nietie | Fic: Concussed Or Not Concussed, That's The Question. (Reply)

Title: Concussed Or Not Concussed, That’s The Question
Word Count: 4522
Rating: 14
Characters/Pairing: Becker/Stephen, Dr Richard Sexton (OC)
Disclaimer: Not mine, Primeval and its characters belong to Impossible Pictures
Author Notes: Written for jooles34 as a ‘thank you’ for being my muse for this fic *hugs*

Thank you, fififolle, for the super speedy beta!

“I’m going to check your eyes with an ophthalmoscope now, so keep your head still.”

“I’m fine, there’s nothing wrong with me,” I protested. “ It was just a friendly herbivore.”

“But a huge herbivore with a long, heavy tail,” my colleague and lover Stephen said, with a concerned look on his face. I knew there was some blood trickling down my temple, where I’d collided with a tree.

“I know, because I was there and saw it happen,” Stephen continued.

Dr Sexton, the sexy, dark- haired ARC’s doctor, examined my eyes.

“Okay now whistle,” he said.

“What?” I didn’t understand.

“Whistle!” he almost shouted . “And I’m going to have to check your hearing later.”

“Ha ha.” But this was not funny. I did as told and whistled loudly.

“Ow, nothing wrong with my hearing,” Stephen grimaced and rubbed his ears.

“Now smile,” the doctor said.

“Yeah, right.” The man had got to be joking!

“Come on, Captain Becker, just cooperate for a second. It’s for your own sake.”

I managed to grimace.

“Good. Clench your teeth.”

“With pleasure,” I grumbled.

Next Dr Sexton checked my hearing by whispering words. Then he palpated competently my neck and head and asked me to move my arms and hands. His hands were warm and soft, his movements and touch gentle.

“No sign of concussion, but with the head wound, one can never be sure,” he said, whilst cleaning and bandaging my temple. “So, there are two options. You can either go home, but somebody has to monitor you and wake you every half hour in the first 12 hours. Or you can stay here at the ARC and I’ll monitor you.”

“That’s an easy one. I’m going home,” I answered.

“Maybe it’s a better option if you stay here. I can see Stephen is knackered and it might be too exhausting for him to wake you every half hour.”

“Why did you suggest it in the first place then?” I glared at the doctor. “And besides, don’t you have a wife and kids to go home to?”

“No,” was all the doctor answered. His handsome face was expressionless.

“We can stay here. I don’t mind,” Stephen said. “I’ll keep you company. I’m worried about you. So let’s listen to Dr Sexton’s advice.”

“Okay, okay,” I sighed. “But I’m fine! How many times do I have to tell you that! Right now I want to shower and then clean my guns.”

“No way,” Dr Sexton stated firmly. “You have to rest. No showering, let alone cleaning guns. I want you to stay in bed.”

“But I feel disgusting.”

“I can give you a sponge bath,” Stephen winked.

“That’s not a bad idea,” both the doctor and I said at the same time.

Within a few minutes two basins of water, washcloths and a towel were provided.

“I’ll order us something to eat, so I’ll leave you two alone,” the doctor said. “But no strenuous exercise whatsoever. And I mean that! Besides, the CCTV cameras are monitoring everything.”

“That wouldn’t stop us,” I muttered, grinning at Stephen.

“No worries, doc. I’ll be the perfect nurse,” Stephen answered. “Okay then, strip,” he ordered, when the doctor had left the room.

“I’m an invalid, remember, so you have to help me.”

“You said there was nothing wrong with you,” Stephen teased, but I knew he was more than willing to help me.

He helped me to take off the black shirt and T-shirt. Then he removed the heavy army boots with a grunt, followed by the socks and black combats.

Sweat beaded Stephen’s forehead.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Perfect. These boots are really heavy,” Stephen answered and smiled at me.

I was only wearing my grey underpants now and Stephen started gently soaping and scrubbing my body.

First he cleaned my arms and armpits, then he moved the washcloth from my chest to my abdomen.

Oh, it felt so good!

Then he ordered me to sit up, so he could soap and rinse my back. And at last he gently washed my legs.

“This feels wonderful,” I sighed.

Stephen kissed me softly on the lips and helped me put my T-shirt back on.

I was so lucky with this man. He was gentle, competent, caring and a wonderful lover.

At that moment Dr Sexton came back with some Indian curries and bottled water.

“So, let’s tuck in and you two can get some rest afterwards,” he suggested.

“I’m not that hungry, but you should eat,” Stephen said and handed me a paper plate with food.

For a while the only sound was munching.

