bakerstreet | Sensory deprivation meme

Sensory deprivation meme

the SENSORY DEPRIVATION meme:
You know those things you rely on to navigate you properly through life?
Senses? Yeah, well, kiss those goodbye.

(TRIGGER WARNING: This meme deals with the loss of senses:
blindness, inability to feel. If the concept of blindness, deafness
and/or the loss of any of your senses bothers you, please do NOT play this meme)

✖ Post with your character name/fandom/options for scenarios
(ie; het/slash fluff/smut) and your prompt.
✖ Use RNG to pick your numbers.
1-5 for regular senses, 6-10 for moral sense, 11-16 for cracky senses.

The Basic Five

1. Sense of Sight - Whether you woke up that way, had an accident, a brain tumor expanded or you had a bad reaction to something, you're now blind. Fully and completely. Watch out for that bu--*wince*

2. Sense of Smell - Did someone step in dog crap? It could be you, but you'd never know. You've lost your sense of smell. I guess there's no stopping by the roses for you, huh?

3. Sense of Hearing - "I'M NOT YELLING!!" Yes, yes you are. And no matter how loud you crank AC/DC, you're never hearing Highway to Hell again. Guess I shouldn't have gotten you the Stones compalition CD's, huh?

4. Sense of Taste - No, it doesn't taste like chicken. In fact, it doesn't taste like anything. Perfect time to get that friend that burns everything to cook for you - at least it'll make them happy and you can smile through the whole ordeal.

5. Sense of Touch - Where'd you get that bruise? Or that gaping knife wound? No clue. You have utterly lost the ability to feel anything, like your body is enveloped in fuzzy packing tape. Punch the wall all you want, you ain't gonna feel anything.

The Guiding Factors

6. Sense of Right and Wrong - Tripping people that get in your way? Taking candy from babies? Killing someone that hurt you and yours? All sound like pretty good ideas right about now. Your entire moral code has been thrown into the 'grey' area. There is no right or wrong, only what you want.

7. Sense of Decency - Things that just 'aren't done' are in play for you now. Evicting old ladies and orphans because they can't pay? Pff. Good. Lousy Mooching leeches. Hitting on that underage and naive little thing? Puh-leeze, they're an easy mark. Deflower, deport and debauch yourself to your heart's content.

8. Sense of Self - You don't even know who you are anymore. What are you doing with your life? What's it all mean? What the hell's it for? Why even bother to get up in the morning? Are you going to go try and 'find' yourself? Or just give up?

9. Sense of Preservation - Your life? Means about as much as a mouse fart. Why should you step out of the way of that speeding train? You were there first. Mouthing off to that huge, angry, overpumped steroid-faced goon sounds like a good idea too. He took your seat. And he smells.

10. Sense of Empathy - That ability that lets you put yourself in the shoes of others, to relate to them? Gone. No, you don't know what they're feeling, and quite frankly, you don't want to. You have your own things to deal with, and they're much more important. Why? Because they're yours.

The Quirky Ones

11. Sense of Humor - Wait, am I supposed to laugh now? You have to take your cue from those around you, laughing when they do, usually a little bit late and a little too long. Not even a fart joke will crack a smile.

12. Sense of Direction - You couldn't find your ass with both hands. Literally. You tried. And wound up getting thrown in the clink for inappropriate conduct with a nun. Don't drop the soa-- Too late.

13. Sense of Modesty - So what if you're using a belt as a skirt. It looks good, right? Bending over and showing off too much isn't an issue for you, neither is changing in the middle of the store if you just have to wear that cute little shirt now.

14. Sense of Fashion - Yes, you think a pink polka-dotted bikini top goes just smashingly with the neon green bellbottoms. Bubblewrap tops? Freakin' awesome. Put it on and flaunt it, and watch people's eyes bleed.

15. Sense of Timing - "What do you mean now's a bad time?" Yes, because you think trying to pick up a girl at her husband's funeral is a good thing. What? She's single. You're late to everything. A clock? Wassat? Strange, foreign words...

