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[The last thing Accelerator remembers is entering the ER wing of the hospital. He had made it there shortly before he switched his choker back to normal, pain flooded his brain, and everything went black. The thought that maybe he was dying occurred to him, only briefly, but he didn't have time to seriously consider it.

Thankfully, he wakes up in a hospital bed. He had been dreaming of something (blood, it's always blood), but the noise of a nurse leaving the room after checking on him drags him towards consciousness. His mind feels all muddy, and he groans in protest at being woken up. Even if his dreams are awful at least they aren't painful. Everything hurts, everything from trying to move his fingers to breathing (likely due to a couple cracked or broken ribs) and a whole litany of curses runs through his brain.

It takes him a few more minutes to do anything beyond slow his breathing down so he doesn't jostle his ribs. As he slowly blinks his eyes, he stares up at a white ceiling, fluorescent lighting, the overly familiar smell of disinfectant reaching his nose and the beeping of whatever machines he's hooked up to reaching his ears. There's something stuck to his finger, a pulse oximeter he guesses, and his other arm has been put into a splint. Giving himself some more time, he lets his eyes focus, then he looks around.

He is indeed hooked up to a bunch of equipment, stuff he would expect to see in a hospital in Academy City. That is to say, medical machinery that's more advanced than anything in a typical modern city, so that's a relief. His left arm is not only splinted but bandaged, treated for the burns that goddamned monster had inflicted. Actually, he can feel bandages all over his body, including around his head. The hospital bed has been left partially propped up.

After a short moment of panic, Accelerator notes his choker has been removed from his neck. But his thought processes feel normal, normal as they can be right now anyways, so it must be nearby. Probably bundled together with his crutch and his clothing, as he's in some standard hospital gown instead of the torn and bloody clothes he had arrived in.

With that assessment complete, Accelerator shakily draws in a rough breath.]

Fuck.

[ Harold has automated internet-trawling alerts set up not just for Accelerator and John but for almost everyone he can think of. It was a strange and surreal return to what his life once was to simply sit down at a computer and hack away until he had things arranged to his satisfaction: house, funds, identities, and surveillance. Samaritan had been so oppressive, so completely smothering, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to have the resources and capabilities he used to have.

But whatever reveling he might do in this return to form, and whatever slow descent into moral ambiguity might be dogging his steps the longer he stays in this world, it all evaporates when he receives the notification that Accelerator's fake name has come up in a local emergency department admissions feed.

He leaves quickly, though he has to change before he goes. Harold needs to be Harold Wren and not Encryption or Harold Crane or anyone else, so he takes a moment to switch out of his over-the-top austere clothing and into something more subdued and professorial. Even fatherly. It's a role that still rests uncomfortably on him, flashes of white text on a black screen calling him FATHER circling behind his eyes, but this is all a ruse and he knows that and he won't do Accelerator the disservice of overselling his own place and authority in his life.

He's just -- worried.

Harold doesn't have to pretend to that concern when he arrives; he's anxious, subtly tense, has no idea what's going on or how Accelerator has ended up here. Still, he takes a moment to retrieve his things from the nurses before coming into his patient room, the soft steady beeps of the monitoring equipment an eerie background lull.

He enters quietly, closes the door so it latches shut behind him, approaches the bed and sets down the choker on the napped acrylic blanket covering him. ]

Isuka. What happened?

[ Harold is experienced enough at fake names that he doesn't hesitate to use his here. He sounds softly horrified, and constrained, like he's considering his subsequent actions carefully. The scope of what he's willing to do has recently expanded -- dramatically. ]

[Accelerator hears the door softly open and glances over, his eyes widening when he sees Harold step in and not a nurse or doctor. Before he can stop himself he's blurting out:]

Harold? [Not Finch or Wren or any other surname he might be using in the moment. He looks surprised by his own outburst, by Harold's appearance when he hasn't called or texted him, before he shakes it off.]

I — [He tries to sit up a bit more, and winces, another wave of pain ripping through his thin body. His attention is forced to swerve from answering Harold's question, briefly to his choker being set down, and finally to the IV drip connected to his good arm.

That. That fucking thing.

He flails a little, trying to grab the bag. Not easy, given he only has one working arm and it's taken up by the IV and the oximeter. As he does, he starts ranting in Japanese. What the hell are they giving me? Acetaminophen? Is that what it says? Goddamnit, get the damn nurse, I —

He freezes, realizing what he's doing, and with a ragged breath switches over to English.] These bastards don't know how to handle espers, I need something way stronger than this. Get the nurse.

[ There's only a split second of stunned hesitation before the request processes, and Harold hastily leans over to hit the nurse call button at the side of Accelerator's bed.

Then he rests a tentative, quieting hand on his arm where he's trying to mess with the IV. Removing it will not help him get appropriate medication. ]

Tell me what you need and I'll make sure they give it to you.

[ A line of steel undercuts his voice, Harold both trusting Accelerator's own knowledge of what medication he should have and prepared to fight whoever necessary to ensure it happens. There's no reason for him to be in pain, and they know about heroes and villains here, people with abilities -- Harold is sure he can convince them, as his guardian, to administer it if it exists here.

