The day felt like time itself decided to take a vacation. Blake had left shortly after that wonderful conversation, saying he had some patients to attend to. He gave Charlie a reassuring pat on the shoulder on his way out, but that did nothing to drive off all the horrible thoughts that Charlie's mind kept conjuring up.
He wanted to know more about this damned disease, but at the same time he wanted nothing to do with it. Even just the memory of Mr. Turner's state upon their arrival sent shivers down his spine. The idea of having to get some injections to stop the risk of dying from the same disease seemed like the best deal of his life, but Charlie couldn't help the tightness in his stomach that thought brought.
He hated needles since childhood. Well, no one really liked them he was sure, but... Charlie really couldn't stand the feeling. He's had some unfortunate experience involving a blood draw as a kid while he was sick. He was young and scared, left alone with an unsympathetic nurse wielding a huge looking needle. What ensued was something Charlie tried very hard to bury but which emerged every time he spotted a syringe.
Of course, as an adult he had learned to bite down on his tongue and just 'take it like a man'. Once in a while he could do it, without anyone really noticing how much inner battle it required to sit still and not flinch away.
But three weeks?
Charlie wasn't sure he would be capable of keeping up the image, especially not in front of someone as perceptive as Blake. Yet he would have to try, Charlie thought. Because if he really didn't want something, it was to come out as a weakling in front of the man he regarded almost as a father figure within his new built adoptive family.
His own father was a loving man, but he never understood or accepted cowardice. Seeing his ten year old son run screaming from a common vaccination shot one day made it very clear. Charlie could still remember the scorn and disappointment on his father's face when he walked him home from the doctor's office.
If there was something Charlie handled worse than pain and fear... it was disappointment on the faces of his loved ones. That cut so much deeper than any needle could.
Charlie didn't want things coming to that. So he was determined to tough it out. After all... it was just a pinch, once a day. That surely couldn't be so terrible.
With that thought, he sipped on a fresh cup of tea and let his fingers click on the keys of the typewriter, finishing up another report about a stolen bike. He waited impatiently for Simmons and Stance to return, to have at least some diversion from his thoughts, but the men seemed to catch some lead right at the place and Lawson had left the station an hour or so later for a meeting with the board and Tyneman. Charlie almost envied the man for the distraction.
Only almost though.
Having been left in charge at the station, he at least had a bit more work but it was still a painfully slow day. When Hobart returned, he didn't abstain from a few jokes and comments involving biting one way or the other and Charlie was growing ever so tired of that. The knowledge that it would take more than just a day or two for Hobart to drop it made Charlie a tiny bit snappish towards the man.
And dear lord, the clock. Charlie couldn't stop looking at it every few minutes, which just made the time seem to pass that much slower. He picked up every phone with the hope it would be Blake telling him the vaccine had arrived, and at the same time dreading the very thing. It was infuriating.
The itching of his hand under the bandage didn't help matters any.
He knew it was most likely just his mind playing tricks on him, but he had a feeling as if the bacteria or virus or whatever the hell rabies was, was just slowly crawling up his arm. That perhaps the vaccine will arrive late or won't work and what then? Would he one day wake up slobbering, with an urge to drink bleach?
Blake still didn't explain to him what that was all about, and Charlie wasn't sure he wanted to know. He swallowed almost instinctively, feeling his throat tighten at the thought. He took a sip of his tea but in his nervousness it went down the wrong pipe. The feeling of chocking almost sent him into a panic attack, but a good whack from a passing by Hobart pulled him out of it.
Charlie sputtered, gasping for breath and shooting a glare at the smirking Hobart. Imagining how he would deck the man and wipe the smirk off his face gave Charlie at least some small sense of satisfaction. It was hardly enough.
Finally, the clock struck five in the afternoon. Charlie had already finished all there was to do, cleared his desk a few times over, even organized some older files in neat order, re-reading all the open case files, not that there were that many of them. Mostly just some petty thefts or damages on property caused by unknown suspect.
Once his shift came to an end though... Charlie was at a bit of a loss.
"What now?" he asked, only realizing it was out loud when Lawson stood from his own desk, grabbing for his jacket.
