Regression

Hange's face was a blur as he quickly grabbed a medical bag from the nearby counter and began to rummage through it, his hands moving with a sense of urgency. I tried to speak, to ask him what he was doing, but my voice was barely a whisper, my body too weak to form coherent words. "Don't worry, baby, I've got you," Hange said, his voice calm and reassuring as he pulled out an endotracheal tube and a laryngoscope. He quickly moved to position me, gently tilting my head back and opening my mouth. I felt a surge of panic as he inserted the laryngoscope, but he was swift and gentle, and I barely had time to react before he carefully inserted the tube. As the tube was secured, I felt a wave of relief wash over me, my breathing becoming easier, more mechanical. Hange's face was inches from mine, his eyes scanning my face as he checked the tube's placement. Satisfied, he nodded to himself and turned to a nearby machine, adjusting the settings with a practiced hand. The machine began to beep, and I felt myself being pulled under, my body becoming heavier, more relaxed. Hange's face hovered above me, his eyes filled with concern, as he spoke in a soft, gentle voice. "You're going to be okay, baby. You're going to be safe. Just rest." As the medication took hold, I felt myself slipping away, my consciousness fading into a dark, quiet space. I was vaguely aware of Hange's hands moving, his shirt being pulled off, revealing a broad, muscular chest with a subtle tan. He gently lifted me, cradling me in his arms as he positioned me against his chest. I felt his warm skin against mine, his heartbeat a steady drumbeat that seemed to match the rhythm of the machines surrounding us. Hange's arms wrapped around me, holding me close as he began to rock me gently, a soothing motion that seemed to mimic the gentle swaying of a mother's arms. As I lay there, my head nestled against his chest, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, a sense of safety that I had never known before. Hange's chest was like a warm, comforting cave, a place where I could hide and feel protected. I was vaguely aware of his hands stroking my hair, his fingers gentle as they soothed my scalp. The machines beeped and whirred around us, but I tuned them out, focusing instead on the sound of Hange's heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was a sound that seemed to speak directly to my soul, a reminder that I was safe, that I was loved. As I drifted deeper into the coma, I felt Hange's arms tighten around me, his chest a solid, unyielding presence that seemed to anchor me to the world. I was aware of his presence, of his love, and that was all that mattered.