Bonjour!! I know you've gotten a lot of sedation asks, but I'm wondering if you could help me out with a few where the Caretaker has to sedate the Whumpee, who's terrified of needles? I love the way you write these!! Merci!!!
Bonjour, et merci! I sure can! (I think I may have cheated a bit on the third segment, but I feel like it still works?) I had so much (maybe too much) fun with these!
(cw: Here there be needles, forced sedation.)
The team finds a place they can stop to patch up whumpee and rest. It’s not ideal, but it’s good enough for now.
“Bring them over here,” Caretaker directs as they prepare their equipment.
Whumpee rests their head in the lap of one of their teammates, and another sits next to them, keeping steadying hands on their arm and shoulder, and quietly encouraging them. Whumpee’s face is creased with pain, but they are managing to keep their breathing calm. That changes the second Caretaker uncaps a syringe. What little color is left in Whumpee’s face drains away. Their eyes focus on the tip of the needle and their breathing becomes shallow. They shake their head slowly from side to side as Caretaker gets closer.
“Jesus, don’t you have some pills or something?” Whumpee’s voice cracks as they ask. and Caretaker thinks that Whumpee may start crying; they’ve never seen Whumpee look so scared of anything.
Caretaker relents for a moment, hoping to talk sense into Whumpee. They tell them it has to be now, and they’ve got to be quiet. They can’t risk their enemies finding them.
“No,” Whumpee pants as they begin to struggle against their teammates and insist they can be quiet, just please not that!
As the three of them try to calm Whumpee, Whumpee struggles despite the pain. The more adamantly they hold them, the fiercer Whumpee becomes.
“Hold them steady,” they say. There’s regret in their voice, but they do what they have to and stick the needle into Whumpee’s flesh. Whumpee’s terrified cries are muffled by the hand covering their mouth. It’s as though their fear has turned them into someone else, but as the sedative takes hold and Whumpee’s body goes lax in their teammates’ grips, they just look small and hurt.
“You’re having an episode,” Caretaker explains when the lights begin to flicker. Caretaker has seen Whumpee in this state once before. Hopefully, they can calm Whumpee before their powers flare beyond control, and real damage is done.
“You think I don’t know that?” Whumpee says. Their muscles are tense, but their voice is haggard and scared. Their flingers flex open, closed, then open again.
Caretaker grimaces at their own word choice.
“No, I don’t think that,” they say. “I just want to help. Can you take a deep breath for me, Whumpee?”
Caretaker watches the shaky rise and fall of Whumpee’s chest as they oblige.
“That’s real good,” Caretaker says, hoping they don’t sound like a patronizing ass. “Try a couple more?”
That seems to help Whumpee, but they still look like they’re going to crawl out of their skin.
“Caretaker?” They ask as they shift their weight from one foot to the other. “Can...Can I…”
“It’s okay,” Caretaker encouraged softly. Whumpee swallows hard, as though they’re choking on their words.
“I need something to help me,” Whumpee admits as they drop their eyes.
“Oh,” Caretaker says, realizing the waters they will have to navigate are just as choppy. Whumpee is scared to death of needles, and they can’t blame them. “Okay. We can do that. Go ahead into the den.”
Caretaker instructs Whumpee to sit on the couch and to keep breathing.
They load a syringe with the substance that will calm whumpee and render their power dormant for a short while. They make certain their body is blocking Whumpee’s view of the needle for as long as they can. Whumpee tightly closes their eyes and bows their head when Caretaker approaches.
“I’m sorry,” Whumpee says as they suck in a breath and let it rattle out of them. “I’m sorry. I know it’s ridiculous”
“You’re doing fine,” Caretaker says. Whumpee flinches when Caretaker rubs a prep pad on their bicep. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, and I’m glad you told me what you need, Whumpee.”
Whumpee nods but doesn’t open their eyes. Caretaker pretends they don’t see the teardrops fall to the floor.
“You’re just going to feel a pinch and it’ll be over, okay? I’m going to count down from three”
Whumpee nods again, but their breath is hitching and the lights are flickering again. They are trembling when the needle pierces their arm. They whimper. Caretaker hushes them as they put a bandaid over the injection site and tells Whumpee that they’re proud of them. There are quiet sobs, but they trail off. When Whumpee is ready, Caretaker guides them down so that they’re laying on the couch.
Everything seems soft and slow to Whumpee, but a spike of adrenaline pushes Whumpee toward wakefulness. Where? Who? Why? They struggle up onto their elbows, though their body feels heavy and threatens to crumble back down.
“Easy does it,” someone says.
Whumpee’s eyes roam the room and their mind places the voice. They’re at Caretaker’s. Safe. Warm. Cared for. But they can’t be there. They have to keep going.
“How long?” Whumpee croaks.
“Since last night,” Caretaker said, their voice quiet and calm.
No, no, no! That’s too long! Whumpee thinks as their mind and heart begin to race.
“I have to be out there,” they say as they try to raise themself up more.
“Huh-uh, Whumpee,” Caretaker says as they close the distance between them. They put their hands on Whumpee’s shoulders. Caretaker presses Wumpee back down; the force they use is as firm as it is gentle, just like Caretaker’s voice. “You’ve got to rest.”
“I can’t,” Whumpee says, even as their head spins and stay shift miserably under Caretaker’s hands. “I can’t.”
“You have to,” Caretaker says. When Whumpee ceases their week movement, Caretaker pats one of their shoulders and stands. “I’m going to give you something to help.”
“I’m fine,” Whumpee says as they try and fail to sit up. The words sound ridiculous in their own ears and they realize how their breathing has escalated. They hold their breath, though, when Caretaker returns to their side with a syringe. “I don’t need that.”
“No needles,” Caretaker says as they offer Whumpee a sympathetic smile. “Just going to put this in your IV line.”
Caretaker follows their words with the action.
“IV?” Whumpee mumbles dumbly. They notice it for the first time. How had they missed it?! Their gaze follows the line from the IV bag, down to where the catheter was taped in place to the back of their hand.
There isn’t a needle there, but there had been, and that thought sets Whumpee’s teeth on edge. Now they feel the tug of the tape and the feel of something under their skin. The thought of that intrusion is too much for them. They’re beyond considering their actions.
“No!” Whumpee blurts as they make an uncoordinated grab for the IV, though they know it is too late. “No, no.”
Caretaker is too fast, though. They pin Whumpee’s forearms to the bed; their placations are lost on Whumpee as they struggle against them. Whumpee can hear the force and frantic pitch their pleading dissolve. All the pain and agitation fade quickly as they’re dragged back under.
