voice: un: thomas

[rickitikitarr]

[[Forward dated to one good nights' sleep after the music ends.]]

Well.

[Says Ricki's voice, with that very distinct perfectly calm tone that manages to convey that something is probably actively on fire.]

Is there a doctor on board?

[The feed disconnects rather abruptly. What's happening in Ricki's room isn't pretty. Brightly, he adds;]

And if so is he free right fucking now?


[[Content warning for blood and injuries.]]

[It starts with a scratch on the back of his hand. It's just a little thing, he probably gave it to himself while he was helping Bodhi with the clean up. That he can't remember, after the week it's been, isn't surprising. When he goes to check on it that night, just to be sure it isn't infected, it's already gone... except now there's blood on his arm? How did he get cut there?

When he wakes up from the next sleep he's bled right through his undershirt, and all over his sheets, and it's hard to breathe. That's when he gives in and gets on the network and posts his message, staunching the wound with the clothes he has, trying to lie mostly still and not panic about the fact that his body is apparently tearing itself open from the inside out. It's like being a piece of cloth snagged on a rusty nail, and he doesn't know if he wants to laugh or faint.]


Video, much later.

[He pans the camera around his room, after it's older. It's the Reverie station standard, except now it looks like a fucking crime scene. Cloth and tissue and torn off sheets are wadded on the floor.

He's not up for making the full report. In fact, his hands are shaking badly enough that he lowers the camera, sets it down, putting himself in frame. He takes out, and lights a cigarette, lifting it to his mouth and taking a long drag off it, with fingers that are both shaking badly and bloodstained.

Ricki takes a long drag, breathes the smoke out through his nose.]

Fun for the whole family, right?

Comments

[solarcharged]

Just a normal Tuesday?

[ He's already punching the keypad to his own cabin door and heading down the corridor. ]

That didn't really sound like a false alarm to me. I'm coming over...

[rickitikitarr]

Only if you please bring a mop.

[Says Ricki, who is pretty unilaterally done with people announcing they're invading his place. He's moving, after this.]

action

[solarcharged]

[ You know what? He almost stops to consider Ricki's request. Except, no, emergency, remember? Apollo jogs the short corridor between their rooms before banging smartly on room 2 with a heavy fist. ]

Ricki? Open up...

[rickitikitarr]

[He turns up, showered, hand pressed to bandages on his belly, and tells him, dourly;]

Where's the mop?

[solarcharged]

[ Apollo jabs a thumb over his shoulder at the grimy darkness of the corridor behind him (and, by extension, and every other corridor throughout Reverie). ]

You think mops exist in this place?

[ Because Apollo doesn't. All jokes aside, his gaze drops to where Ricki holds his stomach. ]

What the hell happened to you?

[rickitikitarr]

Apparently, the station wants my insides on my outsides. It's- cutting me.

[He is not calm, not really, for all that there's a deadly stillness to him.]

[solarcharged]

[ There's a heavy, prolonged pause as Apollo looks at Ricki. He believes him, he really does, because this station is a fucking hell hole apparently. ]

...Okay.

[ 'Okay'. Okay, like that was a totally reasonable thing to happen (it isn't) and Apollo is fine with it (he isn't). He takes a breathe. ]

Is it - is it still doing it to you? Or has it stopped?

[rickitikitarr]

[He peels his hand off his stomach, and shows him the bandaged section- he's trying to staunch it, but blood has already soaked back through the cloth.]

Direct pressure works best, but it still only slows it down.

[solarcharged]

Oh, shit -

[ Apollo hadn't quite grasped that this was a thing that was still happening, right now. The sight of fresh red blood isn't exactly new (not by any stretch) but he starts forward, one hand reaching out to push Ricki's hand back where it was, holding it and the bandage back in place. Because that isn't good. ]

Okay. Awful and unpredictable, you weren't lying. We probably need to try and keep some of this blood on your insides...

[ He glances over Ricki's shoulder, jerking his chin towards the cabin at Ricki's back. Time to go inside, Ricki. ]

Did you manage to find a doctor, yet? Alucard, maybe?

[rickitikitarr]

Christ!

[Snaps Ricki, and then realizes he is being insane. He draws in a breath, lets it out, and tries again.]

I do not get along with Alucard. And I am getting very snappish, but aside from that, I have this under control. What I would like most in the world right now is for you to please listen to me and go help me by finding clean dressings, and something to clean up the place with. I am absolutely fine in the meantime, I'm not bleeding out at a dangerous rate. I just need to keep calm, and probably still, and keep pressure on.

[solarcharged]

[ Apollo stares in blank surprise. It's not often that people talk to him like this. He's used to being the strongest and most powerful guy in the room - in the world, in fact - and essentially telling him to shut the fuck up and listen is a privilege reserved to a select few.

But, at the end of the day, Apollo gave up on being a leader a long time ago. He follows orders surprisingly well for a man who can't really be made to do anything he doesn't want to do. So he nods thoughtfully. ]

...Okay.

