06-22-2015, 04:31 PM
Damn, but Ivan was sick of lying in bed. As hospitals went, the Guardian wasn't a bad place to be. Bring a CCDPD officer did mean he got the the best care.
Still, use to be that the idea of being able to kick back and sleep was appealing. There was nothing like a Sunday afternoon nap in the middle of summer after a good home cooked meal at home. Belly full, one game or other on the TV, the sounds of his mother cleaning up or his brother and sister or nieces or nephews making noise, with Pops yelling at the screen- well, that was just about the best- one of them, he amended. Top 5 anyway. He'd just drift right off into that perfect sleep place and feel time slow down and he'd be alright alright.
Not in here though. All beeping of the machines and the indecipherable codes and announcements. And all the orderlies and nurses and docs running around poking him with this and prodding him with that. Not exactly conducive to resting peacefully.
He got a few visits from the precinct. Friends. Others. Ma had camped out for a few days, practically. He didn't remember much of that. Those first days had been pretty much nothing but hazy drifting sleep and a lot of pain.
Truth was, he still was pretty much high to the gills. He didn't remember the details, not really, but his side was all tight and it hurt if he sneezed or made any movements in his lower body. He felt like an invalid.
He tried to joke about it or even flirt with the female staff- anything to feel normal- but it was hard to do that when you had tubes up your nose and your eyes were puffy. And not thinking super clear.
But truth was, behind all the pain and bravado and boredom was a sense of failure. Here he'd been brought onto Domovoi because of the power, because of the "advantage" that offered. And instead, he'd gone up against someone with REAL power. Someone with experience. Worse, someone who couldn't care less about the people he hurt in the cross fire. When he though about that, he felt his stomach churn. People were hurt because of him, because he couldn't stop him. And maybe even dead. People wouldn't be straight with him about that.
He knew Zoya was ok. At least there was that, for which he was profoundly glad. Still, it burned him, to know that he had failed. He wished he had asked Ascendancy to teach him about how to use the power. Having to wait until he felt tense or threatened meant that he couldn't practice. He tried to imagine how good a shot he'd be if he only could fire his gun when under duress. Not, was the answer. Just a big fat no.
So now, he lay in bed trying to call upon the power, tried to imagine how it felt when he seized it, tried to even sense it. Nothing. He tried, but it just wasn't happening. It was so frustrating. This was a problem. Like a big one. He couldn't go back to Domovoi until he could use the power at need.
So hour after hour, for as long as he could concentrate, he tried to somehow do it. After the first few days, he gave up on that. He decided to concentrate on what happened when he could sense the power, tried to remember exactly how he'd felt, and how he pulled at it. If he could make himself feel tense or scared, maybe that would do it.
But how do you scare yourself? He was just lying there. As much as he wanted to convince himself, he wasn't in an danger at that moment. It was so damn frustrating!! He tried elaborate scenarios- imagined situations where he needed to act- but they just made him mad. Still, it was something. Anger could lead to fear.
He wasn't super imaginative- and his brain was tired- but he kept at it, thinking of horrific scenes- people he loved in danger. He remembered those creatures down below when he was with Xena. Hour after hour, day after he day he tried, his fear of failing people pushing him when thought about giving up.
It wasn't working though. Sure, he'd had a few waking nightmares. He'd even sensed the power like the sun behind a cloud one time. But that was the extent of it. It was so damn frustrating!
But he wasn't gonna give up.
Still, use to be that the idea of being able to kick back and sleep was appealing. There was nothing like a Sunday afternoon nap in the middle of summer after a good home cooked meal at home. Belly full, one game or other on the TV, the sounds of his mother cleaning up or his brother and sister or nieces or nephews making noise, with Pops yelling at the screen- well, that was just about the best- one of them, he amended. Top 5 anyway. He'd just drift right off into that perfect sleep place and feel time slow down and he'd be alright alright.
Not in here though. All beeping of the machines and the indecipherable codes and announcements. And all the orderlies and nurses and docs running around poking him with this and prodding him with that. Not exactly conducive to resting peacefully.
He got a few visits from the precinct. Friends. Others. Ma had camped out for a few days, practically. He didn't remember much of that. Those first days had been pretty much nothing but hazy drifting sleep and a lot of pain.
Truth was, he still was pretty much high to the gills. He didn't remember the details, not really, but his side was all tight and it hurt if he sneezed or made any movements in his lower body. He felt like an invalid.
He tried to joke about it or even flirt with the female staff- anything to feel normal- but it was hard to do that when you had tubes up your nose and your eyes were puffy. And not thinking super clear.
But truth was, behind all the pain and bravado and boredom was a sense of failure. Here he'd been brought onto Domovoi because of the power, because of the "advantage" that offered. And instead, he'd gone up against someone with REAL power. Someone with experience. Worse, someone who couldn't care less about the people he hurt in the cross fire. When he though about that, he felt his stomach churn. People were hurt because of him, because he couldn't stop him. And maybe even dead. People wouldn't be straight with him about that.
He knew Zoya was ok. At least there was that, for which he was profoundly glad. Still, it burned him, to know that he had failed. He wished he had asked Ascendancy to teach him about how to use the power. Having to wait until he felt tense or threatened meant that he couldn't practice. He tried to imagine how good a shot he'd be if he only could fire his gun when under duress. Not, was the answer. Just a big fat no.
So now, he lay in bed trying to call upon the power, tried to imagine how it felt when he seized it, tried to even sense it. Nothing. He tried, but it just wasn't happening. It was so frustrating. This was a problem. Like a big one. He couldn't go back to Domovoi until he could use the power at need.
So hour after hour, for as long as he could concentrate, he tried to somehow do it. After the first few days, he gave up on that. He decided to concentrate on what happened when he could sense the power, tried to remember exactly how he'd felt, and how he pulled at it. If he could make himself feel tense or scared, maybe that would do it.
But how do you scare yourself? He was just lying there. As much as he wanted to convince himself, he wasn't in an danger at that moment. It was so damn frustrating!! He tried elaborate scenarios- imagined situations where he needed to act- but they just made him mad. Still, it was something. Anger could lead to fear.
He wasn't super imaginative- and his brain was tired- but he kept at it, thinking of horrific scenes- people he loved in danger. He remembered those creatures down below when he was with Xena. Hour after hour, day after he day he tried, his fear of failing people pushing him when thought about giving up.
It wasn't working though. Sure, he'd had a few waking nightmares. He'd even sensed the power like the sun behind a cloud one time. But that was the extent of it. It was so damn frustrating!
But he wasn't gonna give up.