lifetothefullest | [IC Inbox]

don't think anyone here really is

[He's trying brutal honest. It seems to be working a little better of late.]

wanna met somewhere? think i can explain it better if i talk it out

Sure. Is there somewhere you'd prefer?

my place is still standing
even got some coffee left if you want

[Lance absolutely should not have coffee with his current physical and mental state, but he is also absolutely not going to say that.]

That would be great. Would you like to meet now?

sure

[Drake's out for the moment, so why not? And now Ephemera has something to focus on while he waits - the coffee, mainly. He doesn't really want to have this conversation, but it's important. So he'll suck it up and deal.]

Okay. I'll be there shortly.

[And as promised, he shows up a little while later and knocks on the door; he probably doesn't look too great, pale and a thinner than he was, but at least the bruise on his face is totally gone thanks to a helpful healing spell.]

[For his part, Ephemera looks better than when they last spoke. He's been sleeping even if he's not completely well rested, and a lot of the tension is gone from his shoulders. He has nightmares more often than not, but they pass, and Drake is still alive.

Drake is going to be all right. That's enough. Everything else can be approached systematically. One thing at a time.

Like this.

He opens the door dressed in civvies, motioning Sweets inside.]

Hey, Doc.

[The doc doesn't look all that great, to be honest.]

Shit. You're in rough shape.

Hey.

[It's good to see Ephemera looking better, at least, and Lance offers a small smile of greeting as he steps inside even though he does his best to brush off the concern.]

I'm okay, just kind of a bad month.

[And he is doing better than he had been, at least. But, in order to continue deflecting and also get to the main point--]

What's going on? You said it had to do with your implant?

Ain't that the truth.

[He hums to himself, heading back into the kitchen.]

Yeah. Kinda. I've got sugar, if you want. For the coffee.

[It's an obvious stall, but Ephemera thinks maybe Sweets will allow it just this once.]

[It is indeed obvious, but Ephemera is right in that Lance allows it for now; he expects they'll get to the topic in a bit, so it's okay if it isn't right away.]

Sugar would be great, thank you.

[He follows Ephemera toward the kitchen, allowing himself to be temporarily distracted by coffee.]

[Coffee goes in the mugs, sugar goes in the coffee. Ephemera never took much comfort in routines, but this gives him something to do. Time to collect his thoughts and figure out what the hell he's supposed to say.

He hands Sweets the mug.]

Haven't got anything else.

[No cream or anything. That stuff doesn't keep.

He holds his mug for a moment. Exhales.]

Right. The Null got in my head and that was fucked up, but my implants have been bad for a while. So.

[He touches his knuckles to his mouth briefly, not looking Sweets in the eyes.]

I'm having seizures. Need to know if they're fucking with my head.

[He exhales sharply.]

You saw what it was like. I can't make bad calls in the field. So how do I tell?

[Lance takes the mug carefully, nodding in understanding at the comment about there being nothing else to put in it--he's so not going to complain--and settles back against the counter while Ephemera talks.

The issue is... Not exactly what he was expecting, but then again he's not sure what he was expecting to begin with. So Lance considers that a few moments, tapping his fingers idly against the side of the mug.]

I'm going to state again, just to be completely clear, that I'm not a medical doctor. Psychologists don't have medical training, other than some very basics about parts of the brain and the effects of brain chemistry, therefore I can't guarantee anything I tell you is going to be completely accurate.

[And that established--]

Seizures very rarely have any sort of personality-affecting complications, aside from confusion and disorientation, unless they're causing damage. So if you're concerned that they're going to alter your decision-making, then potentially yes, but not in terms of changing your underlying personality. It's more likely that, if one occurs during or near the time of making a decision, that decision will be more difficult and you may not consider information and potential consequences to the full extent.

[But as for telling, that's more difficult.]

I don't know how you would be able to know for certain when you're affected and when you aren't, other than that mental effects of a seizure usually occur around it; some come on before, but most are lingering after, for several hours. It would be better to consult an actual doctor or a healer for more information about that.

[No one ever sat down and explained this shit when Ephemera got out of the hospital. He probably had his first seizure in prison and that was that. That time is fuzzy in his mind. Time bleeds together. He's lost days more than once. Woke up on the ground once with blood in his mouth.

Fun times. Nobody needs to know about that.

