Bang Ur Head

- a Primeval story by phoebenpiper

[Author's note: This story takes place in the middle of the 4th series and is based on true events - imagining I was Connor made my afternoon somewhat better, and my grumpy boss actually ending the day with Lester's last line sealed the deal!]

…

Connor was still reeling when Abby walked back into the lab.

"What happened?" she asked, clearly concerned.

Connor pointed down to the wobbly metal stepstool and then up to the low-hanging exam light as he sputter, "I stepped…the light…OW!" He leaned against the wall for support as he continued to hold his injured noggin.

Abby sighed and shook her head. "I think that's a clear sign it's time for lunch. What do you think?"

Connor nodded, immediately cringing from the pain it caused. Abby noticed and gently touched his shoulder.

"You sure you're okay?"

Connor started to nod again but stopped himself, shrugging instead as he answered with a smile, "Yeah. You know me."

But that had been three hours ago. And despite a pleasant lunch with Abby out in the surprisingly sunny fresh air, Connor STILL felt dizzy and nauseated. His head still hurt as well, which was making it difficult to concentrate on anything. Abby had left immediately after lunch for the pet store - since Purina didn't make things like Diictodon Chow, Abby personally wanted to oversee all the menagerie food purchases - but this left Connor without anyone to whine to, so he was aimlessly wandering about the ARC. He could hear Lester and Phillip arguing loudly in Lester's office, so Connor headed in the other direction, hoping he might get some sympathy from Jess.

Luckily she noticed something was wrong immediately.

"Connor, are you okay? You look…off somehow."

Connor nodded, causing him to cringe from the pain. I really need to stop doing that, he reminded himself before answering, "Cracked me head. Still feeling a bit qualmish."

Jess spun in her chair, glancing around Ops as she asked, "What'd you hit it on?"

"Oh, it was in the lab," Connor explained. "A few hours ago, before lunch."

"A few hours ago?" Jess repeated, sounding quite upset. "Connor, you shouldn't still be feeling sick a few hours after hitting your head. You should get it checked out."

Connor had wanted a little sympathy, but he didn't want to make a big deal about it. "I'm fine," he said, brushing aside her concern. "It's nothing. Really."

"Connor, head injuries are not something to be taken lightly. You could have a concussion…or WORSE. Remember Natasha Richardson?"

He hadn't, but now that she mentioned it, the news story came flooding back to him. The actress had been skiing with her family when she'd fallen and struck her head. She'd been fine for several hours - About three, wasn't it? Connor nervously thought, checking his watch - before suddenly collapsing into a coma and dying. Connor remembered being upset at the time - not only was Natasha right sexy, but he'd realised just how lucky he'd been all his life, considering the number of times he'd hit his head - but he hadn't given it much thought in years. Now, however, thanks to Jess's reminder, it all came flooding back, and he suddenly started to feel light-headed. And was that blood he could feel pounding inside his skull? Connor grabbed ahold of the hub, suddenly feeling dizzier than ever.

"Connor, you look really pale," Jess said. "I think you should tell Lester."

"Tell me what?" Lester asked, having spontaneously emerged from his office, his argument with Phillip obviously over for the time being.

Connor realised there was no going back now, though a part of him was relieved that the decision of whether or not to tell Lester was out of his hands. "I…uh…hit me head. Hard. In the lab."

Lester raised a skeptical eyebrow, as if to say, "And this is different how?"

"Several hours ago," Jess chimed in. "And he's still feeling sick."

Lester's expression suddenly changed to one of concern. "When did this happen?"

"About 11."

"And you're only telling me now?"

"I didn't think- I mean, it's probably nothing, right? I hit me head all the time."

Lester gave a sigh of frustration. "Whilst I'm sure another knock on your head couldn't do much damage, I'm afraid Whitehall frowns on their employees dying on company time. So have a seat," he said, starting to walk out.

"What?" Connor asked.

"Sit down!" Lester's tone was so forceful that Connor instantly took a seat at the table behind Jess. "Don't go anywhere. I'll go see about the paperwork."