[ And he turns briskly to disappear down the corridor in to an unoccupied cabin. ]

[rickitikitarr]

[Ricki groans, and falls into the bed, closing his eyes and willing himself to calm the fuck down and stop taking this out on other people.

He presses the pillowcase back into the cut, and breathes in, deep and slow.]

[solarcharged]

[ Apollo reappears with a bundle of fresh sheets dragged from next door's bed. It was Kara's, once upon a time, but it's not like she'll be needing them now (and isn't that a kick to his stomach). Only when he returns does Apollo see Ricki's cabin for what it is: a blood bath, complete with an overpowering metallic stench.

If Apollo balked at the sight and smell of blood then he'd have been out of a job years ago. Instead he sets to shredding a sheet, easily rending the fabric between his hands as if it was nothing more than paper. ]

Still alive over there? [ He eyes Ricki on the bed as he noisily shreds the sheets, but doesn't get too close. The other man's set his boundaries and very clearly too. Apollo respects that. ]

[rickitikitarr]

Still fighting.

[He says, and struggles up to sit, leaning into the wall, and telling him, quietly;]

Thanks. Sorry for being so shirty. I'm not at my best.

[solarcharged]

[ Apollo bats away the apology with a relaxed shrug. ]

No need. If I was in your position I'd have said a hell of a lot worse.

[ Because mystery vivisection isn't exactly anyone's idea of fun. Apollo offers Ricki a handful of fresh sheets, torn in to long bandage-like strips, and watches Ricki critically. ]

How long has this been happening?

[rickitikitarr]

Few hours now. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it doesn't seem to at all- mercifully, it seems to be shallow.

[But he's beginning to get tired. His eyes shut.]

If you watch it closely, you can see it move.

[solarcharged]

Really?

[ Gross. Interesting, but gross. Apollo peers curiously as he slowly rips up another sheet... And now Ricki's eyes are closed and that's not really a good thing. ]

Keep talking to me, won't you? You don't want me doing CPR any time soon.

[rickitikitarr]

[He draws in a breath, and tries.]

In West Africa there's a lake. It's one of those export towns, where the big fish are sent by basket and truckloads out to be sold in the cities, and the people eat sundried minnows, or rather, little-fish in Twi, which sorts by size and not by age where creatures are concerned. A great king came there, and ate a dish of the local fare- choked on the bones and died. Locals renamed the lake 'Lake We-hate-little-fishes.' Took the British years to catch on.

[solarcharged]

[ He hadn't expected another one of Ricki's travel stories but it's just as charming as it had been before. Apollo can't help but be impressed by the effort. He helpfully clears away the discarded, bloodied wads of used sheets on to the floor (he can incinerate them himself in the blink of an eye later) and gently touches Ricki on the air when in warning when it comes to swapping out his pressure-bandage for a new one. ]

You're a regular David Attenborough, aren't you? [ It's a gentle tease; he'd asked for Ricki to keep talking, and he certainly did. ] We should probably change that mess you're holding against your stomach now...

[rickitikitarr]

He's still famous in the future?

[He asks, opening his eyes back up and lifting the wad of cloth aside. The cut is about half an inch shorter now, and has at long last stopped spreading, and lowering. It might even be sealing up.]

[solarcharged]

Oh, yeah. People know him all over the world. I met him once, at a charity gala in London...

[ That was Jenny Sparks's doing. All the fun parties usually were. But Apollo isn't letting himself think about that too much right now; he curses under his breath at the sight of the cut. He's seen a hell of a lot worse but it's still very, very weird.

He switches out the bloodied compress for new ripped sheets, still smelling slightly of whatever mystery detergent they use in space. Apollo has no idea. The stained bandage is thrown unceremoniously on to the floor with the rest of it, to be incinerated later. Nobody's going to be using those again any time soon. ]

[rickitikitarr]

It baffled me, the things that last and the things that don't.

[He admits, catching his breath, looking up at Apollo and admitting;]

I'm a bit at risk of going into shock at this point.

[solarcharged]

Yes, probably.

[ Apollo isn't a first aider. He takes people apart, he doesn't put them back together again. But there's a matter of fact little voice in his head that reminds him about shock (hadn't he seen something about it in a film once?) and he reaches out to gently lay the back of his hand on Ricki's forehead, measuring how how clammy he might feel. ]

If you could try not to, that would be wonderful. Because you don't exactly look great. The cut isn't so bad anymore but... Do you feel sick?

[ A beat, then: ]

Shall I get someone who actually has a clue what they're doing?

[rickitikitarr]

I am honest to god going to punch Alucard in the fangs if he shows up here.

[Teeth very much set.]

And I don't think there's anyone else here who can do a damned thing. I know a field dressing from a hole in the ground.

What I do need is to keep drinking water and to keep talking.

[solarcharged]

[ Apollo can't help but bristle at that; Alucard is his friend and he isn't sure exactly what everyone on this station seems to have against him. But he doesn't react outwardly; he keeps his voice level and glances around the room for some water. ]

So keep talking. Tell me what Alucard's done to piss you off so much...