cinder || dnf

chapter fourteen

Red light pierced his eyelids. Going haywire, his retina display was sending a skein of green gibberish against the backdrop of his lids. Something was wrong with his wiring- his left fingers kept twitching, pulsing uncontrollably.

"Calm down, Mr. Almeida. You're perfectly all right." This voice calm and unsympathetic in its strange accent, was followed by one much more panicked.

"Perfectly all right? Are you crazy? What happened to him?"

Dream groaned.

"Only a little experiment. He's going to be fine, Your Highness. See? He's waking up now."

Another strangled protest before he could pry his eyes open. The lab's whiteness would have blinded him but for the two shadows cutting through it. His eyes focused the shapes into Dr. Za's bucket hat and sky blue eyes, and Prince George with strands of dark hair hanging unkempt across his brow.

As the retina display began running the basic diagnostic test for the second time that day, he shut his eyes again, faintly worried that Prince George would notice the green light at the base of his pupil.

At least he had his gloves on.

"Are you alive?" George said, pushing Dream's messy hair back from his forehead. His fingers felt hot and clammy against his skin before he realized that he was the one who was feverish.

Which shouldn't have been possible. He couldn't blush, couldn't have a fever.

Couldn't overheat.

What had the doctor done to him?

"Did he hit his head?" George asked.

The twitching stopped. Dream pressed his hands against his body in an instinctual effort to hide them.

"Oh, he's fine," Dr. Za said again. "Had a bit of a scare- but no harm done. I am sorry for that, Mr. Almeida. I didn't realize you would be so sensitive."

"What did you do?" he said, careful not to slur his words.

George slipped an arm beneath him and helped him to sit up. Dream flinched against him and tugged down his pant leg in case the metal gleam of his shin was visible.

"I was merely adjusting your spine."

Dream squinted at the doctor, not needing the little orange light to tell him he was lying, but it popped up anyway.

"What's wrong with his spine?" George's hand slid down to Dream's lower back.

Dream sucked in a breath, a shiver racing along his skin. He feared the pain would come back, that the prince's touch would somehow override his system like Dr. Za's had- but nothing happened, and soon George lessened the pressure of his touch.

"Nothing is wrong with it," said Dr. Za. "But the spinal region is where many of our nerves congregate before sending messages up to our brains."

Dream watched Dr. Za with wild eyes. He could already imagine how quickly George would pull away from him when the doctor told him he was supporting a cyborg.

"Mr. Almeida was complaining of a bothersome pain in his neck..."

Dream squeezed his fists together until his fingers began to ache.

"...and so I gave him a bit of an adjustment. It's called chiropractics, a very old practice, and yet amazingly effective. He must have been more out of alignment than I realized, and so the sudden realigning of the vertebrae created a temporary shock to his system." Phil grinned at the prince, eyes devoid of concern. The orange light persisted.