i guess we'll just have to adjust

[sciencesaggressively]

It's 8:08 in the morning.. Newt's been awake for six hours, twelve minutes, and thirty-three seconds. Thirty-four now. He knows this because there's a clock on the wall in front of him and he's been watching it very carefully between rounds of people coming in to fuss over him, ask him questions he doesn't know the answers to, hearing the doctors and nurses talk about him like he's not even there. He doesn't pay very much attention anyway, all he really wants to do is get the hell out of here even though he's pretty sure that's not going to be an option for a solid minute.

When he'd woken up, there'd been only pain--pain in his head, pain in his side, pain everywhere. There's been a respite since because he's got drugs being pumped in him through an IV. He's already been told that he's been in a coma for... Christ, has it really been almost two weeks? He can't really remember much, though the doctors have said something about-- what was it, recessing memories? That doesn't make sense but whatever, nothing makes a whole lot of sense right now because all he knows is that he'd been stabbed and that really freakin' sucks, dude.

The television has been turned on for him by a kind nurse whose name he guiltily can't remember right now but his attention stays with the clock. It's not until the door to his room opens again that his eyes leave the ticking hands and he raises an eyebrow at the entrance, fully expecting it to be more nurses. When he sees who walks through, he relaxes the tension he hadn't even realized has been in his shoulders and a relieved smile curves the corners of his lips. "Hey," he says softly, "it's been awhile, huh?"


[st/lt welcome ftr]

Comments

[everyonetakes]

The doctor calls her as she's getting ready for work and for a long time Kate's pretty sure she's forgotten how to breathe. After five days, she'd had to go back to work. Her bosses had been good about it, but one of them had called and gently asked her how much more time she thought she'd need, because they might have to hire someone to take her shifts in the meantime and she'd known that Newt would be mad at her for losing her job over him when he woke up, so she'd gone in. She doesn't like it, but she goes in, she works her shifts, she keeps up her spirits as best she can until she goes back to the hospital and stays there until someone kicks her out. There's one nurse who's been kind enough to let her stay a few nights, but last night had been the ridiculously cranky nurse Kate's gotten into more than one argument with and so when he'd shown up at Newt's door the second visiting hours were over, she'd just left.

Now she's mad at herself for not having put up a fight. He'd woken up alone in the middle of the night and she could have been there.

She calls in to work, knowing she's pressing her luck and she doesn't even care. She can't go work an eight hour shift knowing he's awake. Then she goes to the hospital and when she opens his door, she's almost convinced he won't actually be awake. It's a joke. That shitty nurse who hates her put one of the doctors up to it and he'll still be lying in that bed with his eyes closed.

But he's not and she's pretty sure she still can't breathe. "Hi," she manages to say, though it comes out as a whisper.

[sciencesaggressively]

It doesn't feel like it's been two weeks since he's seen her face. He has a flash, of looking up at her from the ground, of her telling him everything's going to be fine--but it disappears fairly quickly and the last time he remembers seeing her is in the bar. She'd given him a kiss, things had been good, he'd been happy and carrying the ring in his jacket pocket and holy shit, the ring, what's happened to the ring?

He tries not to let the worry show on his face because it's not like he can flat out be like, "Hey, so any word on that engagement ring I haven't given you yet?" Or he could but that would really ruin the element of surprise. Besides, there's plenty of time for talk like that later, not that it's even talk he wants to have anyway. He lifts a hand toward her and beckons her over because he needs the gap between them to close like, now. He needs to touch her, he needs to make sure that she's really here because there's no one else he'd rather see right now.

"I'm okay," he tells her, though the words come out strained because he's most definitely not but he needs to believe it as much as he needs her to do the same.

[everyonetakes]

There's a part of her that wants to be cautious and make sure she doesn't hurt him, but when he lifts his hand, she can't help herself. It's been two weeks since she's been able to do anything except hold his hand and talk to him without hearing a response, she can't be expected to just stand here and be super casual when she feels anything but. She takes a few steps into the room, drops her bag to the floor, then closes the rest of the distance between them and slips both her arms around him. It's only that little part of her that's still cautious that keeps her from just crawling into the hospital bed with him. That and the knowledge that her nurse nemesis is probably around here somewhere just waiting for her to screw up so he can throw her out and ruin this moment for her.