“So, what are we going to do tonight?” I asked, after I had finished my meal, wiping my mouth with a paper napkin.

“What do you guys usually do on your night off?” Dr Sexton wanted to know.

“Eat, work out, go for a run, work out in bed,” I grinned.

“Well, no exercise tonight, that’s for sure.”

“Can we watch TV? X-Factor is on tonight. The semi-finals.”

“No, you shouldn’t strain your eyes too much, you might get a headache,” the doctor said sternly. “You could write a report about today’s events?”

“No, I couldn’t do that. There would be too much strain on my eyes,” I smirked.

“Well, we have to write the report before tomorrow anyway, so you could dictate it, and I'll write it down,” Stephen suggested.

I sighed. “Boring! But okay, let’s get it over with.”

So, whilst Dr Sexton cleaned up after our meal, Stephen got his laptop.

Stephen made a report about what we had both observed and had done, right up to the moment the brachiosaurus appeared and started rampaging. Then our observations started to differ.

“Well, I’m a trained soldier. I know how to observe and get an overall view of the situation,” I said.

“What? And I’m just a nutty scientist, just looking at the tracks and nothing else?”

“Your words, not mine!”

“Girls, girls, take it easy,” Dr Sexton intervened. “Maybe it’s best if you finish the report tomorrow. It gives you both time to think about it.”

“It’s best to write down witness reports immediately,” I said. “Time can play tricks on your memory.”

“Tomorrow!” the doctor said determinedly. “I want you to rest, Captain.”

“Fine, but I have to go the loo first.”

“I’ll push the other bed next to yours,” Stephen said. “Do you need any help getting to the toilet?”

“I’m not an invalid,” I rolled my eyes, but staggered as I stood up.

“I’m fine!” I almost shouted, when both Stephen and Dr Sexton rushed towards me.

“Argh! You’ll even say that when you’re not. So stop saying it,” Stephen threw his hands in the air in desperation.

I went to the toilet next to the infirmary and emptied my bladder with a contented sigh. I had to admit I had a slight headache. But it could be from the boredom here or from being tired. It was almost 10 o’clock at night now and the first part of the day had been very stressful and demanding.

Then I heard a sound. It didn’t come from the infirmary, but from somewhere else in the ARC. Then I heard it again. A scrambling sound.

I hurried back to the infirmary.

“What’s the matter? Something wrong?” Stephen wanted to know, noticing my alarmed look. “No, you don’t have to answer that. You’re fine.”

“I heard a sound. There could be someone else in the building,” I said, ignoring what Stephen had said. “We have to check it. Where's my gun?”

“No, no, no, you’re not going anywhere. I will check the building,” Stephen insisted.

“Mr Hart is right,” Dr Sexton said. “It’s better for you to stay here.”

“Being responsible for security, I should be the one securing the area.” Gosh, I hated this! I knew that they wouldn’t allow me to walk around the building in this state. So I sat down on the bed.

“Okay, you both stay here and lock the door. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Stephen said, giving me a reassuring nod.

“Be careful,” I whispered.

During the time Stephen was gone, I felt liked a caged animal. I wanted to walk up and down the infirmary, but Dr Sexton almost had to force me to lie back on the bed.

When Stephen knocked on the door, we both sighed in relief.

Stephen was let in. He closed the door and panted. Small beads of perspiration were visible on his forehead.

“Nothing wrong. Everything’s clear. Must have been a mouse or a rat. So I ran back to you as quickly as possible.”

“Good. Well, we’ve had enough excitement, so I think we could all do with some rest,” Dr Sexton suggested.

Stephen pushed another infirmary bed next to mine. The doctor was going to lie down on a stretcher.

Soon the three of us were in bed, with the lights out.

Stephen and I snuggled together as closely as possible. We were both lying on our side, facing each other.

I loved to feel and smell my lover so close to me.

I tried to wrap around my arm around Stephen, but he hissed in pain.

“What’s wrong?”I wanted to know.

“Nothing, just a bruise from bumping against a tree, trying to rescue you. Don’t worry.”

“My hero,” I whispered and we kissed, softly, languidly, arms entwined.

“I’m still here, you know,” I heard the dark-timbre voice of the doctor saying.

“Yes, we know. Can’t you go somewhere else?” Stephen joked.

“No, not as long you kids need a chaperone,” Dr Sexton mocked back.

Well, the doctor could be relieved. We were tired, anyway. At least I was. The adrenaline rush had finally left and all I wanted was to sleep and feel Stephen close to me.

“Wake me in an hour,” I whispered.

