fandom_clinic | FTEC - Tuesday, 06/29

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FTEC - Tuesday, 06/29

"Where do we keep the lollipops?"

He asked four times, each increasingly louder, until he got an answer. Persuading nurses to tell him what he wanted to hear instead of asking why he wanted to know used to be a lot easier.

"Because I'm hungry. Can't a man get hungry in the 21st century?"

Apparently lollipops were not considered a legitimate replacement for actual lunch.

"If I eat enough of them," Hawkeye reasoned, "I'll be on such a sugar high I won't even notice until it's too late and I crash into what we professionals call a 'sugar coma' where I won't even care that I didn't get a pastrami on rye with mustard by 2:30."

By 2:30, he had a sandwich. Pastrami on rye with mustard arrived at 2:25 along with a pickle and a cup of coffee.

Maybe his powers of persuasion weren't completely lost after all.

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If you're there between 2:25 and 2:34, you would have the pleasure of catching Hawkeye eating his sandwich. Outside of that time period, he's out back looking for lollipops but will answer any call. There's even a bell that goes 'ping!' for you to ring.

With a flash of displaced air, Griff was suddenly staggering in the lobby of the clinic where he fell to one knee. When he tried to lift his left hand to feel his back, he screamed, and dropped it again, unable to form words or reach the little bell. Where his arm rested against his leg, Griff could feel the cloth was soaked. He couldn't even twist to look down but tilted his hand and saw blood on the fingers. He mentally assigned himself a 1 before the effort of teleporting back to Fandom caused his sight to darken and the room to spin around him and Griff toppled face first toward the lobby floor.

The sandwich was gone. Only crumbs remained, some of which he left for Martha tomorrow, some of which were swept into the paper bag the sandwich had come in.

Had Hawkeye known after the flash of displaced air and scream that had him sprinting into the lobby that Griff had remembered his trauma training, he would have been proud. Instead he settled for alert and here.

"Nurse!"

He could see Griff losing consciousness but Hawkeye wasn't able to close the distance between them fast enough to grab him before he hit the floor. One of the nurses answered the call and yelled back to the other nurse on duty and in an instant they were there, grabbing the board, checking Griff's pulse and waiting for Hawkeye to finish examining the wound.

"Exam one," Hawkeye said and helped the nurses prepare to move him. His mind raced across a few organs, a dozen muscles and hundreds of possibilities that he would have to take into account. "Blood, saline solution and the works. I can't tell how deep it is, but let's be prepared for the worst."

For the off chance that they might possibly be needed.

The room was almost silent while Hawkeye worked. Griff had lost enough blood to be concerned, but he was lucky that the knife (Hawkeye was assuming it was a knife, what with the kid being stabbed and all) hadn't damaged any vital organs.

He didn't feel like singing today, or humming or preaching about the woes of society to anyone who would listen. This was his first surgery for a violent trauma in years. As he worked with care, knitting together tissue that should never have been separated, he wondered what changed. He'd been up to his arms in the blood and guts of kids no older than Griff for years and could still rattle off with perfect accuracy any song from the last ten years (circa 1953). Now he couldn't bring himself to hum a ditty to keep himself occupied while he made sure he left Griff as close to how he'd been in class on Friday.

He took his time. There was no rush here. The machines were saying all of the right things about Griff's vitals and there was no line of patients after him waiting in the hall. Eventually, he snapped his gloves off and threw them in the trash. "Get him started on those antibiotics once everything settles down. Fluids and let that last bag of blood run down and that'll be fine. No more painkillers. He'll hurt when he wakes up, but let's make sure he wakes up."

Waking up hurt, or at least it seemed like it was the waking that hurt. Griff groaned against the sheet pressed to his cheek, working hard to break the fog of pain and remember where it was he'd jumped to after the ambush. "Fandom?" Griff croaked. Definitely a better choice than the little medical clinic in La Crucecita he could've imagined well enough to get to.