"Now? Get in the car and drive us home for dinner," Lawson said, as if that was the most obvious thing.
"Yeah but... what if the vaccine arrived?"
Lawson rolled his eyes.
"Blake would've called. He will be home. Don't worry. When it comes, you will know."
Charlie nodded.
Of course. It was a stupid question. He just... well. He was a bit worried. What with all of it being time sensitive.
They were almost out of the office when the phone on Lawson's desk rang.
Lawson paused.
Normally, he would have let it ring, knowing that the call would be picked up by the sergeant on the second shift. But he glanced at Charlie, grunted something under his breath and returned to his desk.
"Lawson!" he all but barked into the phone.
Charlie wasn't sure who was on the other end, because the call was short and consisted only of two or three "Yeah, sure. Will do," before Lawson hung up.
"Well, seems you are in luck. The plane with the doc and the vaccine had landed just a few minutes ago at the airport. Blake wants you to head over to the hospital and meet him there."
Charlie nodded, feeling his mouth dry up suddenly.
"Cheer up," Lawson said as he passed him by, giving him a pat on the back. "You might even make it home before the dinner turns cold."
Charlie grimaced.
He wasn't sure he was hungry anymore.
They drove to the hospital then Lawson took the car home, saying that Blake would surely give Charlie a lift.
Charlie looked around the parking lot and was a bit relieved when he spotted Blake's car there. Great. At least he wouldn't have to wait around alone.
That was the thought before he entered the building and realized he had no idea where Blake actually was. The nurse at the reception desk didn't know. The head nurse had just run off to handle some emergency and of course Blake wasn't serving at the hospital so he wasn't in the books.
Charlie cursed his luck. He had no idea what the other doctor was called and he wasn't too keen on explaining everything to the young looking girl behind the desk.
He had almost accepted the thought of just parking it in the waiting room, when he got an idea.
"I'm also looking for a patient. Mr. Mark Turner?"
The nurse shot him a look but Charlie was still in his police uniform.
"I was the one called to the scene. I need to talk to his doctor and get a report."
"Ah, of course, sergeant," the nurse smiled and after a short search in the books she gave him the floor number, saying that he would have to check in at the nurse station to be allowed to the patient.
Charlie thanked the nurse and went off.
He reached the floor. It wasn't an open area such as some other parts of the hospital. This was the isolation part and thus he had to get to the nurse's desk before being allowed any deeper.
Fortunately the nurse there had a better idea of what was going on.
"Of course, sergeant. Dr. Blake and Dr. Patterson have just arrived. They went to Mr. Turner's room. I'm afraid you will have to wait for them outside in the corridor."
"That's alright," Charlie quickly acquiesced. He wasn't sure he wanted to see Mr. Turner again. Not if the man was in an even worse state than when he'd last seen him being whisked off in the ambulance.
He walked down the corridor, pausing at one of the door. It had a small window and he glanced inside. He couldn't see the patient, but he saw the familiar figure of Blake standing at one side of the bed, while another man in white coat stood on the other. The door was closed but he could still hear the strange, chortling noises coming from the patient.
Charlie swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away from the door. The corridor was mostly empty, but a few meters further down there was a short bench. Charlie walked towards it, somehow thankful that it was far enough to make the sounds from the room too muffled to make out.
He wasn't sure how long he spent sitting there, his left hand rubbing circles over the bite on his right. His head felt a bit foggy, but he knew it was just the fear and anticipation. He wished Blake could've just done this at the surgery in the house. Even the smell of the hospital was enough to make Charlie twitchy. Gritting his teeth, he took a deep breath, trying to reign in his emotions. This was stupid. What was he so scared of? He should be happy... the vaccine had obviously arrived in time. He won't get the rabies. Just a few shots.
It wasn't like he didn't have shots before.
Charlie shuddered.
Yeah, that was the root of the problem. That or perhaps something else, something deeper, but Charlie wasn't willing to dig and uncover it right now. Or ever if possible.