Connor's head was spinning. He had merely wanted a bit of sympathy, and perhaps a level head telling him that everything was going to be all right; he DEFINITELY hadn't wanted to cause any paperwork!

"But really, I think I'm-"

But Lester was already gone. Jess gave Connor a sympathetic smile before turning back around to the ADD. Connor followed her gaze up to the monitors but realised that their swirling graphics only made him dizzier. He felt silly merely sitting there, doing nothing, but he didn't want to get in trouble. It occurred to him that Lester must be sending him off to some unknown doctor, for why else had the bureaucrat not merely had him report to the ARC's medical bay? Before being shipped off for who knows how long, Connor decided he should first visit the loo.

"Jess," he said, standing up, "I'm off to the toilet. I'll be right back."

Jess looked wary. "But what if you pass out in there?"

"Jess, I'll be fine. I've been fine for three hours."

Not convinced, Jess said, "If you're not back in five minutes, I'll send Becker in to check on you."

The last thing Connor needed right now was to deal with Becker's condescension, but he merely nodded at Jess, determined to be as quick as possible.

Once back in Ops, he took a seat in front of a laptop and, logging on, sent Abby a quick email, explaining that Lester was sending him to the doctor so she wouldn't worry if he wasn't around when she returned. He was just hitting "Send" when Lester re-entered Ops.

"Where's Connor?" he bellowed, looking around.

"Right here," Connor said, instantly feeling guilty for having changed seats.

"Didn't I tell you not to move?"

"Yes, but…."

"No matter. I got the paperwork all started," he said, handing Connor a card with an address printed on it. "Becker will drive you."

"Becker doesn't need to drive me," Connor insisted, imagining the flak he'd take from the soldier, who was standing behind Lester with his arms, an annoyed but bemused expression on his face.

"Becker will drive you," Lester repeated. "Can you imagine the lawsuit if you caused an accident because we let you drive yourself? Now I've already made all the necessary phone calls, and they're expecting you."

Connor was somewhat surprised that Lester had made the phone calls himself. Clearly there was no way he was getting out of this, so he reluctantly stood up, somewhat resigned to his destiny as Lester ordered Becker under his breath, "Keep me informed."

Becker nodded at Lester and then raised an eyebrow at Connor, a look Connor interpreted as, "Are you ready, you pathetic sod?" before leading the way towards the lift.

Once inside, Connor found the silence unnerving and thus began to babble. "I'm fine. Really. Lester's just overreacting - I'm sure I don't have any neural damage. See?" Whilst talking, he'd attempted to demonstrate exactly how fine he was by performing his own field sobriety test - he'd swung his arm out wide and then bent his elbow, bringing his hand towards his face, intending to touch his nose. Unfortunately, he wasn't really paying attention and managed to bring his pointer finger to his upper lip instead. At Becker's raised eyebrow, Connor quickly moved his finger to touch his nose before repeating the original action several times, now making sure he actually touched his nose. "See? I'm fine! I swear, I'm fine!"

Becker nodded, but clearly the soldier didn't believe Connor was okay; of course, Connor suspected that Becker had ALWAYS considered the rest of the team not quite up to snuff.

As the two of them exited the lift into the parking garage, Becker pointed to the ground and ordered, "Sit."

Connor looked from the pavement to the soldier. "Really, I can walk to-"

"Sit!"

Connor immediately sat down where he was as Becker disappeared to go get the car.

…

If the atmosphere on the ride over had been uncomfortable, the one at the doctor's surgery was even worse. Becker sat silently next to Connor, radiating a sense of impatience more palpable than usual. Connor looked about nervously, wondering if anyone else was here under duress, and prayed that an anomaly would open so they could just forget this whole business.

"Temple?"

At the sound of his name, Connor jumped to his feet and hurried after the nurse. He was led to a brightly lit room and handed a clipboard with a huge stack of forms.

"If me head didn't hurt already, this paperwork would certainly do the trick," Connor joked.

