A Thin Line Between This and That

Chapter Two: Blue

Chapter Two:
I arrived early at the hospital that morning and made my way straight to the ICU Containment Ward. In the elevator down I thought through the conversation I had had yesterday with Idiot. If he has truly lost his memories, what does that mean for  his future? If he can't remember at least his family or name, where will he be placed? I sighed and rubbed my mask.
With a ding and a woosh the doors slid open and I strode out and down the halls. At the far end of the longest hallway there were only two doors: one wooden, one metal. I opened the wooden door and stepped into the dim lit room. Inside was a table with three chairs, a small refrigerator, and a folding cot. The left wall was dominated by complex scanners, medical equipments, and monitoring devices linked to the machines in the room on the other side of the right wall, seen through the one-way glass. I looked through and saw the pitifully small form of Idiot lying on the bed, too large in comparison to himself. His breath was slow and regular, the monitors soft beeping reported; he was asleep. I pulled up one of the chairs from the table and sat myself in front of the glass and watched him. From where I sat, I could just see his black hair--long for a boy's--above the blankets. I had seen it so many times I was sick of its color, but now I saw it and I thought of when I had seen it in rubble.
It was hours after the collapse. I sat on the back of an ambulance next to a little girl while her father received medical aid, when an officer ran over and called me back to the disaster zone. As I followed him he explained that the cleanup had begun, but as debris was removed it caused an instability and another body was uncovered. Because of my ability, I was the only one capable of making it safely to the spot. It was pointed out to me and I began picking my way through shards of debri towards the body. When I finally made it to where he lay I wanted to turn around and go back, but I pushed the metal beams off of his body and shouldered him. I knew he was tough, so I did not question that he was going to be alright, but when I got him back to the medical team they had to rush to put him on a respirator. I stood near him as they performed emergency medical assistance and listened with a growing knot in my gut to his injuries: both legs broken in multiple places, right humerus shattered, left wrist and shoulder blade cracked, five broken ribs, two punctured lungs, internal bleeding, whiplash, and massive head trauma.
By the time he was delivered to the hospital the healers had fixed his legs and most of the other life threatening injuries, but the doctors worried that he had still not regained consciousness. In the room I had watched him as the nurses and Dr. Birge had  fussed over him, shooing away the police and discussing open surgery. Then he opened his eyes. The idiot looked around the room as though lost and I could see the pain plainly on his face. The nurses noticed first and called over the Doctor. He confirmed that he was stable and asked Idiot how he was feeling. Looking like he was ready to cry, he just closed his eyes. Dr. Birge ordered the nurse to administer pain killers and Power Suppressants and she snapped at the officers that they would call them if anything happened, please leave now. They did so reluctantly, retorting that the doctor should have more respect for the law that protects them. Idiot opened his eyes again and looked right at me, as if asking what was going on. I scowled at him as a nurse injected a Sedative into him.
"Mr. Skyler, I say." The doctor yelled in my ear.
"What-?" I yelped and almost fell off the chair.
"I said, I'm glad you could make it." He repeated, setting a stack of papers on the table. "I wanted to brief you on his condition as soon as I could. Here's the full report, but I'll give you the short version."
"Much obliged." I muttered, turning away from the glass. "What's going to happen, moving forward."
Dr. Birge did not meet my eyes, but instead bahan fiddling with the monitor's settings.
"There is no moving forward." He said softly.
"What do you mean?" I asked, not wanting him to confirm what I thought.
"The damage he suffer in and of itself was sever, worse than many of our senior staff has ever seen. It was no surprize he is suffering from amnesia, but after you left yesterday his condition changed for the worse."
"How so?"
He turned to face me somberly.
"At about four PM his heart rate jumped, and the MT on staff in this room called me, then ran in to assess him. After several abnormal spikes his heart rate plummeted, almost to the point of having an attack. We gave him some stimulants, and thought he would be fine. But he entered a Binary Seizure and his innate powers flew out of control, causing damage and confusion to the staff. We did all we could to just hold him down so he didn't hurt himself. When it was over and he regained consciousness we explained to him what had happened and he asked for a strong sedative. He's been out since."
I stared at him, very upset. He continued.
"From the data we collected during all this, we have reached the conclusion that side effects of his condition are periodic seizures and power regression, meaning he will never be able to control his abilities again and the longer his amnesia persists, there less and less of a chance of him regaining his memories.
"Why did you not call me yesterday?" I demanded. He looked over his glasses at me.
"We suspect his condition's sudden deterioration was caused by a deliberate overdosage. And we have no way of knowing what the culprit's motives or methods are, or if they might have targeted you. The Containment Ward's security will take care of the investigation, so for now, I would like you to be on standby in this observation room so it does not happen again."
"What!" I gasped. "I have duties other than watching a bedridden idiot 24/7. You cannot ask me to that!"
"I have permission from the city council to commission you for this job." Birge procured a letter from his lab coat pockets.
"He is in your care now."
As I read the letter in a haze I slowly calmed myself, until I was no longer angry by the time I reached the signature scrawled at the bottom of the sheet. I folded the letter carefully and placed it back in the envelope and returned it to Birge.
"I suppose I have no choice then."
"Thank you for your help."