[PAST SCENE] Biting the bullet | Set July 2007
Pat's not-so-subtle verbal slap of sense into Tara had made her feel not only guilty, but made her realise that he had been right... no matter what was going to happen between them, Lachlan was her friend and she should be there for him.
She approached the bay the nurse had told her Lachlan was in and could see from underneath the curtain drawn for privacy that the bay was darkened, indicating there was a high chance he was sleeping. She quietly dragged the curtain back just enough to slip into the bay and found him lying curled up on his side with his back to the entrance, oblivious to her arrival. A back that was revealing a sweep of bare skin up the middle of the gown where it had only been fastened loosely. She could see only just a peek of the elastic waist of his boxer-briefs before the blanket took over protecting his modesty.
Tara tiptoed around the end of the bed to his other side and couldn't hide a small smile on her lips when she saw how sweet he looked asleep. She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her lab coat to stop herself reaching out to stroke his hair. The only light in the room was pooling around the curtain from the corridor, but it was enough to see the sickly colour of his face and notice the way he was nursing his IV'ed arm against his chest in probably a very conscious gesture not to tear it out of his arm in his sleep.
She sat down in the visitors chair and this time did reach to brush her fingers very lightly across the back of his forearm. Unfortunately, when she sat, the seat scraped on the floor and made a sharp noise that was enough to jolt him awake.
As soon as he realised it was Tara sitting next to him and not Pat, Lachlan jumped, startled and moved to try and sit up in the narrow bed that was awkward to move in. "Tara," he mumbled roughly. "I'm sorry," he continued, giving up on his mission to get upright and sinking back down onto the pillow, but his eyes still watching her.
Tara sat forward in the seat, pulling the covers back up snugly around his chest from where they had pooled to his hips during his attempted movement. "Just you stay resting, mister," she said firmly but quietly. "How's the tummy?"
"Fucked," Lachlan admitted with a weak laugh, adjusting the blanket under his arm with IV cannula in it. "I dinnae think I've ever been this sick in my life. I'm so sorry I ruined the night. Pat keeps trying to pump me for details, of which I have none, obviously. Will you let me make it up to you?"
"Shh," Tara instructed, putting a finger to her lips. "We'll talk about that when you're better. Honey, it's not your fault you got sick. In fact, in the line of fault, you're right down the bottom. Pat told me about your test results. I guess we just have a bit of a case of Sod's Law."
Lachlan frowned and made an irritated sound. "I told him not to bother you!" he protested.
Tara crossed her arms determinedly. "Well, I'm glad he did, sweetie. Passing blood isn't on par with a case of the sniffles, Lachlan. I would've decked you both if you hadn't told me something like that. I care about you both, and from the minute you started vomiting, I've been worried sick. I'm glad you're here and getting treatment and that you're going to be better in a couple of days."
Lachlan sunk further back on the pillow. "I feel really stupid over the whole thing. Not to mention mortified."
"Mortified?" Tara asked with a smile. "Let me guess, because you threw up in front of me, right?"
Lachlan groaned, putting his hand over his eyes and peering out at her through his fingers. "You say that as if it was a single isolated incident."
Tara shifted her seat forward and rested her arms on the side of the bed. "Well, lucky for you, I'm a doctor and I have no issues with vomit, unless it’s coming out of myself. So, now we got that out of the way, are you holding up okay? It must've been frightening to discover the blood. Want to talk about it?"
Lachlan smiled down at her. "I'm a haematologist, it wasnae all that frightening. For anyone else, it would've probably been scary, but my first thought wasn't cancer like it would be for most. Bacteria or haemorrhoids were the wonderful first thoughts in my head. The latter rather than the former had the least embarrassing treatment options I had to suffer in my work place, so I'm certainly nay complaining. And this really isnae the sort of conversation I was hoping to have with you the day after our first date, either," he added wryly, screwing his face up a little as his stomach cramped up a little again.
"Tough," Tara replied simply. "We're doing things a little unorthodox, aren't we? You're not well and I'm concerned about you. Talking about your gut is unavoidable. It's sore, hmm?" She hesitated for a moment, looking down into his eyes and resting a hand on his stomach through the sheets and rubbing it lightly. "Have you been told when you can go home?"
Lachlan was drawn to her hand on his stomach, warm and gentle rubs that could be missed if it was a familiar action between them. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Aye, it’s sore. I can go home when this IV is through." He grabbed the pole and pulled it closer, squinting at the display. "Just over an hour. I just really want to go home to bed and sleep. I'm buggered."
