ectopportunism (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ectopportunism) wrote2011-11-27 02:47 am
ectopportunism) wrote2011-11-27 02:47 am
004
[1. Action- Around Mayfield.]
[Sometime after Ray's rescue, Peter is struggling through town with the other man slung over his shoulder, the two of them pretty speckled with blood from Ray's head. He's running on pure adrenaline at this point, and trying to find some place safe to leave Ray so that he can try to find medical supplies. Hopefully, a basement somewhere will be open and unoccupied.]
[2. Action- Hospital Ruins/remains of other homes.]
[His mind is flashing back to old, psychology text books. The five stages of grief. Grief isn't a word he'd use to describe his feelings often, but there was enough going on in this town that had caused Peter to bottle up emotions time and time again, only to have them nearly explode at this moment. It wasn't even that Mayfield had done these things to him--- but that it had done them to his friends. His friends that he had promised himself he'd protect, no matter the circumstances. A promise he failed to keep when he didn't get to Ray in time to save him from mutilation. He could hear Ray's words (well, the words of a certain clone of his), in his head as he headed back out of the basement... calling him a screw-up.
Peter had skipped right past the denial stage and straight into anger. He was angry with himself, and with Mayfield in general. He was especially angry at the asshole that had done this to his friend, and had he had a little less self-control, he might have hit the guy with that pipe three of four more times, or until the man's face was no longer recognizable.
His fingers still gripping the pipe tightly, Peter headed for the hospital... or what was left of it. At ground zero, he could dig through the rubble to try to find any salvageable first aid items to patch Ray up a little better, maybe some pain-killers to take the edge off. If he doesn't have any luck there, he figured he could try his luck in a basement or two on his way back. Someone had to have been prepared in ways that he, himself, wasn't.]
[Sometime after Ray's rescue, Peter is struggling through town with the other man slung over his shoulder, the two of them pretty speckled with blood from Ray's head. He's running on pure adrenaline at this point, and trying to find some place safe to leave Ray so that he can try to find medical supplies. Hopefully, a basement somewhere will be open and unoccupied.]
[2. Action- Hospital Ruins/remains of other homes.]
[His mind is flashing back to old, psychology text books. The five stages of grief. Grief isn't a word he'd use to describe his feelings often, but there was enough going on in this town that had caused Peter to bottle up emotions time and time again, only to have them nearly explode at this moment. It wasn't even that Mayfield had done these things to him--- but that it had done them to his friends. His friends that he had promised himself he'd protect, no matter the circumstances. A promise he failed to keep when he didn't get to Ray in time to save him from mutilation. He could hear Ray's words (well, the words of a certain clone of his), in his head as he headed back out of the basement... calling him a screw-up.
Peter had skipped right past the denial stage and straight into anger. He was angry with himself, and with Mayfield in general. He was especially angry at the asshole that had done this to his friend, and had he had a little less self-control, he might have hit the guy with that pipe three of four more times, or until the man's face was no longer recognizable.
His fingers still gripping the pipe tightly, Peter headed for the hospital... or what was left of it. At ground zero, he could dig through the rubble to try to find any salvageable first aid items to patch Ray up a little better, maybe some pain-killers to take the edge off. If he doesn't have any luck there, he figured he could try his luck in a basement or two on his way back. Someone had to have been prepared in ways that he, himself, wasn't.]
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[He pulls out some supplies to clean the wound and a package of gauze, sitting it beside him.]
How do you feel?
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[he tilts his head until he can see the stuff Peter is taking out and his eye narrows, trying to focus on the labels.]
Where are we?
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[He rips open a pack of gauze. It was slim pickings at the hospital but he managed to snag a bottle of clean water. It's not saline solution but with nothing else to clean the wound it would have to do.
He unscrewed the cap and pressed the gauze to the top, tilting it until it was damp.]
What do you remember?
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wait. the bomb. there had been an explosion, a massive one, and the town had been leveled. at some undetermined point in time, he and Egon had gone to the Mayor's office, looking for Peter along the way. and then they separated and...]
Looking for you. [certain of that, his voice grows a little louder, a little more confident. all that translates to is a hoarse, rough little murmur.] Spengler and I, we split up. Thought we'd cover more ground -
[he stops in mid-sentence. his hand had wandered to his head where all the pain was concentrated at, fingering the spot as lightly as possible. a shriek began to build up in his throat only to be squashed and choked down, reducing it to little more than a noise that was too high-pitched to be a grunt, too muffled to be a yelp.
how was it even possible for the inside of your head to feel like it was burning up?]
I - [he swallows hard.] I - I ran into this guy... He had a knife at my neck. A-And he was gonna kill me if I didn't help him find supplies. And I -
[sharp intake of breath. it's all coming back.]
