They'd been drunk – it was Friday night and he wasn't on call, of course they were drunk – and somewhere between the cocktails hour to the straight shot hour they'd started to argue.
She rarely got physical in fights, her tongue she learned early on was a deadlier weapon than her fist and besides she'd mess up her hair. They were fighting though, and he wouldn't shut the fuck up, and the next thing she knew she'd swung her fist out and struck him with a wicked uppercut (if she did say so herself).
Funny, she couldn't even remember what he had said that pissed her off so much.
He'd let out a strangled squawk, falling back against the couch and clutching his jaw, staring up at her in shock.
"I didn't hit you that hard, you big baby," she'd chided him, pouring herself another gin on the rocks.
When the blood begins burbling out of his open mouth as he moans softly, she gets worried.
She manages to get them both safely to the hospital, despite probably being way over the limit. He's got a bag of frozen peas pressed to his jaw, and holding a cup to the other side of his mouth collect the bloody spit sliding under his mouth. She tells him she'll kill him if he gets blood on the upholstery or on her (but she doesn't really mean it).
What the fuck did she do to him?
They sit an interminable hour in the ER department of Sacred Heart waiting to be seen – the board is certainly going to hear about this, and she's not going to be satisfied until someone loses their job over this – and she's forced to act as Perry's interpreter and secretary as they fill out form after form because his hands are too busy.
She starts making up stuff when she can't answer the questions their asking. Absurdly she feels angry at herself about it – really she should know what he's allergic to, she should know his parents' names – hell, she should know about whether he's got a family history of heart attacks or not. Of course it's really all Perry's fault for not telling her these things –
When the lazy ass ER doc finally, FINALLY, sends them up to the radiologist, she follows, not because she feels guilty for inflicting pain on her new husband – it's not like she's got anywhere else to go, besides she wants to be where the action is.
Unfortunately, radiology is kind of boring, and there isn't even a TV in the waiting room like there is the ER. She sits it out though, flipping through decades old magazine and tapping her foot impatiently.
The radiologist calls her in to sit with Perry, who is now resolutely ignoring her presence, pressing a fresh icepack to his cheek.
The radiologist explains that he's got a fractured jaw and that they're going to send up to the OR shortly for the orthopedic surgeon to wire his jaw. She makes a weak crack about how now he'll finally shut his mouth, and Perry just gives her a dirty look before scribbling a note and handing it off to the radiologist.
They sit together quietly; the x-ray of his jaw glaring down at her like some accusatory religious icon, the sound of Perry's huffed breathing seeming to echo for the room. Something like guilt begins to creep into her stomach, but her throat tightens at the mere thought of an apology.
The nurse comes eventually, explaining that since Perry's had a few they're only going to be able to use a light sedative and a lot of local anesthetic. She winces at the thought and is glad that gin didn't leave a stink of her breath. She reaches out to touch his upper arm as he's led away, but he coldly shrugs it off.
Left alone and no idea where to go now, she decides to face the indicting radiograph head on. The break in his jaw is clear and sharp, and she vows to let him win the next argument in amends.
"Really, it was a matter of time before he broke it," The radiologist says, appearing out of nowhere. She raises her eyebrow skeptically. He steps in beside her, his pen pointing out the spider webs along the bone that surround the fracture. "These are remnants of old fractures – they probably weren't so severe that he needed treatment, but over time they've built up and weakened the bone structure – making the major fracture inevitable. How did you say he broke it again?"
"He fell," she lies, and gets the eerie the feeling it's probably a lie that been told about a lot of those little fissures.
Perhaps there's a reason Perry doesn't talk about the past – if he doesn't want to tell, she doesn't want to know. Some secrets are better left buried.
"It'll be a few hours before he'll be out, if you want to go to the waiting room…"
She nods and leaves, heading for the nearest payphone and calling a taxi to come pick her up and take her to a little shop she knows will still be open.
If she's going to have to play nursemaid for the next few weeks, she'd better get the uniform.