Rayne Drops (FFXV)

XXXIX) Back in Five

I reach consciousness gradually, struggling against the slit of light escaping through the heavy navy blue curtains hanging over the wide window across the room. I take a deep breath; my sides throb in protest. Grimacing, I move to push myself up into a sitting position; my heart flutters into the base of my throat when only my left hand grazes the cool, dark sheets. Instead, I feel a slight tug on my right bicep—at least, what remains of it. Swallowing hard, I glance over toward the I.V. rack on the right side of the bed, following the trail of plastic that disappears under the sleeve of the black shirt I've been changed into.

Goosebumps raise on my skin; I cringe. I can't feel them on that side. Taking another deep breath, I push myself up with my left arm, my ribs echoing their screams of pain. I ignore the ache and press my lips together, reaching around to what remains of my right arm but never once looking. A wave of nausea washes over my head when my fingers brush against the end of the stump that was once a lithe, strong limb. Continuing up, I find the taped end of the I.V. tube and jerk the end out, setting myself free. I shudder, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and forcing myself to my feet.

"Just don't think about it," I mutter, tearing my eyes away from the newspaper on the table with bold headlines announcing the death of Lady Lunafreya. And what about the other casualties? "Maybe it won't hurt as much."

Stumbling toward the window and using the furniture along the way as a means of balance, I pull the curtains open one at a time to reveal the ruined city of Altissia below. Water floods the lower streaks, debris of citizens' homes drifting along the rippling currents covering all land. Workers wade through the knee-deep waves, ever-so-slowly pulling the remains of the city back together. The gray skies have cleared, leaving a blue window above that's all too perfect in the eyes of current events. Arma... Signum doesn't know.

I turn back to scan over the room, but there's no sight of my phone. I wouldn't be surprised if it fell after I passed out. All I remember is Gladio coming at me with his sword... and then there's nothing. I watch as a uniformed man dives into the deeper waters where the gondola once ran, only to emerge with the lifeless body of a young girl. I recognize her as one of the children playing outside the Leville just the day before the attack. Maybe... he doesn't have to know. The door to the room creaks open uneasily, hesitant footsteps padding into the room and stopping at the wooden table a short distance behind me. I turn back to see the nervous smile of a middle-aged man.

"Hello Miss, er, Callen," he greets, pausing to glance at the briefcase he laid on the table. "I see you're doing better. My name is Don Carver. I'm here to, uh... Well, I've been treating you and your friends since the attack." He clears his throat awkwardly, pushing the round glasses perched on the bridge of his sharp nose up. One tanned hand uneasily reaches up to comb his graying brunette hair back. "They thought I should at least get your measurements before beginning my work."

"Your... work?" I frown, turning to face him. My stomach turns uneasily when I glance once more toward the briefcase on the desk.

"Yes," he sighs. "I am a doctor in its simplest sense; I can effectively treat a variety of wounds. My main focus, however, is in the world of prosthetics."

"Pros..." I trail off, a shudder racking down my spine. Don't think about it.

"No need to worry," he rushes. "I don't produce lifeless, deadweight limbs. I work for those who, like you, spend their lives fighting in defense of someone important." He reaches forward, unclasping the locks on the case and lifting the lid. The case swivels around to face me, though its main contents are metal bits, measuring tapes, and other tools I don't recognize. "Around a decade ago, I invented the first effective prosthetic to connect to nerves, and ultimately, to the brain. My system persuades the mind itself that it has its own lost limb back."