Couples Therapy 79.1 Fragile
It was typical that the moment Harry's knee decided to act up and he grimaced and bent down to touch it (not that it helped), Martha Jones came along and saw. He barely managed to get a word out before she had him in the sickbay prodding it and scanning it.
"You were supposed to tell me if it got worse." He sat on a bed and she stood, hands folded, glaring at him.
Harry wondered how he'd managed to surround himself with women who told him what to do. He had been the one who had asked Martha if she wanted to be his deputy at UNIT Medical, but he had thought that meant she was working for him, not the other way round. "I know. I was just hoping that the painkillers had stopped working so well. Or something," he hedged.
"Are you sure you have a medical degree?"
He sighed, gave in and told her the truth. "I really don't want it to get worse and I didn't want to admit it. Happy now?"
At his words her expression softened and she came and sat next to him. "I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "It's not your fault. I'm just not a very good patient." He smiled at her.
She returned his smile. "I noticed. But I think I know what might be affecting it."
"Oh?" He sat up straighter because he really didn't have any idea and if there was anything that would help he would do it.
"Stress."
He frowned. That wasn't the answer he'd been expecting at all. "I'm not stressed. I don't get stressed." When you had to deal with multiple people needing you all at the same time, getting stressed was not the way to deal with it.
"All right then, call it overworked." She shrugged. "Either way I mean you've been doing too much: working long hours, flying back to England every weekend and planning a wedding." She counted them off on her fingers. "And I know how stressful those are."
"It's not forever," he protested. "And how do you know it has anything to do with what's wrong with my knee?"
She gave him a look. "And I suppose you know exactly what caused it?"
He opened his mouth, realised that he didn't still know the answer to that, much as it annoyed him, so he shut it again.
"That's what I thought. And this has all been going on long enough and it has to stop before you make yourself ill. As your doctor--"
This time when he opened his mouth she just kept talking and didn't let him get a word in edgeways.
"I'm ordering you to take a couple of weeks off, stay in Switzerland and and do something relaxing and fun."
Maybe she was his doctor, technically, but those weren't instructions that would do him any good. "I can't."
She frowned. "Why not?"
The reason was that it would mean not seeing Elaine for two weeks, but that wasn't exactly something he could explain to someone who'd had a fiancé that she didn't see for weeks on end. Although part of him didn't want to tell her what had happened last weekend, he reasoned that maybe she would have a different perspective.
"Elaine and I had an argument," he said in the end.
She at least managed to look sympathetic at that. "Have you spoken to her since?"
He shook his head.
"Then call her."
That was overly simplistic and, moreover, not the answer he wanted.
"Harry." Martha put a hand on his shoulder. "Trust me. What harm could it do?"
For a start, Elaine might tell him she didn't want to be with him any more. That really scared him - but if he didn't talk to her at least there was still some hope. Although he wasn't stupid - he knew he couldn't leave it too long. And he was being just as much of a coward about this as he was about his knee. Maybe it would be better if he just faced up to it. So he nodded, said, "See you in two weeks," and stood up.
Martha smiled in response and he wondered whether she had some sort of vested interest in this, or if all women were just this nosy.
"You were supposed to tell me if it got worse." He sat on a bed and she stood, hands folded, glaring at him.
Harry wondered how he'd managed to surround himself with women who told him what to do. He had been the one who had asked Martha if she wanted to be his deputy at UNIT Medical, but he had thought that meant she was working for him, not the other way round. "I know. I was just hoping that the painkillers had stopped working so well. Or something," he hedged.
"Are you sure you have a medical degree?"
He sighed, gave in and told her the truth. "I really don't want it to get worse and I didn't want to admit it. Happy now?"
At his words her expression softened and she came and sat next to him. "I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "It's not your fault. I'm just not a very good patient." He smiled at her.
She returned his smile. "I noticed. But I think I know what might be affecting it."
"Oh?" He sat up straighter because he really didn't have any idea and if there was anything that would help he would do it.
"Stress."
He frowned. That wasn't the answer he'd been expecting at all. "I'm not stressed. I don't get stressed." When you had to deal with multiple people needing you all at the same time, getting stressed was not the way to deal with it.
"All right then, call it overworked." She shrugged. "Either way I mean you've been doing too much: working long hours, flying back to England every weekend and planning a wedding." She counted them off on her fingers. "And I know how stressful those are."
"It's not forever," he protested. "And how do you know it has anything to do with what's wrong with my knee?"
She gave him a look. "And I suppose you know exactly what caused it?"
He opened his mouth, realised that he didn't still know the answer to that, much as it annoyed him, so he shut it again.
"That's what I thought. And this has all been going on long enough and it has to stop before you make yourself ill. As your doctor--"
This time when he opened his mouth she just kept talking and didn't let him get a word in edgeways.
"I'm ordering you to take a couple of weeks off, stay in Switzerland and and do something relaxing and fun."
Maybe she was his doctor, technically, but those weren't instructions that would do him any good. "I can't."
She frowned. "Why not?"
The reason was that it would mean not seeing Elaine for two weeks, but that wasn't exactly something he could explain to someone who'd had a fiancé that she didn't see for weeks on end. Although part of him didn't want to tell her what had happened last weekend, he reasoned that maybe she would have a different perspective.
"Elaine and I had an argument," he said in the end.
She at least managed to look sympathetic at that. "Have you spoken to her since?"
He shook his head.
"Then call her."
That was overly simplistic and, moreover, not the answer he wanted.
"Harry." Martha put a hand on his shoulder. "Trust me. What harm could it do?"
For a start, Elaine might tell him she didn't want to be with him any more. That really scared him - but if he didn't talk to her at least there was still some hope. Although he wasn't stupid - he knew he couldn't leave it too long. And he was being just as much of a coward about this as he was about his knee. Maybe it would be better if he just faced up to it. So he nodded, said, "See you in two weeks," and stood up.
Martha smiled in response and he wondered whether she had some sort of vested interest in this, or if all women were just this nosy.