CHAPTER 30
"Mr. Aclassi?" Solas announced before pulling open the fabric curtains that surrounded the young man's bed in the ER. The sound of the metal rings scraping against the rod, mixed with the beeps from nearby medical instruments in an off-tune clamor.
Solas wasn't often in the non-ICU section of the Emergency Room, but when he was, it was usually because one of the Chargers, Bull's rugby team, needed his attention. He had become the unofficial doctor to the impish sports team, a title that secretly was one of Solas' greatest joys.
"Doc!" an animated voice greeted him. The young man, Krem Aclassi, sat up in his hospital bed, his face red from the cold, a sutured cut on his forehead evidence of his recent injury. His right arm was wrapped in a sling. Picking up the clipboard from the edge of the bed with Krem's patient notes, Solas read about a possible concussion along with a broken arm.
"What did you do this time?" Solas said, his tone jovial rather than scolding. "I almost wasn't at the hospital today, you'll need to plan your injuries more carefully next time."
"Skinner and I were practicing," Krem admitted with a coy smile, "Perhaps a little too vigorously."
"Yes, but what did you hit your head on?"
"The stadium floor," Krem confessed.
"I don't follow. The field? You were playing rugby…"
"No, Skinner and I were working on our dance routine for when we won, and I fell and hit my head on the concrete steps when I jumped off the edge of one of the seats. I thought I could flip from one of the balconies."
Solas had to repress a laugh as he pictured the spectacle. He didn't want to shame the young man. Solas might not be the most joyful individual in Thedas, but Krem might win the top prize in that category if a contest was ever held. It was a quality he appreciated.
"Ah, let's see that arm," Solas said gently, helping Krem out of the sling with a practiced touch. Looking at the arm, he could immediately tell by the swelling and the way the bone jutted out underneath the skin that it was broken.
"Ouch," Solas evaluated. "Do you need more-"
"No, I'm pretty doped up. It's in my head. I can't think clearly." Solas took out a small flashlight shaped like a pen out of his front white coat pocket for Krem to follow with his eyes. After a few more tests, Solas was confident that Krem had a concussion. It was a semi-regular occurrence.
"Ok, you know the drill, let's get you into a CT scan. Morrigan or I might be able to heal it with our mana, but we'd have to get special clearance on the arm since it's not a life-threatening injury. If I correctly estimated the extent of the breakage, you'll be benched for at least six to eight weeks."
"Better you tell the Coach the news than me," Krem joked, leaning back into bed. "He's not going to be happy about me sitting out the next game."
"I'm sorry that your gymnastic routine will have to wait for another day. Although, I might recommend practicing on softer ground next time."
"Thanks Doc. Think you'll want to come to the next game I play?"
Solas smiled, patting Krem on his good shoulder. "Send me a ticket, and I'll be there."
"You got it," Krem shouted as Solas walked out to the waiting area, waving a hand at a weary-looking Bull who had on a bomber jacket with the Chargers logo intricately embroidered on the front and back. The qunari rose from the pastel pink couch when Solas entered the room.
"Krem?"
"He'll be fine. I've sent him to get a CT scan. I managed to heal the cut on his forehead, and if need be, we can address the brain swelling. Then we'll put a cast on the arm."
"Ah, great." His face fell when he thought of Krem unattended in the hospital. There had been a few unkind incidents regarding Krem's preferred pronouns in the past. Solas hated to think of such prejudice existing in the medical field, a discipline whose intention was to help, but nonetheless, he knew not to underestimate the possibility.
"One of my best residents, Anders, is overseeing the CT scan and the aftercare. Krem is in good hands."
"Thanks for looking out for him, Doc," Bull acknowledged with a large smile.
"Anytime," Solas said, turning to go pick up a few other patient files before returning to the neurology wing.
"Doc?"
"Yes?"
"Do you want to grab a bite to eat, maybe? Thought you might need a talk."
"About?"
"Spy shit."
Solas could feel himself reactively blanch. He suspected that Bull, a trained agent, had identified Solas as one who dabbled in subterfuge, but to acknowledge that part of his life was verboten openly. It could put him at risk, not to mention others. He glanced around the room nervously, searching for faces that might be listening.
"Don't worry. I meant my spy shit. Maybe I should loudly say, what other spy shit could there be?'
Solas looked at his wristwatch. He hadn't had lunch yet and had a few hours before his next wave of patient appointments started.
"We could go to the cafeteria?" Solas suggested hesitantly.
"Sure," Bull agreed.
Solas half-listened as Bull chattered away about the Chargers' recent season. If he was honest, all he wanted to hear about was Ellana. He knew that she and Dorian were close, and he hoped for any news, second-hand or not, about how the art historian was fairing ( and the current state of her relationship with the silver-haired elf from the museum ).
The two separated upon arrival to the cafeteria, an open room filled with natural light. A designer had renovated the space since Solas had started there, adding soft green walls and furniture that was intended to evoke an at-home feeling. A moss wall covering one side of the room was one of his favorite features. Solas often sat looking at it, eating by himself, over long shifts.
