Work Text:
“Stay with me, will ya?” Gavin mutters.
His voice is gravelly from the lack of use. Deep circles sit under his eyes. He looks so frail.
Nines takes a seat next to the hospital bed, looking up at the Detective. He feels strangely numb. He spent most of the week with the injured man in front of him and calculating a myriad of things, all relating to the human's current condition. Everyday, the statistics became more grim.
Tina reassured him Gavin would get better. She said he was “one tough son of a bitch” and that “he’s had much worse, trust me.” As much as Nines wanted to believe her, he knew the statistics.
Nines took Gavin’s hand, his face as stoic as ever.
Probability of Recovery: 38%
Since the value had fallen below 50%, Nines felt himself dreading coming out of stasis every morning.
“No need to worry about me, Nines.”
Gavin squeezes his hand gently, trying his best to smile. It looks painful to the android.
“I’ll be back at my best in no time. Me in this damn hospital bed is gonna be nothin’ but a memory.”
“I hope so, Detective Reed.”