“No worries, I’m not going anywhere,” Stephen said and closed his beautiful blue eyes.

I felt myself slipping into a dreamless sleep and was abruptly woken by somebody shaking me.

“Come on, Stephen! A bit more gently, please!” I groaned and opened my eyes.

But it wasn’t Stephen who had woken me, it was Dr Sexton.

“Becker, there is something wrong with Stephen.”

I shot bolt upright and looked at the bed beside me.

Stephen’s skin was pale and sweaty. He was awake, but seemed lethargic.

Dr Sexton had walked around to Stephen’s side and started examining him.

“He told me he has a bruise from colliding with a tree,” I said, getting up and watching intently what the doctor was doing. He pulled up Stephen’s T-shirt and we saw a large, purple bruise on his left side.

He was feeling for Stephen’s pulse, checked his blood pressure, listened to his heart and lungs with a stethoscope and looked into his eyes.

“Stay awake, Stephen. Can you hear me? Do you feel any pain?” he asked.

“Just nauseous and a bit thirsty,” Stephen slurred.

“Becker, I want you to call an ambulance. We have to get him to hospital immediately. He has all the signs of hypovolaemic shock. I’m afraid he has internal bleeding.”

I dialed 999 and then we wheeled the bed with Stephen in it towards the ARC’s entrance.

I felt scared, confused and angry at the same time.

What had happened? Why hadn’t Stephen said something? What was going to happen now? Was he going to die?

I pushed away my anger and tried to soothe Stephen, whose eyes were wide open with fear.

“You’re going to be fine,” I said. “The doc is with you and the ambulance is on its way.”

The ambulance arrived at the same moment we pushed Stephen’s bed up to the main entrance.

The paramedics lifted Stephen onto their stretcher and inserted a needle into a vein in his arm, setting up an intravenous drip.

“The patient has an elevated pulse, diminished blood pressure, 95 over 50, and he said he was nauseous and thirsty. He collided into a tree earlier today, so I think he has internal bleeding, maybe a ruptured spleen,” Dr Sexton reported.

I was just standing there, dazed and scared. I was glad the paramedics suggested we’d go with them instead of driving to the hospital ourselves.

During the ride to the hospital a paramedic kept monitoring Stephen, whilst Dr Sexton called the A&E and notified them about Stephen’s condition.

“They’re going to prep an operating room. He needs surgery immediately,” he told me after he’d made the phone call.

“Is he going to be all right?” I whispered, licking my dry lips. This was a nightmare.

“It’s too early to tell,” Dr Sexton said. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, but we don’t know.”

“No, no, I appreciate it,” I said. “It’s better to know the truth than to sugarcoat it.”

We arrived at the hospital and Stephen was whisked away. I was directed towards a cubicle in the A&E and forced to lie down on a bed.

Dr Sexton informed the nurse on duty about my situation.

“I want you to rest as much as possible,” he said to me. “I’ll stay with you and keep you informed about Stephen’s condition.”

A few hours of waiting followed. I was so anxious there was no chance of me sleeping, so Dr Sexton didn’t have to wake me at all.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” I admitted at one point. “It would have been unbearable if I'd had to wait here on my own. And I don’t want the other team members or even Lester to be notified. Not yet anyway. Not in the middle of the night and not as long we don’t know how Stephen is doing. So, thank you for being here.”

“It’s the least I can do. I feel guilty for not noticing Stephen’s condition sooner. I’m a doctor, for Christ’s sake, and a man was going into shock under my eyes.”

“Don’t blame yourself, doctor. Stephen is very good at hiding things. I hadn’t noticed it either… God, I’m going to kill him! He is incorrigible! I thought he’d learned enough from his mistakes with Helen!”

“It means he loves you,” Dr Sexton soothed. “He was worried about you and was only thinking about you. And besides, hypovolaemic shock can be very tricky and it can stay unnoticed for a long time.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. Hopefully we had been in time and the doctors would be able to save him.

I didn’t know what I'd if I lost him.

I must have dozed off a bit and woke up with a jolt when a man came into our cubicle. He started talking without pre-amble.

“We did a splenectomy, meaning we had to remove his spleen. The operation went well, there were no complications, so we expect a full recovery.”

I sighed in relief.

“But, there are some long-term effects. There is an increased risk of infection when you don't have a spleen, so Mr Hart will have to take oral antibiotics for a few years. He also needs some vaccinations and he has to be very vigilent for infections or fever. We'll explain everything to him when he's on the ward.”

“Will he be able to work without restrictions?” I asked.

“Does his work contain much travelling?”