Charlie's leg started thumping nervously against the floor and he found himself checking the time more and more often. It didn't help that he never seemed to really note the actual time. Always just looked at the watch on his wrist then looked at the door to the room. He could hear talking and grunts, even an occasional groan or scream.
He almost jumped on his seat when the door finally opened. Charlie's head shot up and he felt himself break out in cold sweat. He watched as Blake and an unfamiliar doctor stepped out of the room, closing the door gently. He caught the sound of sobbing and realized a bit belatedly that it was probably Mrs. Turner. Charlie didn't see her but it made sense she would be by her husband's side.
Suddenly he felt ashamed of his own fear. Determined to push it all away, he stood up just as Blake caught sight of him.
"Ah, Charlie! Here you are," Blake said with a smile, raising a hand beckoningly. Charlie walked towards him, feeling as if his legs had gone numb from all the sitting. "I hope you haven't been waiting too long."
Charlie shook his head.
"No. Only a moment," he said then cleared his throat when his voice sounded just a bit too raspy.
"Let me introduce you gentlemen," Blake said, turning towards the other man. Charlie noticed that the white coat didn't sit well on him, and he had a rather rumpled looking suit underneath. He didn't look much like a medical professional, but he had what was unmistakably a doctor's bag in his left hand.
"Dr. Patterson, this is Sergeant Charlie Davis. He had the misfortune of being the one to apprehend Mr. Turner. Charlie, this is Dr. James Patterson, from Sydney."
Dr. Patterson reached out to shake hands in greeting, and Charlie offered his right one too, only to wince as he realized the mistake. Dr. Patterson to his credit took hold of the hand but didn't squeeze it; instead he turned it over a bit for inspection.
"Ah, I must say Sergeant Davis, that was the most unfortunate encounter," the doctor said, though his eyes glinted with excitement. Charlie almost recoiled.
"Uh... yes," he pulled his hand back, shooting a dismayed look at Blake, as if asking if he was sure this was the right man.
Blake just returned his look with the slightest of nods.
"Pardon me, sergeant," Dr. Patterson chuckled, obviously noting Charlie's discomfort. "I know I should not be this excited about the misery of another person, but you must understand... it's not every day, nay... every year, that I get a chance to see a case of rabies in a human."
Charlie nodded, though he still thought it was kind of cold hearted. Especially as he caught sight of Mrs. Turner sitting at her husband's bedside, weeping.
Blake must've caught his gaze, because he stepped forward, putting a hand on Charlie's arm, blocking his line of vision.
"Will she be alright?" Charlie asked, his voice soft.
"It might take some time," Blake said, sombre. "Her sister is on the way, so at least she shouldn't be alone for the next few days."
Charlie nodded. He hoped the sister could take care of the mess in the house before Mrs. Turner returned there.
"Uh... will she also get the vaccine?"
"Yes. While I think she is relatively low risk, it's better to be safe than sorry," Dr. Patterson said, his tone finally void of the excitement. His eyes still glinted a bit, but it was clear he piped it down for everyone else's sake. Charlie still didn't know what to think of the man and knowing he would most likely be jabbing him with a needle sometime soon didn't help make him feel much trust towards the doctor. But Blake was here and Charlie trusted him at least.
"What about Mr. Turner? Isn't there anything you can do?"
"I'm afraid the best thing is to keep him lightly sedated at this point. You see... victims of rabies have periods of total lucidity. Which is more of a curse than anything. They suffer terrible thirst, yet any attempt at drinking makes the muscles in their throat to spasm painfully. Their brain is telling them that water is dangerous to a point where the physical reaction can't be overcome even by the strongest will."
"Can't you just... give him an IV or something? To keep him hydrated?"
"Unfortunately that isn't enough really. Rabies attack the brain, there are many things happening in the body that we can't help with. He will become more and more confused, the muscle spasm become more painful. His throat might close up, he might suffer from seizures or slip into a coma. We can offer supportive care, but there is little chance he will survive."
Hearing all of that, Charlie suddenly felt his throat becoming dry. He cleared it, swallowing nervously, a crazy thought that he might have it already jumping up in the back of his mind. Of course that was ridiculous. He cast a somehow panicked glance at Blake.
