2013-03-01 Tender Loving Care

Fern asked One to get a bed. Ask and ye shall receive. It's anyone's guess as to how he got a California king-sized mattress and all the accoutrements moved into his apartment in his condition. In the middle of the night, no less. It's been set up in the center of the living area and One is spread out on it, propped up into a half-sitting position on a pile of pillows.

He can't sleep. He wants to sleep. He needs to sleep. He can't, though. Too many thoughts and images flash around behind his eyelids every times he closes them.

He provided his own medical care after Selina got him back here. From the tops of his thighs to the lower half of his face, he's almost completely swaddled in gauze and bandages. There's no signs of blood or spotting, which is good. He's hooked up to an IV unit with multiple bags dumping into a central line. Fluids, nutrients, painkillers, plasma. Even a sedative.

Still, he can't sleep. And if he can't sleep, he can't heal properly. So he lays there, staring at the ceiling, occasionally scribbling on a notepad with a pen clutched in his one good hand. The other arm is mummified in bandages and seems to be immobile.

Fern was at the mall, making a new friend, when she finally realized her phone was off and turned it on. Immediately it buzzed, showing her twelve of the same message.

''F, Trouble. Don't trust anyone who looks like me. Need to see you. You know where to find me. ~1''

As if it starting with 'trouble' wasn't enough to get her attention, the next line is both puzzling and startling. She parted ways with Jubilee hastily, paying for her purchase (and breaking her budget beyond belief) before dashing out. Since the mall isn't that far and it would likely take longer even if she decided to splurge on a cab, Fern practically jogs the whole way to One's apartment, vaulting up the stairs, arriving outside his door out of breath. She knocks quickly but doesn't wait, cracking the door open to disengage the shotgun as he taught her.

Before she's even inside, the first thing she sees is the bed. The second is the man on the bed. "One!" There's panic in her voice, she drops the bag from the mall, but dutifully re-engages his safety measure quickly before scooting over to the bed. Wide blue eyes try to take in everything at once, nearly overloading her brain in the process, and she hesitates, muting her instinct to throw her arms around him. Instead she drops at his side, whispering, "Baby, what happened?" Even the soft words hold anguish.

CLICK. One draws back the hammer on his Webley as soon as he hears footsteps in the hall. When Fern shows herself, he lets out a sigh and lowers his weapon. "I don't even know where to start, honestly," he says. His voice is raspy and pained, but he seems coherent. He reaches out and touches her cheek with his unbandaged hand. "God, it's good to see you."

He squeezes his eyes shut and thinks. It feels like all this started decades ago. "I have an apartment in Queens. I did, anyway. Some people found me and chased me all over town. My family... I got into a fight with one of the other clones. Someone like me."

There is a moment as Fern closes her eyes at the familiar touch, and when they open again there are tears in them. "I'm so sorry it took me so long." She holds them at bay, taking One's hand, bringing it to her lips and kissing it as he speaks. 'Other clones.' Well, that at least explains 'don't trust anyone who looks like me', although that fact isn't exactly comforting.

"There are more like you?" she questions, trying to line up everything to make sense. Her voice is soft and tender, holding her panic still, but tempered to show One as little of it as she can manage. Her other hand comes up, thumb softly stroking his forehead as she tries to keep her eyes on his and not look at the rest of the damage again yet. He's talking. He's alive. She keeps telling herself that to try and quell her panic. It's not really working yet.

He moves slowly, but One stretches his arm out to enfold Fern in a hug. "It's okay," he promises, nuzzling against her hair and breathing her in. "I'm going to be okay."

Several seconds pass while he clings to her, soaking up her warmth and her wholesome presence. It helps him return to some semblance of normalcy. He takes another breath, holds it, then lets it out slowly. "There are," he admits. "I don't even know how many anymore. There were nine of us at first. I thought the rest of them had died, but I was wrong. And I think someone has been making more."

