crinkling on his forehead. "Right, that's your space then."
Goldely followed up the words cautiously. "Stay...as long as you need."
OblivioRancho crouched down awkwardly a bit, his hands stayed visible as he tried to look as unfierce as humanly possible. "You picked the best corner. Good visibility."
Simon only responded with a growl. A sound that came from somewhere deep in his chest that spoke more than any language. Not a threat but a promise.
Dr. Gruff spoke quietly—actually quietly; maybe someone corrected him, it was talking soldier to soldier in a way. "You are not trapped. We—" He gestured himself and the others, "—are just trying to help."
'Help.' Yah, Simon had heard that word before. Fucking liar.
Dr. Gruffer exhaled loudly and, with a small shake of his head, turned towards the door. He pulled the handle back, and a white corridor blossomed to life. There were no stone walls or rows of cages. No men who pissed in his space and threw rocks that held insults.
Simon's breath tried to settle in his chest at the sight. Had he escaped? Doubtful, but he wanted to believe.
Distantly, Oblivio scribbled something into his clipboard while he was still crouching. A slur of mumbled words rose from his mouth as he wrote out each piece. "Corner...allowed. No touching. Keep the door cracked." He peeked up at Simon. "You can stay right there; it is very safe here."
Another word, he didn't trust. Safe meant pain. Safe was a knife to the throat and a kick to the ribs. Safe was bullshit, and this man was spitting it.
But so far, these strangers hadn't pushed, and for now? That is enough.
-(+)-
"Ghost, what the fuck are we doing?" Ashley barked out. Her hands were crossed neatly over her chest as she stared at the man before her. "You quite literally have a feral man—in that ICU room!"
Dr. G didn't reply for a moment, then spoke. "So then does he just not get to be treated?"
Silence.
Ashley opened her mouth then closed it.
"It would be nice to know his name." Sam imputed quietly.
That gave Ashley a foothold to start right back up again. "Oh, please—why don't you go in there and ask him? Hmm? Wait, that's right, he's feral and growls at people. Let me say that again. GROWLS."
"Well then its a good thing we already finished his surgeries." G replied absently.
"Yes! So, now enlighten me on how we plan to change his dressings and evaluate his healing?" Ashley nearly exploded but opted for just tapping her foot angrily instead.
"Very carefully?" G answered with the smallest hint of a smile. "Goanna go grab a cuppa now."
"Very—VERY CAREFULLY?" Ashley yelled, nearing a death growl that caused Sam to jump back.
G backed away, holding up his hands innocently. "I'm gonna go get that started and then we will evaluate—very—carefully."
-(+)-
Simon stared at the open door of the hall, watching as strangers bustled around doing god knows what. Men and women raced by the cracked door with words that Simon didn't catch. A painful echo droned on from Simon's stomach, but it was something he knew all too well.
A woman pushing a cart strode past the doorway, making Simon flinch at the sound. Yet the soft, sweet-smelling food that went with her drew him from the corner he had claimed. Carefully, he made his way to the opening of the room and peeked out. The woman was just handing people food...they didn't even have to beg.
Licking his lips, Simon realized just how tasty it all looked. The IV line tugged as a reminder as Simon nearly left the room. Damn, the smell of food almost got the best of him.
Pacing back, he turned to the cabinets and drawers of the room and looked for anything edible. He hadn't gotten a chance to eat when he ran from Roba's clutches. Though he still wasn't sure he actually did.
The door suddenly creaked open to its full form, and Simon jumped behind the hospital bed. It was just Dr. Gruffus standing there, but he held a cup of something in one hand and a small, clear bowl in the other. Simon watched him look around with a worried furrow before making eye contact.
The man tried to smile, but Simon really didn't think he knew how, not that Simon did either...
The cup was placed on the counter next to the bed. Then the bowl was placed next to that. Dr. Giraffe—what he is tall-backed—backed away from the contents and spoke. "It's just food. Some ice chips and gelatin for now." There was a sigh. "You shouldn't be out of bed, but I know how that will go over." The last part was whispered, but Simon caught it all.
But Dr. Gruff didn't stop there; he just kind of kept talking. "Mind if I hide in here for a bit with you?" The man slid down the opposite wall and just existed there.
Suspiciously, Simon eyed the "doctor" before he went snooping towards the food that had been left out. The cup of ice was cold in his grip, and he chewed it greedily, welcoming the cold feeling on his tongue. It wasn't water, but it would suffice for now.
Next was the...clear bowl? No—something was in it, like hardened water. Testily, Simon poked the contents; it wobbled in reply. Pursing his lips, Simon took a scoop of it out with his fingers and ate it. The sensation was interesting to say the least, in fact, he nearly choked on it. The slimy texture melted on his tongue with a soft hint of an animal. There weren't any other flavors.
