Adaptability [Fel]

[nineofswords]

Sometimes, being in the Healer's wing had its benefits. F'lin didn't have to worry about his squadmates getting seriously hurt. He didn't have to worry that his lack of sight was slowing anybody else down. He knew where the bandages and numbweed were kept if he had a scrape or something that wasn't worth bothering the actual Healers about. And he didn't worry that he'd ever miss a friend's injury the way he'd missed Nat's broken leg during his time as a weyrling.

And sometimes, being in the Healer's wing really, really sucked.

Kaladin was alive. That was the important part. F'lin was trying to focus on that as a positive. Eraelth was a mess, though she didn't show it the way people would expect. She was shorter than usual, and snappish, especially if she had to be away from Cravellath for any length of time. She was all but glued to the other green's side, insisting on bringing her food so she wouldn't have to be away from the infirmary and her Kaladin. Even if she only remembered her closeness to Cravellath through F'lin, she was still acting as protective of her sister green the way a wher mother was of her eggs.

F'lin was taking things a bit more in stride. While it was true that he hadn't lost a limb, he knew what it felt like to lose a physical capability everyone else took for granted. Still, he spent as much time as he could with Kaladin. He didn't want his friend to feel alone or abandoned in addition to having lost a limb. So on his break, he quickly grabbed some food from the dining hall and came back to the infirmary to eat. "They had me scrubbing bedpans all morning," he said pleasantly as he got himself settled next to Kaladin's bed. "No one bothers to tell you how much of the work you do in the Healer's wing is scrubbing bodily fluids off things when you're not an actual Healer. They're lucky I'm not good for much else with eyesight like mine." He'd grabbed an extra pastry that he offered to Kaladin before he started in on his meal. "Anything interesting happen while was gone?" he asked.

[Fel]

Kaladin stared bleakly up at the ceiling. All of his goals, all of his plans, were now nothing more than useless fantasies. There was no chance of convincing Vella to let him join the Weyr Guard—he would be nothing but a liability if a spotty came along. He wasn't even certain yet that he would be able to fly Thread. Or fly with Cravellath much at all.

He looked up briefly when F'lin arrived, then closed his eyes. He didn't know why F'lin kept coming back. It wasn't as though Kaladin had been very good company. Sometimes he had to wonder if he ever had been. The list of people who either disliked him or outright couldn't stand him was longer than he'd like to admit.

"Why not learn to be a Healer, then?" he asked finally. At the sound of food being offered, he opened his eyes and took the pastry. At least it was some sort of distraction. And it wasn't soup; whoever had decided that convalescents needed soup for every meal was a sadist, especially in Semaca's heat.

"And no, nothing happened here. Nothing ever does."

[nineofswords]

Kaladin certainly had a better attitude about his loss than some people in his situation would. F'lin had seen people who were angry at everyone over it, and while he'd been fully prepared to be yelled at, he was glad he didn't have to deal with that from a former classmate and someone he considered a friend.

F'lin gave a rueful smile at Kaladin's question, though it brightened a little more when the other greenrider took the pastry from him. Being willing to eat was a good sign. "Well with my eyesight the way it is, reading the learning scrolls to become one is way more of an ordeal for me than other people. I either have to get someone else who's willing to read them aloud to me, or else I have to use Rusty, and getting him to focus on a scroll long enough for me to read it is a chore and a half. And that's when it's not some dry medical text that bores me to tears to read." He took a bite of his food and chewed a bit. "Even if I managed to actually get through an apprenticeship and become a Journeyman, I don't think anybody should trust me to actually perform any kinds of medical treatments. Way too dangerous, too easy for me to miss something. At best, I could try to diagnose illnesses based on people's descriptions of their symptoms, but that kind of thing would be better suited to another Weyr, and I like Semaca too much to leave. And so, I resign myself to an ignoble life of bedpan scrubbing and making myself a nuisance to the longer-term patients here." He gave a slightly lopsided smile.

"If you think nothing happens in here, you obviously aren't paying enough attention," F'lin said. He gestured discretely to one of the other patients who had been convalescing in the infirmary for a while. "That rider always throws a huge tantrum if she doesn't get her second pudding cup of the day," he told Kaladin conspiratorially. Abruptly, he sighed. "Okay yeah, you're right, this place will bore you to death. When it's not working you to death, anyway. There's no in-between." He looked off into the middle distance, and there was a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Maybe I can do something to change that..." he mused.

