bakerstreet | Healing the Broken

Healing the Broken

healing the broken meme
a shipping meme

The events of many canons have left its characters ravaged, unable to be the whole people they once were. They can never go back to the innocence they had before. However, they can find someone who can pull you back from the brink. Some say love can conquer all ills and cure all broken people - the jury is still out on that, but enough people subscribe to the notion that it may have some merit. With the right affection behind it, can it be the elixir to heal traumas or mend angst? For this meme, it can be. No matter what your what your problem is, from daddy issues to being mind controlled to hating all humans or being just a jerk, all you need is healing from the right person.

All in all? This is a shameless meme playing with the idea of "cured by love." Love it or hate it, it's prevalent in fiction, both fan and published. And sometimes, no lie, you just want to play it and not be judge for the pure shlock you know it to be. Here is the place; now is the time. However, you don't have to go for unrealistic escapism. One partner trying to help the other through trauma is not an easy task, and there are bound to be setbacks, resistance, and hurt feelings. And what if BOTH partners are a little bit broken? Can they survive together, or will they bring each other down?

how to play
- Comment with your character and preferences. Feel free to talk about your character's problems. You might also want to mention if your character is the one who needs to be healed or can do the healing. Or perhaps you and your thread partner can play two roughed up characters learning to trust again!
- Reply to others.

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Jim made various whimpering noises of discomfort and twitched in a tighter ball when the bedding was peeled away. Then a louder wail and more violent twitch when a needle jabbed him. Then when he was rolled over Jim's protests became more coherent. "Gimme th' blanket back!" Pale to an unhealthy degree and covered with goosebumps, Jim was overwhelmed by chills though his fever was at full strength.

Tossed both terry robes over Jim to keep him warm, put a pair of socks on him, tossed on the blanket that wasn't wet, and continued working.

When the bedding arrived, he ordered new pillows and blankets to replace what was soaked. While those were fetched, declining assistance, Jack worked on remaking the bed. Had to roll Jim back to his side after the fitted sheet was on that side, after placing another pair of thick towels down to soak up moisture, and immediately covered the sick man back up again. Decided after this 'fun' was done, they were both going to have a bath. Damn, he needed a drink. The fresh clean (and dry!) blankets and pillows arrived and he slipped a generous tip to the man along with their personal laundry.

Turned on the water before going to wrestle with and be 'kicked' or 'slapped' by Jim as he was drug into the bathroom. The grin Jack was wearing was more gritting his teeth than anything else.

Edited 2017-07-15 21:19 (UTC)

There was no kicking and slapping, or struggling of any kind. Jim held on weakly and tucked himself against Jack's body to make the process slightly easier. The entire world was wavering as if seen through currents of heated air wisping up from scorching dry landscapes.

His voice was quiet and more hollow sounding than strained. "Jack? ...I think I'm sick."

"Yeah. You are."

Sat Jim on the bench still wrapped in the robes that they would need later and, holding onto him, carefully dropped his own jeans, kicking them closer to the tub in case he had to act defensively. Hoped he didn't have to, but always tried not to be unprepared.

"Let's wash off that sweat and you can float on me for a while, Love."
I've got your back, Jim.

Was glad that he thought to bring in the tray with the filled tea kettle to rehydrate the pair of them while at a pause in the bedding replacement. Somebody's noggin had been thinking. The usual fever reducers and stomach buffers were there too, what Jim had been needing since they arrived.

Jim wanted to point out that the sweat was long gone now, had left with the laundry, and didn't somehow accumulate in thick layers on his skin. No, actually, he didn't want to point that out. He wanted nothing to do with pointing things out. Mostly he wanted to sleep. For at least a month. That wouldn't really work, but a nice solid week should take the edge off.

"Okay." Jim had acclimated to the various sensations of being held by Jack, shoved around, feeling gravity tip abruptly every which way, and having various coverings draped on him and then removed. Touching the water was new, though. Water levels rising abruptly, they were both in imminent danger of being eaten by various ocean life or simply drowning.

Jim tried pulling himself further up Jack's body, towards his shoulders, to keep his head above water. "Jack! We're sinking!"

"Just a bath," wading in and shifting the pair of them to sit and lie back. "There you go, put your head on my shoulder," stretching out one arm to support Jim's head well above the surface. The other was left free to either hold him or reach for tea, soap, or a revolver or whatever was necessary. "When you're back in that head of yours let me know. Until then ol'Jack's got you."

Kept a hold of his favourite evil genius (for a better tomorrow, his mind tacked on out of habit). The water was not too hot and not cold either. Shocking someone out of a fever wasn't recommended, but a tepid bath that wouldn't cause shivers would be fine. In here, the AC wasn't blowing, so it was a perfect temperature.

