CW: Facility whump, medical whump, BBU, whump of a minor (OC is 17), dehumanizing language
Follows on Accidental Overdose
"There we go, love. That's all right, another couple days and you'll be right as rain again, hm?"
It's the nurse that he likes, the one with the soft voice, who doesn't really use his number, just calls him sweet things like 'love' and 'dear'. They did something to his stomach, put a tube down his throat, and now his throat is aching and hoarse.
The nurse bustles around the room, and 499 manages to open his eyes a little, squinting at them as they write things down on a clipboard they hold in their hand. Machines beep softly around him, and when he shifts, he's aware of the tape pulling at the skin on the inside of his elbow.
He shivers, a thrill of fear down his spine, and makes himself hold still. It's... easier, right now. The soft pastel walls of the clinic room are warmly bright, nothing like the cold light in his cell room.
He doesn't want to get better, he'll have to go back.
"I see you sneaking peeks," The nurse teases him, and they poke at the tip of his nose with the end of their pen. He can't quite help his slight smile in response. "Don't worry, 499, you can stay here all cozy for a bit longer, your numbers still aren't where I want them. You'll be happy to hear Handler Petrus got put on discipline after that accident report was put on Renford's desk."
At the mention of the Director, 499 whimpers, softly. He can barely make the sound, wincing as it aggravates his throat.
There's a silence, and then the shifting sound of the nurse's scrubs as they sit in a chair next to his bed. He feels their hand close around his. His fingers are long and cold even in the relative warmth of the clinic room, but their hand is warm and dry.
"You're all right, 499," The nurse says, soft and affectionate. "You're all right. You've been working so hard, you won't be in trouble for this. Just a few more days here, and you'll be ready to finish up, hm? Right back on track."
He turns his head slowly, opening his eyes fully only with effort to look over their face. They smile, but he can't quite smile back this time.
"L-... like it... here... better." He's careful to keep his words coming out one at a time. Just how they want him to.
The nurse sighs, and squeezes his hand a little. "I know. But that's not how it works, is it? You have to remember, dear-"
"Signed... I signed... up for this."
"Exactly." The nurse smiles at him, and he warms at their pride and happiness. He said it just right, and it's what they want to hear. "Maybe not this, exactly, but... oh, you're such a good boy. You'll be out of here and home with your prospective in no time, huh? Let me go get you something to drink for that throat."
They let go, and 499's hand drops back to the mattress, the scratchy sheets. He watches them leave, and he's so fuzzy he can't remember how to beg them not to, how to ask them to stay.