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londoncallingrpg2016-04-23 10:12 pm
lcrpg_npc) wrote in londoncallingrpg2016-04-23 10:12 pm
Gathering Post
The Queen's official birthday celebrations might wait for the better, brighter weather of June, instead of the actual date just passed, but there was no lack of things to do in London this week, even if it was cooler and damper than the week before. St. George's day festivities were scattered throughout the city, competing with celebrations of the four hundredth anniversary of Shakespeare's death. Getting around the city could be even more difficult than usual on Sunday, with multiple streets closed off for the London marathon.
There were exhibits - everything from graphic design to a survey of Sicilian history to the influence of underwear. And the same level of diversity could be found whether you were in the mood for music, theatre, good food, or late night fun. There was something for everyone, and no matter your plans - or lack of plans - you never quite knew what you were going to find, or who might find you.
[Week long gp! Tag in, tag others, and check in daily to see who's joined in.]
There were exhibits - everything from graphic design to a survey of Sicilian history to the influence of underwear. And the same level of diversity could be found whether you were in the mood for music, theatre, good food, or late night fun. There was something for everyone, and no matter your plans - or lack of plans - you never quite knew what you were going to find, or who might find you.
[Week long gp! Tag in, tag others, and check in daily to see who's joined in.]
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"He needs a scan," Hex told a nurse. "Go get the doctor to approve it. He could have intercranial hemmorhaging or a hematoma or god only knows what. Go. Go! Code this!" he barked. The nurses knew him, as a nurse and as a patient, and this was precisely why they'd kept him so doped up.
But they did snap to and it was mere minutes before they were wheeling Danny's bed out of his room.
"I'm right here, Danny. I'm right here with you."
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The oxygen mask went back on before he could say anything, and soon he was being whisked off for a ct and an mri.
By the time he was back in his room, it was practically morning, and he was doped back up to his eyeballs.
There was swelling, and with a respirator and a new IV, it didn't look like he was going anywhere.
Weak, and clearly high, Danny struggled to pull off the mask a bit so he could speak.
"You need to sleep," he scolded Hex, jabbing a finger at the other man. "Your body- You... It needs it. Sleep, you need sleep."
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"It's alright, Danny. I've been home, got me pills and had a bite and then I've slept in the chair until they brought you back. You need to leave that on. Leave it on, mate. You're in bad shape," Hex said, his words sleepy- but drugged as well. He'd taken his pain pills not long ago at all.
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Danny frowned, hating the way the mask felt, but settled back in and went still, watching Hex through half-lidded eyes.
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"That's it. Just rest, love," he said, looking up when a nurse came into the room.
"Are you his legal partner?" she asked. Hex couldn't lie and so he shook his head.
"Boyfriend," he said.
"Then for privacy's sake, Hex, I need to ask you to step out while I talk to Danny."
Hex slowly let go of the man's hand but didn't move quickly.
THe nurse didn't notice the shadow of the Phouka lingering in the dark corner behind the door.
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"He can stay," he insisted, pulling off the mask. "Please, I want him to stay."
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Hex turned back round and returned to his side.
"I'll stay if you leave this bloody mask on," he fussed, getting it back into place.
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Danny scowled, but let Hex fuss him before turning his attention to the nurse- Who didn't seem amused by the pair.
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"What's the news?" he asked. "What's wrong?"
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The nurse looked at Hex briefly, then turned her attention back to Danny.
"When we were running our tests, the doctor asked we do some blood work as well, given your medical history. ...While doing so, we noticed your CD4 count was lower than it should be. You understand why that would be a concern?" she asked, growing just a bit more gentle now.
Danny nodded, going slightly pale.
"Now your baseline, according to your records, is in the six to seven hundreds. Which is very good- Today you're in the three hundreds. Anything under two hundred would put you in the range of someone being diagnosed as stage three. Do you understand what that means, Danny?" she asked, waiting for him to nod again.
"I don't want you to panic, those numbers can fluctuate, but this is a substantial change..."
Danny wasn't listening though, not any more, tuning her out and nodding when it seemed like she wanted a reply. He couldn't deal with this, not right now.
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"But he takes his medications," Hex protested. "He's done everything right. Why would it progress so fast?"
The nurse gave Hex a sharp look then turned gentle eyes back to Danny.
"It could be a blip. It could be the blood loss itself. Still, we're going to keep you a few days for observation and we're going to give you a course of stronger drugs. Later a doctor will come in to talk to you about clinical trials, but that's entirely your choice," she said.
She waited, looked to Hex, then gave Danny a pat.
"The next nurse will be on shift in an hour. Ring for us if you need anything."
And then she left.
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"Danny, shh, it's alright. It's alright," Hex said, feeling panic rise up in him. He'd seen this exact thing in hundreds of mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, lovers and friends. The power of denial was strong, he knew, but he'd never felt it like this.
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Nothing was alright, and he looked at Hex as if angry that the other man would try and suggest it was.
"I want to go home," he said, pulling the mask off, not caring that he wasn't supposed to. "Now. I'm going now. I don't care what they want, I'm leaving."
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"Danny, no. No! You can't go. I'll have them restrain you if I have to," he replied, trying to get around him quickly.
The Phouka stepped out of the shadow and gently closed the door to the room.
"Get back in bed, Mister Danny," he said. "You must be helped by doctors."
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"You're supposed to be my mate," he said.
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"I am your mate, Danny. I'm also a medic and I'm telling you that if you leave this hospital you won't have time to die of AIDS. Your head will kill you," Hex said, the gentle edge of his voice vanishing as he became more authoritarian.
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"I don't care," Danny replied. "I don't care. Let it."
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"You can't mean that, Danny," Hex said softly then. "You're not thinking clearly. You're hurt and doped and...come now, lay down. Lay with me and get some rest."
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"Stop telling me what to do!" Danny snapped, and though his words sounded angry, he looked... He looked broken.
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"Please."
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It felt like the whole world was falling apart and spinning out of control all around him. Even Hex, who'd always been so solid and there was suddenly falling apart. Danny wasn't thick, he knew the man was secretly drinking. He saw him flinch at loud sounds and the way he seemed to be fading away more and more...
Everything was broken, and it was- It was too much.
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Hex held him, keeping him close. He hummed softly, a tuneless lullaby. He didn't know what to do. Danny was damaged, he knew that, but he'd always thought he could help. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe it was all going to go to hell.
"I'll stay tonight," he offered, thinking of nothing else he could do.
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Hex held him and petted his hair. The Phouka slowly slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him, standing guard outside.
"Go to sleep, Danny. We'll worry about it all tomorrow. Go to sleep now."