ᴅʀ. ᴀbel ɢideon, the Chesapeake Rip-Off (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
enabeled) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2014-04-23 05:35 am
enabeled) wrote in maskormenacelogs2014-04-23 05:35 am
but I don't think I'm coming home
WHO: ABEL GIDEON and VISITORS
WHERE: Health First Cape Canaveral Hospital
WHEN: 4/21 - 4/30 (specify date & time!)
WHAT: A trial and sentencing may or may not wait in Gideon's future, but his present involves a lengthy hospital stay. Spinal injury, amateur amputation, and a sudden but stubborn loss of appetite will do that.
WARNINGS: Probable references to violence, injury/amputation, cannibalism, and murder/attempted murder.
[ There should be relief, but there isn't -- hardly much. Abel Gideon almost wishes he had not survived his final encounter with the Chesapeake Ripper if it meant enduring what he is enduring now.
But he is glad to be alive, to be away from there. Here he doesn't have to worry about being kidnapped from his hospital room and waking up without his leg; they're taking good care of him. He had lost blood. He had a fever, and couldn't stop sweating. He felt cold almost constantly, and whenever he did sleep he always woke from nightmares shortly after with a jerk, staring with wary eyes at the door. Sometimes the window. Sometimes his remaining leg, feeling it to make sure it still really is there.
They feed him through an IV for the most part, because he refuses to touch any of the meat they try to serve him and has so far had some difficulty keeping anything else down except for the clearly inoffensive: Jello. Banana slices. Leafy salads.
Hannibal Lecter isn't here, but Gideon knows that is not a fact to take for granted. He isn't here now, therefore that fact is only of relief for the time being.
His condition is stabilized, but only physically. He doesn't speak much to the doctors or nurses but refuses psychological evaluation at every opportunity. Gideon is already rendered too vulnerable for his own liking for him to be interested in offering up what's in his head even if he did have reason to still trust psychiatrists. His head is crowded enough as it is, anyway; he spends enough time in there, thinking about Frederick Chilton -- and his own failure, twice, in killing him -- about Will Graham and the complicated baggage therein, about what his future might hold and dozens of other rotating subjects, some rational, some not.
Not much reading gets done, but not much sleeping does, either. Right now all he has is time to kill. ]
WHERE: Health First Cape Canaveral Hospital
WHEN: 4/21 - 4/30 (specify date & time!)
WHAT: A trial and sentencing may or may not wait in Gideon's future, but his present involves a lengthy hospital stay. Spinal injury, amateur amputation, and a sudden but stubborn loss of appetite will do that.
WARNINGS: Probable references to violence, injury/amputation, cannibalism, and murder/attempted murder.
[ There should be relief, but there isn't -- hardly much. Abel Gideon almost wishes he had not survived his final encounter with the Chesapeake Ripper if it meant enduring what he is enduring now.
But he is glad to be alive, to be away from there. Here he doesn't have to worry about being kidnapped from his hospital room and waking up without his leg; they're taking good care of him. He had lost blood. He had a fever, and couldn't stop sweating. He felt cold almost constantly, and whenever he did sleep he always woke from nightmares shortly after with a jerk, staring with wary eyes at the door. Sometimes the window. Sometimes his remaining leg, feeling it to make sure it still really is there.
They feed him through an IV for the most part, because he refuses to touch any of the meat they try to serve him and has so far had some difficulty keeping anything else down except for the clearly inoffensive: Jello. Banana slices. Leafy salads.
Hannibal Lecter isn't here, but Gideon knows that is not a fact to take for granted. He isn't here now, therefore that fact is only of relief for the time being.
His condition is stabilized, but only physically. He doesn't speak much to the doctors or nurses but refuses psychological evaluation at every opportunity. Gideon is already rendered too vulnerable for his own liking for him to be interested in offering up what's in his head even if he did have reason to still trust psychiatrists. His head is crowded enough as it is, anyway; he spends enough time in there, thinking about Frederick Chilton -- and his own failure, twice, in killing him -- about Will Graham and the complicated baggage therein, about what his future might hold and dozens of other rotating subjects, some rational, some not.
Not much reading gets done, but not much sleeping does, either. Right now all he has is time to kill. ]