FIC: Addiction (3/?)
Title: Addiction (3/?)
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon Team
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: It starts off painfully simply, it always does. Every single day, in fact. Jane/Lisbon Friendship
Spoilers: 2x03 Red Badge, 2x10 Throwing Fire
Notes: Written for hoshinekoyasha who asked for a fic based on Lisbon and drugs overdose/reliance.
Previous parts: Part One, Part Two
Part Three
Her palms are sweaty and instinctively, she rubs them against her pant legs. When she’s done as much as she can with that, she automatically starts to stretch and flex her fingers; anything to keep her mind busy and her eyes off the analog clock ticking incessantly in front of her. Lisbon was more than aware of the fight or flight instinct and right now, she was fighting against her urge to run away as fast as she could. If it wasn’t for Jane, sitting beside her with a benign smile, she was certain that she would have left this depressing waiting room ages ago.
Whoever thought that it’s a good idea to decorate somewhere with posters dictating how one in four people suffered from mental illnesses and how little is known about the causes of migraines deserved to be shot too.
“Stop looking at the clock, it’s not going to make time go any faster.”
“I’m not…”
She stops abruptly and glances quickly upwards at said clock before scowling at Jane. Under normal circumstances, she would have engaged him in banter and she knew that he was trying to distract her from the impending appointment, but frankly, she doesn’t want that. What Lisbon wants is to leave as soon as feasibly possible, however nice the reassuring hand on the small of her back and the attempt at emotional support is. But as per usual, her head is killing her and noise in any way, shape or form is an irritant.
“Teresa Lisbon?”
Lisbon freezes, like a deer caught in the headlights. She only realizes that she’s not caught in some kind of horrific dream when Jane’s hand migrates from her back to her hand and he gives it an affectionate squeeze. When she had first booked her appointment with a neurologist, Jane had weaseled the date out of her within seconds. And when he had promptly announced that he would accompany her, she had seethed and raged at him. Now, however, it’s a relief having him by her side. At least he’s there to force her to go through this charade rather than back out and hide away from her problems, as it would be so easy to do so. Pretend that the problems will just go away on their own, because it’s not that bad really and seriously? Who goes to the hospital over painkillers you can buy in a pharmacy anyway?
Eventually, with a gentle nudge forwards, she finds herself on her feet and stumbling towards the specialist who has come out to greet her. The woman holds out a hand and she nervously, Lisbon shakes it.
“Is this your hus…”
“No, he’s just a work colleague,” she interrupts sharply.
Jane looks a little forlorn at the fact that she didn’t even deign him worthwhile enough to refer to as a friend. But still, when the woman asks if she wants him to join her in the assessment room and Lisbon offers a short, sharp nod of agreement, he brightens considerably. There’s several reasons for this; attention-seeking, simply wanting to ensure that the stubborn little woman shaking like a leaf beside him went through with this. And most importantly, ensuring that he knew exactly what was going on because he physically couldn’t cope with being left on the outside.
“How long have you been suffering with the headaches?”
A man with glasses and eyes that appear slightly too close together practically demands an answer as soon as the woman left them both with him. Lisbon just blinks owlishly at him, allowing Jane to answer that it has been ten months, give or take. The doctor just glares at the blond, making Lisbon answer his questions tentatively herself. It’s not that he doesn’t trust this man, who is obviously close, somehow, to his patient, to answer honestly but questions regarding neurology are best answered by the patient herself. However much this ‘Jane’ person may care for the brunette woman, he cannot say exactly whereabouts her head hurts or the intensity that she suffers from and how frequently. Even heightened observational skills cannot answer questions like those.
When he has finally finished bombarding her with his menagerie of questions, he starts with the tests. They seem to have nothing to do with headaches and migraines, but who was Lisbon to judge what he needs to do to answer the questions regarding her personal health? She’d assumed that it would involve stuff like random scans of her brain and would all cost her a fortune. However, this medic seemed more interested in her vision, balance, joint reflexes and the like. Lisbon scowled at Jane as the consultant attempted not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. When the doctor finally seems to calm down, Lisbon realizes just how nervous she is again and twists her hands over in her lap.
“I’m going to pass the information over to the nurse who brought you in, Amanda Thompson,” the doctor announces, “she’ll go through the results with you.”
“Why can’t you?” Lisbon asks quickly.
“I have other patients to see,” he replies derisively, as if it is blindingly obvious. “She’s more than qualified to deal with that.”
The waiting room is one place that Lisbon didn’t want to return to, but it seems that she doesn’t have much choice. Jane’s hand migrates back to her back, kneading away at the tension, desperately trying to help her relax. If anything, the headache specialist has managed to leave her more agitated and Jane doesn’t like that one bit. It’s one thing if he’s annoying the hell out of her, it’s almost to be expected, but it’s another entirely if someone else is winding her up. That kind of thing simply isn’t allowed. All she wants to know is what the hell is wrong with her and why the hell she can’t stop taking the painkillers. Being passed from person to person with a blithe smile is doing nothing to help her relax.
