Erik Lehnsherr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
morethanhuman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
all_inclusive2013-11-18 01:35 pm
morethanhuman) wrote in all_inclusive2013-11-18 01:35 pm
(no subject)
The past few nights, Erik had been sleeping like the dead. The Proserpina was a wreck-- the lower floors waterlogged and ruined, the electricity still unreliable in the places it worked at all, and everywhere the signs of the battles they'd fought. The jagged tears in walls and floors from the Lickers' claws, the places where he and Molly had ripped entire bulkheads away in their flight from the giant centipede, corrosion from the xenomorphs' acid spit, imprints of the Hulk's fists decorating the halls everywhere he looked-- and as the only one with the ability to do it, he'd been repairing it all.
Erik didn't know which was worse-- not knowing when the serum would wear off and his powers would start to drain again, or that he was spending the time until then using his power in the most mundane way imaginable.
When his alarm went off at six, instead of immediately getting up and dressing for his morning run, he lay in bed for a while, a luxury he almost never allowed himself. It barely felt like a luxury-- he was sore all over, his bruises barely finished appearing, let alone fading, and the thought of spending another morning with Rogers or Thor hovering over his shoulder while he worked was unappealing enough to make him consider rolling back into his blankets and not coming out until tomorrow.
In the end, though, Erik wasn't sure he knew how to spend a whole day alone in bed unless he was actually sick. He dragged himself upright, grateful there were no witnesses to his lethargy, and poured himself into the shower to attempt to face the day.
It was still barely seven when he started on his second cup of terrible replicator coffee and texted Rogers. Where should I meet you? Intending to start walking toward the lift while he waited for an answer, he grabbed a sweater and headed out the door.
After a year and change on board the station, and especially in light of the last two weeks, Erik thought himself impervious to surprises. And yet, when he stepped through his doorway into a lush conservatory instead of the familiar metal and fluorescent hallway, he couldn't deny he was surprised. He hadn't been aware of the transporter engaging the way it had in the past; was this a trick of the station's? And if not, who else could it be, and what did they want with him?
As if in response to his silent question, there was movement behind one of the ferns, and Erik realized he wasn't alone in the room.
Erik didn't know which was worse-- not knowing when the serum would wear off and his powers would start to drain again, or that he was spending the time until then using his power in the most mundane way imaginable.
When his alarm went off at six, instead of immediately getting up and dressing for his morning run, he lay in bed for a while, a luxury he almost never allowed himself. It barely felt like a luxury-- he was sore all over, his bruises barely finished appearing, let alone fading, and the thought of spending another morning with Rogers or Thor hovering over his shoulder while he worked was unappealing enough to make him consider rolling back into his blankets and not coming out until tomorrow.
In the end, though, Erik wasn't sure he knew how to spend a whole day alone in bed unless he was actually sick. He dragged himself upright, grateful there were no witnesses to his lethargy, and poured himself into the shower to attempt to face the day.
It was still barely seven when he started on his second cup of terrible replicator coffee and texted Rogers. Where should I meet you? Intending to start walking toward the lift while he waited for an answer, he grabbed a sweater and headed out the door.
After a year and change on board the station, and especially in light of the last two weeks, Erik thought himself impervious to surprises. And yet, when he stepped through his doorway into a lush conservatory instead of the familiar metal and fluorescent hallway, he couldn't deny he was surprised. He hadn't been aware of the transporter engaging the way it had in the past; was this a trick of the station's? And if not, who else could it be, and what did they want with him?
As if in response to his silent question, there was movement behind one of the ferns, and Erik realized he wasn't alone in the room.