The Games People Play Chapter 43--The Waiting Game
Title: The Games People Play Chapter 42--The Waiting Game
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: "Your dad is to ornery to die--and he sure as hell ain't gonna die in a bathrobe."
Rating: PG
Length: Around 500 words
Category:Gen
Pairings/Characters: D/V, Cam/Carolyn. Lots of em.
A/N: For fic101and 10hugs. Also, I wanted to finish my 10hugs claim with the end of this arc about Carolyn's dad, but unfortunately it just didn't work out that way. My SG muse keeps giving me really short stuff, and I'm going with it since I haven't been able to write in this fandom forever. Readers there feel free to friend the comm if you want to know how this is resolved.
The Waiting Game
Carolyn was pacing like a caged animal in the waiting room when he arrived. He strode up to her, laying his hand on her shoulder from behind. She turned, mouth open to snap something he imagined wouldn’t be flattering, until she realized who he was. Then she flung her arms around his neck.
“Do we know anything?” he asked as he returned the hug.
“Not yet,” she shook her head against his shoulder. Breaking the hug, she walked over to one of the empty couches, but instead of sitting down, she began to pace again. Cam debated whether or not to try to get her to stop then shook his head and sat down himself. He hated hospital waiting rooms, hated the helplessness of having to sit and do nothing, with no information, while somewhere inside, a person he cared about was hurt-maybe dying. The difference between him and Carolyn, though, was that he was used to being on this side. She was a doctor. She was used to being the one who could do something, and nothing he said was going to make her less restless now, when her father was the one inside and she could do nothing but wait until someone else came out to tell them what was going on.
“They pushed him through triage and got him stabilized. He’s still unconscious, and they’re running tests. That’s all I’ve heard,” she said.
He nodded. That was about what he’d expected. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“What?” she looked up, startled by the question.
“How are you doing?” he repeated.
She opened her mouth and started to say something-probably an automatic dismissal-then she closed it again with a clack. Crossing her arms, she frowned and looked at him carefully, actually considering the question.
“I think I’m going to go crazy,” she said.
His only reply was to hold out his hand to her. She stared at it without comprehension for a moment, then slowly moved toward the couch and slipped her own hand into it. He covered it with his other one and nodded again, this time in understanding.
“Been there.”
“I feel like this is my fault,” she confessed. “And if someone doesn’t come out here soon and tell me what’s happening, I’m going to rip a wall down.”
“It ain’t your fault,” he shook his head. “And don’t worry, the urge to rip walls down is normal.”
The faintest trace of a smile flickered over her lips. “So where is everybody?”
“Jackson and Vala are downstairs getting coffee and stale chips from the snack machine. We figured it was gonna be a long haul. Sam and General O’Neill were gonna grab some clothes for your dad and lock up the house,” he explained.
From the way she blinked at him, he guessed that none of those things had even crossed her mind. He smiled a little, having once again expected as much. “Figured nobody’d really think it was so damn hilarious if it turned out to be the base commander saying ‘I forgot my pants’ this time.”
Her gaze flicked away, and she stared at the beige carpet, blinking back tears again. “If we’re that lucky.”
“Carolyn, he’s gonna be fine. Whatever’s wrong, we’ll fix it,” he said.
She looked up again, her eyes narrowing and flashing with a hint of real anger. “You don’t know that, Cam.”
“Yes I do,” he promised. “Your dad is too ornery to die-and he sure as hell ain’t gonna die in a bathrobe.”
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: "Your dad is to ornery to die--and he sure as hell ain't gonna die in a bathrobe."
Rating: PG
Length: Around 500 words
Category:Gen
Pairings/Characters: D/V, Cam/Carolyn. Lots of em.
A/N: For fic101and 10hugs. Also, I wanted to finish my 10hugs claim with the end of this arc about Carolyn's dad, but unfortunately it just didn't work out that way. My SG muse keeps giving me really short stuff, and I'm going with it since I haven't been able to write in this fandom forever. Readers there feel free to friend the comm if you want to know how this is resolved.
The Waiting Game
Carolyn was pacing like a caged animal in the waiting room when he arrived. He strode up to her, laying his hand on her shoulder from behind. She turned, mouth open to snap something he imagined wouldn’t be flattering, until she realized who he was. Then she flung her arms around his neck.
“Do we know anything?” he asked as he returned the hug.
“Not yet,” she shook her head against his shoulder. Breaking the hug, she walked over to one of the empty couches, but instead of sitting down, she began to pace again. Cam debated whether or not to try to get her to stop then shook his head and sat down himself. He hated hospital waiting rooms, hated the helplessness of having to sit and do nothing, with no information, while somewhere inside, a person he cared about was hurt-maybe dying. The difference between him and Carolyn, though, was that he was used to being on this side. She was a doctor. She was used to being the one who could do something, and nothing he said was going to make her less restless now, when her father was the one inside and she could do nothing but wait until someone else came out to tell them what was going on.
“They pushed him through triage and got him stabilized. He’s still unconscious, and they’re running tests. That’s all I’ve heard,” she said.
He nodded. That was about what he’d expected. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“What?” she looked up, startled by the question.
“How are you doing?” he repeated.
She opened her mouth and started to say something-probably an automatic dismissal-then she closed it again with a clack. Crossing her arms, she frowned and looked at him carefully, actually considering the question.
“I think I’m going to go crazy,” she said.
His only reply was to hold out his hand to her. She stared at it without comprehension for a moment, then slowly moved toward the couch and slipped her own hand into it. He covered it with his other one and nodded again, this time in understanding.
“Been there.”
“I feel like this is my fault,” she confessed. “And if someone doesn’t come out here soon and tell me what’s happening, I’m going to rip a wall down.”
“It ain’t your fault,” he shook his head. “And don’t worry, the urge to rip walls down is normal.”
The faintest trace of a smile flickered over her lips. “So where is everybody?”
“Jackson and Vala are downstairs getting coffee and stale chips from the snack machine. We figured it was gonna be a long haul. Sam and General O’Neill were gonna grab some clothes for your dad and lock up the house,” he explained.
From the way she blinked at him, he guessed that none of those things had even crossed her mind. He smiled a little, having once again expected as much. “Figured nobody’d really think it was so damn hilarious if it turned out to be the base commander saying ‘I forgot my pants’ this time.”
Her gaze flicked away, and she stared at the beige carpet, blinking back tears again. “If we’re that lucky.”
“Carolyn, he’s gonna be fine. Whatever’s wrong, we’ll fix it,” he said.
She looked up again, her eyes narrowing and flashing with a hint of real anger. “You don’t know that, Cam.”
“Yes I do,” he promised. “Your dad is too ornery to die-and he sure as hell ain’t gonna die in a bathrobe.”