I own nothing!
This is an Eric-centric fic, but it doesn't all take place in Dauntless- we'll get to see the rest of the city!
*This involves the cannon of the books, though it does not focus on all of the same characters (though they will be mentioned) or on the same time-line. Also, Eric and his cohort are in their mid/late twenties instead of teens.
1.
Eight years.
_
The clinic here near the outskirts of the city is nothing like the sleek, pristine walls of the hospital a mere twenty minute drive away. To compare the two practically makes one forget that both medical units even exist in the same city.
But this area is Factionless.
Abnegation had developed this drop-in clinic for Factionless members decades ago. It has not seen too many updates since then, but it does manage to serve its purpose. Members of Abnegation act as "nurses" there and are trained in most basic First-Aid and are able to dole out common medications as needed. They are not exactly fully-qualified medical professionals, but their care and preventative measures do make a difference.
For anything more serious and for true wellness check-ups, doctors from Erudite roll in twice each week to see patients. They bring with them a limited supply of more heavy-duty prescriptions, the ability to perform more serious procedures, and the power to make a referral to a City Hospital. Such referrals are the only way the Factionless can see a specialist, so Physician Days generally bring in a lot of traffic.
"Depressing day..."
Samantha Thorne looks up from typing up a rationale for the referral she'd just made. She spares her friend a smile and reaches out quickly to ruffle the other woman's dark pixie cut.
"Tell me about it," she mutters to her friend and co-worker. "This guy might need part of his foot amputated from an ulcer he waited to get checked out-the infection might be deep. Totally preventable..."
"Ugh, fuck that ..."
Trained professional though she may be, Dr. Claire White does not enjoy anything to do with feet. Ever.
"Thaddeus is already saying he thinks we'll be turning people away by 4:00 ..."
Samantha jerks her chin towards the tall man who's hurrying by. Thaddeus - Ted- Coughlin manages the clinic. The place is practically his baby. He is Abnegation born and raised, and he'd even volunteered there as a teenager. One might think there was a little Erudite in him with how meticulous he is about tracking inventory and keeping a regular staff rotation.
"It's going to be quite the day, then," Claire sighs.
She flattens down the short hair that Samantha had mussed before heading back out to the waiting area. Some Abnegation volunteers are running a sort of triage for anyone who comes in claiming they want to see a physician, organizing them the best they can by severity rather than first-come-first-serve. There is usually some dissension among the Factionless about this method because, inevitably, some will not be seen while others with more pressing medical issues will get attention even if they get there late. Still, given that physicians are not regularly available to them, priority it is the only reasonable way to get through the crowd.
With this in mind, Samantha swiftly finishes her write-up and then sets aside her tablet in a small cubicle behind the front desk labeled "Thorne." They don't have offices or even lockers here, so they must keep their things in the square cubbies- the most private and secure personal area of the clinic. Abnegation, of course, would not set up a building that wasted space on personal offices to distinguish any worker as superior to another. Erudite on the other hand, celebrates accomplishment and advancement- for instance, the Director of the hospital has a particularly lavish, glass-walled office overlooking the hospital foyer. Nothing is like that here, which is as humbling as it is curious ...though not altogether awful, Samantha supposes.
"Hi Charlotte," she greets the slim woman in the waiting room. "Who's next?"
"Walsh," the redheaded Abnegation calls and hands Samantha a folder with a hand-written form she'd gotten from the patient.
Samantha glances at it and then up at the older man who stands up and moves slowly toward her. He is a grizzled man, graying but thick and still strong in his build. She takes all of this in and is then distracted by his face. He is missing an eye, thick scar tissue surrounding the left socket and most of his nose. His remaining eye doesn't look quite right- part of his eyelid is misshapen and the eye is slightly milky.
It is an eerie kind of stare that he gives her, his face grim.
"Good morning ...you can follow me this way Mr.-"
She glances back down at the brown folder she's still holding.
