on_thecouch | 15.2
15.2. What’s on your agenda?
“You know, people usually only come up here to brood.”
Riley turned at the voice to look over his shoulder as he tapped his cigarette on the side of his makeshift ashtray of an empty cafeteria coffee cup. He offered the unfamiliar doctor a slight smile. “The views aren’t too bad, either,” he said. He didn’t recognise the woman, though the lab coat and staff ID told him she was a doctor here. He didn’t want to outright admit to her that she’d been right. He’d escaped on his lunch break to the PPTH rooftop to think for awhile and clear his head. His first day back had been hard and tiring. He needed a time out and didn’t think he’d be bothered up here, but he couldn’t exactly be rude and tell her to go away. For all he knew, she might come up here all the time and he was invading her break. He hadn’t come here before and maybe it was to brood.
She breached the gap between them and leaned against the wall near where he was standing, looking out over the expanse of the hospital grounds. “Hm, not bad,” she agreed. “Am I interrupting your… views?” she asked with a knowing smile.
Riley laughed softly and shook his head. “Not really. I can brood with views anytime.” He had a small drag on his smoke and then glanced over at her. “Am I interrupting yours?”
“Probably.” She shrugged. “But I welcome the distraction, trust me.” She held out her hand to him. “Remy Hadley, Diagnostics. Although, most know me as just Thirteen.”
Riley shifted his cigarette to his other hand so he could shake hers. “Riley Browne, ER.” He raised an eyebrow. “Thirteen? You go by codenames or something in Diagnostics? Or is Dr House just too lazy to learn your real name?”
Thirteen snorted. “Let’s say a bit of both.” She tilted her head. “Riley Browne. You’re the doctor who had the needlestick, aren’t you? You know, we ended up with that patient in Diagnostics. Turns out he had Wilson’s Disease and not very long to live.”
Riley fell silent for a moment, hiding it with another drag on his cigarette. “The HIV would’ve eventually killed him anyway,” he said evenly.
“I’m sorry,” Thirteen said quietly and fought the urge to touch him on the arm to comfort him.
“Don’t be. It’s hardly your fault.” Riley gave her a slight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“How long have you got left until the HIV test?” she asked, watching him intently. She had more than empathy for him; she knew what it was like to feel like your life was hanging in the balance waiting for what you felt was an inevitable diagnosis.
Riley cleared his throat. “Three weeks. It’s been a bitch of a couple of months.”
“I get it,” Thirteen murmured in agreement.
“You’ve had a needlestick?” Riley asked, his interest piqued. Finally, was there someone with a deep-seated understanding of what he was trying to deal with?
Thirteen shook her head. “No, but my mother died of Huntington’s.”
Riley looked at her with a sympathetic frown. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s hardly your fault,” she returned with a smirk.
“Touché,” Riley murmured. “Are you…?”
Thirteen gave a succinct nod. “Hence why I’m up here brooding. Sometimes it just gets overwhelming. I only tested myself a few weeks ago. I wasn’t exactly surprised, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.” She held up her hand as she saw Riley go to say something. “Don’t say sorry.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Riley said with a slightly amused look. “Trust me, I get it. That’s all I was going to say. I lost my spleen in a car accident when I was sixteen, see. I’m pretty much banking on finding out I’m positive in three weeks. PEP or not, I’m about twenty times more susceptible to viruses than the average person.”
“Shit,” Thirteen commented softly, unable to stop the sympathetic look on her face. “We didn’t know about that when we took the case.”
Riley shrugged. “Why would you? He was your patient, not me. I requested my files be closed,” he told her and stubbed out his smoke in his coffee cup.
“Understandable.” Thirteen regarding him quietly for a moment. “How are you coping with the whole not knowing thing?”
“Like shit,” Riley admitted with a small glance in her direction before looking back out over the campus. “I’ve even been too scared to have sex in case the condom breaks. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around myself, so I just know my friends and family feel the same.”
“So, you’re probably sexually frustrated on top of everything else,” Thirteen guessed. “What you need is to sleep with someone who just doesn’t care.”
Riley snorted as he contemplated getting one last smoke in before his break was over. “Oh, and where am I going to find someone like that?” he asked sceptically.
Thirteen shrugged. “Sometimes we just initially go looking much harder and further than we need to,” she returned lightly.
Riley found himself smirking as he turned to meet her eyes. “Is that so?”
- Thirteen is my own NPC; not binding on Thirteen muses in existence.