16. Mix and Match - You poor bastard, you've lost more than one sense. 2? 3? The whole lot? Who knows, that's up to you.

(reposted from memebells@lj, originally here)

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There's a long pause. Steve watches the hand Sharon is holding, unsure, then finally, there's a single, weak squeeze and a stutter from James's heart monitor.

Steve hesitates, unsure. He looks James in the face, waiting, then finally says, "He squeezed twice." He can't look at Sharon, afraid she'll see the lie on his face.

"Bullshit." She bites her lip for several seconds as she tries not to betray what she's feeling.

After a moment, she stands and gingerly settles down beside him, carefully wrapping his arm around her. She doesn't know if he'll take any comfort in it, but she wants to try. "I'll talk to the doctor about putting you under deeper until we're sure we can bring you out okay. We'll be here the whole time making sure you're safe." She reaches to intertwine their fingers. "That okay with you right now? Us putting you under as much as the doctor thinks is safe?"

Under deeper? What was deeper than a coma? But Steve doesn't have to lie when he says, "Two squeezes. I assume that means no." He looks over at her then down to James. "Do you want us to wake you up?"

But there's no response. "James? Are you still with us?" But James was still, his heartbeat back to the same steady pace. Steve waits a few more moments then finally says, "I don't think he's here anymore. He's not responding."

She clenches her jaw in an effort to keep her lower lip from trembling; it doesn't work.

What's wrong with her? She used to be so sure of everything. James or no James, she'd always known what to do. And then Salazar... And now she's second-guessing everything she does. James is relying on her. She can't keep screwing up.

She lifts her head to get a better look at Steve. "We'll let him wake up on his own," she says at last, trying to sound more decisive than she feels. "He's healing. Even the poison is no match for him. We'll let him heal on his own time."

"Meanwhile, I need to start working out again. He heals faster than I do, and I want to be ready for missions when he is." She's learned too much about how waiting sucks. "If there's somewhere really close by..." She wrinkles her nose as she remembers what Watson had said. "And I still need to get checked out." She rested her head against his shoulder. "Maybe after a quick nap..."

Steve nods. "Yeah. James's doctor should be in soon, he can check you out. Then you can get some sleep. And I'll see about a gym." But he doesn't think she's in any state to be trying to work out just yet. And it's not like James is going to suddenly hop out of bed and be ready to go on missions. He'll be weakened by weeks laying unmoving in a hospital bed and is going to need plenty of physical therapy. She's not nearly so far gone as James is going to end up being.

She's barely aware of his words. It's comfortable beside James, despite the heart monitor beeping. No... it's actually not so bad after a while. And the respirator. Sometimes they're more soothing than annoying.

She rouses herself to thank Steve, but soon, she's drifting off again.

Steve gently shakes Sharon awake about twenty minutes later, the doctor and one of his nurses already in the room. They had been talking while Sharon slept, but the doctor also had other things to do and couldn't wait for Sharon to wake up. "Hey, Sharon... The doctor's here to check you out."

She wakes up and rubs her eyes groggily. Her head aches a little, and she glances toward the hall, wondering how long it's been since she'd eaten last.

Carefully, she wriggles out from beneath James' arm and sits on the side of the bed, looking the doctor up and down, heedless of the crease marks from the sheets on her cheek.

"Shouldn't take long, doc. I'm fine. Just have to get the paper that says so." That's how it had better be, at least. She doesn't want to get slowed down by anything at this point. At worst, she figures she'll need to eat more, but that shouldn't be a problem. And that had better be the worst thing. After all, James is in a coma, poisoned. She can't take time and attention away from him when he needs it far more than she does.

"Well, it's going to be a bit more than just signing some papers. Director Watson also asked to have a psych eval done. That won't be able to happen for several days, on Thursday." He scooted forward on his chair and began to check Sharon over, occasionally pausing to make notes on his clipboard.

