Live and Learn

There was a little shouting there, but he only just heard it over the titanic ringing in his ears. It's starting to look a little other than blindingly white, too, but he's distracted.

This is about the time for the initial deep breath; in a lot of rebirths, this is where it begins, with the first heave of the chest, the first gulp of air. Wesker's last brush with awareness involved a horrible throat wound, so he's too busy hacking up blood clots to really get into that.

The movement's what draws his attention, even in the overbright light; he pants, turning his head to look over with slitted eyes.

Even mostly-shut like this, they're far too bright.

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"I've done this sort of thing before." Suzi says, quietly, "I'm not going to let him bite me, or kill me, or anything. Deitmar? Deitmar, can you talk to me?"

One hand, and tentacles, slide around one of the chained-down young man's.

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Ryan's silent, waiting, hoping, wishing for confirmation of what Wesker's changed scent is telling him.

He's standing next to Suzi, shoulder to shoulder, not willing to lose contact with her either. Ryan slides a hand just above her's to Deitmar's wrist.

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His skin's overhot to the touch; this is a step above his usual mild fever, snapped there suddenly from the coolness his body had hit during stasis.

He opens his eyes, looks up; the speed quite possibly made it seem one blink instead of careful regard of his arm and then them.

He is being touched. The smoothness and movement of skin and tentacle against his skin is a mildly irritating distraction--much more important is the cloth against his skin and the restraints. There are two people standing like statues who he does not believe would harm him without a very good reason. So he would really.

Really.

Really like to know why he is chained down.

Experimentally, he pulls; there's an equal pull on his other wrist. There's also a creaking sound from the underside of the bed. Where is he, someplace they make the furniture out of tin? And the last thing that happened was--

--bad.

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"Deitmar?" Suzi says, and the speed of the creak makes her say it at double-speed, "Deitmar, are you in there?"

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Ryan's eyes widen at the sight of Wesker's irises, but it's the movement that worries him more. The creak is almost a snap with the speed of its occurrence, and Ryan twitches, startled and wary. But he doesn't move away.

He does glance at Suzi when she speaks, but he's familiar enough with her babbling that it isn't too difficult to make out. He doesn't realize what she's doing, though.

"Are you all right?" he asks the pup.

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And in the time that this has taken place in, Deitmar has come to the reasonable conclusion that somehow, he screwed things up on his world very badly indeed.

Ryan is, in fact, still finishing the eerie drawn-out sounds he's started making when Deitmar turns his head. Precise gestures are trouble; he doesn't think he can move his fingers. He doesn't have time for that.

"Darley," he says, very calmly, because she, at least, sounded like there might have been words, "I think I broke time. I need to fix it. I need you to let me free."

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...
...
...
Well. That's a fine pickle, isn't it? Suzi ramps up the augmentation a couple more notches and says, "You're talking really, really fast Deitmar." her voice is even and steady, "And we need to be sure that you're not going to go...crazy and eat me, I think. Richard wasn't clear about that bit."

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Blink.

It sounds like somebody pressed fast forward on their vocals, for all the sense Ryan can make of the noises his two packmates are making.

"Suzi?" he asks cautiously, looking between her and Deitmar.

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Ryan gets a glance halfway through the second syllable, but really.

"Look at him," he snarls, temporarily ditching the even and steady thing. He rejoins it, "this is wrong."

You know, he also can't feel his feet, or his hands, and in that light the tingling on his skin reads like nerve damage. Cephalocaudal and proximodistal, he notes, since he can blink and talk; however, there's only a tingling feeling in his forearms, and he's numb from his knees down. Another tug at the cuff yields the kind of against-bone-only pressure someone under anaesthesia would feel.

"Suzi?" It's hard to keep hold of the panic, but he does it; he's sickly aware he's getting too emotional, he has to think, he has to--"what happened?"

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"You were hurt." Suzi says, and then...clinically, because otherwise she's going to have hysterics again...she tells him how.

All of it.

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"Suzi," Ryan repeats, more insistent now.

And twitching when Wesker's pulls at the cuffs again.

"What is going on?"

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That's, well, the stupidest thing he's ever heard.