"Just Walsh," he grunts.
"Walsh," Samantha nods her understanding, leading the way to the curtained sectionals on the far wall of the clinic. "How are you doing today?"
"Well I'm here, aren't I?" is his gruff response.
Samantha almost smiles but note quite. Not everyone gets in at the clinic when they want to; perhaps he could be just a little more grateful?
When she gets him to one of the small sectionals, he sits himself on the gurney there without having to be directed to do so. Samantha slides the curtain closed and turns to him with a practiced smile.
"Let's see what I can do for your today," she give her usual, measured comment.
Calm is always good. Tranquility is conducive to wellness. Samantha is practiced in remaining collected; she would not have found success in the Emergency Room of the city hospital if she were given quickly to hysteria.
"Ain't it obvious?"
Though she is skimming the form in her hand, Samantha sees in peripheral vision that he is gesticulating at his eye.
"Mmm, I just want to see what you told the aid," she assures him gently and reads through the answers to the questions on the paper.
His remaining eye is giving him trouble, which is certainly a good reason for him to be a priority here. It is itchy and the vision slightly foggier than it has been since the face wound healed. Neither are good signs.
"Been this way a couple days?" she verifies.
"Uh-huh"
"Alright ...and what is it that caused this in the first place?" she asks him, setting aside the form- it has told her all it can.
She pulls out a small pen light while she waits for him to tell his story. S he knows that the light works, but it is still a reflex to press the button at the end and wave it at her palm just to be sure. When she looks away form this, Walsh's intact brow is furrowed in annoyance. Maybe with her...maybe with life in general.
"Bit of an explosion..."
Samantha raises an eyebrow at him. She's calm, sure, but she can't hide all signs of surprise from him. What was the man doing that had caused an explosion?'
"I was Dauntless," he explains, probably knowing exactly what she'd been thinking. "Worked in the armory ...I was testing some firearms. Mustta been an obstruction in the chamber cuz that shit exploded in my face."
His report is a sour one, and Samantha understands his scowl is probably more over his luck than at her for bringing it up. She looks him over again. At the glossy but still red scars. At the sturdy-looking muscle that still builds him.
"How long ago? Couple months?'
He hums and nods, confirming but not thinking more precisely over how long he'd been living this new life.
Samantha nods in response and uses the penlight in her hand to start inspecting the remaining eye. She won't dig for more details than she needs. She knows that when Dauntless members can no longer perform duties necessary to the faction, they are either killed (sometimes they kill themselves, she's heard) or leave the Dauntless compound to live among the Factionless. In her opinion it is a mildly barbaric practice since there is always something someone can contribute- for instance, if she were ever hurt or when she gets too old to keep up at the hospital, she could become a teacher or perhaps do research or maybe even help in administration. Disregarding an old member of the Faction due to frailty or injury is disrespectful to what that person has given to their community.
She knows, though, that to Dauntless there must be more disrespect in the idea of keeping someone in a strong, brave faction who is unable to fight and protect.
Upon inspection, there is no discharge from Walsh's good eye, which reacts well to her light. These are good signs. However, there are some reddish spots branching off of his iris, which he reports to her is a new development.
"What's your pain level?"
"It's hurt since the accident," he tells her lowly.
Samantha frowns in a sort of sympathy that she feels sure he doesn't actually want.
"Has the pain changed at all recently?"
"...there's a pressure behind my eye. It throbs," he reports.
He's merely stating fact; he doesn't sound in the slightest like he is complaining. In Samantha's experience, many Dauntless are often reticent to give detailed accounts of their pain. It's something they are conditioned to hide or, at the very least, downplay. Working in the Emergency Room, she has seen how this has lead to more harm than good for the faction's members: some injuries getting worse- infected or otherwise aggravated- because someone did not seek help as soon as they ought to have.
