The Hospital Story
Acepilot

8 - * - * - 8
Chapter 2: Darker With the Day
8 - * - * - 8

"What a crappy day," Carver commented. "In this weather, I don't even want to go for a smoke."

"I guess if you moved to Seattle then you'd probably kick the habit entirely," Lor pointed out from where she was seated on an old wooden table, leaning on the window of the rec room and watching the rain trickle down against it. Far below she could see just the tops of umbrellas moving, occasionally catching a glimpse of someone in a raincoat. The gardens on the hospital grounds, normally full of kids getting their chance at some fresh air, were abandoned today as the rain hammered down upon them.

"And yet they never say that in the anti-smoking ads," Carver pointed out. "They're clearly not reading their target market correctly."

"You've been watching way too much Mad Men."

"He looked better today," Carver said.

Lor had noticed this practice of conversation beginning in her friends for some weeks now. Tino was never brought into a conversation via a segue any more – no, if they were going to talk about their ill friend, then he was brought into the conversation like an elephant in a china shop – very suddenly and with a tendency to bring things crashing back to earth.

"A bit," Lor agreed, somewhat reluctantly. If she was being honest with herself, she didn't think she'd seen much improvement in her friend for weeks, but then, that was rather the whole point of this conversation – Carver wasn't particularly trying to be honest with himself, and she was trying her best to indulge him.

She wondered, for not the first time, how Tish managed to watch Tino every week, struggling to find improvement in him, and not break down into hysterical tears. Or maybe that was what she did when Lor and Carver were out of the room.

Voices coming from the hall interrupted her train of thought. "I don't need this stupid wheelchair."

"You're meant to be resting. Dr. Carmichael said that you shouldn't be up and about – consider yourself lucky I even got you out of the room."

"Oh, bugger what Lucy says. I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Phil. Have you seen your bloodwork?"

"As if you know what it all actually means."

"I might not but Dr. Carmichael does and she says you're meant to be resting so resting you are. We are going to sit in the rec room and chill and relax and you are going to stop trying to get out of this chair before I strap you into it by force."

"I'd like to see you try."

The wheelchair preceded the voices into the room by seconds. Hypothetically 'resting' in it was the boy she had met last week, who this week was in a more familiar hospital gown, hooked up to an IV drip and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else but stuck in a chair. Pushing it was a second young man, this one with short hair that, in the right light, looked vaguely purple.

The wheelchair bound patient smiled when he saw her. "Hey. It's you."

"It's me," she confirmed, smiling back at him. "Not so much with the gymnastics this week, huh?"

"Please oh please don't give him any ideas," the boy pushing the wheelchair begged. "It was enough of an effort to get him into the chair once."

"And the fact that I had the energy to put up such resistance didn't tip you off that I'm fine?"

"No, it just suggested that maybe they need to put you on sedatives as well."

"Thanks a bundle, Tommy." The boy in the wheelchair – Phil, his friend had called him – turned to face her again. "You see what I have to put up with?"

She grinned. "I'd be taking advantage of the luxury of getting wheeled around while it lasted."

"Yeah, well...it's lasted a bit too long for my liking." He threw a quick glare at Tommy. "If you're going to play chauffeur, could you at least wheel me over to the table?"

"Yes, my liege," Tommy offered a little tip of an imaginary cap, pushing the chair over to the table that Lor leant against as she looked out the window. "Anything else, my liege?"

"A coffee would be great."

"Dream on, kid," he said, looking at the line hooked into Phil's arm, checking that the fluid was flowing through it. "I'll get you some water."

Phil growled in the back of his throat and rolled his eyes before turning to face Lor. "I could kill for a coffee," he said. "But they make me 'too active'."

"We can't have that," Lor told him.

"I'm Phil by the way," he said. "I know you've probably worked that one out already, but...y'know. My doctor would probably give me a clip around the ear for not introducing myself properly. She's big on manners."

"Pleasure to meet you Phil," she responded. "I'm Lor. Sorry to see you're not feeling so well this week."

"I'm feeling fine," he protested.

"What's with the drip, then?"

Phil shrugged. "Eh, I haven't been able to get rid of him since we were toddlers. He's not that bad once you get to know him."

"I heard that," Tommy called from the other side of the room, before turning with a mug of coffee in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Phil looked hopeful for a bare second before the glass was placed in front of him. "Hi, I'm Tommy Pickles. It's good to meet you."

"Lor McQuarrie. And this is my friend," she said, remembering Carver and gesturing toward him, "Carver."

"Just Carver?" Tommy asked.

"Like Bono," Carver told him.

"Or Madonna," Phil pointed out.

Lor laughed. "It's Carver Descartes, but he thinks it sounds girly."