"We're going to get you on a more nutritional diet. I don't want you working out until you put more weight on. There'll be plenty of time for building up your muscle mass and training later." He stares at Sharon for a moment. "Understand, Agent? Your mission right now is to recover from what you've been through and to stay at your partner's side."

Sharon's heart plummets. A psych eval? Does Watson think she's been compromised? Sharon hadn't been a captive that long. She just needed some activity again-

But the doctor's next words ruin that hope, too. The rebellious part of her wonders if Steve had heard that, or if she can pretend the doctor hadn't said that. But no, she knows better.

She gives a slow, somewhat despondent nod. She'll do it, but only because he's a doctor and Watson will find out if she doesn't.

She wishes people would stop pretending she went through something harrowing, though. Especially when James is in a coma beside her. He was the one who'd been through hell; she'd just sat around.

"I know you think you haven't been through a lot, Sharon, but you were kept in near total isolation for weeks. That can take a toll on the mind, and with the stress you're under when it comes to James... Right now, you are making all the decisions for your partner, by his direct request. We want to make sure you're healthy enough for that task." The doctor looks at Sharon for a moment then over at Steve.

"I know it is hard for you, that all you want to do is train to make sure this never happens again. But right now, the most important thing is recovering and helping James recover as well."

Steve moves over to Sharon and reaches out to touch her shoulder. He squeezes gently then moves his hand in to rub her back a bit more firmly.

Right now, all Sharon really wants to do is curl into a ball and cry in frustration. Steve's hand on her shoulder, as comforting as it would usually be, doesn't help. It pushes her closer to the edge, and she inhales sharply to try and not embarrass herself. Emotions are seen by too many people as a sign of weakness. She doesn't want it getting back to Watson that she was overemotional or compromised or whatever else might happen to keep her off the job any longer than she already has been.

She forces herself to nod again. She doesn't trust her voice enough to speak yet.

Steve lets his hand slide off Sharon's shoulder and turns to the doctor. "Thanks, doctor." The doctor nods and leaves, the nurse at his side.

Steve sits on the edge of the bed and looks down at Sharon. "Do you want to be alone?" Steve's not stupid, he can see just how close Sharon is to tears. But he knows she's not about to cry in front of him. He's not sure she'll cry in front of a comatose James, either, to be honest.

She grips the sheets on the bed, forcing herself to get herself under control. Nothing seems to be working today. Nothing is going right. She might be free, finally, but somehow, everything's only gotten worse since getting to the hospital.

She wishes James could wake up. She'd feel better if he'd just wake up and be all right again.

"I'm fine," she lies. She doesn't know if it sounds believable; she's not the best liar. But she also doesn't care right now. "I just need food."

She can't work out until she gains some weight. So she'll gain some weight.

Steve sighs a little, "I'll go see what I can't find for you." He knows she's lying, but can also guess why she's lying. He gets up and leaves the room, pulling shut the door behind him, so it was just Sharon and James, who was back to being still and comatose in his bed.

She doesn't move for several seconds after he leaves. When she finally does move, it's just her hand. It finds James' hand and holds on tightly. It's still enough that it feels foreign in many ways, but it's still his hand, and it's comforting.

They can't kick her out of the CIA for one failed mission, she reasons. And besides, they hadn't failed. They'd just needed to call in all the Avengers for backup. No, she has no reason to think they're going to remove her. James is their best agent, and she-

She was... She wasn't a bad agent. Sparring with James and others had helped. Her skills were-

They just weren't on par with his.

Her thumb rubs his hand. Is Watson right to order the psych eval? Might Sharon have been compromised somehow? On the one hand, she knows it's normal. She's heard about it happening before. But it's never been her. Sharon has never been the captive for so long before, utterly alone, second-guessing every decision she'd made, helpless to know what was going on outside.

No, the psych eval is the right move. She understands that. But what will it cost her?

She turns her face to watch him sleep. Maybe if he were awake, she'd talk about what she's thinking. But to do it when he can't answer back... She can't do that to him.