The woman, Amanda, is apologetic when she returns to invite Lisbon into her office half an hour later. When she shoots him a panicked look, Jane immediately takes note to follow. The nurse’s room is a lot more welcoming and cozy than the room that they’d been taken to previously.
“We believe that the abuse of painkillers is what is exacerbating the headache,” Amanda states simply, knowing that there is no point in overcomplicating the truth.
“What? But they’re meant to help…”
“I know, but that’s what happens when people become overeliant on medication,” she sighs. “Over the counter painkillers are more dangerous than the pharmaceutical companies want us to believe.”
As the nurse continues to explain the vicious circle involved with medication overuse headaches, Lisbon slowly found herself nodding and understanding. When she had first told Jane she thought she had a problem of some variety, she’d been only telling half-truths. She’d assumed the headache was the problem and she was simply taking medication to deal with it and she’d told him that it was a problem because she wanted to appease him. Knowing that she has gotten caught in a vicious circle and that they had both been right, in a way, doesn’t make things much easier.
“You’ll have to undergo a washout,” she continues. “It’s not fool-proof, but…”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“We’ll come to that hurdle if we need to.”
“Fine, what do I have to do?”
“Take no painkillers, for eight weeks,” she answered. “That’s how long it takes to remove the analgesics from your system.”
“That’s fine, I can do that.”
She ignores Jane’s skeptical eyebrow, that has immediately shot up in surprise and amusement.
“The first ten days or so can be particularly unpleasant. We can offer you support, say a hospital bed for that period…”
“Oh no, oh no. I need to be at work.”
“Lisbon, I’m sure…”
“Shut up, Jane.”
Amanda watches the pair with interest before she explains the rest of the treatment plan to Lisbon, including secondary medications in order to lessen the severity of the headache and migraines, relaxation techniques and other herbal treatments which could help. As with all her patients, she sincerely hopes that this will work. Because if the washout doesn’t, things begin to get a hell of a lot more complicated. At least the woman seemed optimistic when she left. If nothing else, she seemed satisfied to have finally received answers for her erratic behavior over the past ten months or so.
TBC…
Part Four
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon Team
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: It starts off painfully simply, it always does. Every single day, in fact. Jane/Lisbon Friendship
Spoilers: 2x03 Red Badge, 2x10 Throwing Fire
Notes: Written for hoshinekoyasha who asked for a fic based on Lisbon and drugs overdose/reliance.
Previous parts: Part One, Part Two
Part Three
Her palms are sweaty and instinctively, she rubs them against her pant legs. When she’s done as much as she can with that, she automatically starts to stretch and flex her fingers; anything to keep her mind busy and her eyes off the analog clock ticking incessantly in front of her. Lisbon was more than aware of the fight or flight instinct and right now, she was fighting against her urge to run away as fast as she could. If it wasn’t for Jane, sitting beside her with a benign smile, she was certain that she would have left this depressing waiting room ages ago.
Whoever thought that it’s a good idea to decorate somewhere with posters dictating how one in four people suffered from mental illnesses and how little is known about the causes of migraines deserved to be shot too.
“Stop looking at the clock, it’s not going to make time go any faster.”
“I’m not…”
She stops abruptly and glances quickly upwards at said clock before scowling at Jane. Under normal circumstances, she would have engaged him in banter and she knew that he was trying to distract her from the impending appointment, but frankly, she doesn’t want that. What Lisbon wants is to leave as soon as feasibly possible, however nice the reassuring hand on the small of her back and the attempt at emotional support is. But as per usual, her head is killing her and noise in any way, shape or form is an irritant.
“Teresa Lisbon?”
Lisbon freezes, like a deer caught in the headlights. She only realizes that she’s not caught in some kind of horrific dream when Jane’s hand migrates from her back to her hand and he gives it an affectionate squeeze. When she had first booked her appointment with a neurologist, Jane had weaseled the date out of her within seconds. And when he had promptly announced that he would accompany her, she had seethed and raged at him. Now, however, it’s a relief having him by her side. At least he’s there to force her to go through this charade rather than back out and hide away from her problems, as it would be so easy to do so. Pretend that the problems will just go away on their own, because it’s not that bad really and seriously? Who goes to the hospital over painkillers you can buy in a pharmacy anyway?
Eventually, with a gentle nudge forwards, she finds herself on her feet and stumbling towards the specialist who has come out to greet her. The woman holds out a hand and she nervously, Lisbon shakes it.