"Your secret is safe with me," Tommy assured him.

"Not me. I'll tell everyone I meet," Phil said. "Not that that's many people, but...hey."

Carver made a somewhat disgruntled noise. "In exchange for betraying my secret, don't suppose you can show me how to change the channel on this TV?" he said, indicating the set hanging over them which was currently showing an ancient re-run of Happy Days.

"But this is the one where Fonzie plays bongos!" Phil exclaimed. "No love for the Fonz? Really? More's the pity." He pointed to the table. "The right hand side opens up if you push down on it hard enough. The remote is in there."

Carver did as instructed and pulled the remote out from its cubby hole. "Can I ask why the remote is hidden in a secret compartment?"

"Because otherwise the girl in 227 keeps finding it. And there are enough people in pain in this building without subjecting them to her taste in television."

"You don't care much for other people's tastes, do you?" Lor asked before she could stop herself.

Phil turned back to face her. "Pardon?"

Lor bit her lip and felt blood flow to her face. She hadn't meant to make such a mean or presumptuous comment but it was out there now. "Sorry. I just mean...well, last week it was pop music, now this week it's somebody's taste in television."

Phil cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. "I like what I like, I guess. Sorry to have offended you."

"You didn't offend me," she rushed out. "I didn't – I mean -" she sighed. "Alright, let's try this again. Sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I was in total agreement on the music thing last week and I'm sure you're right on the TV thing too."

Phil held her gaze for a moment, his forehead crinkling before he shrugged. "Okay. You're right, though. I guess I'm not terribly tolerant of things I don't like."

"I'm pretty much the same," she told him. "I don't think it's bad. It just -"

"Came out wrong, I get it," he assured her, smiling again. "How are you at card games?"

She blinked at the sudden turn in conversation. "Uh, fair-to-average, I guess."

"Five-hundred?"

Lor had to think back. "Not for a few years, but I'm sure it'd all come back to me."

"Good," he said, grabbing the wheels of his chair and manoeuvring himself around to face the table properly, before calling to his friend. "Pickles, if you could be so kind as to get the deck of cards out of the table and bring them over here?"

Tommy sighed but got up from where he and Carver had settled into watching TV and brought Phil and Lor the deck of cards. "Anything else while I'm up?"

"We need a third," Phil pointed out.

Tommy looked between Phil and Lor with an analytical gaze. "No, I don't think you do. Try something you can do with two players. Memory's about your speed, I would think."

Phil rolled his eyes at Tommy but Lor, choosing to head off the conflict at the pass, picked the deck up off the table and started shuffling it. "Snap?"

"He should be resting!" Tommy reminded them as he sat back down on the couch.

Phil raised a finger as he turned to his friend, retort on the tip of his tongue, but Lor grasped his hand and pulled him back around. "Authors?"

He sighed but nodded. "Okay, sounds good."

Lor smiled at him, squeezing his hand before letting him go. "Good."

It had the desired effect of making Phil smile, and Lor felt a sense of accomplishment flow through her. Phil settled back into his chair as Lor began dealing the cards. "So, how's your friend this week? Tino, yes?"

"He's okay," she told him. "A bit more energetic this time around, which is nice."

"Is he having a consultation or something?" Phil asked. "Just a bit unusual for visitors to be in here without the patients they're visiting."

"A consultation. I'll have to tell her that one," Carver offered from the couch.

Lor rolled her eyes. "Not a consultation, no. Carver and I are giving he and his girlfriend some private time."

"That's nice," Phil said. "You guys all been friends long?"

"Forever," Lor said. "Well, since we started school, anyway."

"I know the feeling," Phil told her as they picked up their cards. "You got the Ace of Spades?"

"No," she told him. "The seven of clubs?"

"Nup."

"You know, you never answered my question."

"Yes I did. You asked if I had the seven of clubs and I said -"

"I meant the one about the drip."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "You're really that curious about why I'm attached to some plumbing?"

"Well, you were kind of evasive last week as well," she told him.

His eyes widened a little in incredulity. "Sorry. Didn't realise I was required by law to share everything with somebody I've just met."

"Sorry," she said, raising her hands in defence. "Didn't mean to pry, just making conversation."

"Do you have the Queen of Hearts?"

She laid the card in question down on the table without meeting his eyes.

He sighed, quite loudly. "It's glucose."

"What is?"

"The drip. I'm not allowed solids at the moment, because of some new medication they're trialling me on. It's why I'm meant to be resting. So they're pumping glucose through me to keep my blood sugar levels up. The first time I was in here and they did this to me, they missed the vein and pumped my arm full of sugar water, which was not fun."

"I'll bet," she told him. "Your go again."