Fern moves as One's arm reaches out, letting go of his hand to half-lay next to him. She's so careful to not press on the bandages, tipping her head down next to his, her face tilted away enough so he won't see the tears that fall for those seconds. The only other outward sign of her distress she allows... can't help... is a shudder that courses through her.

When he speaks again she turns her head to lightly nuzzle at his temple, placing a kiss. "Why would someone do that? Why would they do this to you?" She makes the mistake of letting her eyes drift, moaning with the pain the sight of his battered body brings to her, "Why would they do this to you?"

The answer isn't pleasing, nor is it something One is proud of. "To them, I'm not a person. I'm a thing. Property to be reclaimed. A defective model that needs to be recalled."

His voice is hollow. Empty. He gives Fern a gentle squeeze and nestles her against a body that's still very tender. Though his half-sealed wounds are sensitive, right now human contact seems far more important. "I don't think they're going to stop," he speculates. "Not after what I saw last night. They're... very determined. It's going to be dangerous to be around me."

Fern gets as close as she dares, trying not to press even as he brings her closer, shifting so one hand can settle on his forehead again, stroking one of the few undamaged parts that she can see. "You're not a thing," she whispers, her belief of that statement clear. His last words bring her pause, her heart stopping for a moment with what they might mean. Her head shakes, "I don't care. I won't not be around you." She might be small and 'normal', but she's stubborn and willful.

Clone he may be, but One is still only human. Fern's words bring a sigh of relief from him. "I was really hoping you'd say that," he admits. His fingers twine through her hair and drag against her scalp affectionately. "I thought about trying to send you away. Because it would be safer," he quickly amends. "But I couldn't do it. I need something that's safe and good to remind me that all this is worth it. I need you."

Soft fingers stroke soothing along One's brow, and Fern's blue eyes gaze into his, slightly red from her tears, cheeks not quite dry yet. "It would break my heart if you sent me away," she whispers. She's quick to add, "I can be useful. You can teach me things." Her eyes shift away, taking in the IV bags before returning. "I can help you."

Despite the situation, Fern is always the one to try and find something to smile about and, while it's weak, her lips do curve. "It's pretty obvious you need me. Look what a mess you get into when I'm not around." If she doesn't find a way to smile, she'll break down with the tears she's keeping back.

"Oh." One whispers, his eyes widening slightly as if he's reached some realization. "Oh..."

She feels the same as he does.

"I do need you. And you already help me" he says, his voice gruff and thick with emotion as he leans gratefully into her touch. "You're helping me right now. Right now, nobody else could do what you're doing."

A fingertip brushes the trail of a tear from Fern's cheek. One smiles up at her. "You make me feel like a real boy, not Pinocchio. Can I keep you? Please?"

His words draw fresh tears, and Fern leans to press a soft kiss on his forehead before straightening again. She catches his hand after the touch, bringing it to press to the center of her chest as she says, "You are as real as I am." Her heart is thumping beneath his hand, still racing from her fear at seeing him so hurt. His questions draw a soft laugh, which ends up in a hiccup and a hard swallow, head nodding. "You're stuck with me, Doc."

"Good," is One's soft reply. "Good."

Now, for the first time since the attacks began, he relaxes. The lines smooth away from his brow and the corners of his mouth. His muscles unclench. His heartbeat steadies and slows, a counterpoint to Fern's excited thump-thumps. "I'm going to be okay," he promises, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes over at her fondly. "I just need rest. And food. And water. Lots of those."

The change in One is visible, and it brings a measure of ease to Fern as well. This time she believes him when he says he's going to be okay. "I'll bring you whatever you need, love," she promises, taking his hand again to kiss before she moves to get what he needs. Everything she knows he likes best, to start with, and as much water as he needs.

It seems like he's eaten almost everything in the house and drank gallons of water before he finally nods off to sleep. Fern sighs softly, looking at his face, her eyes roaming over the bandages, just taking it all in again. She'll need to get more food, but there's something she has to do before she can stand to be around other people.

Making sure One's as comfortable as she can make him, Fern retreats to the bathroom, turns on the taps, and finally faces the emotions she's kept repressed, letting the tears come.