Three weeks later and James is finally able to breathe on his own. They won't know if he'll be able to move until he wakes, but his body is reacting reflexively, which is a good sign that the poison is beaten enough. There's still no cure for the poison, but at this point there might not need to be one.

James is woken up from his coma but doesn't react much at all at first. He continues to sleep for several more hours then finally lets out a deep sigh and his eyelids flutter. He looks around, breathing in cold oxygen, his eyes just barely open. There's no real comprehension in his eyes just yet, he's mostly still asleep. But then his gaze lands on Sharon and he heaves out another sigh, lips curling into a tiny, tired smile.

"Asshole," she whispers. Her eyes water, and she clamps a hand over her mouth before she can cry in relief. She's been waiting for him to wake up for so damn long, waited for him to be all right for so long.

She finally settles on dropping her face against his chest. "You had me so damn worried, you asshole." She gives his hand the lightest of slaps and sniffles. It's barely a second later that her hand is tightly holding his again. "If you fucking die now, I'll kill you."

James finds a chuckle coming out of him - though it turns into a cough halfway through. His lungs spasm weakly - his lung capacity is nowhere near back to full again and they definitely are only mostly working. "'m not gonna die, Sharon..." He stares at her for a moment, eyes opening a little wider. "'m cold, you should give me another blanket before I really do die this time."

"Don't joke," she murmers, quickly getting up to find another blanket. "I get to joke, because I've been worried the past several weeks because of you. You don't get to joke because you were the one worrying me." She flings a blanket over him and quickly tucks him in. She grabs the cup of water with the straw and carefully sets the straw to his lips.

"Can you really see, or are you just pretending again?"

"Still can't see." He hadn't thought he was pretending like he could see. But then he also hadn't been thinking about the fact that he was still blind. He drinks the water she offers, though, trying to go slow so he doesn't cough again.

"How long have I... been out?" He lays back in bed - his body is sore and still largely unresponsive, but he can wiggle his fingers and toes, which is a relief. He's less worried about his sight and more worried about his autonomy. And more than he's worried about his ability to move, he's worried about Sharon. "How long did Salazar have you?"

"Not long. Just about a month. You've been out about three weeks since I got back." She sets the water on the bedside table and reaches out a hand to stroke his cheek. "Gave you another shave once you went off the ventilator." She's tempted to hug him, maybe kiss his cheek under the guise of showing him how smooth it is, but something holds her back. That doesn't mean she can bring herself to stop stroking his cheek, though. "And your hair's shorter. I can't say it looks like you want it to, since I don't usually cut people's hair, but it's shorter." It looks reasonably close to before, but not an exact match.

"How much do you remember? From when you were under?"

She doesn't let herself be alarmed by his inability to see. He's been improving for so long, she's sure he'll continue to do so, if slowly.

He leans into her hand, sighing a little in relief. "Not very much... I think I dreamed that Steve came in and told me you were..." He hesitates, swallows hard, "He came in and told me you were dead, but... I think that was a nightmare, unless this is a dream and I'm still under."

He doesn't want to tell Sharon about all the things he had felt and heard while he was under, his body unable to react at all. But if this is a dream... the nightmares after this will just be so much worse.

She cups his cheek when he leans into her hand, smiling softly. The smile falls when he talks about his dream.

"I'm really here. Not a dream." She swallows thickly. "I'm pretty tough to kill. Carters are stubborn that way." She hesitates. "Want me to lie down if it'll help convince you?"

James blinks his unseeing eyes. "Please?" He lifts one arm as much as he can (which admittedly isn't very much) but he really wants to feel her pressed up against him. He doesn't think his mind can fake that - up until now, the Sharon and Steve in his nightmares haven't touched him because it would have broken the illusion. But Sharon's touching his cheek now, and it feels like a hand against his skin and not anything else.

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Mother ducker ate my reply!

augh i hate it when that happens!

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