fandom_clinic | Clinic Hours - Tuesday November 22nd 2005

The passage of air was LOUD today and Wilson moved very, very carefully in an attempt to keep the air as still as possible. He was late opening the Clinic not because he was late getting *to* the Clinic but because he was moving very slowly…in the hope of keeping the air really quiet.

Getting the doors open, he started a pot of coffee and sucked back the third 20oz bottle of water he’d been drinking since about oh…not too many hours ago. Putting a happy face on, he managed to do rounds without passing out, which was a blessing, checking in on Rory, Logan and Jack before crawling back up to the front desk.

Sitting down, very carefully –DAMN AIR WILL YOU SHUT UP!- Wilson leaned forward till he could cradle his head on his forearms. Seven…liquors….what the hell had he been thinking last night?

That it felt good to laugh a little and not hurt…andohGodI’mnottwentyanymore

Dragging his water bottle down into his lap to snuggle it close, Wilson reached for the half a piece of bagel he’d been trying to choke down for over an hour now. He was about half-way through it. By noon he might be finished with it.

If I live that long…Crowley is going to kill me.

Taking a slow breath, Wilson sat up and reached for a chart. He was being in his charting and really needed to catch up, if the little black squiggly lines would just stay still long enough for him to read them.

Doctor on Duty.

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Sitting back, veeerrrryyy carefully, Wilson picked up his water bottle and sipped from it as he regarded Ten with a good natured light in his hungover eyes.

"At both points you were stuck in a place you despise, under the care of a 'professional' you don't trust, in various states of distress." A quiet nod to understanding what had been happening those times.

"Understandable, each time. Though I must now admit that I do rather prefer the happier, coffee nabbing individual standing afore me today. I'm glad you both enjoyed the chocolate. I was sorry I couldn't really make it for her birthday."

It's not that I don't trust you, Doctor Wilson. I'm certain that you're very proficient at your job. [slurp.] It's more of the fact that I have, shall we say...post-traumatic stress disorder regarding hospitals and the medical profession. [He looks as if he's about to talk at Wilson, should Wilson give him the cue to go on.]

The cue came in the form of slowly getting up from his chair, walking over to get himself a mug of coffee and offering to refresh Ten's.

"That bad?" His tone was genuinely curious and not in anyway holding any sort of preformed judgement. After all, he'd worked in hospitals before, he knew what could happen with them.

[ooc: stares...transfixed at icon...which will now mess with my head the rest of the day.]

[Ten looks slightly less cheery and accepts more coffee.] Well...a few incarnations ago I was shot and passed out, which would have been all right, had they not taken me to hospital before I woke up. They performed surgery on me...and they didn't realise my anatomy was quite different from that of a usual human. [very bluntly] And I died.

Wilson waved Ten towards a chair, if the other man wanted to sit, settling down onto one of the waiting room chairs himself because...sitting was good...standing was baadd.

Despite looked peeked, he listened to Ten with an intense sort of focus that saw through the hangover, whistling softly at the end of the story.

"They probably thought they were helping you, Professor but...I can understand why you would be leary of exposing yourself to medical aid not up to your level of physiology. Inexperience matched to adrenaline driven pride can be as lethal as any wound."

Taking a sip of his coffee, the oncologist looked at Ten with sympathetic eyes. "I'm sorry, that you ran into doctors with no creative thinking beyond their own books."

Grac--They were creative. They just didn't know. [He sips some of his now warm coffee and sits down.] Suffice it to say, the trauma was...substantial. QUITE substantial. I wasn't the same for months.

"Well...I would imagine that dying would be fairly traumatic." He paused for a moment then gave a weakish smile.

"I'm sorry Professor, I have no right to say that. I can't say that I could imagine something like that but...I understand why you don't trust me and mine."

((And the icon is a canonical quote by Ten upon his regeneration. Bloody awesome, eh?))

Clinic Hours - Tuesday November 22nd 2005

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