Title: Prioritizing *as usual, I'm not convinced it's suitable *
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Lie To Me' characters, not a single one
Spoilers: none but presumably set after 3.13
Summary: Cal tries to understand the importance of different things in his life under pretty bad circumstances.
Author's note: I would like to make it multi-chaptered, so, please, read and let me know whether it's worth writing further xD Oh, yeah, and a billion of thanks to lietomebaby and Aena Firestar for reading it for me. It would have been terrible without two of you reading it back and forth for me xD
He hated staying there and answering their stupid questions.
Yes, she has insurance. How on the earth can she not have it, if the very last janitor in their company owes one? No, she is not allergic to any kind of medications – as far as he knows – but isn't it written in her history, really? No, she wasn't abused or something. She just fell off the ladder; the reason why she fell is none of your business. Yes, he is her emergency contact, and he doesn't want to call anyone else. No, he doesn't need medical attention, he's alright. Once again, he doesn't need to see any specialist, what he needs is to see her, the faster the better. Yes, he understands that she is still being examined, and doctors have to run some more tests, but that doesn't mean they should keep him here and ask some idiotic questions. Yes, sure, he can fill in the form – like if somebody cares about all this paper stuff right now. No, he doesn't want to wait in the cafeteria, he wants to se...OK, he is well aware of hospital rules, but maybe he can do something to change them slightly? Money is not the problem when it comes to her. Great, so he is dreaming about that room where he can stay alone until they finally let him see her. Oh, she will be brought there, how nice. And the doctor will come by to explain some details? Beyond imaginable. No, he's not interested in how much a day it costs, just let him sign where it's needed. What number is it, sorry? 127? The second turn on the left? Wonderful.
He hoped that as soon as he was done with all unnecessary talking he would be able to sit down, relax a bit, and even drink some coffee. But the truth was he couldn't bring himself to stay – or sit, as a matter of fact - still for more than several seconds. What's more, he was sick of a plain thought about drinking or eating something. To tell the truth, he didn't feel well thinking about everything but her. He came into the room 127, closed the door and without turning the lights on started pacing from one corner of the room to another, worry and guilt written all over his face so obviously that he felt lucky not to have anyone around to see it.
How could he let her come in that building when his gut had clearly told him he had to stop her? Why didn't he insist on them waiting for help? Why hadn't he called the police as soon as he became suspicious? And, to begin with, what bloody reason did he find to take this case at all, for all saints? She told him something about them needing money, but that couldn't be a true reason. He wanted adventures, for sure, and he got them, as usual, but the price was too much this time. He's not ready to pay it! And why...
The stream of questions, accusing him of what had happened, seemed to be endless, and, though he knew that self-reproach was pretty useless, he couldn't make himself stop.
There was no clock on the wall, and he must have forgotten his cell in his car, so he had no idea how long he had been measuring this room with his steps when a door finally squeezed quietly, and a man appeared in the doorway.
"Dr. Lightman?" his voice was quiet but confident, and in the middle Cal noticed something that sounded exactly like sadness... or was it compassion? He couldn't rely only on his ears; he couldn't let himself make a mistake now, so he crossed the ward and switched on the lights.
The instance his eyes adapted to brightness, he was able to see dark shadows on doctor's forehead. Yes, it was compassion, for sure, and maybe some kind of fatigue but the last one didn't bother him the slightest bit.
"Ya, it's me" unnecessary answer for unnecessary question helped him somehow to pull himself up, put on an accustomed mask and hear whatever this doctor was up to saying.
"My name is Dr. Strope, I'm Dr. Foster's physic..."
Lightman completely lost his temper before the end of the sentence.
"Where is she? How is she? Why can't I see her?" an avalanche of words and flurries came upon a man in scrubs who just stood there and silently waited for Cal to stop. His look was full of pity this time, and that was something Lightman could never let anyone feel towards him, so his monologue eventually came to an end, and he fixed his gaze on the doctor's face, waiting for him to speak.
