fstory3c

Coma Trip: Part Three - Boy in the Bed (Me?)

Author's Note: Do you think it's weird that the two bands I've ever officially become obsessed with are the Monkees and the Gorillaz? *shrugs* Heh, maybe the next one will be the "Chymps" or something...Oh, and the start of this chapter's from another point of view altogether, sorry 'bout the switch. I was in a describing-injured-cutie mood.

He lay so silently in the bed, and it was almost unbearable to see him. The woman standing there brushed back a few strands of hair and bit her lip, hitching her purse closer to her chest. Her little boy, just lying there with his eyes half-open and his mouth half-open, limp and without the permanent smile he'd always worn, ever since he was little.

They hadn't cleaned the crusts of dried blood off him except where necessary, and he looked like a beaten angel - or a wounded ghost. His skin was pale and he looked thinner than he had before, as if he hadn't eaten for months even though she knew he could put away four helpings every time he ate. She bit her lip harder and brushed away the hair that hung over his eyes...his eyes, they used to be so beautiful, but now one was broken, fractured, and had gone a dull black. The doctors didn't even know if he'd be able to see out of it when he woke up.

God, she wanted him to wake up, wake up and smile despite his confusion and pain, just like he always did, just like he always had. He was so optimistic and friendly, everyone loved him...She placed her hand on his cheek and his brushed her thumb down the line of his cheekbone.

Stu-Pot's mother sat down at the side of the bed and leaned over him, finally allowing herself to cry...

...sobs echoed through his world. Stu-Pot looked around, startled, and burned his hand on the fire he was building.

"Ow!" he yelled, and put the burnt finger in his mouth to try and cool it. Kite laughed at him, and he looked at her. Why she was so familiar he didn't know, but there was something about her voice he knew - and he knew he wasn't used to understanding whatever she reminded him of, "Not funny." he mumbled around his finger, and she laughed harder.

Stu-Pot sighed and pulled his finger out of his mouth, wiping it down the leg of his jeans. Making a face, Kite poked at the fire with the end of her staff.

"What's that sobbing?" Stu-Pot asked, blowing on his still-damp finger.

Kite shrugged, "The Phantoms are restless, I guess." she said, "Now, do you finally remember what's going on?"

"No." Stu-Pot said, sitting cross-legged on a woven grass mat that had been laid out near the fire. Kite was stirring something in a pot that smelled good, and Stu-Pot's stomach growled. Kite sighed and popped a lid back on the stew pot.

"Stuey," she said, "I don't know how you can forget the simplest of things sometimes. Okay. First off, no one really knows what the Phatoms are, they're just like voices in the woods that won't shut up some days. And sometimes they just don't show up at all. Secondly, we have to get the artifact to the Hoard before the world ends." she said softly. Stu-Pot swallowed hard.

"Well..wh-what is the artifact?" he asked.

She sighed, "Well...I don't...I don't know how to put this, but it's you."