[ the bullet should have killed him, they say. it's a miracle, they say. you're lucky to be alive, mr. thawne. ]
[ luck, he thinks, probably doesn't have anything to do with it. that bullet should have killed him, he needed it to, for barry and iris and joe -- for everyone. the world. he should be dead, but he isn't, and he isn't sure what that means. he isn't sure how he feels. upset, in some morbid way, that it didn't work. that eobard is still alive because eddie is. angry, in another way, that he's in this hospital bed because they couldn't let him go. resentful, because the staff think he's suicidal and feel like they need to walk on eggshells around him. ]
[ is he suicidal? the way he thinks about his own death and with shocking frequency, he has to wonder if he is. but it isn't because he wants to die, or wants to escape from anything -- he just wants to make absolutely certain eobard won't be a threat to the people he loves, and if that certainty comes with the certainty of his death, he's already made his peace with that. ]
[ only to have that peace ripped away, replaced instead with the sterile hollowness of the hospital room he's currently confined to. general hospital plays softly on the tv that he isn't paying much attention to, even though his nurse had changed the channel specifically because she heard he enjoys soap operas. general hospital might be a little too on the nose. the beeping of his heartrate monitor scores the soundtrack of his life. ]
[ joe and iris had been in earlier to update him on how things are going at the precinct, how everyone sends their well-wishes for a speedy recovery. speedy, he thinks, is an ironic choice of words. ]
[ he hasn't seen barry since the surgery a few days ago, wonders dryly if he's too busy being the flash to drop in. he hates what this hospital is doing to him, giving him too much time with his thoughts and not enough time with other people to balance it out. he can't start to put the life he shouldn't have back together when he's being constantly monitored like this. barry could probably break him out, if he asked. ]
[ barry ... ]
[ he closes his eyes, listens to the steady reminder of his lifeline, and pushes away all his other thoughts for the one that means the most: a kiss, tentative and secret, with a whisper of i'll find you when everything changes. barry may not have ultimately changed the world, but he changed them. and isn't that what eddie was trying to protect? can he still? ]
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trashfm2016-07-29 01:55 am
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[ luck, he thinks, probably doesn't have anything to do with it. that bullet should have killed him, he needed it to, for barry and iris and joe -- for everyone. the world. he should be dead, but he isn't, and he isn't sure what that means. he isn't sure how he feels. upset, in some morbid way, that it didn't work. that eobard is still alive because eddie is. angry, in another way, that he's in this hospital bed because they couldn't let him go. resentful, because the staff think he's suicidal and feel like they need to walk on eggshells around him. ]
[ is he suicidal? the way he thinks about his own death and with shocking frequency, he has to wonder if he is. but it isn't because he wants to die, or wants to escape from anything -- he just wants to make absolutely certain eobard won't be a threat to the people he loves, and if that certainty comes with the certainty of his death, he's already made his peace with that. ]
[ only to have that peace ripped away, replaced instead with the sterile hollowness of the hospital room he's currently confined to. general hospital plays softly on the tv that he isn't paying much attention to, even though his nurse had changed the channel specifically because she heard he enjoys soap operas. general hospital might be a little too on the nose. the beeping of his heartrate monitor scores the soundtrack of his life. ]
[ joe and iris had been in earlier to update him on how things are going at the precinct, how everyone sends their well-wishes for a speedy recovery. speedy, he thinks, is an ironic choice of words. ]
[ he hasn't seen barry since the surgery a few days ago, wonders dryly if he's too busy being the flash to drop in. he hates what this hospital is doing to him, giving him too much time with his thoughts and not enough time with other people to balance it out. he can't start to put the life he shouldn't have back together when he's being constantly monitored like this. barry could probably break him out, if he asked. ]
[ barry ... ]
[ he closes his eyes, listens to the steady reminder of his lifeline, and pushes away all his other thoughts for the one that means the most: a kiss, tentative and secret, with a whisper of i'll find you when everything changes. barry may not have ultimately changed the world, but he changed them. and isn't that what eddie was trying to protect? can he still? ]