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120_minutenFandom: Original (gleiche Welt wie meine Outsider-Storyline, hat damit aber überhaupt nichts zu tun)
Rating: P12
Team: Greif
Prompt: R/I - "Ich bin hier."
Warnungen: medical scene, angsty
Länge: 650 Wörter
Zeit: 40 min
A/N: Ich habe schon wieder angsty h/c in der R/I-Tabelle geschrieben, aber dafür ist das Prompt gleich dreimal drin, gleicht sich das wieder aus?
A/N2: Um ein Haar wäre das hier Fortnite-Fanfic geworden, aber das Übel konnte ich gerade so noch abwenden. Himmel.
"Hey." Seven softly closed the door behind herself. "Here I am."
The room was dark and dusty, but Seven's combat grade eye implants adjusted almost immediately. There was a small closet, a lonely single wooden chair, a bedside table on wheels and a big adjustable bed, and in there the unusually small frame of Manito. Quiet, not moving, with a huge bandage on her eyes, arms above the blanket, posed like this was a film set.
Only it wasn't.
Seven took a deep breath and stepped closer.
The bedside table had a small box for medication on it, likely some sort of pills, and a bottle of water with a glass, both unused. No flowers, no framed pictures, no stuffed animals, nothing. Not like Seven had seen many hospital rooms from the inside before, though - all her assumptions came from the media, from the films and TV shows she had seen on long flights or during off times in all her deployments.
Manito's breathing was shallow, almost invisible, but she had turned her head towards the door when Seven entered. Even though she couldn't see her.
"It's me", Seven whispered.
"I know." Manito's voice was weak. She turned her hand with what seemed like a lot of effort, palm now facing up. "Where are you?"
"Here." Seven pulled the chair next to the bed, took a seat and raised her own hand. She paused for a brief moment, no more than the blink of an eye, and then softly followed the invitation and placed her hand in Manito's. "I'm here."
Manito's hand twitched like she wanted to close it around Seven's, but ultimately didn't have the power.
Seven held hers instead. "It's okay", she said, "it's okay."
What a terrible situation this was. One day you're fine, in training with your unit, joking and laughing with your friends after a long day of work, and the next day your entire life falls apart. Just like that. Seven didn't have the details yet, but apparently there had been some form of acid involved.
Manito broke the silence: "They had to take 'em out."
Seven's blood froze. "What do you mean 'take em out'? Your fucking eyes, like, take your eyes out? Just like that?"
"Yeah. No way of saving."
"Fuck, dude."
If Seven already felt like someone had opened the floor below her and she was just falling and falling and falling - what had to be going on inside of Manito right now? She seemed so calm, so composed.
"They said I might be eligible for an implant later", Manito continued, and for the first time today Seven heard the despair in her voice. "Maybe two, if I'm lucky. We'll see in a few months."
That was good news, wasn't it? Her vision wouldn't ever be the same, they both knew that, but seeing through an implant at least meant seeing again, right?
"That sounds nice." Seven had trouble keeping her voice steady.
"Yeah." Manito took a deep breath. "Face stays like that though. No implants for that yet."
They fell silent again. Nobody knew how Manito would heal, Seven wasn't even allowed to see her face yet through the bandages and ointments. And nobody knew if she would ever be able to live on her own again, as independent as she always did. If she would be able to keep her job, or at least stay in the military. If she would have long-term consequences, and how she would be able to cope with them.
"Manito?" Seven heard her own voice crack like it belonged to someone else. "I'm here for you, you know that, right?"
Manito nodded, small and almost unnoticeable.
And even though Seven usually wasn't one for optimism, she carefully squeezed Manito's hand and whispered: "I'm here. We all are."
She fought the burning sensation of tears forming in her eyes.
"I just know it's gonna be okay. I promise."
Rating: P12
Team: Greif
Prompt: R/I - "Ich bin hier."
Warnungen: medical scene, angsty
Länge: 650 Wörter
Zeit: 40 min
A/N: Ich habe schon wieder angsty h/c in der R/I-Tabelle geschrieben, aber dafür ist das Prompt gleich dreimal drin, gleicht sich das wieder aus?
A/N2: Um ein Haar wäre das hier Fortnite-Fanfic geworden, aber das Übel konnte ich gerade so noch abwenden. Himmel.
"Hey." Seven softly closed the door behind herself. "Here I am."
The room was dark and dusty, but Seven's combat grade eye implants adjusted almost immediately. There was a small closet, a lonely single wooden chair, a bedside table on wheels and a big adjustable bed, and in there the unusually small frame of Manito. Quiet, not moving, with a huge bandage on her eyes, arms above the blanket, posed like this was a film set.
Only it wasn't.
Seven took a deep breath and stepped closer.
The bedside table had a small box for medication on it, likely some sort of pills, and a bottle of water with a glass, both unused. No flowers, no framed pictures, no stuffed animals, nothing. Not like Seven had seen many hospital rooms from the inside before, though - all her assumptions came from the media, from the films and TV shows she had seen on long flights or during off times in all her deployments.
Manito's breathing was shallow, almost invisible, but she had turned her head towards the door when Seven entered. Even though she couldn't see her.
"It's me", Seven whispered.
"I know." Manito's voice was weak. She turned her hand with what seemed like a lot of effort, palm now facing up. "Where are you?"
"Here." Seven pulled the chair next to the bed, took a seat and raised her own hand. She paused for a brief moment, no more than the blink of an eye, and then softly followed the invitation and placed her hand in Manito's. "I'm here."
Manito's hand twitched like she wanted to close it around Seven's, but ultimately didn't have the power.
Seven held hers instead. "It's okay", she said, "it's okay."
What a terrible situation this was. One day you're fine, in training with your unit, joking and laughing with your friends after a long day of work, and the next day your entire life falls apart. Just like that. Seven didn't have the details yet, but apparently there had been some form of acid involved.
Manito broke the silence: "They had to take 'em out."
Seven's blood froze. "What do you mean 'take em out'? Your fucking eyes, like, take your eyes out? Just like that?"
"Yeah. No way of saving."
"Fuck, dude."
If Seven already felt like someone had opened the floor below her and she was just falling and falling and falling - what had to be going on inside of Manito right now? She seemed so calm, so composed.
"They said I might be eligible for an implant later", Manito continued, and for the first time today Seven heard the despair in her voice. "Maybe two, if I'm lucky. We'll see in a few months."
That was good news, wasn't it? Her vision wouldn't ever be the same, they both knew that, but seeing through an implant at least meant seeing again, right?
"That sounds nice." Seven had trouble keeping her voice steady.
"Yeah." Manito took a deep breath. "Face stays like that though. No implants for that yet."
They fell silent again. Nobody knew how Manito would heal, Seven wasn't even allowed to see her face yet through the bandages and ointments. And nobody knew if she would ever be able to live on her own again, as independent as she always did. If she would be able to keep her job, or at least stay in the military. If she would have long-term consequences, and how she would be able to cope with them.
"Manito?" Seven heard her own voice crack like it belonged to someone else. "I'm here for you, you know that, right?"
Manito nodded, small and almost unnoticeable.
And even though Seven usually wasn't one for optimism, she carefully squeezed Manito's hand and whispered: "I'm here. We all are."
She fought the burning sensation of tears forming in her eyes.
"I just know it's gonna be okay. I promise."