And he must be in so much pain to slip into Japanese like that. ]

[Accelerator doesn't stop fussing until he feels that contact on his arm, and his first, instinctive reaction is to freeze up. Despite all the progress he's made over the months physical contact (that isn't violent, anyways) isn't something he's used to outside of a certain clone brat, but it's only Harold, so as soon as his sluggish mind has processed what's going on he stops and reluctantly sinks back down to the bed, trying not to jostle his ribs or his arm any more than necessary.]

Morphine. [It takes him a few seconds longer than normal to run the calculations through his brain, and when he does he rattles off the dosage. Not particularly difficult for him, all he needs to do is take what he's learned from classes in school and combine it with everything he picked up from the teams of scientists and doctors that developed his body over the years.

After he does it occurs to him how strange this is. Back home those teams always dictated his medical care, and then after he was shot it mainly fell to one very competent doctor. Specialists always just told him what to take and when, and here Harold is asking him what he needs without any question or judgment. 'Strange' might be understating it, though Accelerator can't tell if some of that is coming from the pain that's still fogging up his mind.

Either way, once he's settled down he stares at Harold, a little unnerved.]

... Thanks.

[A nurse will be coming in shortly after he says that, having gotten the call at the nurse's station in the front of the ward.]

[ As worried as he is, Harold is composed in a crisis and handles the nurse who bustles in with aplomb. He's calm and confident without being demanding, and he takes a moment to learn her name and have a real exchange with her regarding Accelerator's care. He doesn't intend to come off as paternal even though that is his cover here -- it just happens automatically. He likes taking care of things and of people, and when he knows what he's talking about, he doesn't apologize for it.

Especially at this moment when his typical ethics are wearing away, eroding steadily like a rock against the sea, Harold is far from apologetic.

When the nurse has left and the morphine is flowing, Harold pulls the visitor's chair over and takes a seat, promptly reaching out to settle his hand on Accelerator's arm again. It seems too forward to take his hand in his, but he wants to express his presence and his support physically somehow, and he'd reacted to that well earlier. ]

Let me know if you need anything else, [ he says, still calm, but his eyes are tight around the edges. ] There's no reason for you to be in pain. Either John or myself will stay here as your guardian until you're released.

[ He's already using his free hand to pull his phone out of his inner jacket pocket and starts typing a text message to update John. Harold only needs about a quarter of his attention to do that, most of it remaining focused on Accelerator. ]

[For his part, Accelerator remains quiet as he watches Harold deal with the nurse. This situation is feeling more and more surreal by the moment — even Yomikawa and Yoshikawa didn't handle his medical wellbeing to this extent. They didn't need to, his doctor was already familiar with espers and Accelerator in particular, so he had it all handled. This hospital has never handled artificial espers, and he's in a city where a minor has to rely on whatever guardian they have. It's a completely different situation than home, and Harold is managing to make it both easier on him and more strange.

He isn't sure he'll ever get used to an adult helping him this much. He's grateful when he's given the morphine, quickly feeling a difference as it enters his veins. It's reassuring, which helps when Harold settles his hand on his arm.

There's a reflexive twitch from his body and he shifts, but he decides not to pull away.]

I'm fine. That bastard didn't do any permanent damage.

[He could tell that much earlier, when he was still using his ability.]

You don't need to stick around, if you don't want to.

[Really, who the hell enjoys being in a hospital?]

[ He waits until he gets a confirmatory response from John -- he has it under control, but he should come by later, and prepare for a long vigil -- before slipping his phone back into his pocket. Harold reorients himself fully back to the conversation at hand, sparing Accelerator a dour look at the suggestion. ]

If someone was able to harm you to this extent, then I'm afraid of possible retaliation, [ Harold says grimly, more than a little pointed. ]

What happened? I know you've been getting up to trouble, but nothing you couldn't handle.

[ Harold has absolutely been monitoring him and knows about him picking fights, whatever agreement he had with Maria aside. He's just too circumspect to interfere unless it seemed like he really needed it... and he'd missed this. He's frustrated with himself, and worried, and immediately wants to slip into crisis management. They need to protect Accelerator, and themselves. Innate paranoia is making his skin itch.

He's lost too many people to assume anyone is ever safe, and this sets all his nerves on edge. ]

Edited 2025-09-06 01:59 (UTC)

[Frowning at the idea of retaliation, Accelerator moves to settle his hand on top of his choker. He doesn't move to put back on quite yet, it's fine for now there on the bed next to him. He just needs the reassurance that it's within reach.]

... Tche.

[With the click of his tongue, Accelerator turns his stare away from Harold. If anything, it's embarrassing he's in such a bad state and having someone worry over him. He should be more competent than this.

As he explains, his voice is low.]

I was looking into the anomaly. Some Etrayan apparently had information that I tried to force out of him, but I only ended up killing him. [He's admitting that without skipping a beat, since no medical staff are within earshot.] His friend was pissed off about that and ambushed me.

