alltheheroes | Breathe deep, breathe clear

Breathe deep, breathe clear

Ten l o n g days and nights.

Time has blurred into one long continuous stream that feels so surreal it must be a bad dream. Or at least, that's how it feels for the student that has kept constant vigil at San Fransokyo Memorial Hospital. Leave had been allowed for the students following the fire at the showcase. They had called it a 'tragic incident' and expected students to return after the funeral that had been held on a rather rainy afternoon.

Tragic isn't even close.

Go Go had begrudgingly attended classes only at the insistence of her fellow classmates, but there was no heart in it for any of them as they struggled to push through the hours until they could go where they felt they needed to be most. For her, it meant sitting in the warm ICU room where her professor has been making a slow recovery. She came whenever the other students were visiting of course, but would always return at the shift change for the night nursing staff to arrive. It was easy to slip in with them distracted during orientation rounds. At first, the nursing and nursing aides had insisted she leave, threatening to call security, but a few brief words, and she had managed to stay put. The girl only ever seemed to leave to go stretch her legs, visit the restroom, and get a drink of water before returning right back to her perch. She never bothered the staff or the patient, and perhaps that's the only reason they allowed her in to watch over Professor Callaghan. That, or they felt sorry he had no blood-relations to visit.

Given that she, nor any of the other students, would be contacted if anything went wrong, Go Go had to make sure for herself.

Seated on the window sill as always, she keeps her legs pulled up tight against her chest with her arms wrapped snugly around them, making herself as small as she can while her weary eyes stay locked on the monitors and machines surrounding the inflatable bed that constantly cycles air quietly beneath her teacher. Steadily, the ventilator pumps air in a regular rhythm, providing an audible reassurance that the man laying covered in so many bandages and lines is still, in fact, alive. Every so often she dozes, head resting against her knees just right, but she never completes a full sleep cycle before awakening to the sound of another beeping from a machine.

The numbers on the monitors and machines are so foreign to her. If Tadashi-

If he were here, he could easily translate all of them. Only from experience has she learned what sort of numbers at different spots are acceptable and which are not by watching the reactions of the nurses and doctors checking on him so frequently.

By now the smell of burnt flesh had diminished quite a bit from the first night she had spent in the room, and it makes it much easier to resist the urge to wrinkle her small nose whenever she has to take a deeper breath in an effort to keep herself calm.

All she can do is wait, and for someone that so loves speed...

it's hard.

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Callaghan is, and has been, aware of being 'out of it' for some time. Consciousness is...spotty at best, but he's been spoken to, made aware of the situation, then gone out again- and then had the cycle repeat a few times. It's not so much that his memory has failed, is that he's only ever so able to process it. Through the drugs and the pain and the haze and the memory...

a charred, blackened hand

"you won't get extra credit for this, mister hamada-"

aching, dragging, falling

He starts a bit, emitting a low sound; a sound muffled by something in his mouth. And yet he can't quite bring himself to be concerned about that, not when his whole side feels as though it's still trapped under that ceiling beam and burning.

It hurts.

And for a few moments, that's all he can really think about, hand forming in to a loose claw as he tries to reach across his body for the perceived source.

Dim lighting meant to keep the patient calm makes it difficult for weary eyes to spot subtle movements, but something above the standard deviation of motion during his more sedate periods draws her focus back from the variable numbers to the bed with that start. She heard something beneath the shift in flow from the ventilator, pushing and drawing air alternately as it records measurements of every inhale and exhale.

Narrowed eyes spread wider as her focus hones in on that right hand as Callaghan begins to stir awake. Her lips part as her own breathing goes still, and though part of her body feels faintly numb from prolonged stillness at the window, she manages to urge herself up to her feet rather swiftly. A darting glance is given to the doorway and out into the hall, but none of the nurses or the aides are within sight for the moment.

With a slight hesitation, she steps closer to the bed.

He can't reach- there are things on his arm, holding him back, perhaps not completely but he can still feel the tug. Callaghan grimaces, and that simple motion makes his face hurt; even so, it doesn't compare to how tired he still feels, how hard it is to move his hand-

-it comes to rest on his chest as he makes a quiet huff of frustration. He shouldn't be tired, he just woke up, didn't he? But- this isn't his bed, his bed isn't propped up like this, and all of this has a feeling of wrongness that is only beginning to really be understood.

His head turns slightly, single eye blinking a few times as it tries to focus. His breathing would quicken, if it could; as it is, the heart rate monitors will no doubt show the change, as if the next muffled sound isn't sign enough he's awake.

