Wrote this as a vignette for as class, and rather enjoyed it. I may write more, in time...?
Obviously, since this is a story about Godot, there will be T&T Spoilers up the yinyang.
Title: Back, but not Black
Author: The PCD
Rating: Everyone
Genre: General/Drama?
Status: Maybe Complete
Pairing: None
Summary: Being extracted from Hell is a complicated process.


Patient in room 1204. Head trauma six months ago. No signs of recovery. Requested an early lunch, and asked for her husband, who had divorced her three years past. He scrawled the woman’s increased appetite, and told her he’d get right on it.

Patient in room 1206. Paralyzed from the neck down with Guillen-Barré Syndrome a year and a half ago. Rehab had gotten him back some movement in the limbs so far. Complained again about all the nurses that came to help him pee were female. He scribbled down the man’s pulse, and told him he’d get right on it.

Patient in room 1208. Comatose from poisoning five years ago. He still had fits, but they’d lessened in the last year or so. Doctor Huu sighed and set down his coffee by the bed before moving to the EKG. Beep. Beep. Beep. Appeared normal. Scrawling down the rate on his clipboard, he turned to check the IV.

Beep. Beep. Be—Beep Beep Beep Beep

He started at the sudden change in beat, and shifted to glance back to the EKG. Was he shutting down again--?

“Nnh.”

Doctor Huu’s jaw plummeted as he witnessed the sleeping man whip out an arm at the coffee set beside him and forced himself sitting. His movement halting and his hand trembling slightly, the patient of room 1208 threw back his head and gulped down the hot liquid. Upon sucking the cup dry, the entirely unresponsive man pulled back and squinted down at the cup, upper lip curling.

In the midst of Doctor Huu’s gaping at this man who should definitely be lying on his back for the nineteen-hundredth, twenty-second day in a row, the medic quite forgot about the importance of holding anything. His pen slipped out of his grip, clattering to the floor. The comatose patient’s glare darted over to the doctor, milky eyes narrowed through long, pale hair. “Who the hell puts this much cream in their coffee,” growled Diego Armando.

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Last edited by ThePCD on Tue Feb 26, 2008 3:31 am, edited 1 time in total.

Please write more, I LOVE IT!

Wow. I don't know the proper way to show you that this fic is really good.

But it's really good!

Nicely executed little drabble, though I'm not sure how you could go about expanding it beyond its present "snapshot" state; it just fits nicely as is!

And your avatar is strangely hypnotic.

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