In two weeks, she hasn't cried once. Not even that first night in the hospital, waiting for news, not during all the time she'd spent alone with him in this room, not at home in the privacy of her bedroom. Not once. She hates crying. It embarrasses her and makes her angry, but she can't seem to help it now and the tears start to come even as she presses her face against the curve of his neck.

She's mad at herself for crying and she's mad at him for getting stabbed and she's mad at the asshole who stabbed him. Mostly she's angry to cover up how scared she was, how scared she still is, and she bites down hard on her bottom lip, willing herself to get some kind of control.

[triskehale]

"Yeah, it has, you little asshole." Derek comes into the room and wrinkles his nose at the stench of hospital as he drops into the uncomfortable chair at the side of his bed. He kicks his boots up onto the bed near Newt's hip and glares balefully at him. "I'd give you the bite just to keep you from almost dying all the time if I didn't think you'd be the worst werewolf ever."

This is how Derek shows affection, truly.

[sciencesaggressively]

"Hey," Newt counters, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. Every goddamn time he tries to move, the blankets get all lumpy and he can't get back in a better position. He hates hospitals so much. "Who you calling an asshole? I'm the victim, here, remember?"

He rolls his eyes as playfully as he can manage when Derek puts his feet up on the bed, engaging in this sudden staring contest even though he knows it's just Derek being Derek. It's his friend's way of showing he actually gives a shit. "If you gave me the bite, I might stop asking to get a ride from you. But also probably not."

[triskehale]

"If I gave you the bite, you wouldn't be able to shift into a wolf like me. You'd probably just be louder. And more annoying." Derek rolls his eyes and sighs at Newt's obvious discomfort. He reeks of pain, and Derek holds out his hand. When Newt just stares at it, Derek lets out a huff. "Give me your hand, moron."

[likeflyingtothemoon]

"A while? A while?" Sloan's been sitting in the hall, reading a book about post-war economics of a world that as far as she knows doesn't even exist. It doesn't mean she's not trying to figure it out. It's a figuring that stops when she hears that Newt's awake, the book tucked back in her bag to be ignored for a while. "It's been weeks."

[sciencesaggressively]

Leave it to Sloan to charge into a hospital room like it's a battefield. Newt wouldn't have it any other way, of course, and he gives a playful roll of his eyes as she crosses into the room. "It's been two weeks almost," he corrects, which is still technically 'weeks' but whatever. "Nice to know you missed me, though."

[likeflyingtothemoon]

"I wouldn't have to miss you if you hadn't gotten stabbed," she points out to him, her voice rising shaply on the last word. Ice bees Sloan could handle. Her friend getting shanked she could not. "I'm thinking of buying you a hamster ball."

[drownedindreams]

"Yeah, well," Tara says as she picks up his chart that's hanging on the end of his bed. "I ended up getting caught in surgery - I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner." She glances at it and flips through the pages, her brows rising for a moment before she flashes a quick smile.

"So. How're you feeling?" She didn't realise that nobody's actually told him that she was his surgeon; that if she wasn't, it was sort of weird that she just swanned in and looked at his chart. Either way, though, Tara's got on her white coat and scrubs, and she's moving to stand by his bed, her head tipping to the side as she both waits for an answer and checks on his IVs. It's a reflex, for her to just make sure that they're all working properly and aren't anywhere near close to empty.

[sciencesaggressively]

"Like I just woke up from a really long nap," he deadpans, though he offers a small smile. He's grateful that he has a familiar face here to spell things out for him, it makes it a little easier to deal with everything that's going on. "Also like I have a hole in my side. Is that normal? I don't know if it's normal."

He watches quietly as she does her doc thing, letting his eyes drift to the machine that he's still hooked up to that's monitoring his heart rate. He can't remember what this thing is called, it's on the tip of his tongue, he just can't get to it. He wonders if that's a bad thing but he also doesn't want to linger too long on that right now because if he is still in the danger zone, maybe he can just remain blissful in his ignorance. It's not like him to stay ignorant, though, and he can't keep his mouth shut for too long before asking the question. "Am I okay?"

[drownedindreams]

"Well," Tara said after a long moment, "You don't have a hole in your side anymore, so that's one reassurance, right?" She looked up from his chart, and flashed a smile. "But it's normal to feel like you still do. It's going to hurt for a while." She follows his glance, and she nods.

