This is my first venture into the ER catergory. I watched The "Age Of Innocence" episode and this wouldn't leave me alone, this my idea on perhaps how Simon Brenner deals with his childhood trauma. Please let me know what you think, although i mention Neela i am a HUGE Roomie fan!!! So anymore ER fic from me will have that pairing
Simon took a deep steadying breath as he tried to calm himself down while pacing up and down the staff toilets. He had no idea what made him confess to Archie, it wasn't like it was going to change anything? Only now one of his co-workers would see his weakness. Sighing he punched the wall of the bathroom and felt relived at the pain that radiated down his hand, wrist and arm. It was almost as satisfying as hurting that paedophile he had been made to treat earlier.
He knew he wasn't well liked, he came across as being arrogant, un-emotional…basically a prick. But that's what he needed, he couldn't let anyone get close and see who he really was…a freak. This way he could throw himself into work and have meaningless one night stand after another. Treating women like dirt to try and ease his pain, forget about it all.
He sat in the bathroom stalls just staring at the sharp scalpel in his hand that he had managed to swipe from a chest tube kit without anyone seeing. This was his way of dealing with it. His childhood, his lack of family and friends….
Taking another deep breath to stop the tears that were threatening to fall, he rolled back his sleeves to the elbow, revealing several scars and scabbed over cuts. He had stopped for a few weeks, promising himself he wouldn't do this anymore, he was going to get himself sorted out and stop acting so much like a jerk. A certain female surgeon had a certain part to play in that.
He dug the blade into the skin and smiled slightly at the pain it caused. It was satisfying, the blood ran from the cut to the wrist and fingertips. As he did each cut he actually felt something, pain, anger and frustration. These were things he hadn't felt since….since he was young. Before his mother turned to alcohol to fix her problems.
Simon felt sick as memories of Bobby flashed through his mind. The grey moustache and the words he whispered into his ears as he did his……deed. He could taste the candy he had given him in his mouth, the ones he had to eat in front of his mother to assure her that he was grateful and it made him retch. The smell of cheap alcohol overwhelmed him, the nausea in his stomach rising all the time. To this day he still hadn't worked out why he never called for help, or told anyone, did this make him as sick as Bobby? Did he want it? Subconsciously? Maybe it was to stay in his house, as his mother would never believe that Bobby would do that. The questions and memories made him dizzy and the nausea he had managed to hold back overwhelmed him and he was violently sick into the toilet bowl, his stomach heaving painfully.
Once his stomach had finally settled he straightened up and dug the blade once more, making a thin line of blood across his arm. He felt better now. Stemming the bleeding with tissue he walked out of the stall and splashed cold water on his face to wash away the tears. This wasn't him….his pager beeped…..this was his way of "dealing with it"