Hawkeye had taken up residence in the room for a while with a newspaper and a new cup of coffee. "The one and only. I hope only. I don't know if I can handle there being more than one on any given day." The paper was abandoned and Hawkeye set the coffee down to move closer to the bed to check on his patient. "That's a yes, if you're not up to the babble. Try not to move. Do you know who I am?" He started with the easy questions.

Griff cleared his throat to speak more clearly. "Yes, uh...Doctor...Professor Pierce?" It would have been easier if he could remember what the man preferred. "You fixed me up?"

"Hawkeye's fine. Easier to remember." He watched the machine for a moment, and then focused back on Griff. "I stitched you up. I'm sure fixing you is a much more complicated process. Whoever stabbed you missed everything you need to live, but we're going to keep the needles in your arm for a while because you lost a lot of blood. You need that to live too." Normally he'd let the kid rest, but he wanted to make sure everything was firing the way it was supposed to considering his unceremonious head-first fall to the ground out in the lobby. "Any idea what happened?"

Explaining that he'd been a fool was going to be a lot of fun for Griff. He stared for a moment, trying to put his idiocy into words. "It was a set up. I didn't see the guy with the knife before he had me and..."

Turning his head a little, Griff eyed the needles in his arm and reminded himself that Fandom was safe - there was no need to run from here. "Thanks for that. I figured I was a one when I jumped in."

Hawkeye needed a moment to understand what Griff was saying, but then he got it and he broke into a grin. "Borderline 1/2. 1 would be a safe bet with the blood loss, but if there was a guy in here with an arrow sticking out of his chest, you might have found yourself with some competition for the top of the line. I'm guessing from the question and the," he wiggled his fingers to explain the unexplainable with the displaced air and the not there one second, there the next, "that this didn't happen here?"

"Lucky for me we've few archers in town," Griff returned, trying to crack a smile. "But uh, no, I can...they call it teleporting here. I was in San Diego when things got messy." Not that a mess was new for anyone who'd been in Fandom more than a week.

He nodded and moved around the bed to get a look at the bandaging and make sure everything was where it was meant to be and not bleeding. "Then it's a good thing I didn't call the Fandom PD in. I'll leave that to you, if you think it'll do you any good." Multiverses no doubt made law enforcement jurisdiction complicated. "How much physical stress does the teleporting put on you? If we're talking anything more than a leisurely stroll down the hallway for a midnight snack, you should give it a rest for at least a week." Everything around the wound looked like it was supposed to look. "And by rest, I mean not doing it at all."

"Nah, it was cops who did this," Griff answered crabbily, wishing he could see what his back was looking like after all the stitching and dressing. "So long as I'm in Fandom, I can ease up on the jumping. It's just a mental focus thing, but so far I'm safe here." He started to try to sit up, cringing a bit there.

"If that changes, tell someone who can help. Friends, teachers, the Principal. No one takes kindly to one of their own not being safe. Less safe than Fandom's usual precarious level of safe," he clarified. "Second question. Is there anyone you want me to call?"

Griff considered the options there and really only came back with the one name. "My roommate? Alex Karev. He's gonna be pissed if he doesn't hear and I don't come back." That's what happened when you had a bad rep for running off and nearly getting killed. "You wouldn't mind ringing him?"

"I'll go and call him now. The nurse will get you set up with something to help you sleep and not deal with excruciating pain and I'll be back later to give you a well-intentioned lecture about not getting into trouble with the police, avoiding things that stab you and that kind of thing."

"Uh, thanks." Maybe it was the present level of pain speaking, but Griff felt he might not mind the lecture. He could stand to pretend there were still adults out there who cared for a little while.

While Hawkeye went off to make the phone call, the nurse came in and injected a strong painkiller into Griff's IV tube to help him relax and sleep. Hawkeye came back after the call and thanked the nurse quietly before returning to his seat, newspaper and coffee. Whether it was tonight, tomorrow or later in the week, he'd be ready to have a talk to Griff. Someone had to. Now all he had to do was work out what to say.

I have a hundred tiny glow in the dark zombies on my book shelf. I think they may have transcended plasticness and come back to undead wanting to nom on my brains.

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FTEC - Tuesday, 06/29

Front Desk

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Exam Rooms

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OOC