“Is this your hus…”
“No, he’s just a work colleague,” she interrupts sharply.
Jane looks a little forlorn at the fact that she didn’t even deign him worthwhile enough to refer to as a friend. But still, when the woman asks if she wants him to join her in the assessment room and Lisbon offers a short, sharp nod of agreement, he brightens considerably. There’s several reasons for this; attention-seeking, simply wanting to ensure that the stubborn little woman shaking like a leaf beside him went through with this. And most importantly, ensuring that he knew exactly what was going on because he physically couldn’t cope with being left on the outside.
“How long have you been suffering with the headaches?”
A man with glasses and eyes that appear slightly too close together practically demands an answer as soon as the woman left them both with him. Lisbon just blinks owlishly at him, allowing Jane to answer that it has been ten months, give or take. The doctor just glares at the blond, making Lisbon answer his questions tentatively herself. It’s not that he doesn’t trust this man, who is obviously close, somehow, to his patient, to answer honestly but questions regarding neurology are best answered by the patient herself. However much this ‘Jane’ person may care for the brunette woman, he cannot say exactly whereabouts her head hurts or the intensity that she suffers from and how frequently. Even heightened observational skills cannot answer questions like those.
When he has finally finished bombarding her with his menagerie of questions, he starts with the tests. They seem to have nothing to do with headaches and migraines, but who was Lisbon to judge what he needs to do to answer the questions regarding her personal health? She’d assumed that it would involve stuff like random scans of her brain and would all cost her a fortune. However, this medic seemed more interested in her vision, balance, joint reflexes and the like. Lisbon scowled at Jane as the consultant attempted not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. When the doctor finally seems to calm down, Lisbon realizes just how nervous she is again and twists her hands over in her lap.
“I’m going to pass the information over to the nurse who brought you in, Amanda Thompson,” the doctor announces, “she’ll go through the results with you.”
“Why can’t you?” Lisbon asks quickly.
“I have other patients to see,” he replies derisively, as if it is blindingly obvious. “She’s more than qualified to deal with that.”
The waiting room is one place that Lisbon didn’t want to return to, but it seems that she doesn’t have much choice. Jane’s hand migrates back to her back, kneading away at the tension, desperately trying to help her relax. If anything, the headache specialist has managed to leave her more agitated and Jane doesn’t like that one bit. It’s one thing if he’s annoying the hell out of her, it’s almost to be expected, but it’s another entirely if someone else is winding her up. That kind of thing simply isn’t allowed. All she wants to know is what the hell is wrong with her and why the hell she can’t stop taking the painkillers. Being passed from person to person with a blithe smile is doing nothing to help her relax.
The woman, Amanda, is apologetic when she returns to invite Lisbon into her office half an hour later. When she shoots him a panicked look, Jane immediately takes note to follow. The nurse’s room is a lot more welcoming and cozy than the room that they’d been taken to previously.
“We believe that the abuse of painkillers is what is exacerbating the headache,” Amanda states simply, knowing that there is no point in overcomplicating the truth.
“What? But they’re meant to help…”
“I know, but that’s what happens when people become overeliant on medication,” she sighs. “Over the counter painkillers are more dangerous than the pharmaceutical companies want us to believe.”
As the nurse continues to explain the vicious circle involved with medication overuse headaches, Lisbon slowly found herself nodding and understanding. When she had first told Jane she thought she had a problem of some variety, she’d been only telling half-truths. She’d assumed the headache was the problem and she was simply taking medication to deal with it and she’d told him that it was a problem because she wanted to appease him. Knowing that she has gotten caught in a vicious circle and that they had both been right, in a way, doesn’t make things much easier.
“You’ll have to undergo a washout,” she continues. “It’s not fool-proof, but…”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“We’ll come to that hurdle if we need to.”
“Fine, what do I have to do?”
“Take no painkillers, for eight weeks,” she answered. “That’s how long it takes to remove the analgesics from your system.”
“That’s fine, I can do that.”
She ignores Jane’s skeptical eyebrow, that has immediately shot up in surprise and amusement.
“The first ten days or so can be particularly unpleasant. We can offer you support, say a hospital bed for that period…”
“Oh no, oh no. I need to be at work.”
“Lisbon, I’m sure…”
“Shut up, Jane.”
Amanda watches the pair with interest before she explains the rest of the treatment plan to Lisbon, including secondary medications in order to lessen the severity of the headache and migraines, relaxation techniques and other herbal treatments which could help. As with all her patients, she sincerely hopes that this will work. Because if the washout doesn’t, things begin to get a hell of a lot more complicated. At least the woman seemed optimistic when she left. If nothing else, she seemed satisfied to have finally received answers for her erratic behavior over the past ten months or so.
TBC…
Part Four