"I'm not surprised," Tara replied. "You've been through the ringer. Do you need a lift home, honey? I can get off when I need to... Okay, wrong choice of words there!" she said, smacking herself in the forehead.
Lachlan laughed fondly. "Better than nay getting off at all, aye?" He put his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, really bad humour there. I hope one day we can get all the way through without getting interrupted by vomiting, or say, a natural disaster..."
"A clean room in an earthquake shelter with deadlocks on the door for our next date. You're on!" Tara laughed, shaking her head.
Lachlan's tongue wet his lips quickly. "So, we concur there will be another date?" he asked, watching her intently.
"That depends..." Tara said quietly, her teeth drawing in her own lip. "Will you vomit on me again?" she asked, her face deadly serious, but she wasn't able to hold it before she was trying to stifle a fit of giggles.
"No," Lachlan said, unable to help but laugh with her. "I think I've wracked up my lifelong vomiting quota in the last twenty four hours. I think you'll be safe. Meanwhile, I'm never going to live this down, am I? Between you and Pat, I'm stuffed for life!"
Tara tucked the blanket in around his hip. "Maybe not for life. At least a decade, though," she replied, patting his leg. "Now, because you rudely avoided my question about a lift home, can I assume you're fine on that front?"
Lachlan nodded. "Oh, aye. Sorry about that. Pat's got my back. He always does." He smiled at her attentiveness to his covers, realising it was most likely just her bedside manner kicking in as opposed to anything more. "Are you going so soon?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent.
"Well, I don't technically have to, but it's probably best I do," Tara replied, reluctance evident in her tone.
"Stay?" Lachlan asked simply. "Please?"
Tara nodded, trying not to show how touched she was by his request for her company when he was feeling ill. "Okay, but not to chitchat. That's the deal. You have to try and get some sleep. I'll stay until Pat comes to take you home."
Lachlan smiled. "Aye, okay," he agreed, settling back into the bed and hugging the covers to his chest. "Thank you," he murmured with a small smile just before closing his eyes with a tiny sigh.
With Lachlan's eyes closed, Tara was finally rewarded with some time to watch him intently. It wasn't long before his breathing fell deep and even, and she watched the way his hand was softly curled around the sheet edge. She let out a slow breath and averted her eyes to the ceiling. "Time to make some decisions, Tara," she whispered to herself.
She approached the bay the nurse had told her Lachlan was in and could see from underneath the curtain drawn for privacy that the bay was darkened, indicating there was a high chance he was sleeping. She quietly dragged the curtain back just enough to slip into the bay and found him lying curled up on his side with his back to the entrance, oblivious to her arrival. A back that was revealing a sweep of bare skin up the middle of the gown where it had only been fastened loosely. She could see only just a peek of the elastic waist of his boxer-briefs before the blanket took over protecting his modesty.
Tara tiptoed around the end of the bed to his other side and couldn't hide a small smile on her lips when she saw how sweet he looked asleep. She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her lab coat to stop herself reaching out to stroke his hair. The only light in the room was pooling around the curtain from the corridor, but it was enough to see the sickly colour of his face and notice the way he was nursing his IV'ed arm against his chest in probably a very conscious gesture not to tear it out of his arm in his sleep.
She sat down in the visitors chair and this time did reach to brush her fingers very lightly across the back of his forearm. Unfortunately, when she sat, the seat scraped on the floor and made a sharp noise that was enough to jolt him awake.
As soon as he realised it was Tara sitting next to him and not Pat, Lachlan jumped, startled and moved to try and sit up in the narrow bed that was awkward to move in. "Tara," he mumbled roughly. "I'm sorry," he continued, giving up on his mission to get upright and sinking back down onto the pillow, but his eyes still watching her.
Tara sat forward in the seat, pulling the covers back up snugly around his chest from where they had pooled to his hips during his attempted movement. "Just you stay resting, mister," she said firmly but quietly. "How's the tummy?"
"Fucked," Lachlan admitted with a weak laugh, adjusting the blanket under his arm with IV cannula in it. "I dinnae think I've ever been this sick in my life. I'm so sorry I ruined the night. Pat keeps trying to pump me for details, of which I have none, obviously. Will you let me make it up to you?"
"Shh," Tara instructed, putting a finger to her lips. "We'll talk about that when you're better. Honey, it's not your fault you got sick. In fact, in the line of fault, you're right down the bottom. Pat told me about your test results. I guess we just have a bit of a case of Sod's Law."
