but I don't think I'm coming home

[enabeled]

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. ]

Comments

[enabeled]

[ The hesitation is easy to notice -- for Gideon, it is. Frederick Chilton is a source of tension, and despite Gideon's nonchalant mention of his name, the effect is not in any way lost upon him.

He finds he doesn't mind as much as he had before, though. He minded, but there are other things to mind now. Will Graham is here. Hannibal Lecter is not but could be, and although Chilton is a villain to Gideon in his own right, Dr. Lecter is the one who made Gideon eat of his own flesh -- he glances, briefly, to the flat space where his left leg should have been. ]

Is that such a bad thing? There's certain risk inherent in predictability.

[heartlessglitch]

[ Truthfully, she spends a great deal of her computational power attempting to do precisely that-- predict things. It's her ability to take information and calculate the most plausible resulting paths that defined her original programming, and even now, she relies on it to an extent, to give her control in her relationships with others. But perhaps control is a motivation that Gideon would be less inclined to appreciate.

After a moment: ]

And what risk would that be, Dr. Gideon?
Are you concerned that you might find yourself bored?

[enabeled]

[ His eyes draw upward toward hers with a weighted slowness that's almost sullen, his lips tight at the corners. One hand -- his free one, the one not close to her -- grips the white bedsheet, fingers opening and closing as if to unconsciously remind himself (prove to himself) that they still can. ]

I might find myself being predicted... and to be boring is a fate even less compelling than boredom.

[heartlessglitch]

[ She lingers at his bedside another moment before she finally withdraws, gentle and careful despite her armored form when she pulls away. But her attention remains fixed on him, even as she comes to stand at the foot of his bed, regarding him with that same unwavering stare. ]

I do not suspect that it will come to that.

[ A pause, before she goes on: ]

Though if we should find our circumstances no longer suit us, I might hope we can find a method more productive than murder to resolve it.

[enabeled]

[ He watches her move silently, sitting back against his pillow and letting his hands refold in his lap. He wonders briefly if she's making a joke, then rejects the idea -- he doesn't really know Danger to make jokes.

Slowly, he says: ]

Very likely, yes. But why not cross that hypothetical when we come to it? No sense in dwelling on 'what if' scenarios.

[heartlessglitch]

[ She nearly disagrees out loud. After all, she spends so much time calculating the what ifs. But this doesn't seem to be the place nor the time. So, instead: ]

I suppose not.
After all, you are hardly in any shape to be murdering anyone.

[ That might have been a joke. Maybe. It's always so hard to tell, with her mechanical voice so steady and her face providing so little context. ]

You should rest, Doctor.

[enabeled]

[ His lips part then when she says that, as if to protest -- no, or don't leave -- but he closes them again, forcing them into that impassive thin line. Gideon refuses to expose his emotions or let them get the best of him, no matter how fearful or paranoid he's been since his return.

It's a vulnerability he still grips tightly. ]

Will you be back?

[heartlessglitch]

[ She pauses to watch him a moment, tilting her head purposefully to show him her consideration, her thoughtfulness. After a moment, she draws nearer again. One hand slides over the sheets as she approaches, skimming across the empty space where his leg would have been before dropping off the side of the mattress just short of actually touching him.

Finally, she leans to kiss him again, light and fleeting. ]

Yes.

[ Simple and straight-forward, as good as a promise. ]

I have already communicated with the machines monitoring you, as well.
So I will be aware of what goes on here while I am absent.
You will not be alone.

[enabeled]

[ However slight, he seems to relax; his shoulders untense, his eyes flick downward in brief confirmation. It's still a couple of moments before Gideon also nods in acknowledgement, looking back up at her. ]

Good.

[ His lips tighten again, and he wets them quickly before he says anything more. ]

Then don't let me keep you any longer.