Word Count | 867
“You know, people usually only come up here to brood.”
Riley turned at the voice to look over his shoulder as he tapped his cigarette on the side of his makeshift ashtray of an empty cafeteria coffee cup. He offered the unfamiliar doctor a slight smile. “The views aren’t too bad, either,” he said. He didn’t recognise the woman, though the lab coat and staff ID told him she was a doctor here. He didn’t want to outright admit to her that she’d been right. He’d escaped on his lunch break to the PPTH rooftop to think for awhile and clear his head. His first day back had been hard and tiring. He needed a time out and didn’t think he’d be bothered up here, but he couldn’t exactly be rude and tell her to go away. For all he knew, she might come up here all the time and he was invading her break. He hadn’t come here before and maybe it was to brood.
She breached the gap between them and leaned against the wall near where he was standing, looking out over the expanse of the hospital grounds. “Hm, not bad,” she agreed. “Am I interrupting your… views?” she asked with a knowing smile.
Riley laughed softly and shook his head. “Not really. I can brood with views anytime.” He had a small drag on his smoke and then glanced over at her. “Am I interrupting yours?”
“Probably.” She shrugged. “But I welcome the distraction, trust me.” She held out her hand to him. “Remy Hadley, Diagnostics. Although, most know me as just Thirteen.”
Riley shifted his cigarette to his other hand so he could shake hers. “Riley Browne, ER.” He raised an eyebrow. “Thirteen? You go by codenames or something in Diagnostics? Or is Dr House just too lazy to learn your real name?”
Thirteen snorted. “Let’s say a bit of both.” She tilted her head. “Riley Browne. You’re the doctor who had the needlestick, aren’t you? You know, we ended up with that patient in Diagnostics. Turns out he had Wilson’s Disease and not very long to live.”
Riley fell silent for a moment, hiding it with another drag on his cigarette. “The HIV would’ve eventually killed him anyway,” he said evenly.
“I’m sorry,” Thirteen said quietly and fought the urge to touch him on the arm to comfort him.
“Don’t be. It’s hardly your fault.” Riley gave her a slight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“How long have you got left until the HIV test?” she asked, watching him intently. She had more than empathy for him; she knew what it was like to feel like your life was hanging in the balance waiting for what you felt was an inevitable diagnosis.
Riley cleared his throat. “Three weeks. It’s been a bitch of a couple of months.”
“I get it,” Thirteen murmured in agreement.
“You’ve had a needlestick?” Riley asked, his interest piqued. Finally, was there someone with a deep-seated understanding of what he was trying to deal with?
Thirteen shook her head. “No, but my mother died of Huntington’s.”
Riley looked at her with a sympathetic frown. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s hardly your fault,” she returned with a smirk.
“Touché,” Riley murmured. “Are you…?”
Thirteen gave a succinct nod. “Hence why I’m up here brooding. Sometimes it just gets overwhelming. I only tested myself a few weeks ago. I wasn’t exactly surprised, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.” She held up her hand as she saw Riley go to say something. “Don’t say sorry.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Riley said with a slightly amused look. “Trust me, I get it. That’s all I was going to say. I lost my spleen in a car accident when I was sixteen, see. I’m pretty much banking on finding out I’m positive in three weeks. PEP or not, I’m about twenty times more susceptible to viruses than the average person.”
“Shit,” Thirteen commented softly, unable to stop the sympathetic look on her face. “We didn’t know about that when we took the case.”
Riley shrugged. “Why would you? He was your patient, not me. I requested my files be closed,” he told her and stubbed out his smoke in his coffee cup.
“Understandable.” Thirteen regarding him quietly for a moment. “How are you coping with the whole not knowing thing?”
“Like shit,” Riley admitted with a small glance in her direction before looking back out over the campus. “I’ve even been too scared to have sex in case the condom breaks. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around myself, so I just know my friends and family feel the same.”
“So, you’re probably sexually frustrated on top of everything else,” Thirteen guessed. “What you need is to sleep with someone who just doesn’t care.”
Riley snorted as he contemplated getting one last smoke in before his break was over. “Oh, and where am I going to find someone like that?” he asked sceptically.
Thirteen shrugged. “Sometimes we just initially go looking much harder and further than we need to,” she returned lightly.
Riley found himself smirking as he turned to meet her eyes. “Is that so?”
- Thirteen is my own NPC; not binding on Thirteen muses in existence.
Word Count | 867