"Is the vaccine... will it work? I was bitten this morning I mean-"
"You still have plenty of time, sergeant. Do not worry. It can take several weeks for the virus to travel from the wound to the brain. If we start you off tonight and you'll keep up with the vaccination schedule, you should be just fine," Dr. Patterson explained with a small smile.
Charlie let out a sigh of relief, even though he felt a stab of guilt at it, especially while he was still looking towards the room where a man was dying. That relief was of course swiftly replaced by gnawing discomfort, when Dr. Patterson asked if he was ready.
Charlie shot a questioning look at Blake, who nodded, resting his hand on Charlie's shoulder. It was supposed to be a sign of support, but right now to Charlie it felt as if Blake was trying to make sure he didn't turn around and flee. He had to admit, it was not that far from what his body was telling him to do.
"There is an empty room available just down the corridor," Blake said helpfully. "We can use it right away."
"Splendid. Well, lead the way, Dr. Blake. I'm sure sergeant Davis wants to get it over with as soon as possible and I'd like to get back to Mr. Turner to conduct a few more tests."
Dr. Patterson sounded a bit too excited about the prospect of that, and Charlie hoped that meant he would be done with the shot rather quick. Still, his legs felt a bit shaky as he followed Blake and Patterson down the corridor and inside a small exam room. It looked more like an office, with a desk and typewriter taking up half of the room, but there was an exam bed on the other side.
"Why don't you make yourself comfortable sergeant?"
Charlie doubted he could get comfortable, but went to sit on the edge of the bed. He realized he had no clue where the shot will go, if he should roll up his sleeve or pull down his pants.
"Let's take a look at that bite first, shall we?" Dr. Patterson said and opened his medical bag. He pulled out some scissors and made quick work with the bandage.
Charlie cringed as he saw the angry red bite marks circling the flesh under his thumb. Somehow, knowing what they could be bringing him now made them look that much scarier.
Dr. Patterson put on a pair of gloves and took Charlie's hand into his, turning it around this way and that, inspecting the wound. He hummed under his breath then looked at Blake.
"What was this cleaned with?"
"Povidone iodine. Unfortunately it was only few hours later."
"I cleaned it with water right away," Charlie added, hoping that perhaps that would be enough. He did wash the wound after all.
"For how long? And did you use soap?"
Charlie's face fell.
"Uh... no. It didn't occur to me," he admitted sheepishly. "I just put it under the sink for a few minutes."
Dr. Patterson sighed.
"I realize rabies isn't a common concern in our country, but there are many other pathogens that can harm you, sergeant. For future reference, always use soap and water on bite wounds if possible. Or any other type of cuts, abrasions for that matter. It can save you from a world of trouble."
Charlie couldn't but nod, his shoulders slumping. Why the hell didn't he use soap?
"If I'd used soap, would I still need to get the vaccine?" he asked curious.
"You would, but that's not the point. You won't always be able to get the right medicine in time and the right treatment can be the difference between life and death," Patterson lectured him slightly, while he let go of Charlie's hand, indicating he should keep holding it up, as he turned around to look for something.
"Well, I'm sure Charlie will know better in the future. Hopefully though, he won't get on the other side of a set of teeth again," Blake spoke easily. Charlie knew he was just trying to ease the mood, but he was thankful for that. Sitting on the exam bed and being lectured while the anticipation was making his stomach roll uncomfortably wasn't his idea of fun.
"Alright, here we go." Dr. Patterson pulled over a small table and set out several items.
Charlie's eyes widened at the sight of not one, but two syringes with rather long needles. One of them seemed insanely huge to his eyes. There were also two small vials filled with clear liquid, along with some alcohol pads and a new bandage.
Charlie gulped.
"T-two shots?"
"Well, actually it will be a bit more. I'm also assuming you will need a tetanus booster?" Patterson looked at Blake, who nodded.
"I'll leave that one to your doctor here though. I'm afraid I packed only the essentials for this trip," Patterson said, the corner of his lips twitching in a smile.
Charlie couldn't find anything humorous about it. He actually had quite a hard time trying to focus on anything else but the needles. While Dr. Patterson took the alcohol swab and ran it over his hand, Charlie tried to force down the urge to pull back.
