The first clue Aryn has that he isn't home, and hasn't been since he was called in a couple hours early the previous afternoon, is that she's still on the couch and the TV's still on. The second is the phone that's ringing off the hook and waking her up. She spends a few moments trying to shake the blood back into the hand she fell asleep on and fumbles for her cell on the coffee table before she realizes it's the house line that's ringing.
Early dawn light's streaming through the curtains as Aryn stumbles through the living room to the phone and answers it with a groggy, 'I was not waiting up -- you still at work?', expecting to hear a familiar Australian drawl on the other end. Instead, she gets a woman's voice she doesn't recognize and frowns as her sleep-addled brain finally starts parsing what she's saying: Dr. Chase said to call-- there was an 'incident'-- surgery-- admitted to ICU
( ... )
By the time she's shown in (and that's about all the nurse at the nursing station is going to do, regardless) Chase is more awake and alert, though that's a long way from actually being entirely either. He is still flat on his back, with an oxygen cannula, IV and pulse ox monitor on one arm, blood pressure cuff wrapped around the other. The rest of any monitors and tubes are, thankfully, hidden under blankets.
He is just slightly confused to see her, pajamas or not. Not because he doesn't think she'd be concerned, but because hospital policy shouldn't really allow random friends in ICU cubicles. He blinks a couple of times at her.
"You're going to freeze in here." It's a hospital. It's never warm. Never mind North Dakota in October.
He doesn't look as bad as she expected for ICU -- not that she has much experience with it or even knows why he's here -- but there are still more machines and tubes than she wants to see him hooked up to.
And no, it shouldn't; pesky things like hospital policy and HIPAA probably would've occurred to her if she'd had the time to play 'should I, shouldn't I', think it to death and second-guess forever like usual. But there hadn't been time to do anything but react. And hey, it's not her fault they've apparently assumed from her 'visiting for a few days' explanation that she's someone other than a 'random friend'.
Aryn waves him off, because really. She's not the one in ICU. Well, she is -- but not as a patient. "I'm fine, that's what the hoodie's for." She pauses. "You know, if you wanted me to come down and hang out, all you had to do was ask." It's a lame attempt at humor. And no, she still hasn't noticed the pajamas.
Chase snorts with amusement, then winces. He's still drugged up, but major abdominal surgery? Movement hurts. Breathing hurts. Anything that changes the pressure in his gut really hurts, and snorting was just plain stupid.
He lets the remark about the hoodie go, though he's pretty sure that's not going to help her legs. She'll notice soon enough, because it is cold in the hospital. "I know, but then you'd want to leave before you ate. Now you can't escape." Well, she could and can, but he sure as hell can't. Neither, actually, is he going to be eating any time soon.
"Yeah, no ninja-ing my way out of that. When are they gonna let me back in?" She makes sure she's got her purse and everything she brought with her, rolling her eyes as she levers herself out of the chair and moves it back where she found it. "And excuse me -- I have pants, thank you. They're just... the ones I sleep in." Aryn shoots him a bemused look, corner of her mouth quirking upward. "Looks like the inner pervert's gonna live, too."
Chase looks, and is, pretty perplexed. He sincerely has no idea what he just said, that could be credited to the inner pervert, but he also isn't firing on all cylinders. Nor is he inclined to try to figure it out. His attention span is continuing to unravel, rather more dramatically, as drugs continue to wear off. "I'm not sure when they'll let you back in. Depends on what time you get back and what's going on. Ask a nurse on your way out?"
Unless he realizes he made it sound like she isn't wearing pants (hence needing to get some) he's probably not going to figure it out, anyway; trying would be a waste of energy. "Depends on how long it takes me to find the car," she says sheepishly, "I, um... don't exactly remember parking." She pauses. "You sure there's nothing you need when I come back? MP3 player? Anything?"
"At least it's a small hospital." Would cut down on space to search and number of cars to confuse the issue. Not that there wasn't still searching, just that it was less than it would have been in, for instance, New Jersey. "And I'm absolutely sure I don't want anything from home, right now. It'll be a few days before anything there's useful. You might take my watch and wallet home with you, though."
Comments 34
Early dawn light's streaming through the curtains as Aryn stumbles through the living room to the phone and answers it with a groggy, 'I was not waiting up -- you still at work?', expecting to hear a familiar Australian drawl on the other end. Instead, she gets a woman's voice she doesn't recognize and frowns as her sleep-addled brain finally starts parsing what she's saying: Dr. Chase said to call-- there was an 'incident'-- surgery-- admitted to ICU ( ... )
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He is just slightly confused to see her, pajamas or not. Not because he doesn't think she'd be concerned, but because hospital policy shouldn't really allow random friends in ICU cubicles. He blinks a couple of times at her.
"You're going to freeze in here." It's a hospital. It's never warm. Never mind North Dakota in October.
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And no, it shouldn't; pesky things like hospital policy and HIPAA probably would've occurred to her if she'd had the time to play 'should I, shouldn't I', think it to death and second-guess forever like usual. But there hadn't been time to do anything but react. And hey, it's not her fault they've apparently assumed from her 'visiting for a few days' explanation that she's someone other than a 'random friend'.
Aryn waves him off, because really. She's not the one in ICU. Well, she is -- but not as a patient. "I'm fine, that's what the hoodie's for." She pauses. "You know, if you wanted me to come down and hang out, all you had to do was ask." It's a lame attempt at humor. And no, she still hasn't noticed the pajamas.
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He lets the remark about the hoodie go, though he's pretty sure that's not going to help her legs. She'll notice soon enough, because it is cold in the hospital. "I know, but then you'd want to leave before you ate. Now you can't escape." Well, she could and can, but he sure as hell can't. Neither, actually, is he going to be eating any time soon.
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