Grabbing a tray, Solas grabbed a ready-made egg salad sandwich, a glass of lemonade (no ice), and a giant chocolate cupcake with rainbow sprinkles. It was a strange combination, but after staying awake over the last twenty-four hours, he was susceptible to emotional eating.
When he joined Bull at the table, he was amused to see Bull had two chicken burritos with all the toppings made. The two ate in silence for some minutes before the qunari began to speak.
"Why have we never done this before," Bull said in a charmed tone. "How many times have the Chargers been under your care?"
"I don't know if I should celebrate that number. Although it is always a pleasure,"
"I guess you don't go out to lunch very often. Huh?"
"No, I'm afraid that I'm often busy with...patients," Solas replied in a weary voice. He almost slipped and said, "spy shit."
"Did you know I was a spy?" Bull volunteered with a grin. "Ben-Hassrath actually, it's a rather elite order within Par Vollen. Broke up some smuggling rings, did some undercover jobs. Pretty dirty work, actually. You know, I'd say that spies usually recognize other agents. You know, hypothetically, the way they scan every room they enter looking for danger."
Solas winced, realizing he was searching the room for any threats out of habit.
"Not that you would know that," Bull said with a wink, "I thought I'd catch you up."
"Thank you. I appreciate that, Bull. I was aware you were a Ben-Hassarath, I recall you telling me about the chest wound on more than one occasion."
"Yeah, messed things up between Dorian and me for some time. I had to quit the business, find a new occupation. Amazing how sport team management overlaps with a lot of qualities that make for good intelligent agents-lots of jumping-breaking up fights-good listening."
Solas chuckled. Although the subject of the conversation made him uncomfortable, he appreciated that the qunari was doing his best to offer him emotional support. He was trying to read between the lines, trying to gauge if Ellana had motivated the discussion in any way.
"Anyway, I'm not sure sometimes if I quit Ben Hassareth for Dorian or because the job got too hard and too dark." Bull finished after giving several long explanations of prior spy jobs, stopping to draw out rough schematics on a paper napkin more than once.
"I thought the gun wound to the chest was the deciding factor."
"No-no. That was freelance. I met Dorian and was taken with him, he was unsure at first, kept making excuses to come over-leaving things behind. Don't tell him I told you this, but one time he called me in the middle of the night worried that someone was trying to break in. He insists that it wasn't an elaborate ploy-but I went and then..."
"So you quit because of Dorian?" Solas asked, cutting off Bull from continuing with the more salacious details.
"Par Vollen wanted me to sacrifice my men. Leave them all for dead. Couldn't do it. Had taken orders for years, had to do some ruthless things. One day I was a true believer. The next, I was done. No accounting for the change. Maybe it was Dorian-maybe it was the loyalty to my men. My thoughts waver day-to-day. Par Vollen didn't seem to mind too much. Only sent one assassin after me. Now I'm Tal Vashoth, but it doesn't matter because I have a good life here in Val Royeaux full of people who I love."
"A heart-warming story, one to aspire to for all spies if circumstances are kind," Solas replied. "Although, if we were to be talking hypothetically, sometimes things are not that straightforward. Sometimes one must persist along a certain route if lives are at stake."
"The life of an art historian?" Bull said with a knowing glance.
"Hypothetically, it could be anyone's life." Solas sullenly replied, taking off the paper from his cupcake, biting into the frosting with relish. He knew he didn't have to confirm Bull's suspicions. The qunari appeared to have already figured out that whatever had motivated Solas' actions it was to protect Dr. Lavellan.
"I like Ellana. I'm glad she and Dorian found each other. Dorian didn't have a lot of friends that really got him. I wish they would both wear weather appropriate clothing this time of year. Think it's all the time they spent on Tevinter beaches-great place. Have you been?"
"What do you think Dr. Lavellan would say knowing you were freely chatting with her least favorite person in all of Thedas," Solas asked, ignoring Bull's diversion. "Someone she might even term dishonest."
"Were you dishonest?" Bull asked bluntly.
"I'm not sure, tell me what the specific thing I might have been dishonest about, and I can tell you with certainty."
"Wow, you're really deep in it, aren't you?"
Solas didn't acknowledge Bull's question, finishing half of his cupcake in one bite.
"Can I do anything to help you?" Bull asked. His face was tender, welcoming.
"Watch out for Dr. Lavellan," Solas replied gruffly. "If I understand correctly, the roving blood mage that attacked her is still on the loose."
The conversation was interrupted by Solas' pager buzzing. Instinctively he reached for the small plastic box on his belt buckle before making eye contact with Bull to indicate he had to leave and fast.
"Krem?"
"I'd tell you. It's a child. Came into their magic somethings not right. Do you mind if-"
"Go," Bull said, gesturing at the trays and the discarded food wrappers, "I'll clean up."
"Thanks-and thanks for lunch," Solas said, his white lab coat billowing around him as he jogged back to the ER. It was going to be another lonely shift.