Untouchable face

8.

Derek wasn't used to waking up and not climbing out of bed first thing. It was what he did, it was what he always did. Even on days of, Mags and him were morning people and they never lingered under the covers for long. But today he didn't roll out of bed. Today he was in too much pain to even think about moving too much. His entire body was on fire and he wasn't sure if any amount of narcotics could stop the pain. His head was starting to feel clearer and clearer, but there was no use pretending he could actually form many coherent thoughts. When his sisters had come to visit him, he had had trouble answering their hundreds of questions.

He hated this. He hardly ever got drunk because he hated the fuzzy feeling it gave his brain, he had never touched anything stronger than it and now he was in such a fog that he had no control over anything. His head was spinning in circles and all he knew was he wanted this to end. This was the kind of hell he had only experienced once in college when he had crashed his bike, but that hadn't been anything like this. He had had a concussion then and some broken bones, right now he was just broken all over and sore. And he had the hardest time opening his eyes and taking in his surroundings.

Which was probably for the best. He hated hospitals, he hated how cold and univiting they were and he didn't want to be looking at the room that was going to be his for who knew how long. He still wasn't even clear on how long that was going to be. Doctors and nurses kept coming in and out of his room, he knew that. He couldn't remember what any of them looked like, but he was always aware when the the doctor his mom called Dr. Grey was in the room. She smelled nice. And her voice was relaxing. And her fingers were...they were gentle.

She was also very fuzzy in his head. He had a feeling she was the main doctor on his case, or at least it seemed that way sometimes. And he knew he had talked to her but right now he couldn't remember for the life of him what she looked like. She had blonde hair. At least he thought he remembered blonde hair. Next time she was in the room, he was going to force himself to clear his head and look at her. Mom liked her a lot, and he had heard Maggie saying she liked Dr. Grey a lot, that she was understanding. So if she was such a good person, he figured he should clear his head, ignore the pain, and properly introduce himself. He had a vague memory of her soft voice when he had first gotten here but he wasn't sure. She might have been the doctor that helped him but he had no idea at all. He still couldn't remember for the life of him what had happened the day before. He wasn't even sure he wanted to remember.

Mark was apparently going to sue Stacey's ass off, but he wasn't going to worry about that. He was in too much pain to even take a minute to function and think about anything but the way he was feeling. He tried to stretched slightly but the pain made him gasp slightly and he closed his eyes, resisting the urge to press the button for his morphine drip.

It helped. Except it helped in a way that made everything else disappear along with the pain and he was already tired of feeling that way. He wanted to be a little more present, he wanted to talk to people and to figure out what was happening to him instead of just staring blankly at the ceiling.

So instead, he just tried to breathe deeply as he kept his eyes closed. His grasp on the blanket relaxed and he felt himself beginning to drift slightly. He had to feel better. He had a tube up his penis, wires all over his body, and he wanted to be him again. He wanted to be able to place the person who had just walked into his room. He tried to focus his eyes on her because he had a feeling he had seen her before, eh had seen the tiny woman that had walked in before and he just needed to figure out who she was. He liked to greet people when they walked into the room. And then he could smell her.

It was that amazing flowery scent and he smiled slightly. Dr. Grey. It was the doctor his mom liked, the doctor who had apparently been here for this from the second he had come in. He forced his eyes to open and then focused on her, watching as the petite blonde checked his vitals and wrote in his chart. She was pretty. Even if he brain was foggy, he could notice that. She was pretty in a different kind of way and her hair was the exact blonde he had vaguely remembered. She looked tired though, at least he thought she did but she was still definitely pretty.