Given how many machines are in the room already, the space around is limited. Alone now though, the distance to the bed seems so much further without other familiar warm bodies also standing bedside. She feels nervous approaching, but anxiety has never kept her from pushing forward. Despite their small length, her steps finally bring her to that right side of the bed as Callaghan settles his arm to his chest.

Without thought to it, one hand finds the way up to the bed rail, just enough to let her finger tips rest on the plastic surface. Just enough to give her that extra bit of contact for balance and confirmation of her position. Her brow furrows slightly at the muffled sound and the change of the numbers on the monitor nearby, but she draws a mask of calm back into place as Callaghan begins looking around.

She wants him to see something more reassuring if he is really waking up.

"...Professor Callaghan?" her voice comes out quite soft, barely louder than the sound of the ventilator.

There's definitely someone there, but it's still a bit fogged through the lingering throb of pain and disorientation. Robert wants to ask who it is, but even working his mouth- maybe there isn't anything actually in it, but it doesn't feel right, to say nothing of the rest of the things on his face. Nose. Eye. Arm. Hand...

Everything.

Distantly, he recalls that he's in a hospital- he thinks. Maybe. Was that what they said? He shakes his head slightly, then stills, the voice pulling him back to the here and now and...

"Hhn."

He still can't manage words, though he's trying. But it seems like it's not even worth the effort, when it's already seeming so difficult to raise his hand back towards the edge of the bed, and- turn his head that way, cheek resting against the pillow as his vision falls on them.

Her.

What is she doing here...? His brow furrows slightly, a spark of confusion bleeding in to his face.

The fact that he can manage any sound around the trach in his throat is something that speaks to the strength still in his diaphragm. That, at least, they had said had remained intact even if the lungs themselves need more time to clear.

Her gaze turns from his face when he makes the effort to reach his hand out in her direction, and without any hint of reluctance, she lifts her hand from the bed rail to slip up and under around his hand to find a clasping grip with her fingers curling in under his thumb. She doesn't know if the nurses would be alright with it, but at the moment she doesn't care. The feeling of something else organic while surrounded by so many tubes and lines and machines might be something he needs right now.

At least her hand is warm.

Grasp tightening to squeeze his hand as she supports the weight, she looks back up to that eye focusing on her, and she manages to pull one corner of her lips up and back in a half smile. It's forced, and it shows only for a few seconds. She's never been good at faking a smile. Still, the effort is there as she wracks her brain for what to say. She thinks about the things the nurses are always saying to him...

It's a place to start at least, "Hey... You're in the hospital still, Professor Callaghan. It's night right now."

Edited 2014-12-28 04:49 (UTC)

It says something about his state that he focuses more on the warmth of her hand than the forced expression on her face. Normally, he'd arch his brow, maybe drop a bland comment meant to provoke the truth of how she felt- now, he just closes his eye for a long moment, squeezing back slightly.

None of that explains why she's here, but for a split-second, he doesn't question it.

And then the second passes, and he opens his eye again, trying to frown and finding it painful; he aborts it for a squeeze, which is somewhat less painful but still feels as though his hand has only a fragment of what strength it should.

He can hear. He knows. He just...needs another moment or two to remember why, a hundred percent, but he's not letting go for those moments because there again is that memory of heat and not being able to breathe.

He still - can't - but only on his own. There's still air coming in to his lungs, and it's not the burning sort, either. His vision moves from Go Go to some of the equipment beside of her, then back down, following some of the cables and lines back to him. Intensive care, something about third and fourth degree burns, fire-

-he looks back at Go Go, eye widening with a surge of surprise- and concern.

Each squeeze given is reciprocated, and as he seems to settle briefly, she lowers his hand back down to rest his arm against the bed. Her grasp remains firmly held, not ready to let go of that connection with him even as she hopes the transition down will help him relax a little. She can see that pain coming through in his expression, even if less than half of his face is visible for the time being.

Silence hangs until that spark of alarm shows, and straightening through her back, Go Go responds quickly. Shaking her head, she reaches her other hand to wrap over the top of that hand she already holds, doubling her contact with him, "It's okay, Professor. You're going to be alright. The doctors said you've been making a lot of progress in the right direction."

That look...she doesn't like it on him.

Knowing that he cannot speak for himself, she looks around briefly. The nurses were using some sort of chart with him before...but she doesn't see it out. Not ready to leave the bedside anyhow, she thinks of another possible way to communicate-something Callaghan can do to express more than basic emotions.

"Do you think you can text with one hand? I have my phone... You can type things to me."

