She knew it would be there, and it still makes her wince when it oozes out. He's bleeding. On a distant level she thinks stop, heal him, but that thought never reaches the dream's reality because she isn't a healer. She's --
-- sawing in steadily, her fingers turning red, when did she forget gloves? How careless. She lets go of the scalpel for the moment, letting it rest where it is in his arm and feeling a very slight sense of nausea (this is silly, she is a scientist, she has done biopsies before!)
She looks at him, her expression guarded, but trepidation still shows through. He is looking at her. His blood is on her hands. Somehow, for all the pain and terror in them, his eyes don't reflect that fact, and -- ]
Stop it.
[ She's torn between frustration, hurt, and guilt, and that last one especially has no place in the laboratory. But when she turns away from him to the sink to clean her hands, there isn't even a single drop of water in its faucet. Turn on, turn off, turn on: nothing. ]
[ Shouldn't be so easy to forget hurting someone. ]
[ But this is what goes on in a lab, so when she comes back she tries to choke those out-of-place feelings down. The scalpel is removed with a slight pull and she moves on, above one of the bands holding him down, closer to the shoulder. Once more there's blood running over her fingers, trailing to puddle on the table. ]
I feel sick. [ Very, very quietly, it's said without meaning to. ]
no subject
She knew it would be there, and it still makes her wince when it oozes out. He's bleeding. On a distant level she thinks stop, heal him, but that thought never reaches the dream's reality because she isn't a healer. She's --
-- sawing in steadily, her fingers turning red, when did she forget gloves? How careless. She lets go of the scalpel for the moment, letting it rest where it is in his arm and feeling a very slight sense of nausea (this is silly, she is a scientist, she has done biopsies before!)
She looks at him, her expression guarded, but trepidation still shows through. He is looking at her. His blood is on her hands. Somehow, for all the pain and terror in them, his eyes don't reflect that fact, and -- ]
Stop it.
[ She's torn between frustration, hurt, and guilt, and that last one especially has no place in the laboratory. But when she turns away from him to the sink to clean her hands, there isn't even a single drop of water in its faucet. Turn on, turn off, turn on: nothing. ]
[ Shouldn't be so easy to forget hurting someone. ]
[ But this is what goes on in a lab, so when she comes back she tries to choke those out-of-place feelings down. The scalpel is removed with a slight pull and she moves on, above one of the bands holding him down, closer to the shoulder. Once more there's blood running over her fingers, trailing to puddle on the table. ]
I feel sick. [ Very, very quietly, it's said without meaning to. ]