Chapter Text
Are these eyes that are blinking open really his? The ones reacting, squinting, to the dim flickering light above him that just wouldn't quit? It shouldn't be real after all this time, and yet…
Bzz… Bzz…
God, he fucking hated hospitals.
According to the doctors and nurses that had them on constant watch, they group had been found hooked up to the headsets in that warehouse for what seemed like more than a year. Time, however, was endless and nauseatingly slow in the circus, a fact that daily adventures were a constant reminder of. But on the outside, things accelerated.
Days to months, months to years. He really doesn't have the guts to ask anyone how long he'd been under for. It would make shit more real, and the fact that he's flesh colored for once and not a liquified version of Harold's purple crayon is more than enough satisfaction at the moment. He doesn't need the reminder that he'd woken up from a coma two weeks ago added on to that.
Jax grimaces as he gets accustomed to the bleak fluorescent lights and the sickeningly sterile sheets of the room. Same view again, stupidly same. And, as expected, in front of him is a tray of food.
"Hey, what the hell!? Aren't I supposed to get a pudding cup!?" He ducks his head forward as he strains to lean up, head trying to peek past the sheet divider. "I know one of you is patrolling out there! You're jipping me!"
Maybe it's the restleness or his inability to properly move since waking up, but it was shit to be confined to a bed. The shitty hospital pudding was a solace, but not enough to distract from how eerily quiet it was in the single occupancy room. Even if he is more of lone wolf, you can't bouncce your mind off a wall, no matter how hard you try.
"Got anything to say? Do I have to push this stupid button on my bed again or will my screaming my head off do the trick-"
His words still as the wooden door opens, the expectation of his usual nurse's sneakers squeaking on the tile to follow. But it's not one pair of footsteps he hears. No, it was something big, something being wheeled—new equipment?
"Whatever happened to no more tests? My brain's fine now."
No matter how much he talks, it's all just commotion. Some yapping behind the curtain where he can't see anything but some silhouettes. Two, maybe three, figures huddled next to the newly rolled in bed he notices they've rolled in.
He tries to crane his head back as hard as he can against the wall to get a better look. There's a snall slit between the start of the divider and the wall. And it's there he notices the crown of a head, frayed auburn hair laid against the pillow in disarray.
Who in the hell…?
He has half a mind to ask, maybe demand if he's being himself, but before he can even say anything, the footsteps move further away. It leaves him with more questions, no pudding, and a body on the other side.
"Well this is just great, isn't it? Always wanted a bunkie." With a grunt, he turns his head towards the shadow. "Gonna say something or is this more of a talk to myself situation?"
…
"Hello? Earth to whoever?"
…
"Jeez, you're a real blast to be around."
It doesn't matter how much he talks, he's getting nothing. All he's got to go with is the top of a head and their quiet. He's got half a mind to grab the curtain and find out for himself, but before he can…
"Mm… Hnm…"
That voice, it's… It's coming out in sounds and chokes, definitely a struggle. But his mind jumps to his gut faster than he can stiffle it. He knows it. He has to be right, that has to be-
"Ragatha…?"