It would have to do. Greedily, Simon greedily ate the rest of the 'gelatin' as it was called. The ice chips softened as Simon ate, and he was able to lap up the small contents of water. Mind, the entire time Simon ate—Dr. Gruff sat staring off into the distance at some unseen scenario.
Setting the empty bowl and cup back onto the place he found it Simon inched back behind the bed and watched the silent man.
Simon could feel his own mind drifting, and he thought back to his narrow escape. The sounds of the corridor were replaced with the cruel comfort of the cell. At least back in the cell, he knew what time it was, when he would be fed, and how to make himself small enough that he would be left alone.
At least until Roba remembered his toy.
Now, as he pressed his back into the wall, Simon could feel every click, shuffle, and word whispered. He wasn't safe here. How could he be? None of this made sense.
Thinking back, he remembered running over sandy hills as each pebble ate at his bare flesh. The heat of the sun burned into his light-sensitive skin within an hour or less. Then there came the river. He'd drunk as much as his body could hold before wading into it. He remembered almost screaming from the stinging sensation of water on his wounded flesh.
Quickly, he swam through it—scared someone would be following his sloppy footwork. Yanking himself out and stumbling into the grassy field ahead of him.
After wading in the water, it had been the worst idea. Not that his brain had been in the thinking mood. With his sun-burnt, wet skin, each blade of grass seemed to dig into his flesh like knives.
From there, the rest was a blur, though he partially remembered a figure in the distance. He tried to call out then, but his throat yielded no sound, and his body had no energy left.
Simon wouldn't give up here, though, biting back a whimper, his knees met their doom as he crawled forward. The long figure faded into view, and Simon stared up at the cactus that loomed over him.
Collapsing beneath his only salvation, Simon watched as birds circled above him. He couldn't remember how long he stayed there before he pulled himself up and ran. He ran and ran until he couldn't anymore. It was all sudden really, his head had flopped back, and suddenly he saw the blue sky before a rush of air escaped his body and he planted himself into the dirt below.
That's all he'd known before waking up in the hospital room.
Reality faded back into view. Simon stared at Dr. Guf,f who was still unmoving. This man, before him, had not pushed, requested, or punished. Simon couldn't help but study him. He had crow's feet plucking at the sides of his eyes and dark brown eyes, almost like pools of tar.
A soft knock reverberated around the room, and Simon jumped just as high as Dr. Gruff did. The man stood and quickly brushed off his pants. There was a still moment before the doorway was filled.
The blonde woman Simon had come to call Goldely (Ashley) stepped in first. "Hey." She whispered while clinging to the doorway.
Behind her stood the farmer Simon dubbed OblivioRancho (Sam). He couldn't quite get a read on that man. He had a built body but seemed to make himself small and easier to talk to for other people's sakes. A real people-pleaser then.
Goldely glanced at Dr. Gruff and read the chart notations allowed. "You wrote down that he has eaten, but he looks exhausted. Has he slept at all?"
Dr. Gruffers shook his head in reply. "No, the patient hasn't,t but it is expected. We'll deal with it as we go." Slowly, the man crouched down, looking like a different timeline of Simon's own self. He squatted there as if he had been in the same position. Perhaps he'd known the room and building, only to never leave.
Just like Oblivio, he was hard to read,d but Simon got it eventually. The scared face of Dr. Gruff screamed danger while his body was poised stiffly, likely after years of discipline.
Goldely crouched too, and the spell broke. Simon tensed from all the movement in the room.
"We need to assess him." OblivioRancho spoke up and looked to the rest of the medical team. "How are we gonna—?"
Simon crouched lower. They wouldn't touch him.
Goldely showed her hands quickly before inching forward ever so slightly. "If you lift your own gown, I can check the bandage from right here.
A sound tries to form—fails—before crackling out as a thin broken exhale. Simon didn't move, but also didn't pull away when she side-stepped even closer. Very slowly, she watches as Simon pulled back his gown just enough. He found himself looking down at the bandage with her.
Squinting, Goldely nodded, her blonde hair fell into her face. "Edges are clean, and there is no seeping coming from the wound. Swelling is surprisingly down after all the moving. All good signs."
Simon's finger dug into the tile as if he was going to peel them out of the concrete. He shook but not with fear—no, from the strain of merely existing under eyes that looked with no intentions.
Then Oblivio said something. "Good job, lad."
Confusion battered at Simon's mind. They think of him as something that does good? The thought almost made his brain ache. How could they see him as anything more than just a beaten dog? None of it added up.
The door had opened so softly that Simon almost didn't even notice. A new woman seemed to glide into view. Her voice was crisp and yet held an icy warmth Simon would never be able to describe with the language on his tongue.
"Apologies, Dr. John us presently creating a monumental catastrophe with sutures in Theatre Two. If we could get hands that are more competent than his own in there."