The nurse gave him a withering look and placed a paper thermometer in his mouth before he could say more. Mollified, he quietly offered his arm to the nurse so she could take his vitals, and once she was gone, he obediently set about filling out the paperwork.

A moment later, the nurse returned with a soft ice pack, which she handed over gruffly without a word.

"Uh, thanks?" Connor said as she practically slammed the door behind her. He placed the ice pack on top of his head and instantly cringed - whilst the cold felt good, the weight of the pack pressing down on his injury caused it to hurt more. He debated removing the pack but was afraid of what the hostile nurse might say and decided to leave it on, despite the pain.

He resumed his paperwork and was almost finished when his mobile suddenly rang. He jumped and quickly reached for his phone.

"Hello?"

"Connor, thank goodness!" Abby sounded relieved to hear his voice. "How are you?"

"Fine," he replied automatically, despite still feeling queer.

"That's not what Lester said. He's been rushing about all afternoon telling everyone about your head. And I am SO sorry."

"Sorry? Why?" Connor asked, confused. "YOU didn't hit me."

"But I didn't take your injury very seriously. I totally brushed it aside. I mean, you're ALWAYS hitting your head, so I didn't even- but I should've been more concerned. I should've-"

"Abby," Connor interrupted, though a part of him enjoyed hearing her so worried. "Really, it's okay. It's not your fault. Even I wasn't particularly worried 'til later." 'Til Jess mentioned Natasha Richardson, he added silently to himself.

"Are you still feeling nauseated and dizzy?"

"Yep," Connor said with a nod, causing the ice pack to slide off his head into his lap. He quickly grabbed the pack and tossed it back on, causing him to gasp at the sudden pain.

"What'd you do?" Abby asked, obviously concerned.

"The ice pack," Connor explained vaguely.

"Connor, be careful," Abby scolded lovingly. "And let me know as soon as they tell you anything."

"Will do," Connor promised.

Unfortunately, Abby was going to have to wait a long time!

...

An hour later, Connor was bored out of his mind. The ice pack was no longer cold, and Connor had every medical poster in the room memorised, even though he had no real need to know all the names of the blood vessels in the heart! He couldn't even imagine how impatient Becker must be growing out in the waiting room and hoped the soldier wouldn't open fire on the poor receptionist.

When the door finally opened, Connor was so overjoyed, he almost hugged the short, bearded doctor.

Ignoring the enthusiastic welcome, the doctor grabbed a light and shown it in Connor's eyes. "Follow the light," he instructed, moving it first to the left and then to the right. Expecting the light to be raised next, Connor automatically looked up; unfortunately, that's not where the light went, and the doctor frowned.

"Sorry. My bad," Connor said, immediately moving his eyes back to the light. "I'm fine. Really! I just wasn't paying attention."

The doctor nodded, clearly doubting his patient's explanation, before asking Connor to extend his arms straight out in front of him. Connor did as he was told and a moment later cried out in pain as the doctor sharply struck the back of his hands, an action which made Connor wonder if this was an actual neurological test or merely a scolding.

After a few more random tests which had him wobbling all over the room, Connor sat back down on the exam table and the doctor carefully touched the top of his head, causing him to cringe and gasp. The doctor then grabbed Connor's ears and tilted his head forward so he could look at the top of it.

"Well?" Connor asked into his lap, dreading the answer.

The doctor released his grip on Connor and nodded. "You've got a visible contusion."

"Yes!" If nothing else, he had SOMETHING wrong with him!

The doctor gave him a wry look that would rival one of Becker's before briefly feeling the vertebrae along the back of Connor's neck. "Someone will be in shortly to take your x-rays," he said as he casually left the room.

X-rays are even better! Connor thought. Becker can hardly dispute the seriousness of x-rays!

Unfortunately, it took ages for the x-ray technician to arrive, and when he finally did, Connor wondered if the ancient gentleman would actually live long enough to take them.

As the tottering man placed Connor's head in front of the lighted graph, the tech remarked, "You're still young enough to be symmetrical," a comment which caused Connor to chuckle.