That does not seem to be the case here, though. Walsh may very well have an infection, but it hasn't gotten out of hand- no doubt he is determined to care for his only remaining eye. He simply doesn't want to whine on about it.
"Alright; tell you what ...I don't have all the right tools to get a good look at what's going on in there," she admits to him. "I'll get you a script for an antibiotic- it could be residual infection from all of this healing," she explains.
"That's it?" the corners of his mouth turn down.
"No. I'm going to sign you a referral to the Ophthalmology department. T hey'll have specialized equipment to make sure you keep vision in this eye," she reassures him. "Are you going to be able to get to the hospital this week?"
He nods sternly. As she thought, he'll do whatever he needs to.
"Good ...I'll go do some paperwork and get a few days worth of pills, yeah?"
He nods again, which is her dismissal.
Samantha finds her way back behind the main desk for the slips she needs in order to grant Walsh a referral. They are only to give out a certain amount of these and she'd only just written one, but eyes are a particular speciality she is not equipped to deal with here, and Walsh has suffered severe trauma to his face and needs to get the right treatment the first time around. It's a legitimate need for extra consultation.
"Alright- save this," she hands Walsh the referral slip that will be his ticket through the hospital. "Present that to the intake nurse. And here is your prescription. This is something they can fill here at their pharmacy," she jerks a thumb towards the far end of the clinic past the waiting room. "Last line to wait in for the day."
"Thanks, doc," Walsh gives one of his nods again and shoves himself forward off of the gurney to stand.
"Sure ...take care," Samantha accepts the hand that he holds out for a brief shake. "Go sooner rather than later if you can, okay?"
"Plan to"
Samantha watches him go and then heads back towards Charlotte in the triage area.
"Next?"
"Something cuter and less surly," she is handed a form again. "Cassidy Hastings- diagnosed with a placental abruption a few weeks ago and has been on bed rest. Elliot is doing an ultrasound right now- Bed Six."
"Thanks"
Samantha has to smile a little. Walsh hasn't rubbed her the wrong way he apparently had Charlotte, but she cannot deny that an expectant mother is a "cuter" option than an injured old man.
"Hello," she announces herself and then partially slides back the blue curtain to step around it. "You must be Ms. Hastings."
"This is Doctor Thorne," Elliot, who regularly works at the clinic, tells the patient while he moved the ultrasound wand over the heavily-pregnant woman in front of him.
"Hi," the blonde young woman extends a hand without hesitation for a quick shake.
"Good afternoon. How are you feeling?"
"Alright," the young woman tells her in a way that seems to be honest. "No pain like there was. I've listened to the doctors and been resting as much as I can- truly."
"Good. You're carrying twins; you deserve it ...let's check out the rest of this ultrasound and then I'll do a physical exam to see how we're doing. Yeah?"
Smiling, the pregnant blonde nods enthusiastically and turns to look at the ultrasound monitor. She won't know what she's looking for diagnostically, of course, but she will be seeing her babies on screen and that, Samantha supposes, is what will matter most for her.
"...things are looking good. I don't see bleeding," she gives a commentary as she studies the monitor herself with a more practiced eye.
"Good," the mother-to-be's voice is breathy in its relief. "I know I'm being paranoid coming in for so many check-ups..."
"Not at all. You should be vigilant," Samantha offers her a grin. "Besides, you're giving me a break from deep infections and smelly abscesses."
This seems to set the woman at ease and assuage misplaced guilt, so Samantha moves on and begins a physical exam.
"...I would stick with the bed rest, though. Don't take this as an all-clear and permission to ease up on that. Twins are often born early; you don't want to increase your chances for preterm labor."
"Right," the woman's green eyes are bright and her face, though a little dirty, is alert as she drinks in what the doctor has to say. "I will."
"Good. Make sure you come straight back here if you experience pain in your abdomen or lower back. Definitely come in or send for a medic if you're bleeding at all..."