Old as he may be, Professor Callaghan is still young enough to have grown up with texting around, right?

That's only so reassuring. As much as it's nice to know that even with all the discomfort he's going to be 'alright' and 'been making a lot of progress', that doesn't answer one of the more pressing questions in mind.

On one hand, he thinks he's 'asked' it before, or at least- no, that had to be some of the dream, right? Assuming this isn't one.

Still, he nods, and for good measure tries to turn his hand in a vague thumbs-up gesture. Assuming the keys aren't too small, he should be able to manage with that, though he was only ever so good at that sort of thing. A full-sized keyboard, on the other hand...but, well, that would require his other hand, and that doesn't seem very responsive right now.

Easing her grasp on his hand when she feels it moving, Go Go shows a flicker of a real smile in response to that nod and thumbs-up gesture. Nodding once back to him, she releases his hand with just her overlaying hand and reaches down into her pocket to retrieve her phone. Tugging it free of her pocket, she activates the touch screen and taps open the note application. Once she judges the device to be ready with the screen in a locked orientation, she finally withdraws her other hand and slips the phone in its place.

"Here...just type short hand and don't worry about mistakes."

Given that she translates single-hand texts from Fred without trouble, this should be easy enough.

Anticipating that he would not have the energy to turn the phone to show her constantly, Go Go pays great mind to the lines strung low along the bed, and steps with care to move to stand up closer to Callaghan's shoulder rather than down at his hand. Leaning in just slightly over the bed rail, she focuses on the screen to see what he types.

This will work. There's another brief glance at the room at large, and then Callaghan's attention returns to Go Go in full; and then, specifically, to her phone. He works his hand for a few moments, trying to find some strength for it, or at least make it feel less useless.

And by the time she's settled by his shoulder, he feels ready to try. It takes him a minute to understand the layout, and there's still a part where he feels like he needs to fix it, but then he just gives up and continues in hopes she'll understand;

 t ss d s h i

At first, the letters coming onto the screen don't make much sense, but as those last two letters appear, a sense of dread has already made it harder to swallow. The intention is clear, but for a moment she doesn't understand-until she recalls a warning from one of the doctors.

He may not remember much for a while.

Brows furrow down as her gaze breaks from her phone with a prolonged, tight blink of her eyes. Opening only partially, she turns her head to look back to her teacher as her heart sinks lower down in her chest. Voice quieter again, she asks to confirm, "...you're wanting to know about Tadashi, right?"

Only once she has some sign from Callaghan, she forces the words passed her lips, "...Tadashi...he died at school."

Go Go shouldn't take that long to reply. Her delays, usually, have to do with critical analysis; this isn't the sort of situation that calls for that. Callaghan is trying to look back up by the time she speaks, and he manages a slight nod, working a dry mouth as his stomach flutters in that falling sensation.

because that

He shakes his head, perhaps a little too quickly, as though by simply denying it he could make those vague memories of the same question and the similar answer and no, no, he pulled him out-

He was there. In the fire. He came for him, and he doesn't even realize his hand is trembling until he's looking back down to convey something else but-

Breathe. Or let himself be breathed for. His fingers claw, almost, pressing more firmly on to the keys-

p u kl lk r d io ut

he took him out he brought him out the stupid idiot kid the idiot he couldnt have he had to

Edited 2014-12-28 06:37 (UTC)

Biting at the inside of her lower lip, Go Go watches as the news hits more heavily than it had the first time. Those pain killers, whatever they had put him on, had been doing well to keep him out of touch with the reality she has already been facing. A small part of her cannot help but envy that escape, however temporary it had been.

The sound of the tapping on the phone is what draws her attention back to his hand as she frowns more deeply. She can see that shaking effort to hit the keys to say something else. Though it takes her a second, Go Go murmurs what she reads, "pulled out..."

Eyes turn back to Callaghan, and this time, she reaches to lay her hand over his upper arm just beneath his shoulder. He has so many lines everywhere, so many bandages, but this seems safe enough... With a shake of her head, she explains.

"When we left the showcase, Tadashi and Hiro stayed behind. We were going to wait at the parking lot. Just as we got to the lot, we heard the alarms. It took us a minute to figure out what was happening, but we saw the smoke, and by the time we got back everything was in chaos. We found Hiro outside the front, and kept searching until we saw the paramedics with you. Next to you, under a broken window there was a sheet over something..."

And that smell in the air...

