bravejemma | IC Inbox

[She exhales slowly, which may come across as annoyed but it's so she can continue and maintain her conduct. She's automatically put on the nitrile gloves and reaches for the stack of gauze in the kit, turning back to him.]

I'll be careful and have a look.

[Wetting some of the gauze, she begins the meticulous task of cleaning the wound. It's a pretty nasty head lac.]

Well this will definitely need sutures.

[He doesn't fight with her attempts to work through the cuts and scrapes and clean them all out. He barely flinches from the disinfectant. This is pain he deserves.]

That explains why I couldn't make the bleeding stop on my own.

Anything on the head or face will bleed and make it look worse than it is.

[Best she can tell, this will be two or three stitches. Once she clears the wound, she does see the barest glint of glass. It should slide right out, but it will take a push.]

This will hurt a bit when I push it.

It's fine. Do what you have to.

[It should hurt more than that, It should hurt enough to mean something.

But he still flinches and whimpers when the pain does arrive. It smarts quite a bit.]

Shh, just a little bit more-- got it.

[The sliver is about a quarter of an inch long, impressive indeed. She drops it onto the used gauze and picks up another to dab away the blood that wells up anew.]

There's. A lot of blood, isn't there.

[He finds himself staring at the bloodied gauze. It all came from him.]

It doesn't bother you?

You know that it doesn't.

[She continues with the task, and takes out a shot of lidocaine in addition to the sterile suture kit.]

I'm much more concerned about stopping the bleeding than where it's come from.

[Although now he mentions it, she flashes on her own blood wetting her clothing, dripping to the floor as unseen monsters ripped her body apart. She wavers, but only a second.]

All in all, it's not that much.

[He can't help but stare at the size of the needle now. That's going to go in his face??]

Are you certain that's the right one? It's a bit larger than the usual one, isn't it?

This is just the anesthetic, now hold still. The suture needle is teeny tiny.

[The urge to baby him a little is strong, but she can do that later.]

That's exactly the sort of lie you'd tell me to keep me calm.

[But the needle is huge and he's had a long, exhausting day as it is. He covers his eyes and clenches his face in preparation for what he's sure is going to be horrific pain beyond the incident that caused his injury in the first place.]

It's true, you know. When you go through medic training, there's a whole session called Comforting Lies to Tell Your Patient. Things like "this won't hurt at all" and "you're being very quiet" and "I think the economy's on the uptick..."

[All while she teases him with this, she's injecting the anesthetic. In a couple of minutes he won't be feeling anything.]

[There's a pinch, and he remains clenched throughout it, until the muscles around the affected area relax on their own.]

That one about the economy shouldn't be there. The comforting lies ought to at least be believable, don't you think?

[She laughs quietly.]

Maybe. It's not really so much what you say, it's more the tone you say it in. Sweet nothings, I believe the saying is.

[She knows he knows what those are. She takes the suture needle and forceps and begins to close the wound.]

[He notes the motion around him, but doesn't feel much of anything. There's a bit of pressure here and there. He keeps his eyes shut tight just in case.]

Well then that's not fair at all. Everything you say is sweet.

[That is a highgrade fib. But she's also in the middle of driving sharp objects very close to his eyelids and now is not the time for adversarial banter.]

[Her smile becomes wry. It doesn't escape her notice that people tend to be somewhat gentler when you have sharp objects pointed at them.]

You've said some pretty sweet somethings in your day.

I've had my moments. [The corner of his mouth quirks.]

But I never would have had them without you.

[He's relaxed some, and that's good. She wishes she could keep it so, but she's not prepared to let the rest drop so easily.]

All right, enough flirting with the doctor, or you'll end up with stitches on your nose.

But making me feel better is part of the doctor's job. I'm wildly injured.

[THE MOST INJURED. He practically lost an arm.]

The patient knows that the wilting flower routine doesn't work on this one. Now hold still.

[She finishes with the sutures -- three, all told, just to be safe -- and after putting a bandage on the spot. She degloves and kisses him on the head, her fingers tangling in his hair.]

There. It'll hardly make a scar.

[When she announces that it's over, he finally dares to open his eyes. She's quite close, but now is probably not the time to comment on that. He's seen a mirror. He knows what a mess he is right now.]

It should. I wouldn't want it to just go away.

[She sighs, and clears away the kit and rubbish. She sits next to him then, the easy part of this over with.]

Fitz, what happened?

[He doesn't lean in her direction then, averting his eyes.]

The article was right about why the mirrors came here.

[It's just become very clear that his mirror was extremely involved. Just something else to feel responsible about.]

I don't give a damn about the article.

[Yes she does. But it's not her primary concern at this very second.]

Is that it? Did a mirror find you?

[He nods halfway, though his head never dips back up to rise out of the gesture.]

They thought they'd find my mirror on this side. She was upset that I'm not the one they're looking for.

[In a way, it's a relief. This is behavior you'd expect from the average mirror, and it means that the residents from this side haven't completely devolved into violence. But she doesn't feel any of the relief.]

If it's any comfort, I'm sure your mirror deserves it.

[It's not, and she knows that it's not.]

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