"Alright there Charlie?" Blake's voice pulled him from his panicking thoughts.
"Huh?"
"You turned a bit pale here. Feeling alright?"
"You aren't the type to faint at the sight of the needle, are you?" Dr. Patterson paused, holding up a filled up syringe, the tip of which was glistening with a tear of the liquid.
Charlie swallowed down the lump in his throat. Oh how he wished he was the fainting type. He could just faint right now and wake up with the injection done. Unfortunately, he wasn't as lucky. No. Charlie's fear just caused him to hyper focus on what he dreaded the most, causing his heart to thump wildly inside his chest and cold sweat breaking out on his skin. But he couldn't admit that, not to a stranger, not in front of Blake.
Charlie shook his head and tried to plaster a brave look on his face.
He could tell Blake wasn't fooled, but Dr. Patterson seemed satisfied enough.
"Splendid. Now, this will be a bit uncomfortable, but the good news is, we only need to do this once."
Charlie nodded then cleared his throat.
"Is... is that the vaccine?"
"Part of it. This is rabies immunoglobulin. It's made up of antibodies against the virus and it will bind to the rabies virus before it can enter nerve tissue. Now try and hold still, it will sting a bit."
Charlie couldn't have moved if he wanted. His escape route was blocked by both men. Dr. Patterson gripped his hand and started injecting the immunoglobulin into the bite wound. Each time the needle entered the already broken skin, Charlie bit down on his lip, the fingers of his left hand burrowing into the mattress of the bed. He wanted to curse and hiss but Blake was right there and he didn't want to show just how much this bothered him. Only a bit longer, he kept telling himself, watching the needle go into each tooth mark. The liquid stung but Charlie thought he could handle this. The needle didn't go too deep, and if he didn't move, there was little chance it would break off under his skin.
"There's... a lot of it," Charlie said through half clenched teeth as the doctor injected the rest of the vial into the last tooth mark.
"Yes well. We need to make sure it gets injected into every wound. Alright, one part is done," Dr. Patterson said with a smile as he put the now empty syringe down on the table. Charlie let out a shaky breath.
"What's step two?" he asked, even though he really didn't want to know the answer.
"Ah, that one might be a bit more uncomfortable," Dr. Patterson admitted as he made a quick job and bandaged Charlie's hand.
"Dr. Blake, will you be the one administering the following shots?"
Blake nodded.
"I'm assuming you haven't done this before?"
"I've seen a case of rabies back in Singapore, but I didn't treat the patient personally," Blake admitted.
"Ah. I can instruct you now, or you can watch and take over tomorrow."
"I think Charlie here will appreciate someone more experienced in the matter to start him off," Blake said with a soft smile and Charlie shrugged, feeling apprehension creeping in. Why would Blake need instruction to give him a simple shot?
"I'd prefer not getting jabbed at all," he muttered and both men chuckled.
"Quite understandable, Charlie," Blake patted him on the shoulder. "However, I'm afraid that ship has sailed."
Charlie sighed then nodded.
"I don't care either way," he said.
"Alright then. One more thing you should be aware of before we proceed."
Both Charlie and Blake looked at Patterson, listening.
"Once we administer this shot... you will need to administer the following ones within 24 hours. It is really important to stay in that window. You can do it a bit earlier, but I seriously advise against a longer interval. So... will this time suffice? Or do you want to wait a bit longer?"
Charlie blinked. Somehow, hearing that there was a time schedule of the shots just drove it home that the matter could turn grave very easily. What if he did miss a shot due to work? Would it mean he would die?
The thought struck him as terrifying and he didn't even realize he asked the question out loud until he felt Blake's hand squeeze his shoulder.
"You won't miss a dose, Charlie."
"While it doesn't have to automatically mean you will get infected, it rather increases the risk that the vaccine won't work," Dr. Patterson admitted. "So like Dr. Blake said... you shall not miss a dose."