The water stopped rising when it was still low enough that it wouldn't cause problems. The wobbly tension that had built up in Jim's escape attempt slowly vanished, leaving him flopped against Jack in a way that was practically melted over him. When he spoke it was with a sense of wonder and relief.

"You fixed it, Jack... You saved us. You can fix anything..." Even though Jack's skin felt unusually cool it was so very comfortable and familiar that Jim couldn't help drifting off into an exhausted, restless sleep. The sea monsters would have to get through Jack first. They'd be better off against a concrete wall. The wall wouldn't fight back.

Cheek quirked, despite his worry. "Mhrm-hrm," happy to be Jim's landing pad.

Kicked off a plane with a parachute, not only would he land neatly, but the deserted island would soon have a Swiss Family Robinson running water and a bamboo drawbridge. Wouldn't have imported fare like pancakes or Spam, but there would be plenty of grilled land and sea critters and baked whatever fruit he could bring down.

Occasionally, as Jim slept, the water was reheated or let out, never letting it get too high.

When Jim did wake up it was slow and sluggish, but noticeably more coherent. He still had a fever but it had gone down quite a bit in the water. He blinked at Jack's shoulder. "How long have we been in the bath?"

Eyes were closed, but Jack was utterly alert and knew without consulting any watch, exactly how much time had passed. "Four hours and a half hours. Would you like some more tea?" More. As in, you've had some already since we started soaking. "Your toes are raisins and the complaint was noted and discarded two hours ago." Expected to go through it again in an hour.

The water felt good. Much better than the heat outside and it was warmer than the air temperature out in the main room.

So they would remain in the bath water indefinitely? While there were pleasant aspects to the idea it really wouldn't work in the long term. Or in the immediate future.

"I'm going to throw up." Not I feel like I'm going to, not I feel queasy. This was more like a fifteen-second warning.

They were up and out of the water in one smooth motion before Jack's eyes completely opened. His feet hit the bath mat, Jim still in his arms and the nearby privacy door to the WC was thrown open. The lid and seat were flipped up as Jim was deposited in front of the porcelain goddess, right where he needed to be.

At least it wasn't the medication being heaved up. That would have pushed back the potential cure.

Unfortunately, it also was a good indicator of them not being able to take the train tomorrow.
Bugger

Jack really was that good. The thought made Jim smile even as he offered up to the altar of the porcelain goddess all of the juice, naan, and tea he'd consumed that day.

At least it got him out of the raisin-toe bathtub? His hands were seriously shriveled as well.

Eventually, he made it to dry heaving, then his stomach finally quieted. Resting his forehead on the (thankfully immaculate) cold rim of the toilet, he took a minute to catch his breath.

A damp washcloth reached under Jim's arm to wipe his face and a large bath-sheet was draped over his shoulders. "Better?" a question that didn't require a real answer.

Jack knelt next to him, offering a glass of water to rinse and spit to get the flavour out of his foul tasting mouth. "Swish. Then I'll get your toothbrush ready."

It took several long seconds for Jim to figure out what the glass was supposed to be for. Then it took several more seconds for him to reach for it and rinse out his mouth. It took all the rest of his energy to spit it out in the commode. Then he tilted wearily in Jack's direction.

"...Jack?"

The nearby wet washcloth was folded to keep the scent of sick out of Jim's nostrils and the dribbles were blotted away.

"James."
What may I do for you?

His fingers slid around the cool glass, taking it before it slipped from the sick man's grasp and dropped to shatter on the tile. Could plainly see the fatigue. Wanted to gather him up and chase off the illness, as if that were possible.

There was something that Jim had been trying to say, but he forgot what it was. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, tried to remember what it was, but the peaceful soft charcoal black of the inside of his eyelids swept his mind away from the land of the living.

Skin yellow and waxy now, Jim slowly slumped over unconscious against Jack.

Fear in a heartbeat, fear of being left, the same that had been with him right before this journey and their new life began. Supposed that single instant of realization and near panic before a cooler head kicked in could never be completely trained out of a man. Had watched it too many times in himself and other soldiers.

Jaundice. Liver failure. Medical care was necessary, except they were more than a little hampered by restrictions. Allergic reaction? Too much fever causing the loss of consciousness.

So much for fixing everything.

Right. What now?

Vomiting meant stopping the medication. He remembered that much. And it meant that something else would have to be tried. That didn't help the immediate issue, however.

Monitoring James' breathing, the phone that he had questioned why it was placed in the bathroom - turned out it was for slip and falls and other traumatic events - was picked up. Directed the front desk to locate the doctor he had spoken with at the clinic and get them on the phone. That might technically be breaking the rules, but he hoped not.

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Healing the Broken

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