"You're okay. You're going to be here for a little while just so we can make sure there's no complications - you've been out for a while, but that means that your body's been able to heal." She's got the bedside manner stuff mostly down - you've got to, if you mainly end up talking to terrified parents, but she's a lot less used to talking to both people she'd previously had lunch with, and also people she's operated on.

Normally she wouldn't even be here, but she actually knew him - she wasn't his attending, but she felt like she had a stake in his recovery. "How do you think you're doing?" That was maybe a more important question, especially because he'd been out for so long - and Tara had no idea what, if anything, he'd been told.

[jianhuo]

She can feel the tears forming just at the sight of Newt in that hospital bed, finally awake, but Saffron takes a hitched breath, and manages not to burst out crying. "Too long," she replies, her voice shakier than she'd like, as she goes over and sits carefully on the side of his bed.

Gently, she wraps her hands around one of Newt's. "How are you feeling, honey?" She hopes he's not in too much pain, that they're giving him enough medication.

[sciencesaggressively]

He watches Helen try to keep it together and it's almost too much for him. She has been so ridiculously good to him always, has been such a valuable friend, has become someone he's fairly certain he couldn't do without now that he's had her as a light in his life. It's been hard for him to recall a lot of what had happened that night but he can remember seeing her face and hearing her voice and her hands on his stomach as she'd tried to keep him from bleeding out in that alley.

Things like this, they change a person, Newt's quickly starting to realize. He's a little freaked out, if he's honest, of what this is going to mean for him when he gets out of the hospital. He doesn't want to flinch every time he walks by an alley alone; he doesn't want to see the face of the guy who'd done this to him every time someone bumps into him in a crowd; he doesn't want to be afraid. But right now, he takes comfort in her hands around his. Right now, he feels safe.

"I'm okay," he tells her and if his voice cracks a little, maybe Helen won't notice. "Super well-rested."

[jianhuo]

Saffron notices, because she's been trained to notice, and it makes her want to cry even more. She holds it together, though, sniffing just a little as she squeezes Newt's hand lightly. "It's good to see you awake," she says, and she can't help but wonder if he was aware at all while he was in the coma, but she doesn't want to ask. "We were a little worried about you there for a while."

[confidenceman]

As much as Sawyer hated hearing the news of what happened to Newt, it's not until he hears that Newt's woken from the coma that he actually goes to visit. If anyone tried to get him to put a finger on why, Sawyer isn't sure that he'd be able to explain. Something about having watched far too many people die over the past several years. Never a calm, peaceful death, either — instead, the kind of death that comes with a struggle, that comes with violence and pain, and what's happened to Newt is no exception.

Except, fortunately, the asshole pulled through. And so Sawyer takes a day off of work, toting Clementine along with him because he doesn't want to leave her to babysitters any more than necessary. The hospital isn't an ideal place to visit, but Clementine can't seem to tell the difference, cooing at intervals as Sawyer carries her on his hip, bouncing her slightly as he walks around the perimeter of the room.

Her head turns as soon as Newt speaks, and Sawyer turns to look at him with a sigh.

"You sayin' that 'cause you felt the time, or just so that I can't nag you over how much of an idiot you were?" Sawyer asks, carrying Clementine back over to the side of Newt's bed and sinking down into the chair propped there. He imagines he's not the first one to visit.

[sciencesaggressively]

He hasn't seen much of Sawyer since Clementine had been storked Darrow-style into his life, and he gives a playful roll of his eyes before offering his friend a smile. It's good to see him, good to see anyone considering he apparently hadn't been doing much eye-opening for the last couple weeks. He raises the hand that's not attached to the IV, though he's still feeling terribly weak so it doesn't get up very high, and gives a little finger wave to the baby, even though she seems too distracted by the rest of the room to care.

"Definitely didn't feel the time," he answers. "Not sure how you worked out that I'm the idiot, though." Derek had basically greeted him the same way, and Newt knows the gruffness is just disguised affection but he's still not quite sure what else he was supposed to have done. Hell, he can't even remember what exactly had happened, much less how it could have been avoided. He shifts in his bed, trying to hide is groan of discomfort as he labors to smooth out a lump in the pillows behind him. By the time he's finished, he's sweating and out of breath and wow, this isn't going to do. He hadn't even been able to handle being in a cast for a few weeks when he'd been hit by that car, he has no fucking clue how he's going to adjust to what's sure to be way more limited movement now. "Didn't come here just to beret me, did you? Because Clementine doesn't need that kind of negativity in her life, dude."