Charlie gulped then looked at the clock. It was six thirty. He usually finished at work around five. That gave him plenty of time to get home, even grab some dinner. Logically, getting a dose in the morning before work would be the most preferable solution, as there was no risk of being stuck somewhere, but... that would mean waiting until morning. And Charlie just didn't think he could handle the anticipation or the fear. He wanted it to be done with. He also knew that he might need a bit of time to pull himself together after a shot, especially if it will be a daily occurrence so doing it right before work wasn't a good idea.
"Now is fine," he said, then turned to Blake. "Uh... unless it doesn't work for you Doc?"
He realized that it won't be just him who would need to be at home at that time and he felt a bit of guilt creeping in for getting Blake involved in this.
"It's fine, Charlie. I'll make sure we are both home in time."
It sounded like a promise, and Charlie felt some of the guilt vanish.
"Splendid!" Dr. Patterson exclaimed, startling Charlie. "Now, why don't you unbutton that shirt and lie down?"
Charlie blinked.
"Shirt?"
"Yes. I will need access to your abdomen and it might be a bit counterproductive to have the shirt in the way," Dr. Patterson said with a chuckle.
Charlie nodded, though his head felt a bit fuzzy. His fingers clumsily started undoing the buttons of his shirt, before his mind really caught up with what was said. Abdomen? What the hell?
He looked at Patterson to ask if he was being serious and quickly regretted it. The man was filling up the second syringe, pulling the whole vial into it. What was even scarier though, was the size of the needle. To Charlie, it looked huge.
His fingers fumbled and he let out a harsh breath.
Dr. Patterson was telling Blake something about the specific dosage, but Charlie's ears tuned it out. All he could hear was the rush of blood and all he could feel was a growing sense of panic. His eyes jumped towards the door, body going taunt as if ready to spring up.
"Charlie? You doing alright?" Blake asked, stepping in front of him, momentarily blocking his sight of the door as well as the syringe.
Charlie looked at Blake, eyes wide.
"I... uh. I'm... not that fond of needles," Charlie admitted, his voice close to a whisper. Blake's brow furrowed, but then a look of understanding came over him.
"Ah. That's quite understandable, Charlie. I doubt anyone would be much happy about this."
Charlie shook his head, swallowing.
"No, Doc. I don't think ... don't think I can do this," he said and he moved to get off the bed, suddenly feeling like a caged animal.
His feet barely touched the floor however as Blake grabbed his shoulders and halted his movement.
"Charlie."
It was just that. A word.
Nothing else. It wasn't a shout, wasn't a reprimand.
But the tone was clear.
Blake wanted him to stay and he would not take no for an answer.
Charlie gulped, his eyes widening in panic. He felt trapped. He knew that logically, he might be able to push by Blake and just walk out of the room but just as well knew he would be practically signing his own death certificate.
"What's the matter, Charlie?" Blake asked, his voice low, concerned. His hold on Charlie's shoulder didn't ease though. Charlie was almost thankful for that.
Charlie glanced at the other doctor. The man had his back to him, pretending to be busy with checking stuff. He was blocking Charlie's sight of the needle and that simple fact made the haze in his head clear a bit.
"It's stupid," Charlie muttered, head hung low, unable to look at Blake. He slumped back down, the fight gone as quickly as it came.
"It's not. Whatever is the matter?" Blake queried and Charlie wished they could be left alone, that Dr. Patterson would take the hint and just leave, but the man clearly wasn't about to do that.
Charlie shook his head.
"Nothing," he muttered, face turning into a scowl. His shoulders set, jaw clenched, Charlie finished unbuttoning his shirt, trying to ignore the way his fingers were shaking.
"Charlie?" Blake still pressed, but Charlie couldn't open up. Not with the stranger there, not with what was coming ahead. He had to focus on forcing down his panic somehow and talking about its origins was not going to help. Especially not in a room that reeked of hospital. The smell alone brought back unwelcome memories that sent chills down his spine.
"Let's... let's do this," Charlie said, proud that his breath barely hitched.
"Wonderful! Now if you would just lie back down and relax? This won't take all that long I promise," Dr. Patterson said with a smile on his face. Charlie might've gotten some comfort from it if not for the huge ass needle attached to the syringe that the man wielded like a knife, ready to stab his unassuming victim.
