A Hospital

Gallus regained consciousness slowly, and for a long time could not differentiate between his own dreams and reality. He had nightmares; terrifying nightmares of Grotto pummeling him, of him being homeless, of him being thrown out into the void of space. His heart raced and his throat closed, but still he could not wake up. He was trapped in a mental prison, tortured for what felt like eternity.

But eventually, he felt the real world slip back into focus. The bright lights of the hospital, the starchy feeling of the hospital sheets, the tightness of the IV cuff around his forearm; all these sensations grounded him back into the waking world. Strangely enough, he felt very little pain, despite the very fresh memory of the beating he had received.

He turned his head lazily to the left, and read the display on the IV machine. He was receiving pain medication, and lots of it. He knew he was in for a world of hurt the second he was off the drip, but for now he had bigger issues to sort out. Memories from the last few days began to lazily return to him, and he got more and more anxious as he realized the situation he was in.

Did Rachel know he was in the hospital? What was Donald doing with all the data Gallus had sent him? Did they capture Donald too? Were the police coming for him? In his haste and fear he tried to sit up, but found this his worst fears were confirmed. His legs were restrained to the bed, and his hands were cuffed to the bars with foot long plastic ropes, keeping him from punching or pulling on people.

He struggled against them for a brief moment, but realizing the futility of such an action, he simply sighed and settled into his bed. Some time passed, and a doctor came in to visit. Gallus sputtered out a series of incoherent questions, and the doctor patiently waited for Gallus to stop stammering. She looked down at her chart for a moment, and then back to Gallus. "You're lucky your boss brought you in here considering you stalked and attacked him."

"What.... no. That's not it." Gallus felt tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He needed someone, anyone, to believe him. "I'm just a doctor, I'm not here to judge. I'm glad you're awake though, even though none of your injuries were life-threatening, you were out for quite a while. A few of your ribs are bruised and you took quite the blow to your head as well. Oh, and your wrist is broken, too." "Am I under arrest?" Gallus asked, cringing in anticipation.

The doctor laughed. "No." She said. "Not yet, at least. Your trial's in a few weeks, and you have to wear a tracker, but you're free for now." "Why am I changed up then?" "Well," the doctor said. "We need to give you a psychiatric evaluation before we remove your restraints, as we were told you may be experiencing psychotic symptoms." Gallus sighed. "Fine. Hit me."

The doctor asked him a series of questions about how he was feeling and what he was thinking. He reassured her up and down that he was not hearing or seeing things that other people could not, and that he had no thoughts of violence towards himself or others. After hearing his pleas, and observing his body language for a time, the doctor relented.

"Alright." She said. "In a perfect world, I'd hold you for longer, but we need to free up beds whenever we can, so I'll go sign the paperwork for your release. I'm also going to prescribe you some pain medication, because you're not going to be very happy when the nurse takes you off that IV." "Thanks." Gallus mumbled.

The doctor unchained him from his bed, and he went to reception to check-out. He went to open the screen on his wrist device, but instead found he was just poking a cast instead. The receptionist past him several small containers of pills. "These should help with the pain and encourage bone repair. You'll be good as new in a few weeks." "Thanks." Gallus mumbled, sliding the containers into his jacket. "You will need someone to accompany you back though. Hospital policy."

"Why?" Gallus asked. "I'm more than well enough to climb into a pod." The receptionist nodded. "It seems that way." He said. "But rules are rules. Do you have an emergency contact on the books?" Gallus rubbed his chin with his good hand. "I don't think so. I don't end up in the hospital very often." The receptionist seemed impatient and annoyed at the length of their interaction, and responded with bureaucratic curtness. "Swipe your watch and call someone then."

"Actually," Gallus said. "My Wrist-Pal got broken a few days ago, can I send a message to someone through the hospital network?" As soon as the words left his mouth he felt a strong grip on his shoulder. "No need." Donald said, turning Gallus around to face him. "I'm here to pick you up. And I even got you this." He pressed another Wrist-Pal into Gallus' hand. The make and model were different from what he was used to, but he didn't question such a generous gift.

"Umm thanks. So how are things going, are you..." Donald frowned. "We'll have time to catch up. Message me over Q-Net later. It's safe enough, from that device. I think there's someone at home who's probably worried sick about you anyway." Gallus rubbed his neck nervously. "Yeah... do you think she'll believe me?" Donald shrugged. "I hope so, but either way, you have to face her." Gallus nodded solemnly.

"Okey doke. Take me home then." Gallus walked out ahead of Donald, going as fast as his hurt side would allow. Gallus hailed a pod and they waited outside, the temperature cold but not frigid. There was no wind, which was a blessing given the brisk weather and the general dustiness of the planet. Donald turned to look over his shoulder, and once he was sure the hospital staff were out of earshot, he began to speak.

"We're kind of fucked." He said bluntly. Gallus sighed. "I figured. Apparently I'm on trial for assault." "Yeah." Donald breathed. "Me too."