...I thought I could take him.
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I knocked him out.
[Any frown he was trying to hide is painfully obvious at this point.]
I was a little too late.
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he isn't closing that eye. even if he was and his lack of feeling could be attributed to numbness, he should still be able to wriggle the eyelid up and down.
Ray tries. when it doesn't work, he tries again. and again. and again until the hand placed over the bandaged portion of his face starts gripping at his head, fingers twining roughly into his hair, which he lowers.]
...Oh.
[just that. oh. he isn't sure what he can say. not even sure what he can do. it'd be kind of awkward to start crying when it'd only be coming from one eye.
wouldn't he look so silly.]
Oh. [and he says it again, and repeats it in a low murmur until it sounds more like a hum. his voice cracks.] ...I really screwed up. Didn't I.
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I screwed up.
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- What? How? You took care of that guy, didn't you? If you hadn't...do you think I'd even still be alive?
[although, by this point, maybe it'd be easier to just give up. it's not like Mayfield takes death seriously, so why should he? that makes the most sense right now, but...
why is it so scary to think about?]
You saved me. [and even if his voice sounds like a strained, raspy mess, those words are still sincere. he means them.]
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[He paused. Wow. Wrong choice of words.]
...literally.
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[in just as bad shape as I am. perhaps that's wishful thinking, but Ray can't honestly see anyone surviving out there for very long. no food, no shelter, little to no hope of making it through the night if guys like the Major are out and about preying on whoever they manage to find alone.
alone... I left Egon alone.]
...Help me up.
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[He reaches out, gently unwrapping the cloth from Ray's head and wincing at the gore beneath it.]
Hold still. This might sting.
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Spengler's still out there. [- and he bites down on his lower lip, feeling the air hit his eye socket. inhaling shakily, he adds:] I need to find him before anything else happens. Right now.
[and already he's trying to tear away. shoo
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[And he wasn't joking, either. A wound like that could get infected, quick.]
I'll find him as soon as I take care of you.
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...
[more easily than he'd care to admit, he slides back down. it's not difficult to give in, physically if not emotionally. inwardly, he's seething. it's his fault that this had to happen to begin with, his fault that Peter had to risk his life out there for his stupid mistake; no way is he going to let Egon suffer for his own terrible judgment, too.]
...At least let me go with you. [it hurts to crease his brow, so he just sits there slumped against the wall, sweat-soaked hair matted to his forehead, eye half-lidded as he regards Venkman wearily.] I just. I need to make up for this. Somehow.
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[He's calmer now that Ray is still, he gently dabs at the wound with the cloth to clean it.]
...sorry. [For a lot of things. For the fact that what he's doing might hurt a bit, for the fact that you're missing an eye to begin with, for the fact that he yelled at you not ten seconds ago.]
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he also sucks at having any bedside manner whatsoever. there's only so much one can do while cleaning out a wound this bad, so to his credit he tries. Ray just wishes it could end without him screaming his head off.
the agony is horrendous and he has to bite down on his lip to keep from shrieking, even if that doesn't go too well and a few yelps escape anyway, but he keeps at it. it's to the point where he begins to taste blood from biting down too hard.]
...Hey. I jus' - nnngh - thought of somethin'.
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Once he figures he's gotten it as clean as he can, he tosses the dirtied gauze to the size and fumbles with a fresh package to patch it up with.]
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Whenever you lose one sense, the others are sharpened to make up for the absence. I figure that, with me losing half of one, my hearing is gonna increase by 50%. [he's rambling, but he doesn't seem to notice or care because some of his usual cheeriness has returned. it's muted, but there.[ So essentially, I'm one step closer to being a superhero.
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Whatever you say, Rooster Cogburn.
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[he tilts his head up to accommodate Venkman, his gaze frank and earnest.]
Do you think I should pick up a moniker?
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[He takes his hands away and examines his work. Not the best. But he's not that kind of doctor.]
Doctor Depth Perception?
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oh, who am I kidding?]
Eh. Better than Captain Cornea. Maybe you can spring for a parrot this Christmas.
[- and his expression softens, frown turning into a lopsided, resigned little half-smile.]
...Thanks.
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[He matched the smile. He felt a little better, knowing Ray wasn't bitter at him.]
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but he has a feeling that the other might not share his sentiments, so surprise - two arms go out to place themselves on Venkman's shoulders, holding him there.]
I mean it.
[it's not really a surprise hug if you can see it coming, so he tries to make up for that predictability by holding the other twice as hard as he normally would.]
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I know you do.
[He exhales heavily. Like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders.]
But I'd like to breathe, if that's ok.