Wounded
Disclaimer: Silent Witness Belongs to the BBC and not me.
Jack sat on the hard trolley in the Accident and Emergency Department, softly kicking his foot against the floor, waiting to be discharged. He hated hospitals. The smell of disinfectant and the ever droning noise of chatter and movement, occasionally punctuated by the sound of someone throwing up made his edgy.
It was quite ironic, given that he ended up in them on a fairly regular basis given his cage-fighting hobby. He would stagger in after a bad fight to be stitched up and reprimanded for his recklessness by a doctor who was so far up their own…
"Mr Hodgson, you're free to go now," a nurse poked her head around the curtain and smiled at him.
He'd had a lot of that over the last few hours. Smiles, tea and sympathy. People telling him how brave he'd been. Jack had just shrugged it off. He hadn't been brave; he was just doing what any human would have done.
He hopped down off the bed trying to put on his jacket the best he could with one arm strapped up in a sling. The doctor had told him that he'd been lucky, that it wasn't too deep and it had not caused much damage. The knife had missed any major arteries and vessels but he'd still need to take it easy and rest for a few weeks before starting a course of physiotherapy. Jack scowled at that thought. He didn't need physiotherapy; the only kind of therapy he needed was cage-fighting. That always solved his problems or at least blocked them out for a period of time.
Still whilst he enjoyed the rough and tumble, he'd never been quite that close to death before. Sure he'd taken a few blows to the head and come round in hospital but this time was different. As Jack walked out of the hospital, taking in deep breaths of the cool knight air, he remembered the glimmer of the knife blade as it came dangerously close to his oesophagus.
If Nikki hadn't been there, Jack wasn't sure what would have happened. He didn't want to think about it. The painkillers were kicking in now and he was drawn into a hazy calm. He knew it wouldn't last and the memories would come flooding back soon. Physical wounds always healed so much quicker than the emotional ones.
Still whilst he was in a drugged-up state he didn't have to worry for now. Right now he was hungry and desperate for some food. Pizza sounded like a good choice for tonight.
After all, who could say no to pizza?
Author's Note: This one-shot came to me during that scene in 'True Love Waits' where Jack is being patched up by the paramedic. He looked at little bit traumatised (understandably) by the whole event, but seemed to have perked up by the final scene with Nikki. Interesting, pizza must be the cure of all ills!