Chapter Text
Music.
Faint. Orchestral.
No, too brassy.
Jazz.
It’s off rhythm, a sharp percussion cutting in where it shouldn’t.
It beeps. Out of place, an arrhythmia throwing off the whole piece.
It’s irritating.
Drums aren’t even supposed to beep.
Not drums, then.
A monitor.
He’s at work. He’s sleeping at work, and Benton is going to kill him.
He tries to open his eyes, get out of bed—which room did he fall asleep in?—but his limbs don’t seem to be receiving commands from his brain at all, and his eyelids remain firmly shut.
Panic rises in him and the beeping percussion intensifies, speeds up, finally matching the music’s rhythm, if not its pitch, and he puts every shred of strength into lifting his hand to see why his eyes won’t open.
He manages to lift it, hand hanging like a wrecking ball from his shaking wrist, but it falls short, thunking hard against something encasing his mouth and nose. Before he has a chance to decide if he should be freaked out by that, too—
“Whoa, hey.”
Benton.
A warm hand gathers his up and pulls it away from his face. “You gotta leave that on, man. Just take it easy. It’s helping you breath, alright? Take it easy.”
Oxygen mask. Right. Why…?
Benton gives his hand a squeeze and doesn’t let go. The frantic beeping slows, phasing out into dissonance again. “That’s it, just breathe, man. You’re okay. Gave us a scare, but you’re gonna be okay.”
Carter can’t remember why he’s wearing an oxygen mask. Why his eyes won’t open and his limbs won’t cooperate. He doesn’t know why Benton was scared. Didn’t know Benton could get scared.
But he finds he doesn’t have the energy to find out. Unconsciousness tugs him toward the precipice, and he doesn't have the strength to resist it.
“Just rest, Carter.” Benton’s voice is distant and echoey, drifting away with the music. “You’re safe, now.”
Now?