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sissyTitle: Down But Not Out
Fandom: Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Characters: Ford Prefect and Arthur Dent
Prompt: 071. Broken
Word Count: 633
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Arthur loses another piece of his humanity.
Table
Ford had been laughing. Drunk and happy and laughing and much too busy to see the irate source of his amusement pulling out a laser gun.
But Arthur had been barely tipsy, grouchy, and hadn’t understood what was so funny at all. He saw.
And the next thing he could clearly remember was thinking “it’s another one of those nights”, before he found himself starring up at a blur of ginger and startling blue.
“Arthur,” Ford’s familiar voice whispered urgently, “hold still Arthur, that bloody loon got you right in the stomach. The medics are on the way!”
I feel…fuzzy, Arthur thought. Like he was inside a scrambled television channel.
“Stay awake, Arthur!” Ford shook him gently. But he was suddenly just so…so tired.
The next time Arthur Dent opened his eyes, he quickly snapped them shut again. Something was standing over him, and while not as disturbing as some of the things he’d seen since his first endeavor into space, it definitely wasn’t the first thing he wanted to see any time he awoke.
“Mr. Dent?” a squeaky voice asked from over him. Arthur could feel the warm, damp breath of whatever it was cascading over his face. “It’s good to see you awake, Mr. Dent.”
“Arthur?” and that voice was a comfort, so the earthman opened his eyes. Ford starred down again, face crinkled in a strange way that Arthur usually only saw when they were facing grave danger and the Betelgeusian was concentrating on adamantly not panicking.
“What happened?” Arthur asked groggily. He realized dimly, then alarmingly, that he could not feel his torso. Or any of his lower appendages, even the important bits.
“You’ve had a bit of an accident, Mr. Dent, and gone through a little reconstructive surgery. Nothing major, you should get the feeling back in a few hours.” The squeaky voice said, thankfully out of Arthur’s line of vision.
“They stuck a piece of Vilintrusian liver in your stomach to help it regrow.” Ford explained down to him, “Now you’re only 99% human!”
“Oh, goody.” Arthur muttered, trying to sit up. He wondered what sort of side-effects he’d experience.
The squeaky doctor pushed him down with a pink tentacle, “Stay down now, son. Wouldn’t want to rip open your new skin, would you?”
I most certainly would not, Arthur thought irritably, but it seemed impolite to say. He was only more irritated when Ford laughed at him.
“I don’t see what you’re so upset about,” the ginger haired man mocked Arthur’s facial expression, “This is your chance to rest. I can’t very well drag you across the universe while your regrowing one of those important human pieces.”
“And, um-” Arthur blinked several times, mind still muddled, “why exactly am I regrowing a human piece at all?”
“Oh, uh.” Ford looked vaguely uncomfortable. He disappeared from Arthur’s view for a few second before leaning forward again. “You saved my life. That zarking madman shot at me and you got in the way. Took a laser to the stomach. You’re bloody lucky we weren’t too far from a med dock!”
“I don’t remember any of that.” Arthur yawned. “Is my dressing gown alright?”
“Bloody thing barely got singed.” Ford said dismissively. “Listen Arthur, you saved my life.”
Arthur rubbed at his eyes with hands that felt heavy, absurdly heavy. He could barely pick them up, he was so tired. “Well, you always save me. So I owe you , right.”
“Well…I suppose.”
“I’m going to sleep.” Arthur said, because he was.
“Oh, alright.” Ford rolled his eyes. “I’ll be here when you wake up, I guess.”
“Good…” Arthur mumbled, eyes shutting.
“But not because I’m worried about you or anything. They’ve just got great cable here.” Ford tried to explain, but Arthur had already drifted off to sleep….
Fandom: Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Characters: Ford Prefect and Arthur Dent
Prompt: 071. Broken
Word Count: 633
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Arthur loses another piece of his humanity.
Table
Ford had been laughing. Drunk and happy and laughing and much too busy to see the irate source of his amusement pulling out a laser gun.
But Arthur had been barely tipsy, grouchy, and hadn’t understood what was so funny at all. He saw.
And the next thing he could clearly remember was thinking “it’s another one of those nights”, before he found himself starring up at a blur of ginger and startling blue.
“Arthur,” Ford’s familiar voice whispered urgently, “hold still Arthur, that bloody loon got you right in the stomach. The medics are on the way!”
I feel…fuzzy, Arthur thought. Like he was inside a scrambled television channel.
“Stay awake, Arthur!” Ford shook him gently. But he was suddenly just so…so tired.
The next time Arthur Dent opened his eyes, he quickly snapped them shut again. Something was standing over him, and while not as disturbing as some of the things he’d seen since his first endeavor into space, it definitely wasn’t the first thing he wanted to see any time he awoke.
“Mr. Dent?” a squeaky voice asked from over him. Arthur could feel the warm, damp breath of whatever it was cascading over his face. “It’s good to see you awake, Mr. Dent.”
“Arthur?” and that voice was a comfort, so the earthman opened his eyes. Ford starred down again, face crinkled in a strange way that Arthur usually only saw when they were facing grave danger and the Betelgeusian was concentrating on adamantly not panicking.
“What happened?” Arthur asked groggily. He realized dimly, then alarmingly, that he could not feel his torso. Or any of his lower appendages, even the important bits.
“You’ve had a bit of an accident, Mr. Dent, and gone through a little reconstructive surgery. Nothing major, you should get the feeling back in a few hours.” The squeaky voice said, thankfully out of Arthur’s line of vision.
“They stuck a piece of Vilintrusian liver in your stomach to help it regrow.” Ford explained down to him, “Now you’re only 99% human!”
“Oh, goody.” Arthur muttered, trying to sit up. He wondered what sort of side-effects he’d experience.
The squeaky doctor pushed him down with a pink tentacle, “Stay down now, son. Wouldn’t want to rip open your new skin, would you?”
I most certainly would not, Arthur thought irritably, but it seemed impolite to say. He was only more irritated when Ford laughed at him.
“I don’t see what you’re so upset about,” the ginger haired man mocked Arthur’s facial expression, “This is your chance to rest. I can’t very well drag you across the universe while your regrowing one of those important human pieces.”
“And, um-” Arthur blinked several times, mind still muddled, “why exactly am I regrowing a human piece at all?”
“Oh, uh.” Ford looked vaguely uncomfortable. He disappeared from Arthur’s view for a few second before leaning forward again. “You saved my life. That zarking madman shot at me and you got in the way. Took a laser to the stomach. You’re bloody lucky we weren’t too far from a med dock!”
“I don’t remember any of that.” Arthur yawned. “Is my dressing gown alright?”
“Bloody thing barely got singed.” Ford said dismissively. “Listen Arthur, you saved my life.”
Arthur rubbed at his eyes with hands that felt heavy, absurdly heavy. He could barely pick them up, he was so tired. “Well, you always save me. So I owe you , right.”
“Well…I suppose.”
“I’m going to sleep.” Arthur said, because he was.
“Oh, alright.” Ford rolled his eyes. “I’ll be here when you wake up, I guess.”
“Good…” Arthur mumbled, eyes shutting.
“But not because I’m worried about you or anything. They’ve just got great cable here.” Ford tried to explain, but Arthur had already drifted off to sleep….