[confidenceman]

"Judgin' by the way you look right now, I doubt you even remember half of what happened before you woke up in the hospital," Sawyer says with a raise of his brow. He's certainly woken up confused before himself after some period of injury, although never anything quite as serious as a couple of weeks in a coma. He can't help but wonder what that means for Newt's brain function, not that he'd understand even if he asked the doctors.

For now, it's nice enough that the guy can smile and remember the folks he cares about.

"Anyway, no, I'm not here to yell at you, though I may force you to attend some self-defense classes once you're up and at 'em again. Seems like you could really use them," Sawyer points out, before bringing Clementine closer. She smiles and starts to babble, waving an arm generally in Newt's direction. Sawyer can't tell if she actually recognizes him, or if it's just something about his expression that pleases her. "Just thought Clementine could get a kick out of seein' your face again."

[beyoncepadthai]

"Try two weeks!" Mindy says, allowing herself to be livid now that he's, you know, conscious. She was too upset to be angry prior, but now that he's moderately okay, she's prepared to let him know her thoughts throughout it all. "YOU COULD HAVE DIED. Do you know what it's like to see your neighbor's name on an intake form? And don't ask why I was reading those intake forms, okay? It doesn't matter. You could have died."

[sciencesaggressively]

As far as greetings from a two-week coma go, Newt probably could have done with one a little less hostile. But it's Mindy and because it's Mindy, he supposes he can let it slide. Next time he wakes up from a coma, though, she'd better be all rainbows and sweetness.

"I won't ask. I could have died. Check and check." He widens his eyes to puppy-dog status and offers her a small smile. "It was an accident?"

[beyoncepadthai]

"I kind of figured it wasn't on purpose," Mindy sighs, exasperated, but knowing she should probably attack him a little less after he's been stabbed. Literally. Still, it's a little exhausting seeing someone she cares about (when did she start caring so much, again?) so much get hurt over and over. "Don't let it happen again. Okay?"

[hadtheshot]

Chuck would never admit to a soul that he's been nervous. It seems stupid that it should even be the case at all, considering some of the things he's been through, the things he's done. Newt's a friend, though, probably the best he's had in a long time, if not ever, and one far too prone to winding up in dangerous situations. Between the whole drifting with a kaiju thing back in Hong Kong and getting hit by a car here, it's hard not to wonder if his getting stabbed now will be one thing too many. It's left Chuck even more irritated than usual, quiet around people he actually likes, snapping at doctors, getting drunk at night after stopping by the hospital. It isn't like there's much else for him to do, especially when he feels so fucking useless.

Somehow, it's almost just as nerve-racking to know that Newt is awake, though Chuck wouldn't let anyone keep him away now for anything. Heading through the doorway, he huffs out a breath at Newt's question, not waiting for an invitation before he drops into the seat at his bedside. "Yeah, that's one way of putting it," he says, brusque as ever. "Broken leg wasn't enough for you?"

[sciencesaggressively]

Newt can't help the way the corners of his lips curve up because truth be told, Chuck totally looks like he'd run a marathon to get here and that's a best friend. "Nope, totally thought getting shanked would be super fun, you dick," he answers with a playful roll of his eyes. He reaches out to swat at Chuck's knee but misses by a landslide so he plops back against his pillows with a dramatic sigh. "I'm already over being in here, dude, I'll give you all my respect if you get me out."

[refusedtocall]

"A while is right," Carla Jean says from the doorway, arms folded over her chest, though there's something soft in the set of her mouth as she looks over at Newt. She's too relieved for there not to be — for Newt's sake, someone she's come to think of as a friend, and for Kate's, too. How hard this has been on Kate would have been difficult for her to miss, and Carla Jean can't say she blames her for that at all. She knows too well what this sort of situation is like and the toll it can take. That Newt's pulled through, that he looks to be in decent shape, is the best anyone could have hoped for. "How're you feelin'?"

[sciencesaggressively]

"How am I feeling?" He's quiet for a moment as he thinks about it, really thinks about it, because he's been asked that a lot today and has offered nothing but generic answers. He should probably just invest in a sign that reads "I'm fine" in huge letters, all caps just to emphasize how fine he really is. Except he's not, is he? He's in a hospital bed, he's just woken up from a coma, he's been stabbed--he's most definitely not fine.

"I'm okay," he finally settles on saying because at least it's not the other thing. "Thanks for coming to see me."