"I w-"
Cassidy does not have the chance to finish what Samantha is sure will be a pledge to follow these orders. There is shuffling out in the lobby and then several successive blasts rent the air to drown-out the other woman.
Glass shatters.
People are screaming.
Samantha's heart stops.
It takes her a bewildered moment to decide that what she is hearing is gunfire.
"Down, down, down..." she hisses.
Elliot had frozen at the commotion as well, but, at Samantha's words, he helps her usher Cassidy off of the table to curl down onto the ground. Elliot leaves a hand pressed on her back to keep her down, and Samantha, heart now hammering, upturns the gurney on its side so they all can huddle behind it.
The gun fire ceases, but the shouting continues and there is the commotion of movement throughout the clinic. Samantha eases toward the blue curtain; she is scared to disturb it, but she lowers herself flatter to the ground so she can look under it.
"Down! Keep down!"
"Get down!"
She sees several other people crouched down around chairs or laying flat on the floor while a small group runs about. They all wear muted clothes, which are patched and dirty ...Factionless. Some are rushing behind the front desk, others darting towards the small pharmacy.
Looting.
Samantha has heard of this happening before, though never like this- at least, as not as far as she knows. The clinic used to be a victim of break-ins, but that had previously taken place at night. Dauntless used to guard the clinic because of this but had become lax when thefts attempts waned. Perhaps these people know that there are more medications at the clinic on physician days- the kind that the regular medics and assistants manning the place cannot prescribe- so they choose this time to be bold.
Samantha is trying to keep an eye on them, but her eyes are distracted by the sight of bright red blood. It stains the clothing of a familiar frame- she cannot see his face, but she knows that it is Walsh.
Shit.
Her instinct is to go to him- someone needs to put pressure on the wound. Is is a through-and-through? Is there a bullet still lodged in him? What if an artery is severed? Would this be a wound they could treat here at the clinic or would they have to rush him into the hospital? Would he make it to a hospital?
She feels like she's in the emergency room, where she's seen her fair share of traumas. There is a certain sort of headspace you slip into during moments of crisis; something that is a mix of knowledge and instinct - a blend of the two that you learn to trust.
The only problem is that Samantha is sure that moving across the room will get her shot. Personal danger has never been an element of her work. She's not sure if she's supposed to listen to her fear and stay put or ignore it and run to the wounded man. She does not have previous experience to pull from to tell her what to do.
Lost, she remains frozen.
She feels like she is laying on the cool floor for hours, but she counts her breaths and knows that the intruders are in and out in a matter of a few minutes.
Shouting pulls her from her fearful revere.
Once the trespassers' feet retreat out of the building, people inside are shouting to each other to check on one another's safety. A short, trim man with cropped gray hair darts into her line of vision and drops to the ground next to Walsh. It's Mark Sherman, another doctor who'd come to the clinic today.
Her coworker.
She needs to help.
Samantha shoves herself to her feet to join them, sliding to the tiled floor at Walsh's other side and ignoring the way that the shattered glass digs into her knees
"...just a graze," Mark reports as he holds pressure to the leg wound.
" 'M fine," Walsh groans.
"You're lucky is what you are ...I saw what you did for those women..."
"S'nuthin."
"...what'd you do?" Samantha cannot help that she is curious; it is in her very nature.
"He pushed women out of the way from the windows," Mark supplies when the ex-Dauntless does not rush to tell his story. "You saw them coming?"
"...worked round guns most of my life," Walsh mutters. "Guess it's instinct t' notice 'em."
"Let's get him up, Samantha"
Samantha nods and dutifully slips her hand behind Walsh's shoulder to help sit him up. She then hooks an arm under his to help him to his feet while Dr. Sherman keeps a firm press onto the wounded man's thigh. Together, they lead him to a curtained area to get him a seat.
"I'll get you sutured up and you'll be good as new."
"Thanks ...can we make it quick, doc?"
"Of course," Dr. Sherman confirms in his no-nonsense way.