Lachlan frowned and made an irritated sound. "I told him not to bother you!" he protested.
Tara crossed her arms determinedly. "Well, I'm glad he did, sweetie. Passing blood isn't on par with a case of the sniffles, Lachlan. I would've decked you both if you hadn't told me something like that. I care about you both, and from the minute you started vomiting, I've been worried sick. I'm glad you're here and getting treatment and that you're going to be better in a couple of days."
Lachlan sunk further back on the pillow. "I feel really stupid over the whole thing. Not to mention mortified."
"Mortified?" Tara asked with a smile. "Let me guess, because you threw up in front of me, right?"
Lachlan groaned, putting his hand over his eyes and peering out at her through his fingers. "You say that as if it was a single isolated incident."
Tara shifted her seat forward and rested her arms on the side of the bed. "Well, lucky for you, I'm a doctor and I have no issues with vomit, unless it’s coming out of myself. So, now we got that out of the way, are you holding up okay? It must've been frightening to discover the blood. Want to talk about it?"
Lachlan smiled down at her. "I'm a haematologist, it wasnae all that frightening. For anyone else, it would've probably been scary, but my first thought wasn't cancer like it would be for most. Bacteria or haemorrhoids were the wonderful first thoughts in my head. The latter rather than the former had the least embarrassing treatment options I had to suffer in my work place, so I'm certainly nay complaining. And this really isnae the sort of conversation I was hoping to have with you the day after our first date, either," he added wryly, screwing his face up a little as his stomach cramped up a little again.
"Tough," Tara replied simply. "We're doing things a little unorthodox, aren't we? You're not well and I'm concerned about you. Talking about your gut is unavoidable. It's sore, hmm?" She hesitated for a moment, looking down into his eyes and resting a hand on his stomach through the sheets and rubbing it lightly. "Have you been told when you can go home?"
Lachlan was drawn to her hand on his stomach, warm and gentle rubs that could be missed if it was a familiar action between them. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Aye, it’s sore. I can go home when this IV is through." He grabbed the pole and pulled it closer, squinting at the display. "Just over an hour. I just really want to go home to bed and sleep. I'm buggered."
"I'm not surprised," Tara replied. "You've been through the ringer. Do you need a lift home, honey? I can get off when I need to... Okay, wrong choice of words there!" she said, smacking herself in the forehead.
Lachlan laughed fondly. "Better than nay getting off at all, aye?" He put his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, really bad humour there. I hope one day we can get all the way through without getting interrupted by vomiting, or say, a natural disaster..."
"A clean room in an earthquake shelter with deadlocks on the door for our next date. You're on!" Tara laughed, shaking her head.
Lachlan's tongue wet his lips quickly. "So, we concur there will be another date?" he asked, watching her intently.
"That depends..." Tara said quietly, her teeth drawing in her own lip. "Will you vomit on me again?" she asked, her face deadly serious, but she wasn't able to hold it before she was trying to stifle a fit of giggles.
"No," Lachlan said, unable to help but laugh with her. "I think I've wracked up my lifelong vomiting quota in the last twenty four hours. I think you'll be safe. Meanwhile, I'm never going to live this down, am I? Between you and Pat, I'm stuffed for life!"
Tara tucked the blanket in around his hip. "Maybe not for life. At least a decade, though," she replied, patting his leg. "Now, because you rudely avoided my question about a lift home, can I assume you're fine on that front?"
Lachlan nodded. "Oh, aye. Sorry about that. Pat's got my back. He always does." He smiled at her attentiveness to his covers, realising it was most likely just her bedside manner kicking in as opposed to anything more. "Are you going so soon?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent.
"Well, I don't technically have to, but it's probably best I do," Tara replied, reluctance evident in her tone.
"Stay?" Lachlan asked simply. "Please?"
Tara nodded, trying not to show how touched she was by his request for her company when he was feeling ill. "Okay, but not to chitchat. That's the deal. You have to try and get some sleep. I'll stay until Pat comes to take you home."
Lachlan smiled. "Aye, okay," he agreed, settling back into the bed and hugging the covers to his chest. "Thank you," he murmured with a small smile just before closing his eyes with a tiny sigh.
With Lachlan's eyes closed, Tara was finally rewarded with some time to watch him intently. It wasn't long before his breathing fell deep and even, and she watched the way his hand was softly curled around the sheet edge. She let out a slow breath and averted her eyes to the ceiling. "Time to make some decisions, Tara," she whispered to herself.