The medical examiner had told his aunt that death had not taken long to claim her nephew... Something had fallen on him and crushed his chest when it broke his spine.

he pulled him out he got him out he brought them both out he saved him he

that's not mine, that's not human

His chest heaves once, something in there rattling- or is that just him imagining things? He'd hoped it was just a matter of mishearing, dreaming, nightmares-

This isn't fair. How could Tadashi have done that? To his own brother?

Part of him wants to ask about that brother, but with his hand balling in to a fist, enough there for his nails to dig in to his palm- the greater majority of him needs a moment to absorb it, and push himself past how much all of it hurts.

He'd curse, if he had the strength.

Faced with a new kind of pain the drugs in his IV cannot treat, Callaghan is given a promise he does not have to face it alone.

Hand shifting from the front of his upper arm to wrap behind his shoulder, Go Go reaches her other hand down to that fist to wrap under her palm and fingers as she leans in over the bedrail. This is no time to be reserved about anything. Black and violet strands of hair brush against the clean cheek near her as she brings her forehead down to press gingerly at that greying hair at his temple. If she had better access to him, a hug would be her choice, but this would have to suffice.

Eyes clenched shut, her own voice comes out quiet and tight, her own lingering anger with their best friend bleeding into her words, "That jerk always forgot to think about himself if he thought someone else needed him."

Callaghan is startled out of that pain by a foreign pressure.

He can only tense so much in his position - especially not without evoking a bit of pain - but he doesn't...he's not used to that kind of pressure, or gesture, or the sensation of thin hair against skin. The professor blinks a few times, trying to fully understand what she's doing, and then becoming baffled for it.

There's taking his hand, and...this not-embrace to which he can still read the meaning. And yet...

He makes a sound, echoing that anger with no small amount of his own frustration. This was...

This was a mistake.

He can't quite say as much, but he does uncurl his hand to try and take Go Go's again. The phone can wait, because even if he did trust his hand enough to type, he has no idea what he'd even say. Even if he could actually form words, nothing is coming to mind but the finally-settling awareness that one of his students is dead.

And arguably, because of him.

Not needing to open her eyes, Go Go can feel the phone being released by that intact hand and she nudges the phone with a couple fingertips to push it aside without care to where it goes. Sweeping her fingers over the backs of his, she slips her whole hand up into his opened palm to take a firm grasp and hold tight...as much for him as for herself.

Deep breath inhaled, she holds it in her lungs as she fights back the lump in her throat, only to release the air with a faint shiver to it. All she can think about right now is how much she misses Tadashi. How much the others miss him. How they all feel that gap of presence at the institute not only having Callaghan at the hospital, but not having that constant reassurance Tadashi gave them just by being there. He could no longer stay until the rest of them had left to go home, or text them to make sure they had gotten home safe when he needed to get back to Hiro. He would no longer show up unexpectedly with a much needed tray of coffee. He wouldn't be there to diffuse her frustration, or distract the others when she needed a moment to think to herself. He wouldn't be there to support her at a race or even just offer her a new pack of gum when she ran out of her own supply.

So why does she still have to hear that damn cheerful voice in her head...?

The ache from her disconnection with Tadashi stings just a little less for the time that has passed since that night, but time has not softened the blow for Callaghan. A gentle turn of her head, and Go Go adds to the contact with her cheek behind her hair brushing against his cheekbone.

Even with all this strangeness and pain, Callaghan's mind isn't slow. It may be fogged, but the logical progression takes over; he's not sure how long he's been in here (did someone mention days? a week?) but the...funeral...is likely over by now. Even if it wasn't, he's in no state to attend. Which is...good, in a way, he's not sure if he could exactly face Tadashi's family (or what remains of it?) with the knowledge that their son thought his life a fair trade.

Maybe he could have gotten out on his own, maybe-

"PROFESSOR!"

He swallows, or tries to, and tries to move as well. It feels like he can only move half his body, but he still tries, not quite push Go Go away but he can try to move his head away to shield his expression as best he can. And it is pained, water welling up in his single working eye, and the ventilator's flow is suddenly not enough. He tries to suck in more air, weakened lungs almost wheezing as he struggles to recompose himself.

This- comfort, foreign as it is, seems to be wrecking havoc with his self-control. And maybe that's why, because he's so ill-used to it he has no idea how to deal with it at all.

Limited though his ability is to draw back from her, Go Go can still feel the attempt to turn away plainly. Eyes opening just to peek at her teacher as she eases her head back a couple inches, hands remaining in place, she can see what is happening. Not willing to withdraw entirely but to at least reduce her comfort to something a little less invasive into his space, she bends at her elbows with a deeper bow forward and instead rests her forehead to the very edge of his shoulder. This way, she maintains contact but keeps his expression hidden from herself.

