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“Shhh. Shhh, it’s okay.” A hand brushing his hair out of his eyes. It hurts his scars. Everything hurts his scars. Everything hurts , he’s sweating and he’s hot and he hurts. He wants it to stop.
“Dr. Ziegler,” he croaks (and it feels strange to call them that when they’re almost the same age), “please, Dr. Ziegler, I just need -”
“Out of the question,” They say, but they say it so gently. Their fingers are so light, ghosting over his face. “I’m sorry, Genji. I’m so sorry.”
He groans, curls in on himself. He hears “shh, shh”, is aware he must be making noise. But everything is just light and sound and sensation, there’s nothing but how hot he is and how he’s shaking. He remembered Dr. Ziegler telling him not to get too dependent on the nanobots, they had a nasty withdrawal if you used them too long, but he’d kept demanding more anyway.
And wasn’t that why he’d gotten hurt in the first place?
He swears, clutches himself. He’s going to vomit again. He seems to say as much, or maybe Ziegler just knows, because they pull him up to a sitting position and bend his back so he’s leaning down to throw up into a bucket. He empties the meager contents of his stomach, loathes the way the acid burns in his throat. He begs again. He gets told no again. He lies down again.
He’s flashing in and out of consciousness, wishing he’d listened earlier, so much earlier. He wishes he’d taken Hanzo and the elders more seriously. He wishes he’d run away after mother died. He wishes so much, so so much. But most of all, he wants the pain to stop.
He closes his eyes. He feels like a child again. He’s in his room, curled on his side, fever taking over his head. He rasps out, “Mum, please.”
There’s silence for a while, and he’s scared she’s left him, but then she says, in a very strange voice, “I’m here, Genji. I’m here.”
“Mum, I’m scared,” He wants to cry. His head is pounding, he’s sweating and shaking-
“I know. I know you are.” A hand running through his soaked hair, soothing him with its gentle touch. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here.”
“Don’t go, mother,” he whispers. He can feel himself slipping, slipping away from reality or whatever this was into unconsciousness. “Please don’t leave me alone.”
“I would never do that, Genji,” she says, so soft. “I’m not going to leave your side, no matter what.”
He faints.