[closed]

[rhygret]

Who: Rhys (rhygret) & various
What: Rhys's infection reaches stage 2
When: mid-Oct
Where: various
Warning(s): Attempts to remove cybernetics

[ All things considered Rhys think he's been handling being sick rather well. Sure he might have worn Jyn's patience a little with his constantly asking for things (tissue, coffee, dinner, lunch, breakfast, snacks, fluffing his pillows...the usual) but he's spent the majority of his time in a lump on the couch not doing a whole lot. He hasn't been taxing himself outside of the Bunkers & Badasses game, and though the event leaves him utterly exhausted and coughing up a storm later he relents and spends the next day sleeping for the most part. he wakes feeling...not much better honestly, but surely the worst of it is almost over. It's been a week now. Any day he'll start feeling like himself and he'll be on the mend.

Then the static starts. At first it's just small instances of white noise in the back of his head. It disappears when he pops his ears or rubs at his temple, comes and goes. Then it makes him feel lightheaded and awful. There's a churning in his stomach and he sits down to rub his temples when the beginnings of a headache start to take hold. Rhys pops a painkiller and goes to bed in the hopes that he'll stave it off entirely and when he wakes up things will be back to normal.

They aren't. ]

A: Who are you again?

[ When Rhys wakes up he's beyond disoriented. He feels faint and dizzy, he hurts all over and he can't remember how he got on couch. Did he fall asleep there? Why does he feel so awful? He's going to be late for work--

That he should in no way whatsoever be going anywhere let alone to work fails to occur to Rhys as he stumbles back to his room to try and get ready, and he gets most of the way there. His hair isn't styled perfectly and his dress shirt isn't tucked in, but Rhys drags himself out of the apartment anyway and begins to stumble his way into town.

Like a responsible, totally-not-sick-and-delirious adult. ]

B: Jack's Back, Baby

[ People find him, they take him home, and Rhys gets put back in bed in thankfully short order. He conks out almost immediately but wakes only a few hours later when suddenly, inexplicably, Rhys jolts awake. He has no idea why he startles the way he does but his ECHO eye lights up and out of reflex he activates the palm like on his arm despite the fact that it's only midday. Something woke him...right? He's awake because there was...there was...?

There's nothing. Just an empty room and a lot of dirty clothes on the floor. He really needs

"--to straighten up the place, huh cupcake? There's letting yourself go and then there's just being lazy Rhys. Three-day-old underwear on the nightstand? Seriously?"

Rhys freezes for the split-second it takes for shock to set in and have him flailing out of bed, arms windmilling when his legs get tangled in the bed sheets and he lands with a loud whump! on the floor. Sharp, cruelly delighted laughter reaches his ears even before he lifts his head to stare wide-eyed in disbelief at the flickering blue image of an all-too-familiar AI standing before him. Colour drains from his face as he opens his mouth, but sound fails to come out.

Jack cuts him off a second later.

"If you're looking to catch a bunch of flies there are easier ways than with that face. What's the matter cupcake? Surprise to see your ol' pal Jack again?"

He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks with obvious pleasure at Rhys's distress. He shakes his head at the vision--this can't be real, this has to be a mistake. The spiders. He'd heard Jack's voice when they were nearby, there must be spiders--

"Seriously? You think a bunch of bugs are responsible for this?" ]

Th...this is impossible. You're not here. Y...you can't be, I...

[ "You what? Murdered me?" Jack's grin only widens. "You think getting rid of me is that easy? You think I didn't know you'd turn on me Rhysie?" ]

This isn't real.

[ "Oh, but it is Rhys. And this time? I'm here to stay."

One hour later and Rhys is stumbling into the streets of the housing distracting, dishevelled and a stricken look on his face as the stumbles down the stairs and into and nearby wall, knocking over a garbage can. He doesn't even stop to try and pick it up or pay anyone else any mind--he's already struggling to bolt from the area, his cybernetic hand twitching and jerking erratically as his organic one grips it in the closest thing Rhys has ever managed to a death grip. ]

Get out of my head--!