"I'll leave you do it."
Sutures are not a job he will need assistance for, so Samantha takes her leave. She surveys the waiting room and then immediately cuts her eyes to the bed area she had been working in when the gunfire started. Elliot is there with a now-straightened gurney and a flustered, blonde Cassidy.
"Ms. Hastings," Samantha hurries back to them again. "You're alright?"
"I guess," the Factionless woman's voice is a little higher than it had been previously. "I mean ...yeah. I think so?"
"Let's get you back on the table and get the ultrasound going again. Just to be sure, alright?"
The mother looks relieved and accepts Elliot's assistance back onto the table after he closes-off the curtain again. Samantha takes a deep breath and channels her focus onto the screen once the images of Cassidy's womb appears on the black and white screen.
"... ... ...things look the same. I still don't see any bleeding. Why don't you rest here for a while? Elliot will check your blood pressure once you've had some time to relax before you go. Okay?"
"Mmhmm..."
Samantha slips through the curtain into the wrecked lobby, where she is immediately met by Claire, who squeezes her elbow.
"Glad you're okay"
The blonde smiles in return.
"You too?"
"Mmhmm- nothing serious. Scrapes are the worst of it ...a couple vitals machines were hit and ruined, but everyone's fine. Defies logic, " Claire reports, eyes wide.
"Definitely," Samantha agrees and recalls the cold fear that had pulsed through her when she'd seen Walsh bleeding and assumed the worst.
If his is the worst injury, they are beyond lucky.
"Unless they weren't aiming at anyone," Claire continues to think aloud.
"...they just wanted to scare us?" Samantha catches on to her line of reasoning.
"It makes sense if all they wanted to do was rip the place off. Ted's checking the pharmacy," she glances over her shoulder. "They just scared everyone into getting out of the way..."
Samantha considers this and thinks that the brunette's theory is sound. No one here is armed, so the Factionless burglars could have done some very serious damage if they'd wanted to.
"You might be right."
"Well, I'll leave the crime theories to Dauntless- they're on their way. Someone already called."
This follows reason. Dauntless are the law enforcement in the city; they will come secure the area and see what can be done. Rowdy though the Dauntless are sometimes known to be, it is reassuring to know envoys are on their way.
But no one is there yet and there is work to do, so they cannot continue to stand around waiting. The doctors move through the waiting room, where volunteers are sweeping away glass and righting chairs for people to sit in. It seems that Claire is correct and the majority of injuries are minor scrapes and contusions. A few people do have cuts that need to be flushed and sutured, so the doctors pull them aside to place stitches while the volunteers clean and wrap the more superficial wounds.
There is a shout outside when two Dauntless trucks pull up, and Samantha looks round to see armed members hopping out of the backs. All are clad in black. A few head off to patrol the street, a couple others station themselves to stand vigil outside the door, and a handful more spill inside. Two stand guard to either side of the main door and the last three continue in to look around. Ted hurries to meet them and hold council, which Samantha tries not to pay attention to because she's a little busy and needs to focus.
"Alright, listen up!" a voice shouts, which does finally pull all of her attention away from the boy in front of her and to a burly man with dark skin and trimmed facial hair. "My name's Max. We're securing the area as we speak. We are gonna need statements- we want to talk to management and doctors first, then we'll speak with volunteers. No one leaves until they've spoken with us," he declares, gesturing to himself and the man and woman beside him.
"For anyone who works here," the blonde man at Max's left pipes up, "check your belongings. Find out if anything is missing so we'll have a list of what was taken."
There is a murmur of compliance and the three who seem to be running the show move forward to start interviewing witnesses. Samantha had not missed that this Max- a leader, she was certain- had not listed patients among those he wants to interview at this time. Either the opinion of the Factionless is that far below his notice or they are all suspect at this point ...maybe a mixture of the two reasons.