I didn’t know how to answer that question. Should I say that we didn’t travel distances, but times?

Luckily Dr Sexton answered by saying: “Yes, there is some travelling involved.”

“It’s better not to travel to areas with a high risk of malaria.”

Well, malaria was one of the things we probably didn’t have to worry about whilst visiting primeval environments.

“Can I see him?” I desperately wanted to go to my lover and see for myself how he was doing.

“He’s still in the recovery room, but as soon as we’ve moved him to the ward, you'll be allowed to visit him.”

When the doctor left, I fell back into the cushions on the bed.

“Are you all right?” Dr Sexton asked, looking at me inquisitively.

“Is Stephen really going to be all right?”

“He is a healthy, young man. Usually one can live a normal life after a splenectomy. The only thing is that he has an increased risk of infection now. We have to be very alert to that. I’m not the one making decisions at the ARC, but I would advise him and Lester that he doesn’t travel through anomalies anymore and that he stays away from anyone or anything going through one, at least until we know they’re clean.”

“Good. We’ve already lost too many people, so I don’t support travelling through those rips in time anyway. I’d be very pleased if he has to stay in the here and now.”

“I don’t know Stephen very well, but I don't think he’s going to be pleased with it,” Dr Sexton stated carefully. “He’s going to need your support.”

“I know.” I closed my eyes. “I’d feel the same. Look at me, being such a twat, just because I have to rest a bit after possible concussion.”

“You know how he’ll feel then, that’s good. You’ll know what to say and how to act.”

“But I hope he listens to me. I hope he’s not going to shut me out.”

“Worry about that later,” Dr Sexton patted me on the shoulder. “Try to get a bit of rest now. It’s 3 o’clock in the morning. When Stephen wakes up, you’ll want to be by his side.”

“Thank you, Dr Sexton. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m glad you’re a member of our team.”

“Thanks. That’s good to hear, because you won’t be able to get rid of me. I’ll be around for a while,” the doctor chuckled, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

I smiled, closed my eyes and dozed off again.

…

It was a shock to see Stephen just a few hours after the last time I’d seen him.

He was very pale and I was startled by all the tubes sticking out of him.

I was so happy Dr Sexton had stayed with me. The man was tireless. He started explaining to me what they’d done to Stephen.

“He has an intravenous drip to keep him hydrated and to administer antibiotics and painkillers. The tube through the nose is to feed him and to make sure he’s not going to be nauseous. They’ll remove it as soon as Stephen is fully awake and able to drink a bit.“

Then he lifted the duvet a bit and showed me a bandage on Stephen’s left side, with another tube sticking out.

“That one is to drain the wound. It usually stays in for a couple of days. And I guess he has a catheter too. That will be removed within 24 hours. During surgery he probably had a blood transfusion. Maybe he’ll need another one if his blood count is too low.”

I inhaled, almost with a sob. It was terrible to see my strong, caring lover like this.

I went to his side and softly kissed his forehead.

“Stephen, I’m here. You’re going to be fine.”

He opened his eyes a bit and a faint smile lit his pale face.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be in bed?” he croaked.

“No, I’m fine.”

Stephen tried to roll his eyes.

“No, I’m serious. Doc here checked me this morning. No concussion. So we can all focus on getting you better.”

“There was an anomaly last night. Did you see it?”

I was confused. What was he talking about?

“No, I didn’t see it. You must be mistaken. There was no anomaly alert.”

“But I saw it. It was beautiful. I almost went through it. But I didn’t want to leave you.”

What he had just said made my hair stand on end. It was so scary. I didn’t even want to think about it.

“Shh, I’m glad you didn’t go through it. I don’t want you to leave.” I soothed his forehead and kissed it again. “Try to get some sleep now, okay? I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Stephen closed his eyes and I saw his face slacken whilst he drifted off to sleep.

Then I actually sobbed.

I felt Dr Sexton’s hand resting on my shoulder, reassuring me.

“Was that so-called anomaly a near-death experience?” I whispered, through tears.

“That’s very difficult to tell,” Dr Sexton said. “There is a theory that a massive release of a certain substance in the brain prior to death or near-death causes an experience like this. Another theory states that the brain of a dying person performs a scan of the whole memory, in order to find a stored experience which is comparable to the dying experience. So people can have flashbacks. An anomaly might be one of the things Stephen saw during that experience... But that’s what they are: theories, and nothing more.”

I shuddered and grasped Stephen’s limp hand.