"That," he says, carefully enunciating, "is undoubtedly the--" and that's when Ryan's anxious gesture sets him off, with something that's nearly a shout: "Ryan-"

He clamps down on his temper, although it locks his teeth together and leaves him shaking with spasms that will not stop for a long, long moment.

Well, unless you're Ryan over there.

Then he licks his lips, turning his head; trying to see if he can feel anything is pointless, because there's no feeling in his fingertips anyway. But there's a blood clot in his mouth and he can see the grain of the paint on the far wall as he stares.

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"He's too fast, Richard." Suzi says, "If he were Sime, it'd be a fourth level augmentation. I don't know what else is wrong." and, after a pause, "I'm going to need Garion or Belar after this. I'm burning selyn at an accelerated rate to keep up with him."

Then she augments again, "I'm sorry, Deitmar, but it's true. I can't lie, remember?"

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Ryan frowns, worried. That makes it sound like something else is wrong.

"Do you want me to get them now?" He doesn't want to leave Deitmar, but there's nothing he can do here. At least he can help his other packmate.

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He needs to think, and the problem is that he can't. He keeps spinning his wheels on the total impossibilities and ignoring the facts.

Fact: if he thinks about it very much he gets an idea he doesn't want to remember the last bits of Arklay.

"Is William alive?"

Fact: If he tunes out everything else he can hear the sounds of their breathing. This and the detail of the world would be fascinating, if only it didn't come with an inability to feel his hands and feet.

Fact: There's something soothing about the way the metal frame groans. He stops himself from pulling on the cuffs again. That won't hel--

"Tell me this isn't steel."

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There is a silence that means Suzi is refusing to try to lie, "I'll ask Richard."

Pause, shift down, "Richard, he wants to know if William is alive. I don't need either of them yet, but I will later tonight. Thank you."

More pausing, and then because she thinks Ryan needs to hear it, "I love you, Richard. We'll figure this out."

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"He's safe in the bunker," Ryan says, suddenly sagging a little. Wesker's not a zombie. Thank God.

"I love you, too, Suzi," he says a little weakly, leaning on the bed rails a bit. "And I love you, Deitmar," he tells his pup quietly.

Now? He could go for some tea. He won't be leaving any time soon, but tea would be nice. It's a pity the Thermos is empty.

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Having totally missed the heartfelt beauty of the ongoing moment because watching Ryan move like he's stuck in a very thick solution is creepy, Deitmar is just. . . listening to the sounds of stressed that-isn't-steel-don't-be-idiotic.

There's some squealing iron in there, too, as chains that will hold a berserk Sime grate against what's starting to be folded metal.

Deitmar stops. It sort of. . . just lost its calming value.

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"Do you have any idea," Suzi says (and her hand is just on Richard's arm, she's moving just too fast right now) "what happened to make you wake up, Deitmar? Your eyes are all...red and yellow."

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Ryan's just going to stand here looking relieved while his brain babbles nonsense to him about tea.

It's okay. Deitmar's okay. Well, alive. Okay has yet to be determined, but Ryan is definitely willing to settle for alive. Alive and not a zombie.

And then Suzi's hand is suddenly there, no warning, and he twitches before giving her a fierce one armed hug. And in the same breath, without letting the Sime go, he's bending over to give Deitmar a one armed hug of his own.

It feels really really good.

For him, anyway.

Deitmar's alive. Ryan couldn't be much happier right now.

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There is, in fact, a jerk at Ryan's initial movement, but the entire point of chaining someone down is that they can't go throwing themselves off beds just because they're getting fallen on by werewolves.

"I don't know," he says over Ryan's shoulder, ignoring the whole ACK CONTACT WHY thing as best he can. "This doesn't happen, Darley. --what happened to Birkin?"

She's Sime; she didn't answer. He dislikes the implications, but she'd probably have reacted differently if he were. . . harmed.

He closes his eyes for a moment and sees blood soaking into a darkly patterned carpet. He pushes the memory aside; it's another way his emotions are getting to him, and he doesn't have time to dwell on it now. He lives, he breathes, he doesn't feel like he'll die again if he closes his eyes, and even major nerve damage and some paralysis can be endured.

. . . much like hugs.

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"Oh, I'm sorry...he's fine, Deitmar. He's fine. It's alright." She wraps her hand around his again, lightly, "He's fine."

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