[ ooc; closed prompts within! hmu via discord/plurk @ Dolly#0571 | owlits if you want a thread with rhys so we can plot! ]

Comments

[originallutece]

[There he is. Thank god, and she exhales harshly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.]

Yes. Keep your eyes closed for a bit, until you've cemented that fact in your mind.

[Thank god she made a cure for rendering this disease noncontagious, right? Because's he's pressed pretty close. She doesn't mind it (at least for now), but man, she can actually feel how feverish he is through her shirt.

[rhygret]

[ Rhys is a pretty good furnace right now, it's true. It's not ideal for him to be mind you, he's running too hot right now which could explain the hallucinations. And why it's still hard for him to focus as he breathes mostly through his mouth. ]

But Zer0 was....where'd he go?

[originallutece]

He wasn't here at all, Rhys.

[She slips a hand down, pressing her hand to his forehead again. He really is burning up, and she wonders if she ought to search for someone to give him a bath.]

It was only ever me.

[rhygret]

[ her hand is cool to him by comparison and Rhys sighs in relief for her touch, the string of her words passing over him entirely. He feels better with her there, and that makes this fine. His brain is already passing over the fact that he's hallucinating in favour if this new moment of relief. ]

Oh..... You shh'ld meet him. He's cool.

[originallutece]

I'll put it on my to-do list, shall I?

[She pauses for a moment, then tries to ease him back onto the couch. To her credit, she's not just dumping him, but rather slowly setting him back.]

You're worse than I thought you'd be . . . how long have you been seeing hallucinations, do you have any idea?

[rhygret]

[ Rhys hums as he's laid back down, immediately turning his face towards the couch cushions when his head comes to rest on them. His eyes stay closed but his cybernetic palm twitches a little, a brief whir of electronics sounding with the motion. ]

Was I hallucinating?

[ Has he mentioned he's also having very real memory issues of the short-term variety? Because those are also a thing for him. It's hard to think outside the moment, like his brain is malleable and squishy where it shouldn't be and thoughts just happen to fall out of it rather than stay inside and kept. ]

[originallutece]

[Uh-oh, she doesn't say, because she's aware that phrase tends to send people into a panic. But she certainly thinks it, because that's . . . worrying . . .]

. . . yes. Rhys, look at me, tell me my name.

[rhygret]

[ Rhys blinks his eyes open, and just like before his pupil remains contracted and hypersensitive to the light. The glossy shean to it hasn't gone anywhere, but his cybernetic one is making obvious attempts to compensate, contracting and expanding unevenly as he stares up at her.

It takes a moment for him to sort it all out before he sniffles. ]

...Rose?

[ "Rose-alind" is where he's going with that, it's like. Almost there. ]

[originallutece]

[Oh, but that's not fair. That's not fair at all, because she's already thinking of Robert: Robert ill and near death; Robert at twenty-two, delusional and gasping out lie after lie, his mind desperately trying to cope with the trauma of being forcibly pulled into another universe. Robert, who'd gasped up at her as she'd drained herself of her blood so that he might have it--

Rosie? he'd whispered, and then he'd gasped in delight, because: you've so many freckles . . . just like me, we're . . .

And then he'd hemorrhaged again, blood pouring from his nose, his eyes wide and terrified as delusions had taken over again.

She hates thinking of that time.

Abruptly she stands, heading out of the room and into the house proper. There's the noise of rummaging, Rosalind going through the closets as though she lives there herself; it takes a fair bit of time before she finds what she wants.

But when she returns, it's with a cool washcloth and a large plateful of small foods: things that are rich in calcium C, but that won't fill him up. The washcloth is set on his forehead, but she'll wait on the food for a bit.]

[rhygret]

[ Rhys hears her take off, thinks for a moment to ask where she's going, but the words never manage to make it out. He exhales, relaxes a little further into the couch and that's all it takes for exhaustion to work over him and drag him into a light doze. The creases in his brow even out and Rhys's breathing becomes less wheezy.

If he'd been left alone that would be it and he'd find himself dragged under into a deep sleep. He's been having a lot of those lately, too exhausted and worn from the virus to stay awake long periods of time. He spends most of the day sleeping on and off when he isn't hallucinating.