Silent for a couple of minutes in this position, a tight squeeze at his hand is given each time that ventilator machine beeps in response to the increased efforts to breathe from Callaghan whenever it comes off rhythm from the set cycle. The annoying sounds at least, intermittent and short-lived, do not bring any staff in through the doorway.

Then, finding her voice, Go Go takes her focus from Tadashi and places it entirely on their teacher, voice no longer holding an edge of anger as she pleads, "Professor...you have to get better. Maybe it's a lot to ask, but we really need you... All of us."

He's going to end up hating that beeping, by the end of all this. For now it's just a reminder of his injuries, as if he didn't have enough already; there's a single squeeze back to Go Go's hand, but what message Callaghan intends to offer by that remains to be seen. He's at least pulling himself back together, bit by bit, focusing on the physical as opposed to the emotional and mental discomfort.

The thing at his throat. His nose. His dry mouth. The sheets, wrapped so carefully around him, and the bandages covering half his face and body and they hurt.

Through blearily vision and dim lighting, Callaghan can only make out so much, but- it doesn't look good, on that side. He'll have to ask for a reminder of what he's facing, because all of it is jumbled and lost in the memory of a hysterical jibe in the face of burning flames...

And then Goo Go speaks again, once again piercing through and giving him the present. And- future? Not that he had any particular plans to the contrary, but- the plea, as well, is odd. Once it really filters though, though, he can't help but turn back towards her, blinking some of the moisture away.

What, exactly, does she mean by that?

The shift from Callaghan is felt there at his shoulder, and once more she responds. There is a slight delay however as she ducks her head to the side to rub an eye at her shoulder with a single sniffle. When she does lift her head, she lets her hair hang over her eyes even as she peers through the dark strands to his face. Reading the questioning expression, she furrows her brows in thought before she elaborates.

"It's hard to be at school right now for classes without you. Fred's been helping fill the silence, but even he starts running out of things to talk about after a while. Wasabi won't stop reorganizing his lab space, and Honey hasn't made a mess all week. It's like we've all forgotten what we're supposed to be doing... And Hiro he..." she looks down with the crease between her brows further deepening, "...I don't know if he's going to come back. We can't even get him to answer our calls or to come down to see us at the cafe."

A hesitation, then she admits something that actually manages to scare her, "It's like everything fell apart."

Fred running out of things to talk about sounds impossible. Wasabi on a reorganizing kick- but this is more than a 'kick', isn't it? As for Honey...he frowns unhappily, taking all of it in. He's not sure he wants to ask about Go Go's own way of dealing with her grief, unless visiting him is it...

But then, grief is new to them, isn't it? At least...there's no 'at least' about it. Just because Tadashi's choice was his own, and everything else was out of their hands...

It doesn't make it any less toxic.

He lets a final, shuddering breath before letting the ventilators take control again. By the flexing of his fingers, he wants his strength for something else, and if Go Go can pick up the gesture he'll have a message for the phone.

can t g oi  b a ck l i k e t h i s

A pause, and then another message;

n e e d b e tt r k e y b  o r ad

Your phone's a bit small, Go Go.

Even with the dim lighting, Callaghan might make out the dark circles that have settled in under Go Go's eyes during the last ten days of her vigil as she lifts her head up enough for the hair to fall back away from them. Sleep deprivation is nothing new for a college student, but she has definitely hit a more extreme level. Message received in the gesture, she releases her grasp on his hand and fishes the phone out of the sheets where it had slid to deposit it back into his grip.

Watching the screen keenly, she frowns at the first message that appears. She doesn't know if he means currently or if he means after he recovers, and the only thing that keeps her from asking is the next tapping at the screen keyboard. The second message eases her worry somewhat and softens her frown, then she nods once.

"I can bring you one right after morning classes. Do you want something simple for now or do you want your laptop?"

His laptop is in his locked office if she recalls correctly. She does not have a key, but locks have never slowed her down before.

There's a few moments of thought, and then,

s i m pl e
n u r s es p r o b a l y t a k e l ap tp 

Like hell he'll let that be confiscated. Though- with how much this is taking out of him, maybe that's for the best. He'll work his way back up to the laptop, it would give him something to focus on.

He always works better with a project, and at least...at least if he had one, he'd have something to stave off against the grief.

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Breathe deep, breathe clear

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keywords only, ignore the icon

you say this to someone with basically no icons

for this scene at least

somehow i didn't think the 'gon kill krei >8D' face would be appropriate

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