Scott, at the hospital

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Scott wakes up after his surgery. Then he wakes up again. There's a rather disturbing dream in the interim. Scott really needs to get a clue - it's not as if this hasn't happened before.


He wasn't sure why they still had him lying here in a hospital gown. Scott frowned up at the white ceiling. It didn't make any sense. He'd long since woken up - long enough ago that his head was even clear, which was saying something given his usual response to sedatives. His stomach was unsettled - and still hurt, quite frankly - but he could have walked.

Maybe he would. There wasn't anyone in the room watching him, and he was getting tired of just lying here. Carefully, Scott got out of bed, swaying a little until he adjusted to being upright. The floor was overly cool on his bare feet, and the hospital gown gaped in awkward places. Where were his clothes?

Moving carefully, still, he made his way over to the door of the room - and there was a door, and it was closed, and Scott's frown grew as he opened it and stepped out into the hall. Awfully quiet, for a hospital... The door swung shut behind him, with a steely clang, and Scott whirled around, the sudden tightness of fear in his chest as the hall changed around him.

Fluorescent lights flickered and went out, and left him in the dark. There was a strange dampness in the air. Like fog. Scott tried to find the door again, but all he could touch was smooth, unnaturally smooth wall. Metal. No, something else. So cold, whatever it was.

There had to be a way out. Starting to breathe more heavily, he felt his way along the walls, willing himself to find a door, a window, something. "Anyone out there?" he called hoarsely, and then wished that he hadn't. His voice echoed, as if there was nothing at all out there. Just emptiness.

The first stirrings of fear were starting to turn into something else. Panic. Desperation. "Let me out," Scott grated, feeling along the walls. "Let me out now. Let me OUT!"

Someone laughed, behind him, and Scott whirled, only to be blinded by the brightness of the figure standing there. Dimly, his eyes - eyes? - watering, he saw it reaching out fiery hands towards him...

..."Mr. Summers? Scott?" The person leaning over him was in white. Bright enough, but not that white. The red-haired nurse gave him a friendly, professional smile. "There you are," she said, straightening. "How are you feeling?"

Scott blinked up at her, lying rigidly in the hospital bed and well-aware of the fact that he had nearly blasted the nice nurse in the head. "Uh..." His throat felt thick, clogged, and he coughed, grimacing. "Not great..."

"Well, that's to be expected. Did you want to sit up and have something to drink?" The nurse helped him do that, and her smile turned somewhat apologetic as he looked around in some bewilderment at what was clearly not the recovery room. "Doctor Voght and Doctor Hendricks decided it was best to admit you for the night," she said. "Everything went well, they just feel a night of observation is warranted."

Overnight? Scott thought of the dream and shuddered, but managed to limit his reaction to that. "Okay..." he said a bit faintly, watching her pour him a cup of water. His throat would probably appreciate the water; he wasn't sure about his stomach.

"Doctor Voght said to tell you when you woke up that she'll be back in a little while to keep you company this evening."

"Oh... joy."

The nurse gave him a raised eyebrow, as if questioning whether he was joking, and Scott tried to smile. She smiled back and handed him the water.