Spilling Guts

Part 150 - Priorities

Louis insisted on a shower before anything else happened. No debrief, no med check, not even coffee. He could feel the tea seeping into his pores to claim what wasn't theirs. As if the slowly healing burn on his chest wasn't claim enough. He limped to the lab shower. A good scrub and fresh clothes helped him feel like a new man. The stinging sensation when hot water hit his right toes was less nice. And the blood collecting in his right sock, leaving little smears between the stall and Med Tech led Rachel to shove him onto an exam table.

Louis' toenail had blackened, and blood seeped from under the nail's edge that had cut into the skin. The toe itself was swollen and purple, like an angry grape. The smaller toes next to it had a similar hue, but less blood.

"Not broken," Rachel said, cleaning around the nail with a cotton swab. "But you need to keep off it for a few days, and keep it elevated. Ibuprofen and Tylenol every four to six hours. Ice-"

"On and off every fifteen minutes, I know. I've dealt with runner's foot before," said Louis.

Rachel lifted an incredulous eyebrow. "This is severe impact damage, not "runner's foot"."

"Ballet foot, then," said Louis. But Will had looked better; less strain on his face, less panic. And no silly cap. Worth it.

"Louis?" prodded Rachel, wrapping his foot.

"What?"

"You're smiling. At bruised toes."

The smile got bigger. "Your idea worked."

"Yeah, so far."

"He's going to get better."

"Hopefully."

"Thank you."

Rachel stilled, hand mid-wrap with gauze. "It was my bright idea to use the Devil's Neckbrace on Will in the first place."

"He's also healing because of you and your bright idea."

Rachel sighed, tapped off the gauze, and got up. "You've been spending a lot of time around Doctor Balcuwitz."

"Yeah." Louis was likely due another talk with Balcuwitz soon, but at the moment he was thinking of the bigger picture. "You know what this means?"

"Therapy is working?"

"The Un-Devil's Neckbrace could be used on others." Something to heal, or at least soothe those left broken by the earlier device. Louis remembered the frightened, tired people trying to answer questions while shrinking away from medical care, shaking as they saw things out of the corner of their eyes. "Mrs. Watts has a whole list of people that could be helped."

"Possibly," agreed Rachel. "It would need a less tailored base programming. But it could be a start." Rachel tapped the non-bruised part of Louis' foot. "Okay, up we get. I need measurements."

"Measurements for what?"

Rachel pulled a set of adjustable crutches out of the closet.

Louis groaned. "Seriously?"

***

Louis step-swung his way back to Main Tech. He was the opposite of tired. He was buzzing in his skin; the nice buzzing, not the find-shade-or-be-eye-to-eye-with-a-mouse buzzing. He wanted to run laps, dance, punch a bag with something other than frustration. Instead, Rachel's recommendation guided him to his desk. What was left visible of it under the patents. Just enough of the screen and keyboard for him to work.

"There is an OSHA violation here, I swear," he muttered.

A throat cleared and Louis looked up.

Beni and Reese had paused mid-patent to stare at him. Like teenagers awaiting an empty stocking on Christmas morning because they finally knew Santa Claus wasn't real.

"What?" said Louis, stealing Will's chair to be a footrest. An apple fritter and a bottle of ice tea on a coaster waited like an offering on Will's desk. He ignored them.

"How is Will doing?" asked Reese.

"Cetz wouldn't let us see him yesterday," said Beni.

"He's getting better," said Louis. "Sleeping will help."

They beamed and immediately planned to visit Will with Copperfield later that day.

"And I'm doing good by the way. Don't mind the crutches," muttered Louis.

"An unhealthy disagreement with a wall or pillar is your own fault," said Reese.

Louis nearly blurt out how wrong Reese's assumption was, but bit it back. They didn't need to know what had happened. If Will wanted to share, that was his business. Until then Louis would work as usual.

Louis took a breath and sat at his desk/tiny house made of patents. Sitting still felt off; like bouncing on a trampoline and then having to get used to the ground again. It took him a while to realize what was missing.

He had become accustomed to hearing a thump and thrum in the background. The whoosh, rumble, and moan of a body surrounding him. Heartbeat, lungs, and other bodily systems working while Will slept. Fanboy's body could get loud.

How Louis had slept though so much of it, he would never know.

I've become accustomed to your face...

Louis ignored the thought and focused on something productive. He added patents to the database. Cetz wouldn't let him out into the field until the patents were done, and he couldn't do anything major until his foot healed.

First my arm, then my chest, now my foot. One injury after another, seriously? What's next, a toothache? Probably.

At lunch time, Balcuwitz came by with a takeout bag and a protein shake.

"Rachel insisted," said Balcuwitz, puzzling out where to put the bag when there was no desk visible. "And Cetz expects you to rest at home tonight."

"Noted." Louis placed the bag in his lap, smelling firecracker shrimp and vegetable fried rice. Balcuwitz gave a wave goodbye, socked feet padding softly down a hallway as Louis untied the bag...

To a Styrofoam container.

The squeak of the container's hinges made his hackles rise, the stench of fetid, uncleaned Styrofoam cups coming back to haunt him.

He took the bag to the break room, transferred the food to a plate, and weighed down the Styrofoam container to soak in the sink. He would never go back to the recycling place, but he could let whoever was unlucky enough to have to rinse the recyclables one less thing to smell.