When she places the cool cloth on his head Rhys shivers and inhales as he's dragged back from that sickly-warm haze to the waking world. He whines a little, this short and abortive sound, but cracks his eyes open a little and draws his legs up onto the couch. ]

...?

[originallutece]

We're going to break your fever, Rhys. With any luck, anyway.

[She says it very briskly, as though this isn't weird at all, as though this is something she does all the time.]

[rhygret]

[ If it helps, it's reassuring to hear all the same. Rhys is tire of feeling sick and dizzy all the time, and tired of sweating his way through every pair of pyjamas he owns. So her assurance is met with a tired but relaxed sigh, and Rhys hums. ]

Okay...that sounds good.

[originallutece]

Good.

[It'll take a fair bit for it to break, but at least the couch is comfortable.]

Mm. Perhaps you can repay me by making me one of those mechanical eyes when you heal.

[rhygret]

[ Well that sure gets his attention, even through his fatigue and illness. Rhys turns to look at her with an expression of confusion, making an effort to try and study her features. ]

An ECHO eye...?

[originallutece]

Mm. Although perhaps not an eye; I've no interest in losing my own, never mind anything to do with my brain. But I should like to explore that kind of technology.

[rhygret]

Oh...

[ Because he definitely thought for a second there that she was asking him to try and perform not only that surgery, but to build and install it too. This is a relief and much easier to wrap his head around right now. ]

I might be able to do that. maybe? I'd need....l'tta stuff for that. This planet is pretty behind.

[originallutece]

I think between the two of us, we can figure something out.

It might not be as fancy or as pretty as yours, but certainly we can at least get the job done. I've built advanced things before; if you can remember the precise programming, we ought to be able to do it.

[rhygret]

I think I can...

[ he did build new cybernetics for himself out of an abandoned Atlas facility while one-armed and suffering from blood loss, so there's that? Surely while once more in his right mind with access to a high-tech alien space station and both arms he'll be able to come up with something. ]

Hey...Rosalind?

[originallutece]

Mm?

[He really looks nothing like Robert, but still she eyes the way his hair flops forward with some amusement. She’d always taken great pleasure in ruining her counterpart’s carefully combed look, just as he’d delighted in removing each pin from her updo.

God, but she’s being soppy. Thank god Rhys is so out of it.]

What is it?

[rhygret]

Am I going to get better? [ Rhys coughs and sinks into the couch, lacking the energy to actually hack anything up. ] I feel like I've been sick for a while...

D'd you make that med'cine?

[ he can't actually recall it now when he tries. His brain feels soft, like putty. It isn't easy to remember things. ]

[originallutece]

Some diseases take time, and this is a man-made one-- built to last, I suspect. But that doesn't mean you shan't get better.

[She lifts the washcloth, feeling his forehead again, and frowns as her fingers brush carefully over the port on his temple. There's something she'll have to ask him about later.]

And I made some. But none that will help you now.

[rhygret]

[ It's probably not the most pleasant thing to look at when she tugs the gauze away to peer at it. Besides the metal port in his temple the area around it is also red and inflamed, the skin right around the port damaged from where Rhys took a screwdriver to his head and tried to dig it out of his skull. Again.

The flesh is cut and bruised, dried blood caked around the worst of the cuts and tears he'd made, and when she touches it Rhys can't help but groan miserably. ]

Someone...m-made it...?

[originallutece]

[Good lord . . . she puts the washcloth to the dried blood, rubbing firmly enough to try and clean some off. The wounds themselves have been cared for, clearly, but it never hurts to keep the area cleaned.]

No one's made a proper cure yet, no. Rhys, what on earth happened?

[rhygret]

[ Actually it hurts a lot, that area is tender thank you very much. Rhys doesn't have the energy to turn his head away from her diligent swipes, but he still makes a very unhappy sound for them and presses his face harder into the couch. ]

Wh, what...?

[originallutece]

Shh-- I'm almost done.

[She's aware of the softness of her tone, of the way she shushes him like he's Robert, but there's nothing for it.]

Tell me how you got cut up, Rhys.