"Answering your questions one after another, Dr. Foster is now having an MRI, she is still unconscious, and you simply can't enter the MRI-room. Now, please, will you let me prioritize all the information for you? The results of the neurological examination are quite positive, she is responding to the majority of stimuli, and it's a good sign, but it's really disturbing that she hasn't come to consciousness yet. And because of this it's troublesome to evaluate the severity of trauma. So all we can do now is wait for results of all tests, which hopefully are going to help us understand her condition better, and for her overcoming."
"When will I be able to see her?" this time Cal realised that he might sound like, dunna, some drug pusher who by all means had to see his runner to verify that his pieces were alright, but he didn't care about impression which he made right now.
"Not before you regain your temper and take a grip on yourself. When Dr. Foster comes round, last thing she needs to see and hear is unfiltered emotions. She will be here in no more than half an hour, so, please, do your best. I'll come by to keep you up-to-date later" with these words Dr. Strope stormed out of the room, leaving Lightman even more emotionally unstable than he had been before this talk.
How did this fucking doctor dare to tell him such things? He is a specialist in emotions, he spent several decades studying them, and now some guy who more likely doesn't even have a psychological degree comes and tries to teach him how to compose himself? This is simply unbelievable! This smart ass should be punished. Why don't...
No, no, no. There were words which hurt much more than being taught something in his own field. 'Let me prioritize.' This phrase was the most offensive one. No one could ever point him out an order of importance, whatever it was all about. It was his right, as a man, to decide what was vital for him. And now – that precise moment – running after that bastard in order to beat him was clearly the wrong thing to do. Unimportant one.
He should think about the nearest future and deal with immediate problems like... calling someone, 'cause nobody outside this hospital knew they were there; drinking coffee, 'cause despite his wishes he was becoming sleepy; and, as much as he hated to admit it, getting ready to see her, 'cause he needed to be really confident and calm when the time for whatever it will be comes.
Once all the thinking was done, Cal got on fast track with doing things. The very first one – a phone call – was as uneasy to do for him now as the last. He asked a nurse who stood near the reception whether he could use their phone, quickly received a positive answer but for a moment or two stood still with a receiver in his hand, unsure of what number to dial. He had one particular in mind, the one he was used to dialling in such situations but now there was no one on the other end, he was certain about it, so he had to come up with another. Thoroughly weighing all pros and cons of two other numbers he knew by heart, he finally chose one and made a call. On the other end exactly the person he was hoping for picked up.
"It's me. Shut up and listen. We're in County General, Foster has been hurt. Don't tell anyone except... ya, right, these two. Leave your cell where you're standing and come over here. Ya, three of you. Then find her! Did I miss the word 'now', Loker?" he hung up and, enraged, had nearly hit the wall with his fist. Regardless of how he felt, he knew for sure it was the last outburst of anger he would let himself have in the next God knows how many weeks, 'cause that bloody healer was right. Whatever the outcome of her tests is, Gillian will need an assurance in the future, not negative emotional surrounding.
Next step was coffee, and it definitely wasn't difficult to deal with while having a dollar in a pocket. Lightman had five. Walking with a cup in his hand down the corridor he already noticed the change. He had left the door closed, and now it was wide opened. Cal hastened his steps, reached the doorway and froze for a second, then composed himself, closed the door behind himself, put the cup on a table and slowly walked towards the bed.
There she was, so pale and fragile, covered up to her collarbones with a blanket with only hands laying on it. He knew that under it was hidden a pair of fixing bandages on her chest and her thighs so that her spine would be immobilized for a time being and probably some ice to cool the bruising, thus he was unbelievably gentle taking her hand – the one without an IV-line in it - in both of his. Holding it, he sat down carefully on a chair next to her bed, slightly leaned forward and brought her palm to his lips.
There was no doubt he had unconsciously prioritized everything by that particular moment.
So, that was that. The first one. How do you feel about it? Like/hate/see some positive/negative sides? And... I actually plan to slowly reveal what had happened to Gill in the next chapters but if you think I should write the whole chapter dedicated to what had happened before or how others reacted, feel free to tell me) Your opinion is a priority to me xD, so review :)