Dr. Gruff chuckled while standing and looked at Oblivio and Goldely. "Thank you, Mist. Sam, Ashley, if you two wouldn't mind going to help Johnny, please."
Goldely stood with a grown, seemingly forgetting about the feral man behind her. "His hands are only shaking because of this man." She gestured with her thumb to Dr. Gruff, who blushes so brightly he was a damn lighthouse.
"Indeed." The new woman Mist mused. "I do believe he is about to sew himself to the patient if someone does not intervene."
OblivioRancho nearly ran out the door on his way to help the poor sod, as Goldely rolled her eyes before hauling herself upwards.
GhostLady—Mist—went to follow before glancing at Dr. Gruff. "John's asking for you too, but I'll let him know you're busy." The door shut behind her.
The man nodded with a small grin as GhostLady left. "Alright, just you and me now, lad."
Simon wasn't sure he liked that, but Dr. Gruff just went back to sitting against the wall instead. Right back in the same position he had been in. He wasn't busy, he was—OH.
Simon understood it all now; he was teaching this feral animal to allow him to be in the same space.
Well, well—it wasn't going to be that easy. Simon had his eye on this guy.
-(+)-
That plan didn't work.
Simon didn't remember closing his eyes, and he sure didn't remember falling asleep. One moment he was staring at the doctor, and the next—Silence.
It was a quiet darkness at first. Almost a soothing darkness like the cool water he had submerged in on his run. He wanted to feel water like that again.
Then he was swimming. Or perhaps floating. All he knew was that the water was soothing. It stretched out in front of him in a vast expansion. Truthfully, it was beautiful. He wanted to melt into the water and be one with it, move the way it did; to be able to slip through fingers.
He wanted to be able to escape—escape the pain erupted at Simon's ankles as his capture hobbled him. The soothing water wasn't his way out but a trap. It dragged at Simon's feet, pulling him under with a soft gurgling giggle.
Gasping for a breath of air, he groped at the water, trying to get to an unseen shore. Seeing its toy escaping, something sliced the flesh under Simon's arms. He couldn't use them; they wouldn't listen now.
Water filled his mouth as he choked, trying to inhale one last breath. He was too late. Water entered his nose and ears as he was submerged under the waves. Simon could only water as the sun faded to a small dull shimmer. It was so beautiful from this angle, really.
All of it was peaceful in a way until pressure began to accrue. Everything in his body felt like it would explode, and his lungs begged for air he couldn't reach. Squeezing his eyes shut, Simon held his jaw closed desperately. He tried—he really tried to at least move his arms, but they floated uselessly. His legs strained to kick as his feet dangled uselessly.
The sun seemingly understood and faded from view, leaving only a haze reflected on the surface of the water.
With that, Simon couldn't fight it anymore either. His mouth opened greedily to take in a breath of air, but was rewarded with water. He tried to choke, but all that came in was another wave of water seeping into every place it could find.
At least now the pressure in his head had subsided. In fact...nothing hurt anymore.
Gasping, Simon's eyes flew open.
Soft tendrils swished back and forth around his hands and feet. He was standing in a vast field of brown stalks of some sort of grass. The sun was high in the sky again as it warmed his waterlogged body.
Shivering Simon began to trudge forward; he squinted as he looked around for anything. Just ahead, a small figure was striding towards him. It was gaining on him, in fact. If it didn't slow down, the small child barreled into Simon's legs.
"Simon!" It screams. "I missed you! Mum and Dad said I would have to wait a long time to see you. Why are you so early?"
Simon stiffened and looked down at the boy. His face was a blur of skin and color that stared up at him, waiting for a response.
He didn't know who this child was.
The kid seemed aware of the stalk tone of Simon's body and backed away. "Uncle Simon? It's me, Joseph." The fog in Simon's mind seemed to clear, and a face swam into view. It twisted and turned, correcting itself to show a frightened child.
"J-Joseph." Simon rasped, trying the name on his tongue.
But Joseph was looking past Simon with a giant toothy grin. "Ma, Da! I found Uncle Simon." The boy raced into his mother's arms, and Beth picked up her child with a laugh.
Tommy, Simon's brother, stalked forward with a soft expression on his face. "You're not supposed to be here," Tommy spoke the words in a rumbling chorus. The earth under Simon's feet shook, and the sun faded. A hand connected with Simon's chest, and he fell backwards and hit the hard tile.
Blinking his eyes open, Simon found himself back in the same hospital room. He had slumped over and fallen asleep.
Shit.
Sitting up straight, he found the man he was supposed to be watching, Dr. Gruffus, standing. He was mixing some liquids. Perhaps medications or poison—Simon's brain filled that in.