"Hold still," the tech ordered, but it was easier said than done. Connor was still dizzy, and he'd been sitting for so long that he found it hard to stand in one place without swaying. As he heard the x-ray start to scan, he reached out and grabbed the wall to steady himself. The tottering technician then removed the x-ray plate and took it behind a screen.

"Can I see me head?" Connor asked eagerly.

"Oh, certainly," the man said, launching into a lecture about how much digital technology had changed his job in the last few years. However, Connor wasn't really listening because he was too busy studying his own head on the monitor. In light of the tech's earlier comment, Connor was surprised at how asymmetrical his sinuses were and wondered if that explained why he'd suffered such allergies as a boy!

More importantly, however, Connor was nervous about what appeared to be a pointy bump growing under the skull at the top of his head.

"Is that a bump?" Connor asked, pointing to the screen.

The technician shook his head without giving it a second glance. "No, you're fine."

"But seriously, look at that," Connor said, tapping the screen. "Doesn't that look like blood is welling up over my brain?" He suddenly felt extremely light-headed and practically toppled onto the elderly man, who again failed to be properly concerned that Connor might be dying.

Instead, the technician calmly led Connor over to take a second x-ray, from the side this time, and then removed him back to the exam room. The sight of the bump on the x-ray had made Connor practically hysterical, so he couldn't tell if the room was spinning due to his injury or merely his hyperventilating.

But if it were truly serious, surely they wouldn't leave me alone for this long, Connor thought as another half hour went by. He was just about to stick his head out the door to make sure they hadn't forgotten him when the surly nurse returned.

"Here," she said as she entered with a giant plastic-wrapped therapeutic pillow and a bottle of Nurofen. "This is for your neck," she said, thrusting the pillow into Connor's arms, "and this is for the pain." The way she said this, Connor could tell she considered HIM the pain. "We'll see you tomorrow morning at 7."

"Tomorrow?" Connor asked, suddenly nervous again. "Why do you have to see me tomorrow?"

The nurse rolled her eyes in such annoyance that Connor figured Becker must've been giving her lessons out in the waiting room.

"It's a workplace injury, so we have to sign off on the paperwork before you can go back to work," she said, as if it were obvious.

Connor nodded and, clutching his now warm ice pack, his pill bottle, and his giant contoured pillow, he made his way back to the waiting room. Becker greeted him with a derisive eyebrow raise, to which Connor quickly defended, "They're worried about my neck so they gave me a pillow. And I have a visible contusion. They took x-rays and everything!"

Becker's expression didn't change, despite Connor defending the legitimacy of his injury on the entire ride back to the ARC.

...

"You're back," Jess chirped as Connor and Becker walked into Ops. "I'll let Abby know - she's been worried sick."

"So?" Lester asked eagerly as he practically bounced out of his office. "What'd they say?"

"They gave me a pillow," Connor said lamely, holding up the large bolster. "And pain meds."

"But no concussion?" Lester asked.

"Nope," Connor conceded, expecting Lester to be annoyed that all this had been for naught.

But instead a grin burst across Lester's face. "That's great news! Now come into my office so we can finish up this nasty paperwork and get you home."

Connor was surprised at how cheerful the pin-striped bureaucrat was, especially considering the rotten mood he'd been in lately thanks to his constant bickering with Phillip. As Connor followed him into the office, Lester said jovially, "Have a seat. This shan't take long."

A very confused Connor sat down and waited as Lester mumbled at the computer screen, awkwardly completing the forms.

"That should do it," Lester finally pronounced. He joyfully jumped to his feet, explaining, "I just need you to sign these, and then you can be on your way home." Connor started to rise, but Lester said, "Sit, sit. I'll get it."

Lester walked over to the printer and then placed the paperwork on the table in front of Connor. "Just sign here and here," he said, pointing to the lines.

As Connor picked up the pen, he could've sworn he heard Lester mumble to himself, "Here I am arguing with Phillip all week, and one of my people gets injured. It's good to be reminded of what's really important."

Connor was shocked. That had to be the sweetest thing Lester had ever said to him.

Or perhaps he'd simply hit his head harder than he'd thought!

...