Sandstorm {Discontinued}{Rewritten}

13. Crash Landings and New Jackets

When Deserey woke up, she groaned.

She sat up, or tried to, anyway. Her head was pounding, like there was a rave party going on in her skull. She couldn't remember much of what had happened, but from the way her stomach churned she guessed she must have been drinking again.

But when she tried to get up again, she realized why she couldn’t.

There were restraints on her wrists again, leading her to believe she was in the Medbay again. And with a quick glance around she saw that that was, in fact, where she was. Deserey groaned, laying her head back on the chair. “Gideon, can you let me up, please?”

“Not on my watch.”

Leonard stood above her, and after glancing past him, Deserey realized Rip, Mick, and Sara were behind him. They all had scowls on their faces.

“What is this?” she asked them, scowling right back. “Suicide watch?”

“Pretty much,” Sara admitted. “You were drunk off you ass. It’s why Mick knows. You pretty much told him.”

“...I don't need bodyguards,” Deserey told her. She would have folded her arms over herself, but she still couldn't move her arms more than an inch off the armrest of the chair.

“Well, too bad, ‘cause you got them,” Mick grunted. “I saw Lenny here go through the same thing, and I’m not letting it happen to someone else if I can help it.”

Everyone looked surprised at the statement, Rip most of all because he hadn’t known Len had depression.

Dez groaned again. “Why do you care? Why do any of you care? You don't even know me. We just met…”

“Can’t keep using that excuse,” Len told her, speaking for the first time since she had woken up.

Deserey found herself wanting to reply with, “Can too!” but somehow stopped herself, instead choosing to glare at them all.

“We're a team,” Sara told her. “And like it or not, we've got your back.” The three men nodded in agreement behind her.

“If that were true, you'd just let me die…” Deserey muttered.

Mick coughed awkwardly. He hadn’t known it was that bad…

“Well, that’s not gonna happen,” Rip told her. “So get used to it.”

She sighed. “Can I at least get up? This chair is murdering my ass.” She shifted uncomfortably to prove her point.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Sara muttered. Deserey glared at the woman who was supposed to be on her side.

“Why not?” she hissed, annoyed.

“Because we put everything back out while you were asleep,” Sara replied.

Deserey rolled her eyes. “Like you're gonna let me go anywhere near anything I could kill myself with.”

“Still.”

Deserey sighed. It wasn’t like she had started out less suicidal. Why was she being locked down now? It felt like she was being held captive for her feelings, for her mental illness. She was a prisoner because of something she couldn't even control.

“Why can’t we let her out? She’s right, you know. One of us can be around her, and we are allowed to have some trust in her,” Leonard said.

Deserey looked up at Len in surprise before remembering. He knew exactly how she felt. He always did. Somehow.

“That's...a good point,” Rip nodded slowly.

Sara looked reluctant, but she nodded. Mick looked like he was barely paying attention, lost in his own thoughts.