[Which meant he couldn't switch modes in time before a lot of damage was done. If he had, the situation would have been completely different.]

It was my screw-up. I doubt he'd be interested in going after anyone else.

[ He notices how he puts his hand on the choker for reassurance, assumes his point has been taken and doesn't need to dig into it further, and then feels something cold wash over him as Accelerator says he killed someone. It's a chill he's familiar with, has felt so many times before, but now it doesn't fade into sad resolve like it usually does. Now it stays, edges creeping out and expanding like the thinnest layer of ice forming over a body of water.

This place really is affecting him. He knows that. But Harold can't find it in him to care all that much when he has someone under his care making possibly unwise choices and getting into danger. And with another Etrayan, who will be remembering and following them back... Good thing he'd gotten that death pass assigned to him.

Not that he's going to tell him that. It'd only cause an argument, or make him act recklessly, neither of which Harold cares for. ]

Let's skip the part of this where you pretend there's a possibility we'd leave you to face the consequences on your own, [ he says calmly, that chill settling over him, clear and sharp. ] Who was it, and did you kill him on purpose?

[ Harold needs a name so he can start looking up every trace of his existence in this world. ]

[It didn't occur to Accelerator until right now, but him being here in a hospital may be a terrible idea. If that monster is able to hunt him down who's to say whether or not it will try attacking him again? And now he's in a building with expensive medical equipment and, more importantly, a lot of fragile and sick people who could potentially be collateral damage. If he was at 100% he could protect them, but as he is now he isn't sure. On top of everything, Harold is here, and if he were to get hurt....

Accelerator curls his hand over his choker. He should have stuck around and killed that thing instead of running. It was selfish to run. That thought remains stuck in his head as Harold replies, and he stares down at the blanket on his bed. It looks kind of fuzzy, probably because of the morphine.]

... I only have his username on Aurora's network. Grimnir. He was tall, with greyish hair, and he sounded vaguely Norwegian.

[The name seems Norse, and the guy had a European accent that sounded similar to the people he had encountered while in Norway, so it's his best guess. However, it isn't very good information, and he knows it.

Just like he knows his reason for killing that person speaks to a complete lack of control on his part. That bastard hit a nerve, and he responded by killing him instead of staying calm and getting that information. It's something he's sure will disappoint Harold.

Accelerator is silent for a few moments, dragging his choker into his lap. When he continues, his voice is flat but his hand is trembling slightly.]

I wasn't getting anything out of him. He pissed me off, so I killed him.

[ Harold resists the incredible reflexive urge to get out his phone -- or, better, run out to get a laptop -- and do what research he can on that handle.

That's not the point of this, he knows; he can do that later. The practical matters will be handled, and John is on his way. More than anything, the real practical issue is to make Accelerator return to better judgment. It's not capability he lacks. And if Harold feels a strange resounding emptiness at the thought that he's killed someone unthinkingly, simply because he was angry--

That's also a matter for later. ]

That was poorly thought out of you, [ he says dryly, and he is disappointed, if less emotionally horrified than he'd normally be. It was unwise, if nothing else. Etrayans come back to life. So he'd killed him and gotten nothing out of him, a double mistake.

He reaches out and sets a hand on him again, this time directly on his, the grasp firm. He's disappointed, and he'll take this information into account, but he moves on. ]

Will you trust me to handle everything until you've recuperated? We'll need to move you.

[ He's just been given morphine, and Harold found him here through his government name. Obviously they can't stay. Hiding is always Harold's preferred defense, one he's comfortable with and knows how to orchestrate.]

[Those words are rational and reasonable, and they still stab into Accelerator's brain like sharp knives. That's it, the lack of emotion in Harold's voice is confirmation that he is disappointed in him. This may be even worse than Harold being angry with him — anger holds no expectations. Disappointment does.

What's worse, he doesn't know what disappointment looks like when it comes to Harold. For a split second, Accelerator realizes he's never really disappointed him before, and it's therefore a complete unknown, a blank void in his knowledge about the man, and that utterly terrifies him. He's told Harold he killed people back home, and he's killed people here in Etraya, but it was in self-defence or two protect others. It was never as part of one massive failure of a plan before. It was never because of...

Of his own emotional insecurities.

Accelerator visibly jumps when Harold's hand settles on top of his again, preventing his own from continuing to shake, though it doesn't allay any of the fears that are building in his mind, an incessant buzzing that's getting louder by the second. His eyes widen slightly.

This isn't right. This can't be right. This can't be right.]

Y... yeah.

[He can't trust himself do handle things on his own after how badly he screwed up, there's no way he can expect Harold to do that. Swallowing thickly, he keeps on staring down at their hands as more words spill out of him.]

I shouldn't have let him get to me. All he said was some stupid bullshit about me being an 'unlovable child,' which isn't fucking wrong, but it still set me off. I should have had more control over myself.

[He doesn't know why he's saying any of that, why he's bothering. It doesn't matter. If anything, this probably going to make Harold think even less of him than he already does.]

Closed to Harold - the hospital

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Closed to John

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