Everyone else continues on with their work, though the place remains quieter than it had been before the attack. There is no white-noise of genial conversation in the lobby; no one seems casual or comfortable now.
"Can I go now?"
Samantha looks around at a familiar voice. Anthony DeCarlo is talking to one of the Dauntless with his hands outstretched in an inpatient way.
"I told you what I saw- I'd like to go now."
"You can talk to your own boss about that," the broad, blonde man before him says in a bored fashion before scribbling something on a notepad in his hand.
"Great. I didn't sign up for this," the doctor hisses before moving off to talk to Dr. Sherman who is the senior-most doctor on sight today.
Samantha frowns after him. Anthony had been in her initiate class; he is a good doctor but is being a little unreasonable. The threat is gone, now, and has not changed the job that they are there to do. She assumes, perhaps unfairly, that he will become one of the doctors who trades off their Clinic rotations to others- many physicians do so if they find the opportunity.
"Dr. Thorne," the blonde approaches her, now, where she is finally signing-off on Cassidy Hastings' chart.
She gives him a quick smile so that he knows she heard before handing the young woman back her entry form
"You'll have to wait until patients are allowed to leave ...make sure you get a chair and are able to relax. Otherwise, find Elliot or me."
"Will do."
The woman smiles widely despite how this day has gone, and Samantha has a hunch that she may once have belonged to Amity. She wonders what made her leave, or what faction she had tried and failed to join.
"And stay on bed rest when you get home," Samantha orders, hoping that this woman does not literally sleep on the streets like some of the more forlorn Factionless folks.
"Don't worry. I will."
"Alright. Have a good afternoon."
"You, too. Thank you so much."
The woman lowers herself to her feet and clasps Samantha's hand warmly before passing her by. The Dauntless man who is dutifully waiting with his arms behind his back steps back silently to let the patient pass. He does not get a smile from the pregnant lady, who keeps her eyes down as she eases past him and hurries to the lobby.
"Hi," Samantha greets him, hands in her lab coat.
"Alright, tell me what you saw and who you saw," he doesn't waste time getting straight to the point.
"Well, I was here at this same bed when the windows broke," she recalls. "The curtain was pulled so I didn't see anything at first; we just flipped the gurney and got our patient down behind it."
The man nods, glancing at the number label on the wall that indicates which exam area they're at.
"Who was with you?" his jaw is taut- annoyed.
"The pregnant woman you just saw and Elliot- he's one of the assistants who regularly works here."
The blonde man scribbles this down.
"What else did you see?"
"Eric," someone interrupts- it's the nameless woman with long dark dreadlocks who'd stood with Max earlier. "You're talking to the last doctor and Max is finishing up with some of Ted's regulars; I'm moving on to patients. Join me when you're finished."
Eric- this blonde Dauntless- gives a tight nod to the instructions and watches the woman move towards the volunteers who'd been keeping the waiting room organized. Samantha, however, is staring at him closely, now. She had not given him much thought, but ...she knows this profile. It is different today- harder and more defined. He is larger, both in height and width, and dressed in all black, but the name brings it all together.
"Eric..." she grins a little, which she hopes masks her utter surprise.
"Hey Sam," he greets flatly, eyes snapping their attention straight back to her.
Erudite was never a faction big on nicknames, but Eric had never been meant for Erudite despite the faction of his birth. He'd always done as he pleased.
"You weren't going to say anything?" she raises an eyebrow.
He'd obviously had the benefit of knowing her full name on that little tablet of his, but he had not greeted her with any sort of familiarity.
"Figured you'd get there on your own."
Fair enough- she had, after all.
"Wow ...I'd ask how you are," she glances towards Max across the room, "but I guess you're in leadership so you must be doing well."
He slowly nods. His lips twitch- in pleasure, she thinks- but his face remains schooled.
"I'd ask how you are, but you're in this shit hole so you must not have been at the top of your know-it-all class," he returns easily.
