The never ending kind

4- What?

I carefully sat up, swinging my legs off the side of the bed, taking a moment when dizziness hit momentarily. Leaning forward, I scrubbed my face with my hands, trying to breathe calmly. My stomach roiled, instantly losing any inkling of hunger I had, "I don't feel good."

"Shit," He looked around quickly before grabbing up a small trash bin and setting it on my lap just before my stomach released a gush of viscous brown fluid. My mind no longer cared as another rush of vomit spewed from my mouth, darker this time, "That does not look good." 

I didn't think so either as tears squeezed out from the force of my emesis, in my own world centered upon the upheaval into a filling wastebasket. And something cool placed on my neck and head. I couldn't hear anything over the sound of my vomiting, but the room felt like it was getting smaller while the opening of the bin filled my whole vision as the vomit slowed into thick sludgy chunks and I was finally able to breathe again, air sawing into my lungs before I coughed up another mass that plunked into the sloshing pool of vomit.

"-Just hurry and do it," I vaguely heard the guy say all of a sudden. I felt a pinch on my hand, realizing the appendage was being held when I tried to move it. My vision was blurry, my face felt like it was flaming, and tiredness pulled at my consciousness. My stubbornness kept my eyes open, but there was nothing I could do to keep them from crossing and the vision itself fading in and out.

"There, that should bind to whatever he wasn't able to expel from his system and be removed harmlessly now," Some female voice hummed through my ringing ears.

"Why hadn't he done this before? He was fine until he sat up."

"I checked the IV's he had been hooked up to," I heard her sigh as I was carefully laid on my side in the bed. "He was slowly being poisoned. One bag held the poison while the other held a chemical that allowed easier absorption along with an anti-nauseant. It's a good thing you took it out. If it had reached the cascading point, he would have gone rabid and died very painfully."

"If that's true, then why did he have those syringes on him?"

"My guess is that, from what you've told me, the chemicals seemed not to affect him, and he was also able to carry on a conversation and so on. I think Dr.- err, Braum, wanted to make sure you didn't see him able to carry on a coherent conversation because of how long he had already been housed. There was no way he should or could have become rabid after that, and the fact that he was able to survive perfectly fine after his rare and unconventional transition success would put into question all that we had previously believed regarding the previous failures."

"Shit. Just think of how many people that maniac has most likely killed..." His voice became low and gravelly before he took a deep holding breath, let it out, and cleared his throat once more, "I need everyone that has ever had a check up with him brought in right away and tested."

"I'll get on that right now," The female voice seemed a little lost. "Can I get some assistance with rounding people up? I can pull up the files, but..."

I heard ringing, "Finn? Yeah, I need your team to assist Dr. Towers by bringing some people in for an emergency check up. What? No, no, nothing like that. There's nothing to worry about yet, this is mostly just a preventative measure."

The next time I woke up, thankfully I was unrestrained and had been moved to another, brighter, less constraining room. I looked at the normal hospital-like bed void of restraints, the curtained windows, regular chairs and small table as well as a roll-y side table that could be swung over the bed. A surprising amount of relief flowed over me, loosening my most tense of muscles.

"Well, now all I have to do is figure out where the hell I am and why," I found I had gained a new attribute of talking to myself, but as least I wasn't carrying on a conversation to myself... Yet.

I lay on my back, arm covering my eyes as my stomach growled. The hospital gown lifted a bit with my movement, the material definitely not egyptian cotton and little better than the sheets themselves. Belatedly, I realized that I no longer had needles stuck in me, but could feel a constant ache throughout my system, similar to those dreaded growing pains. My head wasn't doing much better, either.

When I finally got a grasp on the pain- go me for a high pain tolerance- and shoved it down, my focus once more centered on the room to see if there wasn't a way to get another living being to make my acquaintance with. Hopefully one that wouldn't try to, eep, kill me but could rather give me something better than the scant cloth barely hiding my form. I was definitely not an exhibitionist.

I creakily sat up, checking the walls, side rails and so on for some kind of call button, finally finding it clipped onto the sheets. To push the light, or not to push the light, that is the question. First, I checked the standing wardrobe. Nope, no Narnia there, let alone any clothes other than some non-skid socks, blue, which is awesome, and another gown. Hmm. I slipped it on like a robe, giving myself more coverage, "Back end no longer exposed? Check."

The door was thankfully unlocked, so I peeked out, but did not exit. Just knowing I had the ability to leave the room was enough for me at the moment. Also, it was nice that the lock could be clicked on the inside; a push button one. Before returning to the bed and call button, which I had decided to push... When I garnered enough courage to face another living being, I decided to first take care of the necessities.

"Thank you, attached private bathroom," I sighed when I saw a toilet, which I quickly used to relieve myself. I freaked out a bit from the color of my urine and general bowels. No need to go into detail there. I avoided looking at it as I flushed the evidence down the toilet, knowing that there was nothing I could do about it, so pushing it to the back of my mind. Instead, I turned on the shower, avoiding the mirror the whole time. I had decided not to look at myself until after I'd cleaned up, not wanting to deal with a 'before' and 'after' scene.

The usual scars greeted me as I washed up with the hospital's dispenser holding a liquid that could be used as, it read, 'hair and body'. Surprisingly, it smelled really good, like melon and cucumber, and it didn't tangle my hair or feel weird on my body. I sighed at the water spraying onto me, turning it as hot as I could handle. I watched all sorts of stuff swirl down the drain, thankful that I had decided to avoid the mirror and the possible zombie-like visage that I had carried. 

Now, if only I could remember how I came to be here.