Ephemera hums to himself, holding the mug tight. Focusing on the the texture, the warmth in his hands. Stay in the moment.]

Don't know the doctors. I know you.

[He twitches. Then:]

Saw a sergeant die once, 'cause her implants got fucked up. Basic training. She seized real bad. Couldn't get her armor off in time. I need my armor, Doc.

[He's desperately afraid that one day his implants will get so bad he won't be able to wear it. That's worse than dying, not being able to fight.]

[Lance understands not wanting to deal with people he doesn't know; it's been a big issue for him in his time here, too afraid to trust any of the healers until only recently, and even then only allowing certain things on certain terms and generally not telling anyone much of anything.

So he gets why Ephemera would want to talk to him, but he shakes his head all the same, setting his coffee on the counter as his stomach lurches a bit while listening to the story. It's a horrific thought, and it's not something Lance can really help with, no matter how much he wants to.]

Then your implant needs to be either fixed or removed, whichever option is more viable. But you do need to let someone at least assess the severity of the seizures, and determine if they're truly being caused by the implant or are their own issue that the implant worsens. It's also worth making sure there's no serious damage already done.

[Ephemera looks away. There''s a childish part of him that just wants to dig his heels in and say no, I'm not doing that. It's not happening. And fuck if it isn't tempting. He's survived this long by sucking it up. Why can't he just soldier on?

No. Stop that. CT wouldn't want that. CT would have kicked his ass for letting it get this bad.]

....what'd you mean, damage already done?

It depends on the severity, the cause, the frequency, and a lot of other factors for whether any brain damage occurs during a seizure. Often there's no serious or permanent damage, but it's still important to verify that.

[He doesn't want to worry Ephemera about it, but it's also not a possibility that should be ignored.]

[He didn't know any of that. The former corpsman back on the Tartarus had only speculated on what was happening. That fucker had been in for stealing morphine. Ephemera can't remember his name. Doesn't matter. Guy probably got killed when Locus and Felix rolled in.

Focus. That's in the past. This is right now.]

Guess I didn't want to know. Not really.

[He huffs. Drinks some of his coffee.]

Started when I got locked up. Survived that so I figured it was fine. But now I'm here.

I don't want them to worry. My friends.

I understand not wanting to worry your friends, but ignoring the problem only delays the worry, especially if it turns out to be something treatable that's made worse by waiting.

[He remembers when Booth had his brain tumor, and how they'd all missed what signs Booth had told them about, but then he'd kept the others to himself long enough that the issue was very serious by the time they'd finally realized it.]

It's better to know what you're dealing with and face it, especially with the kinds of options we have here. Once we know exactly what's wrong, we can work on a way to fix it.

Hnn.

[He's not used to having people worry. Ephemera smiles faintly.]

CT would've kicked my ass for taking this long. I'm not afraid of dying. Just rather go out fighting.

[He lifts his head slightly.]

Know it's not your field. But thanks for hearing me out.

You're welcome.

[Lance picks up his mug of coffee again, as if just remembering it's there, but doesn't drink it just yet. Instead, he decides to address the first part of what Ephemera said.]

Wanting to go out fighting is an understandable desire, but you may want to reconsider whether it's still as important to you now as it was. The situation here is not the same, and you have other things--and people--to live for, even if you could no longer fight.

I've always been a soldier.

[Ever since he enlisted and he never once looked back. A fighter, a soldier, that was what his family needed him to be.

He's quiet for a long moment, watching Sweets.]

But you're right. It's different now. With these people. I need to be different.

[He shifts on his feet a little, self-conscious at being watched, but the response itself is encouraging at least.]

That's good to hear. There's more to your life than being a soldier.

There could be.

[It's strange to think that. To consider anything else. He thinks about Drake and Lup, about Kyna -- even Washington, briefly. How they all ended up in this weird place and no matter what came before, they've built something. Pulled together and found each other.]

I like it here, you know? These people. My friends. I can be a whole person around them.

You can be a whole person anywhere.

[It's not a correction, exactly, but rather a reminder. It's good that Ephemera is making improvements, but connecting those to other individuals or a setting can be a dangerous mistake.]

[Ephemera hums, not disagreeing. Not exactly.]

Maybe. I wasn't, for a while.

[He gives Sweets a faint smile.]

's okay. Apparently I got my head blown off, back home.

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