“I’ll leave you two now for a bit. I’m going home to shower and to change my clothes. You have my mobile number, so call me if you need anything,” and the doctor gave me an intense look. “Anything, okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

The rest of the day went by in a haze, whilst I was watching my lover recuperating from death.

...

Ten days later Dr Sexton visited us in our flat.

Stephen had been discharged from the hospital three days ago. All the team members, including Lester, had visited him in the hospital.

There had been no complications after the surgery and he was on the mend.

But the last three days had been difficult, with a sulking, silent Stephen at home.

“How is the patient doing? And how are you doing?”

Oh, how I'd missed the reassuring presence of the doctor.

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes.

“He’s a nightmare!” I said. “He doesn’t want any visitors, especially from the ARC. I almost have to force his medication down his throat and he doesn’t talk.”

“He’s in denial, I guess. Any outbursts yet? I warn you, that might come next. Or he might try to negotiate his situation.”

Dr Sexton patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Captain. He’ll accept eventually that he’s going to have some limitations. It’ll take time, that’s all.”

“Thank you. Maybe you can knock some sense into him to speed up the process?”

“I didn’t bring my rubber mallet, sorry,” the doctor smiled. “But maybe I can have a look at the wound and remove the sutures. That’ll save you two a trip to the hospital.”

We walked towards the bedroom where Stephen had been sulking for the past three days.

The television was on, but I could tell from the bored look on my lover’s face that he wasn’t watching it.

“I’ll leave you, so you can examine Stephen,” I said. I knew Stephen wouldn’t mind me being there during the examination, but I wanted to give the doctor a chance to talk to Stephen in private.

I tried to distract myself by putting laundry in the washing machine and by making lunch.

After about half an hour Dr Sexton came out of the bedroom.

“The wound looks fine,” he said. “And Stephen is going to be fine too. Go to him, he needs you now.”

I let the doctor out and hurried towards the bedroom.

Stephen had the duvet up to his neck.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Better,” Stephen said. For the first time I saw a sparkle in his eyes and a faint smile on his face.

“Here, take a look.” He threw back the duvet and lifted his T-shirt.

The sutures were gone and, apart from a few little red patches, the wound looked well and healed.

I went to him, sat down on the bed and kissed the scar softly.

“I’m glad you’re better,” I said, trying to hide the tears in my eyes.

But Stephen had already noticed them and took my head in his hands.

He looked at me intently, his blue eyes almost mesmerising me.

“Sorry I’m such a twat,” he said softly and kissed me.

It felt so wonderful. Oh, how I’d missed his touch, his lips.

“Did Dr Sexton give you a wonder drug? Or did he lie to me and did he bring the rubber mallet to knock some sense into you?”

Stephen smiled. “Stop talking and kiss me.”

He didn’t have to say it twice.

For the next half hour we just kissed and held each other. We could always talk later...

...

A week later Stephen was well enough to visit the ARC.

I had been back on duty, but had been assigned the day shift guarding the ARC. During the hours I was at home, Stephen and I talked about little things, but also about our future. We’d cuddled and snuggled and we carefully and caringly had had sex again. That was such a wonderful experience, for both of us. We felt safe and loved.

Being at the ARC now, we both wanted to talk to Dr Sexton and thank him again for the wonderful support he had given us in the past few weeks.

But first we had to meet Lester.

“I’m so glad to see you’re on the mend, Mr Hart,” Lester said, shaking Stephen’s hand. There was even a faint smile on his face. “So, if you’re up for it, you can have some light office work for a few hours a day. How does that sound?”

“I suppose I can put up with it, and I’m very grateful, sir.” Stephen said.

“Good, you can start tomorrow. We’d all be delighted to see you back at the ARC, especially Captain Becker here. He acts like a caged animal all day, restless and prowling. I have a feeling I have two people on medical leave at the moment.”

Stephen sniggered, and when he saw my mock disapproval he winked at me.

“Thank you, Lester. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said. “And now we’d like to go to the infirmary to thank Dr Sexton for all the help he gave us.”

A puzzled look appeared on Lester’s face.

“Dr Sexton?”

“Oh, he’s not in? That would be a shame,” I said. “Stephen really wants to see him.”

“I don’t recall all the names of our staff members. What’s his first name?” Lester wanted to know.

“Eh, I think it’s Richard,” I answered. Lester didn’t know the name of the ARC’s doctor? How rude!

“Yes, Richard,” Stephen confirmed.

“I’m sure there is no Dr Sexton. Maybe his first name is Figment.”

We must have looked very bewildered.

“As in figment of your imagination,” Lester said quietly, his face expressionless.

I looked at Stephen.