"I know," he said. "You still in high school?"

"Yes," she told him. "Junior year. What about you?"

"Same," he said. "Classes by correspondence and all that."

"What do you want to do when you finish?"

Phil paused. "The Queen of Diamonds."

Lor slid the card across to him.

"I wanted to be a chef," he said, lying the four Queens down on the table in a neat pile. "Now I'm not so sure."

"You're one up on me," she told him, sorting her cards out. "Beyond the possibility of sports, I've got absolutely no idea."

Phil smiled at her slightly. "You've just got to find something you love doing, I think."

The sound of a throat clearing from the doorway to the rec-room interrupted them. "Excuse me."

Phil, facing away from the doorway, made a distinctly unhappy face. Lor looked over his shoulder to see a tall, African-American woman there in a doctor's coat, clipboard in hand and a pen tapping against it. "Can we help you?" she asked.

"I appear to be missing a patient," she said. "Who, if I'm not mistaken, was meant to be on bedrest."

Phil went beyond rolling his eyes and appeared to roll his entire head back in exasperation at this statement. "I'm relaxing," he said without turning around. "If this game was any easier-going I'd be asleep." He winked at Lor as he said this, offering her a grin to reassure her this was just self-defence and not meant to be insulting at all. She smiled back at him.

"Well, relaxing or not, you're also late for our appointment," the doctor informed him. "I expect you back in your room in five minutes, please."

"Eugh. Okay," he agreed, clearly reluctantly. "Five minutes."

The doctor stared at the back of his head for a moment, before turning to Tommy and instructing him, "Remember you can drag him if you have to." And then she was gone.

Phil smiled at Lor again. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay," Lor told him, "we've got to get going in a minute anyway."

"Oh well." He pushed himself out from the table and got up onto his feet, albeit a bit unsteadily. "Pins and needles," he winced. "I'll be right in a second."

"Get back in the chair," Tommy ordered him, standing up. "You're already in Dr. Carmichael's bad-books, I wouldn't push it any further if I were you."

"Oh, she loves me," Phil said, confidently. "I'm not worried about her."

"Well, I am," Tommy said. "Now come on, I'll take you back to your room."

"Alright, alright. One minute." Phil sat back down and grasped the table leg to stop himself from being dragged off. Tommy stepped back a moment and Phil turned back to Lor. "You guys coming back down next week?"

Lor nodded. "Pretty much until further notice."

"Well...maybe I'll see you then," he suggested. "You're way better at cards than Pickles here."

"Thanks," Tommy said, sardonically. "It was nice meeting you, Lor."

"You too, Tommy. And..." she turned back to the patient. "Nice meeting you properly, Phil."

"Back at you," he said, reaching up and taking her hand, shaking it, albeit from a relatively awkward angle. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but there's a very nice lady waiting in my bedroom to do unmentionable things to me. Tommy, if you would?"

"You can really propel yourself in this thing, you know," Tommy reminded him, as they pushed toward the doorway.

"Yeah," Phil said as they rounded the corner. "But then I wouldn't be relaxing."

And then they were gone.

Lor smiled at their retreating voices until Carver spoke. "We going to head back to Tino's room now?"

"Yeah, of course."

8 - * - * - 8

"So," Tommy began as he wheeled Phil toward his room. "What the hell was that about?"

"What?"

"With Looor," Tommy stretched the name as far as it would go. "When did you meet her?"

Phil shrugged. "Last week. She came into the rec room."

"And your eyes met across the Monopoly board and you swooned at once?"

"Hardly. We talked about gymnastics. And I don't swoon."

"Oh, you swoon. You swooned your ass off today. If you'd swooned any harder you'd have fallen out of your seat."

"I don't know what you're implying."

"Play cards with me, Lor," he mimicked Phil, poorly, "tell me your life story, Lor. You're so entertaining, Lor."

"Are you quite through?"

"For now."

"She's a girl I've happened to run into a few times. She's nice. That's all."

"Okay."

"Good."

There was a pause, and they continued down the corridor in a pregnant silence.

"Go on, say it," Phil ordered him.

Tommy sighed. "Be sure to come back and see me next week, Lor."

"I don't sound like that."

"You do when you swoon."

8 - * - * - 8

And so another chapter comes to light. I hope you're enjoying this fic - it's been really great to write and to just play with a different view of these characters. I like going back with the same characters I've used before and saying alright, but what if this had happened. They're still the same characters at heart, but what happens to them changes how they ultimately end up, their experiences in life change the people they become. So this isn't Phil and Lor from Tertiary, this is Phil and Lor in a different situation again.

Reviews are, as always, appreciated.

Acepilot 12/01/11