Chapter 6: Doctor, Doctor

Though my head was pounding and the doctor really couldn't come soon enough, we didn't wait long in that tiny examination room. He was a middle aged hindu man, or at the very least not from Canada. I couldn't understand his accent, and so he repeated his first question multiple times. Darion gave me a an undecipherable look. Concern? Annoyance? No matter what it was, I'm really beginning to think he simply does not express emotions like a normal person.

The doctor apparently needed no answer from me as he began to patch up my head with bandages. He gave me a pill and some water, so I swallowed it. I guess I'm not too bad off. Darion began speaking to the doctor. Thank God. My concentration is wearing thin. I just want to sleep.

"Lenette, I'm talking to you."

"Oh! Say again?" On a normal occasion I would use full, well constructed sentences, but this was really not the time.

"Do you remember your name, the date, and the Prime Minister's name?" He asked on behalf of the doctor, I suppose.

"Lenette, Harper is the PM, and it's a Friday in March... I almost never know the exact day, sorry," I replied, easy-peasy except for the date. I always hate to write it on tests because I almost never know it.

The doctor and Darion were now speaking again. I stopped listening, after all I'm fairly certain Darion would tell me anything important. I hope. I still looked at them though. People are interesting when they aren't paying attention how they look. In a mundane conversation a person uses unintentional and intentional body movement and facial expressions. the unintentional ones have always fascinated me. Darion looked worried, though only a slight v in between his eyebrows betrayed any emotion beyond casual listening. The doctor seemed calm, so I must really be fine despite all that blood. They seemed to be finishing up, and my head was quite clear, so I listened in on the last bit of their conversation.

"Here are some bandages, you or her will be having to redress the wound once this bandage is no longer clean. She must not wash her hair for 24 hours, and avoid all activity for a week, heavy sports for much longer. Head wounds do bleed a lot, so this is not unusual, however do keep checking to make sure she is still conscious and aware. Other than that, she must simply use her head to keep her head safe for the next month and there will be no problems," The doc explained this to Darion entirely, completely ignoring me. His accent seemed much more comprehensible then before, gosh I must have really hit my head to not be able to understand what he was saying.

Right. The blood... Of course I hit my head hard enough to damage my brain at least short term. Maybe I'll avoid driving as well just to be on the safe side.

With the doctors final instructions, and a recommended dose of ibuprofen, we left the hospital. Darion kept his hands hovered around me, almost as if he was scared I would fall on our way to the car. I just might actually. My head is much clearer and the pain has lessened, but I could feel the nausea coming back. I could feel the cold pit in my stomach being jostled by every step.

"Hey Darion, can we stop for a second? I feel sick."

"We're almost at the car, just five steps away. We can sit in there without driving for a bit. The doc said some nausea was expected, but if you start throwing up we should go right back. How sick do you feel?" He asked me.

"Sick enough to want to stop, but I don't think I'm going to throw up. I almost never do when I feel nauseous," I said, as I stared down at my feet. Trying to not be sick.

"Alright, but if you throw up even once I'm taking you back here. You seem to be recovering pretty quickly and I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing," he said. "The car is right in front of you, take short-gun and look out the window straight ahead. That should help with the nausea."

"Okay," I did as he said. Darion was at least a bit of the nice guy he seemed to be; he held the car door open as I got into the car. Honestly I would do anything if it meant I could stop moving. Darion got in the car after me, and closed the door lightly behind him.

"You just let me know how you feel, better or worse, and then we'll see what we should do next," Darion said.

"I don't feel so bad. Just all the movement made me feel sick, but I'm starting to feel better now just because we're not moving. Just give me ten minutes and I should be good to go," I meant what I said, I really was beginning to feel better. With all the waiting around in the doctors office, and the help of the pain killers, the pain was ebbing away.

We sat there in silence as we waited for my nausea to subside. Every once and a while I would get up and see if it really had gone away, but it seemed to be taking a long time.

Or maybe that was just the silence that drew the time out. Darion seemed anxious and was tapping his fingers on his thigh constantly. It was a peculiar sight, seeing Darion unnerved and maybe even confused how to act. Maybe under normal circumstances I would have even been able to enjoy his discomfort, but for whatever reason (be it the nausea or the pain killers) it only made the silence longer.

Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap.

An inconsistent rhythm that came to nothing.

I went and lied down in the back seat, hopping maybe a change of angle would help. Darion, being the newfound gentleman that he was, held the back door open as soon as he realized what I was doing.

"Listen, Darion. I'm fine," I said. "I'm not sure why you're so anxious, but if you feel responsible remember that I'm the one who decided to slam my head into the countertop. And if you have something to get to, I think I'm good enough to sit through even your horrible driving." Darion wasn't really an awful driver, but I had to get some kind of a reaction from him, and if there was something he was missing on my behalf of my stupid actions... Well I would be embarrassed. Especially if he felt I was so fragile that I couldn't deal with him having to go. I do have friends who would be willing to pick me up.

He stared at me with his green eyes. I had noticed his eyes before, but they were extremely unnerving when pointed only at you.

After what I can only describe as a timeless staring contest, Darion began to laugh. It was almost a giggle and definitely lead itself to madness. Though I had assumed that Darion was unbalance from his previous emotional switches, I had never felt that it was close to the surface. This laugh, that he was currently trying to recover from, brought whatever crazy he dealt with very close to the surface. Scary guy.

"I'm...I'm sorry about that. I laugh when I'm scared. As you saw, it's clearly not a nice laugh to have while in the face of danger, but there's not really much I can do. You gave me a bit of a scare, and because of that laugh I'm going to tell you something about me that only my Dad's and two of my closets friends know. I have an extreme fear of hospitals. Some would say a phobia. And we were in there for God knows how long and you were bleeding everywhere, and I was just there," He explained. "There is nothing for a bystander to do in hospitals. There was nothing for me to do."

"Darion..." I was wordless. How does a person respond to such pure emotion? My opinion of him morphed again. It didn't change completely, but his vulnerability was constantly becoming more and more transparent, hiding behind a broken mask of egoism.

"Ha. Yeah. Crazy right? A sexy guy like me also having a very unsexy fear of hospitals? I'm aware of the oddity that I am. You seem to be looking better, did the lying down help?" Darion quickly changed the subject.

"Oh, yeah. It did," I said. "I guess I'm good to go now."

The lackluster bravado (which was out of the character that I knew) was clearly a defense to cover his awkwardness. I'm no expert, but once a person decides to put their defenses back up it is next to impossible to take them down without being pushy. Despite this opinion, I also know that we would be talking again. You can't watch someone fall from their self-imposed image and see their deepest vulnerabilities only to back to strangers.

Realistically, I suppose that could happen. But I won't let it. He may drive me home in complete silence, and even embarrassment, but this is my chance to finally meet Darion; how he really is, without conflicting images and ideals throwing me off. Also, I left my bag at his house, so I will need to get that back from him.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who is still with me, despite my infrequent updates and frequent mistakes! I don't have much time to write, so even though it's been a long time since I started this story, I sadly haven't improved much.

I've been thinking that maybe just shortening the length of my chapters will enable me to write more. Right now the way that I write my chapters isn't doing anyone any favors so I'm going to try and change this.

After the first story arc I plan on going back and revising everything, from plot fixes to grammar, to improve the story. If you have any advice or noticed plot holes, feel free to point them out! This is much better than a simple "keep writing", though I greatly appreciate all reviews! Thanks to hazelcc for your keen eyes.

On the side of infrequent updates, University is keeping me busy, so I apologize for that as well!