As he awoke to another in a series of percussive headaches, he decide that he might as well get used to them because no one would do anything about them if he spoke up. He cleared his throat, triggering a painful coughing fit.
"Would you like some water?" She was nearby.
He managed to gasp out a "Yes" between great heaving coughs. The equipment protruding from his chest continued its monotonous 'shoop-shoop, shoop-shoop' that made things all the more problematic, as if he wasn't having enough difficulty with the coughing. He could feel a lot of liquid in his lungs... he probably had pnumonia or something, or would be feeling it soon enough. This stupid contraption pressed heavily on his already sore chest, and it was attached to him in ways he'd rather not know about. He had no concept of how to break the machine's repetitions, let alone what it even looked like. It seemed like a wonderful device for normal breathing, but it could not think on its own, or react to its host, so it continued to force the lung to operate at a regulated pace, even though he was coughing. He couldn't catch his breath at all.
Very suddenly, one of those small cold hands of hers pressed firmly down onto his chest. There was as sickening twist on the apparatus, and suddenly he could breathe again. The 'shoops' ceased, but the hissing that underscored it continued. It took him a moment to realize that they were longer, and uneven. They moved in rhythm with his own efforts to quell the coughing.
"There." she said, removing her hand from his chest. "I think that's better, now isn't it? Breathe. Shhh... shhh... just breathe. They always set these contraptions too high. More of you boys die just coughing in your sleep than you do from wounds and operations."
"That's encouraging." he wheezed as he gulped in as much air as he could.
"Hmm, I thought you'd say that." she replied. He figured she must be squeezing some kind of bellows or sometthing of the like, because the skin around the machinery kept being jerked around slightly. "Is this normal for you? Breathing, I mean. You seem to be calming down considerably."
"Yah."
"All right, well this will hurt a little..." She gave the apparatus another jerky twist, but as the pain subsided, the 'shoop-shoop' returned in regular, measured breaths. Except, now they were longer, more comfortable, and he didn't feel short of air.
"About that water?" he asked.
"Right here. Open?"
He parted his lips and the edge of something cold and metal rested sideways against the corner of his mouth. Her free hand cupped the nape of his neck, causing the hairs there to prickle away from his skin. Gently, she lifted his head until the liquid could be poured into his mouth. He swallowed the cupful. There was a bitter metallic aftertaste, but it was water, and it was greatly appreciated.
After returning his head to the countertop, he heard her put the cup down somwhere to his left.
"Nurse?"
"Yes?"
"No, no. Are you a nurse?"
"Yes."
"Tell me then." He took a breath. "Is it bad?"
"Is what bad?" There were sounds of equipment and things being moved around. From the clinking and clattering, he determined he must be in a room full of metallic surfaces.
"Me! My injuries! What's wrong with me? I want the full report." He was getting a little angry now, but the tension in his chest prevented him raising his voice too much.
"No, you don't. Trust me."
He panicked slightly, remembering that time in his senior 20th Century Civ class when they watched All Quiet on the Western Front... disturbing, distorted images of all the kids that had their legs amputated filled his head. "Am I in one piece?" his voice squeaked slightly.
"Do you consider 'in one piece' having a shattered kneecap, a collapsed lung, grenade and shell burns on the head, face, and arm, and what could - and probably will - develop into double pnumonia? Not to mention various bruises and contusions, a couple of sprains, lacerations from said grenade-and-shell shrapnel and something wrong with the eyes the doctors haven't identified yet."
He was sure she didn't say it to be mean, cruel, or to shock him. Well, he hoped he was sure, in any case. However, a whimpery sort of agonized moan escaped his lips before he could check it. Well, at least nothing was missing... except a lot of blood. No limbs were unaccounted for, and it didn't sound like they were going to go anywhere without the rest of him anytime soon.
After taking a moment to calm down, he raised his right hand as far as his strength and the IV would let him. "Nurse? I'm Gerard. Gerard Way."
"Pleasure to be formally introduced." she responded, taking his hand lightly.
"I'd like to know your name."
"My name is Sarah Ashcroft."
Ashcroft? He thought, dropping his hand. Mikey...
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you are an amazing writer.