A/N: Again, sorry for the delay! Paideia at Reed is stealing my time and attention XD
--
Lucy arrived within minutes, face flushed and eyes round with worry. Rebecca quietly filled her in with what had happened while Shaun took it upon himself to scout out and identify all of Desmond's injuries, rolling up sleeves and pant legs alike. He was no medic, but he didn't need doctor's eyes to know Desmond's body was pretty much a big collection of hurt. In places Shaun knew Ezio had gotten slashed recently, Desmond's kin was a vicious red, almost blistering, on the edge of tearing open.
Psychosomatic injuries, but the kind that might someday escalate to a certain death.
Lucy joined Shaun, her hair a mess. "How is he?" she whispered.
"I think this speaks for itself," Shaun said viciously, wanting to scream and cry all at once. "Don't you think?" As always, his frustration manifested itself by pushing those nearest to him away, like spines.
"Shaun!" Rebecca hissed. Shaun turned away bitterly, but did not apologize.
"Oh, Desmond," Lucy whimpered, and akin to the crumbling of a dam, tears flooded her eyes and coursed down one-by-one, like a countdown.
They patched up Desmond as best they could, silent between the three of them. Desmond's skin was loose in some places, his previously solid-looking muscles lax and tender from lack of use. When Shaun wrestled Desmond's shirt off to place some salve on a sizable strike near his heart, he resolved not to mention the fact that he could easily see a few of Desmond's ribs. It wasn't as if they couldn't see it for themselves.
Desmond started coming around some time after, startling the silence that had overtaken the three. A low groan was their first indication, to which Lucy shot up to her feet, eyes cloudy. Shaun, for his part, had his head buried in his hands, unmoving.
"We have to restrain him," she said quietly.
"What!" Shaun snapped, head coming up.
"If he still thinks he's Ezio, he'll be a danger to us, and to himself." Lucy's eyes were solemn, but her hands were quick in motion, finding a length of spare cable and wrapping Desmond's wrists together.
"Are you bloody well mad! He can barely move on his own!" Shaun yelled, his chair clattering behind him from the force of his rising. He grabbed Lucy's shoulder harshly, tugging her. "He's no danger to anyone!"
Rebecca looked troubled, hesitant to join in either side. "Guys," she whispered. "Maybe we should ask Desmond?"
"Shaun, you didn't deal with Subject 16 - even in a state of utter deterioration, he was quite capable of killing people. I cannot allow that to happen."
"So what - you're going to refer to him as Subject 17 now? Like some kind of bleeding animal? Like he's gone off the deep end already?"
Desmond had never seen Shaun look so angry.
"Stop it, you two!" Rebecca cried, desperately. "He can hear you!"
It was almost comical how fast their heads both snapped around to look down at Desmond, who merely blinked up at them blearily.
"Uh," Desmond said, hazily. "Hi?"
"Desmond!" Lucy cried, relieved. "Oh my god."
"What's going on?" Desmond asked. His voice was hoarse. "Where's my shirt?"
Shaun stared at him. "You don't remember?"
"Huh?" Desmond blinked. "Remember what? ...wait," he raised up his hands, which had been tied together. "Why am I tied up?"
"Desmond," Rebecca began, but trailed off. The three of them looked at each other with troubled gazes, the realization of Desmond's lack of memory a dense weight upon them all.
"I mean, it's kinky and all, but I'm kind of cold." Desmond grinned, seemingly unaware of the tension in the room.
"Sorry about that, Desmond," Lucy recovered quickly enough, untying his hands.
"Here's your shirt," Rebecca followed, which Desmond slipped on over his head gratefully.
Fill [5/?]
--
Lucy arrived within minutes, face flushed and eyes round with worry. Rebecca quietly filled her in with what had happened while Shaun took it upon himself to scout out and identify all of Desmond's injuries, rolling up sleeves and pant legs alike. He was no medic, but he didn't need doctor's eyes to know Desmond's body was pretty much a big collection of hurt. In places Shaun knew Ezio had gotten slashed recently, Desmond's kin was a vicious red, almost blistering, on the edge of tearing open.
Psychosomatic injuries, but the kind that might someday escalate to a certain death.
Lucy joined Shaun, her hair a mess. "How is he?" she whispered.
"I think this speaks for itself," Shaun said viciously, wanting to scream and cry all at once. "Don't you think?" As always, his frustration manifested itself by pushing those nearest to him away, like spines.
"Shaun!" Rebecca hissed. Shaun turned away bitterly, but did not apologize.
"Oh, Desmond," Lucy whimpered, and akin to the crumbling of a dam, tears flooded her eyes and coursed down one-by-one, like a countdown.
They patched up Desmond as best they could, silent between the three of them. Desmond's skin was loose in some places, his previously solid-looking muscles lax and tender from lack of use. When Shaun wrestled Desmond's shirt off to place some salve on a sizable strike near his heart, he resolved not to mention the fact that he could easily see a few of Desmond's ribs. It wasn't as if they couldn't see it for themselves.
Desmond started coming around some time after, startling the silence that had overtaken the three. A low groan was their first indication, to which Lucy shot up to her feet, eyes cloudy. Shaun, for his part, had his head buried in his hands, unmoving.
"We have to restrain him," she said quietly.
"What!" Shaun snapped, head coming up.
"If he still thinks he's Ezio, he'll be a danger to us, and to himself." Lucy's eyes were solemn, but her hands were quick in motion, finding a length of spare cable and wrapping Desmond's wrists together.
"Are you bloody well mad! He can barely move on his own!" Shaun yelled, his chair clattering behind him from the force of his rising. He grabbed Lucy's shoulder harshly, tugging her. "He's no danger to anyone!"
Rebecca looked troubled, hesitant to join in either side. "Guys," she whispered. "Maybe we should ask Desmond?"
"Shaun, you didn't deal with Subject 16 - even in a state of utter deterioration, he was quite capable of killing people. I cannot allow that to happen."
"So what - you're going to refer to him as Subject 17 now? Like some kind of bleeding animal? Like he's gone off the deep end already?"
Desmond had never seen Shaun look so angry.
"Stop it, you two!" Rebecca cried, desperately. "He can hear you!"
It was almost comical how fast their heads both snapped around to look down at Desmond, who merely blinked up at them blearily.
"Uh," Desmond said, hazily. "Hi?"
"Desmond!" Lucy cried, relieved. "Oh my god."
"What's going on?" Desmond asked. His voice was hoarse. "Where's my shirt?"
Shaun stared at him. "You don't remember?"
"Huh?" Desmond blinked. "Remember what? ...wait," he raised up his hands, which had been tied together. "Why am I tied up?"
"Desmond," Rebecca began, but trailed off. The three of them looked at each other with troubled gazes, the realization of Desmond's lack of memory a dense weight upon them all.
"I mean, it's kinky and all, but I'm kind of cold." Desmond grinned, seemingly unaware of the tension in the room.
"Sorry about that, Desmond," Lucy recovered quickly enough, untying his hands.
"Here's your shirt," Rebecca followed, which Desmond slipped on over his head gratefully.