[Fel]

"Someone has to boss around the people with needles and bandages," Kaladin said with a slight shrug. "Even the dryest texts have to be better than scrubbing bedpans. And I'm sure someone could tell Lamentoso Squad to read to you. It's not like they're doing anything else vital."

But what would he do? Kaladin wasn't sure he'd amount to anything more than scrubbing bedpans himself, now. Maybe he should be fine with a life like that—F'lin seemed to be, at least—but he just couldn't stomach the idea. He'd been meant for something more important... or so he thought.

Maybe that had been nothing more than arrogance.

"If the Thread didn't kill me, I doubt the boredom will. Fortunately for Cravellath." And fortunately for himself. Probably. Maybe. "So you don't have to worry about it. I'll live with the boredom, since I don't think they mean to try to work me to death."

[nineofswords]

F'lin laughed. "I'm not really the bossing around type," he admitted. "Seriously, I don't mind scrubbing bedpans. It's useful work, something that needs doing, and it's the kind of thing no one else really wants to do. You don't need to see that well to scrub things, and everyone's grateful that they didn't have to be the one to do it." He shrugged. "Honestly, I don't mind. I'm a dragonrider. I never thought I'd ever be allowed to be one, not in a million turns. I'll scrub bedpans every day if it means they let me and Rae stick around." At the end of the day, F'lin was content to exist quietly in the background doing his part.

"Don't underestimate boredom," F'lin advised. "There's a reason I'd rather scrub bedpans than sit around doing nothing all day. It's better to keep yourself occupied. I could get you some scrolls if you want to read, or a deck of cards. Or...I dunno, do you knit?" F'lin wasn't really sure what other people did to keep themselves busy. It had been a long time since he'd been able to see the way others could.

[Fel]

"I think Semaca is desperate enough that you don't have to be particularly productive in order to be allowed to stay. I mean, they let me stick around after... everything." Kaladin wasn't sure exactly how much F'lin knew about his first stint as a Candidate, but he almost hoped the answer was not much. It was somewhat embarrassing to look back on, even if he was still entirely convinced that he had been completely justified in his actions.

"And they'll let me stay now, even though... I mean, it's not even certain I'll be able to fly Thread, and Faranth knows I'd be worse than useless in one of the other squads and I know I could join Healer's Wing but Cravellath would hate it and..."

Kaladin closed his eyes again briefly. "No. I don't need you to bring me anything." He was fairly certain he was incapable of focusing on much just then anyway.

[nineofswords]

"It's probably true, Semaca would let me stay whatever I did," F'lin agreed. "I mean, we even take in the other Weyr's cast offs in Lamentoso." F'lin didn't know what 'everything' was supposed to mean, but whatever it was, it hadn't been bad enough to land him in Lamentoso, so F'lin figured it probably couldn't have been that bad.

F'lin stifled a sigh. Kaladin wasn't exactly wallowing, and he was - understandably - not thrilled at the prospect of his life changing so fundamentally. But if he kept going that way, he'd eventually make himself even more miserable than he already was. "You're still recovering," he reminded Kaladin. "Your wound needs time to close up, and then you'll need to be fitted with crutches, possibly a prosthetic. It'll be a while before you'll need to worry about that. You have time to figure out what your options are." F'lin had seen the Healers clear people to fly thread with injuries he wouldn't have guessed would let them do it, but he didn't want to give Kaladin hope if there wasn't any that he could go back to his wing. He gave a half smile. "Tell you what, you ride Eraelth in the Healer's wing and I'll take Cravellath to fly thread," he joked. He was well aware that he was a lot less likely to be allowed into the wing than Kaladin.

Kaladin saying he didn't want anything was a bit disappointing. But he also understood - as the kid of a Healer and someone who worked in the Healer's clinic in a support manner - was that when people foisted things on the sick and convalescing, it was more about making themselves feel good than their sick and hurt loved ones, so he didn't push it. So instead he changed the subject. "The cooks have been experimenting again," he said. "When I went to grab some grub, there was something, uh, blue on the table. And I won't swear it wasn't moving. I wasn't quite brave enough to investigate it further, to be honest with you."