He has always been sarcastic, and Samantha finds that the return to such an exchange is not truly offensive. She simply scoffs at him lightly.
"We take turns covering the clinic, as I'm sure you know," is her simple, prim response.
His blue eyes roll high in their sockets.
"So did you see anything else?"
Right.
"Oh ...yeah, I watched from under the curtain. People broke into the pharmacy"- she glances towards it- "and ransacked the work desk. I could tell they were dressed like Factionless, but I was on the floor so I didn't see any faces. And I was distracted ..there was someone bleeding on the floor so I was watching him," she justifies herself, feeling like her information is perfectly useless.
"Alright ...anything missing?"
"Yes, my tablet is gone. I had it stored behind the desk."
He makes a note of that.
"Anything on that they'll find useful?"
"I have access to medical records from it, but it's password protected," she explains.
"Something easy to get around?" Eric frowns.
"...maybe for some people. You'd need to have some updated technology, I think. It would probably be easier to wipe everything off of it and just have it as a new tablet."
"Mmm...I'll ask some of our guys in Control about that- they have some of your tech in there. Is it identifiable?"
"It's hospital issue, so it has the logo on the back. You can't remove it."
Eric knows the circle and cross symbol that she means, so he makes a last note.
"Anything else?"
Samantha considers what she'd seen but thinks that she's told Eric everything relevant that she knows- which isn't much. She remembers the way her hands had trembled while she laid on the ground, and she clasps them together now unconsciously.
"No, I don't think so"
Eric glanced at her hands and then up at her face again.
"Okay...thanks. Carry on," he waves carelessly.
Samantha's brows pop up and back down quickly in surprise, but then she gives a small shrug.
"Alright. Nice seeing you, too, Coulter," she bids him farewell half-truthfully -she understands that he's at work, but he doesn't need to be short with her.
"Don't-" he snaps quickly and a little loudly before pausing and clenching his jaw. "Don't call me that."
Samantha's eyes widen slightly in alarm at his swift anger before she nods her understanding.
"Okay," she confirms.
With that, he walks away to join his colleague interrogating patients on what they'd seen and who they may have recognized.
Undeterred, she resolves to focus on continuing her work. She finds Claire at the front desk to try to figure out how patient flow is working, now. They've treated those who needed help after the attack, and now they need to return to the patients who'd been waiting prior to that. However, the system is thrown off, now- some people had ducked out after the shooting, and they're trying to figure out who is left. This is also hindered by the Dauntless who are trying to do their own work- they're demanding a list of people who hadn't stuck around and are insisting that patients stay where they are in the waiting room until they've been interviewed.
Ted is trying to restore a working order to the process, so the two women give themselves a few minutes to take a seat and get off their feet. Neither speak for the moment; neither had not realized how much they need a break until they've taken one.
It's been a long day. Samantha had been there since opening- lab coat on and ready to go- with the intention of getting out at a descent time ...she doubts that will happen, now. Patients had been waiting outside before the doors even opened, so they've been busy from the get go.
As she considers her morning, something occurs to her and she hops back to her feet.
"Samantha?" Claire jerks from her own revere.
The blonde doesn't answer but rounds the desk and moves straight across the waiting room towards Eric. His back is turned to her while he converses with Max near some unoccupied patient chairs.
"Eric... ...hey," she reaches for his elbow, but he twists suddenly when her fingers touch his coat and she rears back, startled.
He looks her over for a moment.
"Yeah?"
"I was just thinking and remembered something. I'm..." she trails off for a moment and rubs at the back of her neck because the hard way he is staring at her is unnerving, "not sure if it means anything..."
"No such thing as too much information," Max manages to be warmer, flashing a bright smile. "Dr..."
"Thorne," Eric answers for her. "I talked to her earlier."
"Right, and it didn't strike me as important, but ...this morning a woman came in and wanted me to make a house call. She said her neighbor was sick, that she'd had pneumonia and wasn't feeling well enough to come back."
