SECOND DRAFT: Hard Bank Left

15

Graham awoke in a hospital gown. No, he couldn't be here again. They'd learned their lesson the last time they'd chained him to the bed. He wasn't going to let them off so easily. It took him thrashing for several seconds before he realized that he wasn't tied down. In fact he wasn't in a hospital of any kind. He was sleeping in his own bed, on his own ship. How long had he been asleep? How deeply had he slept? He didn't remember any of his dreams, wouldn't he have woken up if someone had moved him?

Graham violently kicked off the covers, sat up, taking in the twilight of his room. Everything was in its place, neat and clean and orderly as he intended it. His bare feet met the icy floor. He winced. He heard a stirring nearby, looked up, franticly. A figure took shape, slumped against his dresser. Krys had fallen asleep watching him. A smile twitched in the corner of his mouth.

First order of business: take a shower, followed by burning the clothes he had been forced to wear for the last week. Okay, maybe not the jacket or the boots, but certainly the rest of it. Graham didn't want any sort of reminders about what he referred to has his time in the tartarus. Third order of business: find out what happened and why no one came looking for him.

Normally, he would consider a shower, any sort of bathing really, as a sort of spiritual cleansing, something to make him feel more human. However, as the jets of water struck his skin he couldn't help but feel like he was being assaulted by thousands of tiny needles. He gasped, trying to breathe, reduced the water pressure to no positive effect. The softer the water, the more it felt like a suffocating film. He adjusted the temperature, thinking that might have something to do with it, to no avail. Even luke warm water burned, and mildly cool water chilled him to the bone. Oh well, he could tough through it, so long as he came out clean on the other end.

He spent much of the shower with his forehead pressed against the wall gasping for air. He was okay. Everything was fine. Why was he having such an adverse reaction to something so mundane? This was not okay.

The instant he was satisfied with his state of cleanliness, Graham shut everything off and collapsed onto the shower floor. He tilted his head back, letting the water pool at the small of his back and trickle down to his feet. What was wrong with him? A knock on the door snapped him awake.

"Graham? Are you alright? You left your clothes on the bed."

Graham grunted in reply.

"Alright, well, I'm going to leave your clothing by the door."

Graham watched the shadows under the door, saw her place a pile of neatly folded clothing, heard her walk away. Once satisfied that he was alone, he scrambled to the door, cracked it open and slid the pile into the room. Door shut behind him, Graham stood, toweled himself off, pulled on his clothes.

His reflection in the mirror struck him as he pulled on his cardigan. His beard had gotten so scraggly, he brushed it out, attempting to gain control. The effect wasn't as satisfying as he had expected it to be. The hair came next, he brushed it out until it just felt good enough.

For a moment, he studied his face, the shapes and structures losing their meaning the longer he looked. He wiped his hand over the glass, erasing some of the condensation. The shapes shifted back into its usual arrangement: human. The face felt alien, like a disguise allowing him to function in society without fear of reproach. This wasn't him, this was an abstraction of genetics, he was somewhere else. This? This was a way for Krys to see him without being scared.

A sudden chill came over him as he opened the door. Was he running a fever? He couldn't be running a fever, he wasn't sick. Fatigue: it had to be fatigue. He wasn't tired though, so sleeping probably wouldn't happen. He could attempt relaxing, but he would get restless. Maybe he should read, distract himself. The only question would be would Krys let him read? As he crossed the catwalk and rounded the corner to his room, Grim found that Krys had done him one better.