Joining the other man in a standing position, Simon made his way towards the table next to the bed. Another cup of ice chips waited for him. Reaching for the cooling ice, a voice rang out. "You can have that when you get back into bed."
Simon recoiled as Dr. Gruffier spoke, but did not move. Carefully, Simon reached towards the cup again, and the same voice chided, "What did I just say?" The man hadn't even looked but knew exactly what Simon was doing.
Asshole.
Crawling back into the bed, Simon sat there against the soft sheets. An odd new wave of...comfort...washed over him. How odd.
Dr. Gruff—G—Dr. G turned from the counter with a small cup of the liquid he had been mixing. "Drink this." There was no room for argument, even if Simon had felt comfortable enough to do so.
Taking the glass, he quickly downed the contents. The cup of ice was handed to him as a reward. Dr. G took the empty cup and went back towards the counter to do something Simon wasn't interested in.
Instead, he looked on towards the door and chewed his ice cubes. As if on command of his own brain, the door clicked open.
Perhaps it was too soon or too sudden, but Simon's stomach lurched. Every muscle in his body tensed as his eyes scanned the doorway. Dr. G, though, didn't even react to the intrusion, as if he had expected it.
Liars. All of them. All the nice words and hospitality—a SCAM. Roba would soon step in with his glinting grin and drag him back through the desert. Explain how he had lost his dog and was thankful they had cleaned him up—fed him.
Yet, a young man entered instead.
He had a compact build with long legs. He stood there as his foot tapped and ground almost impatiently while his eyes scanned the room. His scrubs were crisp and neat. A badge hung from his pocket that read: ALEX—Home Care Nurse.
The man had healthy short hair that curled at the tips; it was brown—no blonde? Simon couldn't decide. Not to mention his eyes, they were blue—no—gray. He couldn't decide on that either. What he did know was that the man was shorter than Dr. G and Simon himself. The man's skin was darker, too, like he had seen months of sun and enjoyed it.
It was like Simon had looked into the mirror of opposites. His skin was pale and was accompanied by long blonde hair. Then his body—well, it was thin and emaciated.
The man named Alex paused just inside the room and offered a small, polite smile. It looked practiced, the kind you'd give a stranger so they wouldn't worry about how fast your heart was beating.
"Hi there." Alex said softly. "I'm Alex. They called me in to introduce myself. I'll be your stay-at-home nurse once you are cleared to leave. Well, I'll be with you wherever you stay."
Alex looked to Dr. G. "I've spoken to the social agent and the NHS woman who was just here." He pointed back behind him as if she had been there just a moment ago. "Everything is in order."
Simon could feel his throat tighten at the words and looked to Dr. G in confusion. Who was this Alex man? In fact, why did he need an Alex?
He tried to speak, but his voice cracked from raw disuse. "W-wait...what?" The few words that came out were thin and painful. Simon coughed into his free hand and wheezed at the use of his voice.
Alex immediately raised both hands, with his palms facing Simon. "Whoa, no need to push yourself." But Alex seemed afraid to come any closer, his eyes were flicking over to Dr. G's position.
"It's alright." Dr.G's voice came, but not at Simon—towards Alex.
Looking down, Simon unclenched the remote he had grabbed. A part of him was aware he would defend himself if needed. Though he wasn't going to use his precious ice cup. Dropping the remote, Simon grabbed the sheets just to have something in his hand.
Of course, they wouldn't understand that. None of them could even if they wanted to. All they knew Simon by was his injuries, and he knew each of them well. Each held its own memory that stuck in his heart like a knife.
Alex rocked back on his heels—restlessly, like a man who preferred to be moving, not pausing. "Well, I just wanted to put a face to the name, for say. Uh, what is your name?"
No one had asked that question yet, and Dr. G looked expectantly. Simon thought, did he know how to say his own name? "S-Simon.." The words finally broke from his lips.
"Simon, nice to meet you." Alex smiled. "You will be seeing a lot more of me when it's time for you to leave, and it will be a safe environment, not that old environment."
Dr. G eyed Alex, "You're not out there anymore Simon. We don't know what happened to you, but you're safe in this hospital, too."
Out there. The desert, the heat, and Roba—Simon's chest tightened as he looked at the melting ice in his hand. "Everything.." He whispered so softly he wasn't sure he had spoken.
"What was that?" Dr. G questioned while inching closer.
Simon rasped out again, "What happened... everything."
Silence filled the room.
Testily Alex broke it after a pause, "We are not going to push you out the door, Simon. Today is just an introduction." His hand brushed the edge of the bed, and Simon watched the movement closely. "You do not have to trust me yet."
Simon swallowed. He didn't trust him. Everything felt too sudden, too coordinated. Almost like a plan, and he wasn't convinced.
Not by Alex, Not by Dr. G, Not anyone.
Not yet.