"Did you go?" Eric glares.
"No- we don't leave the clinic. She seemed really upset, but I didn't feel comfortable wandering around," she waved her hand towards the doors. "So I told her that I couldn't."
"She stick around?'
"No. I told her she should talk to Thaddeus, that sometimes his volunteers are willing to make house calls to check-up on patients who've been in..."
"He didn't mention anything," Max mutters and scans the room for the manager. "She take you up on that?"
"No, she wasn't interested and left," Samantha shrugs.
The two Dauntless men share a look.
"Would you recognize her if you saw her again?" Eric checks.
"Yeah. I talked to her for a minute or two, so I think I would," she decides.
"Describe her," Eric presses.
"Short dark hair. Taller than me. Older than me, I think- sometimes it's hard to guess when they're a little too thin. She was crying- she had dark eyes," she remembers.
"Thanks ...we'll ask around when we case the area," Max nods thoughtfully.
Samantha nods, rubbing at her neck again and feeling a little bad about selling-out a woman who may simply be a good neighbor.
"She might've been telling the truth," she feels compelled to add. "No one's asked me to do a house call before, though, so ...it just sticks out, now."
"Sure," Max agrees. "We'll look into it."
"Thanks," Eric mutters.
He no longer looks annoyed but doesn't seem genuinely grateful, either, she thinks. It's hard to say- she doesn't know him anymore.
"Of course; I-"
She jerks when she finds her forearm in someone's grip.
"Doctor, will we still be seen? No one's saying anything," a man demands.
Before Samantha can open her mouth with any kind of answer or reassurance, the man's hand is yanked from her by a larger grip.
"Hands off," Eric spits and releases him with a small push. "You sit your ass down and wait your turn," he points sternly to a seat.
Samantha swallows thickly.
"We're still seeing patients," she adds her confirmation, for Dauntless may have the city authority but the doctors have the say there.
The weathered man glares at all three of them but does as Eric had commanded and takes a seat in silence.
"Have fun with that," Eric scoffs.
Samantha opens her mouth to say something about having an obligation to the patients who'd shown up for help, but her eyes are caught on Walsh once again. He is standing near the front desk, slightly hunched toward Ted and in an apparently urgent conversation as his arm gesticulates widely. She suddenly thinks she understands why he'd wanted Dr. Sherman to hurry with his stitches- he had wanted to leave before members of his ex-faction arrived. Now it is too late, and the Dauntless have locked the place down.
The men take note of her distraction and look round to follow her gaze.
"... ...that's..." Max begins.
"Yeah," Eric's tone is clipped, having reached the same answer as the other leader just as quickly.
Neither man looks particularly pleased.
"...he was a patient this morning," Samantha explains in case they are angry or suspicious to see him; both men look back round to her. "He was waiting on a prescription I gave him when they attacked. He pushed some women out of the way and Dr. Sherman had to give him some stitches."
The men share a look and then stare back at the oblivious Walsh who is still deep in discussion with Ted.
"...go tell them it's alright," Max announces, cutting a look to Eric. "He can go."
When Eric meets his superior's eyes, it is with a fresh glare. His face it taught. He does not want to do the thing that's being asked of him, simple though it may seem. His jaw works but his mouth does not open, and he eventually stomps away with a grunt.
"He's had a long day," Max chuckles, looking back at Samantha again.
"Tell me about it"
Max's smile falters a little, but only for a moment.
"Touche ...thanks for the info, Dr. Thorne. We appreciate it. We'll let you know if we have more questions."
"Of course."
He pats her shoulder in what might be a reassuring way but doesn't stick around to chat about it. He moves on with Eric to keep asking questions.
Samantha watches for a second and then goes to find Charlotte and Thaddeus to see which patients are ready to be seen, now.
A long day, indeed.
Chapter 2 coming soon.
Let me know what you think :)