Chapter Text
James felt as if his body was on fire.
More than fire. It felt like he had been on the go for three days straight running on pure adrenaline. He felt like he had participated in “Savage” week at the gym but each day was an entire week’s worth of rowing, sprinting, and burpee Hell. No, scratch that. It felt like he got hit by a truck. Actually, the more he thought of it, did he? He remembered blinding lights and…
“Mr. Blood? Mr. Blood! Can you hear me? You’ve got to calm down!”
There was beeping in the background and James suddenly felt like he had been stuck in a sauna turned up to one hundred degrees. There was a blanket on him. He needed it off! He needed to run, but he couldn’t even open his eyes. It was like memories were stuck on repeat: flashes of gun fire, headlights, water. Pain. Why that pain just hit him all at once he didn’t know. His shoulder, his side, his everything felt just everything and nothing all at once.
“James!”
Gallagher?
“James, it’s us,” Eddy said somewhere out in the void to his right. He felt a hand or two on his shoulder. One cold as if coming in from outside and the other one thin. Probably the nurse trying her best with one of the other men to hold him down. James forced himself to open his eyes. His head felt dizzy and the room was spinning along with it. He could faintly see the figure of Edmond Chandler there at the side to his left. He was holding a jacket, the coldness of winter air clung in the air around his concerned form.
He tried to focus his eyes, in attempts to make his co-worker come into view, but then the burning happened. In a flash, see the individual fibers of Eddy’s dark navy coat. Wool, curled, and the tiniest of snowflakes that he could see melt in slow motion. He turned immediately to his right to see the nurse and Gallagher. Well, at least as he assumed, it was like his vision was on hyper magnified mode and all he could see was the pores of the nurse’s face, the tiniest of scratches on Gallagher’s glasses, the faintest of lint stuck to the tv screen across the room.
“Ja...es-”
The beeping came in waves and James found himself shouting. His hands went to his ears as he pressed hard to make the beeping stop. Everything was too loud and too close! This had to be some sort of twisted nightmare and the only way he knew how to get out of it was to run away.
“I need some... in here-”
“James! It’s us… down....”
He felt something snake across his skin. It felt as if sweat had defied gravity, or if he was slapped in the face with one of those dumb sticky hand toys Lisa stuffed in a holiday treat bag. Why he was thinking of last year’s holiday party at a time like this, he didn’t know. He had to focus and not think about everyone’s stupid sweaters. Though no matter what, his mind seemed to go into hyper drive. He remembered everything about the party.
The streamers were red and blue. Lights around the room along with a Christmas tree. He forgot that he was supposed to bring cutlery, so he ran to the dollar store to get too many oddly shaped plastic spoons that chipped off plastic bits in no matter what people ate. Frank had won the ugly sweater contest with the most ugliest rudolph plush toy sewn onto a knitted sweater. Why?! Something so trivial like a holiday party from nearly a year ago, he could remember every single little detail of it.
The beeping came back to him again and he roared in pain. This time more hands found him. The cold air around Gallagher and Eddy moved away to make room for the others around James’s bed. James tried to fight and swing his arm at someone. His fist collided with something, but everything was still so magnified that he couldn’t react. His other arm was caught, but before he could notice the IV in his arm he noticed the needle a nurse was injecting something in it instead.
The numbing sensation flooded over James as he tried once more to swing his arm. He felt overly sluggish. The world was no longer loud but dialed down to the slowest of settings. Like playing with a podcast's speed settings. Something in his mind told him to fight it, but the exhausted part of him said no more. Two hands helped slump him backwards onto a too soft pillow that smelled of bleach and sweat. The sweat fell away and his eyes grew heavy.
“His eyes…”
“...Mask...?”
Mask...