Charlie pointedly looked away.
He lied down, thankful for the cot underneath because he was becoming slightly lightheaded. He trained his eyes upwards to the ceiling, deciding to focus on a spot that might've been a live spider... or a smashed fly.
He still caught movement at his side though. Blake and Patterson seemed to exchange spots. Blake now stood near his head, one hand settling on his shoulder. Charlie wasn't sure if it was a show of support or to make sure he wouldn't bolt.
That wasn't a threat anymore though.
The moment Charlie felt the cold alcohol swab touch his skin, he became deathly still. Hell, he barely breathed, which he supposed was far from the recommended 'relaxing' Dr. Patterson instructed. There was no way in hell he could relax but if his previous dreadful experience taught him something, it was the fact that one didn't make any sudden moves when there was a pointy needle piercing one's skin. Unless one wanted a very unfortunate and somehow traumatic experience.
Two fingers pinched the skin on the left side from his navel. Charlie's teeth were clenched so tight he knew his jaw would hurt later on. But he didn't dare let up until this was done, least he made a sound.
The doctor was saying something, but from the tone Charlie assumed it was aimed at Blake. He didn't care. The sound of blood rushing through his temples overpowered anything else so all he heard was muttering. Just as well.
He could feel the needle pierce the skin on his stomach.
Unwittingly, his face scrunched up in a grimace.
The hand on his shoulder squeezed in silent support.
The spot on the wall seemed to move.
Charlie blinked, trying to clear his eyes.
Squinting, he tried to see the legs, to identify the creature that was hanging just above his head. Anything was better than to focus on the pain of the needle digging a little bit deeper, the feeling of the liquid pushing in. The bloody ages it all took!
The spot above moved and Charlie almost jerked, imagining the spider dropping right on his face.
Wouldn't that be just the cherry on the top?
"There, all done," came the cheery voice and Charlie's head snapped down to his stomach. He could see a drop of blood before it was covered with a band aid. No needle though. He let out a sigh he didn't know was holding. "Not the worst thing in the world, am I right?" Dr. Patterson smirked and Charlie felt his previous panic and fear turn to irritation.
"Speak for yourself," he muttered under his breath even as he moved his feet off the bed to sit up. He shot a look up at the spider somehow paranoid, but it was still hanging there, chilling.
He was a bit afraid to ask.
"So uh... is that all?"
Dr. Patterson nodded, packing up his medical bag.
"Yes. Well, you are still due for that tetanus booster I suppose, but I'll leave it in Dr. Blake's hands."
Charlie cringed. Great. One more needle to go.
"It can wait till we get back home," Blake said easily and Charlie let out a sigh of relief. Small mercies.
"Anything we should be watching out for?"
"Ah, indeed. I'd recommend you stay around for ten or fifteen minutes, just in case Sergeant Davis get's an allergic reaction to the vaccination. Wouldn't want him to stop breathing in the middle of nowhere, stuck in car," Dr. Patterson said with a chuckle.
Charlie blinked.
Was this man serious?
Blake sighed, obviously not much impressed by the man's bed side manners either, but he shot Charlie a calming look.
"Of course. Anything else?"
Dr. Patterson paused then gave a thoughtful nod.
"There might be some side effects to the vaccine. It can pop up shortly or later on as the doses get stronger."
Charlie frowned. Great. So now he had something else to look forward to?
"The reactions are pretty much the usual. Redness, swelling or itching at the injection site. You should make sure to keep that clean, rotate the site so there's no unnecessary inflammation. Besides that headache, nausea, muscle pains...general malaise. If it's anything more severe, you best call me or bring him to the hospital."
"Right. How long will you be staying, Dr. Patterson?" Blake asked and Charlie was surprised to see a somehow embarrassed grimace on Patterson's face.
"Ah... as long as it takes-" he said and it took a moment for Charlie to realize what he meant. When it did, he felt his breath catch and it had nothing to do with the vaccine.
"Until Mr. Turner dies?" he said dumbly, his voice tight and low.
Both doctors shot him a look, but Patterson shrugged.
"I'll stay for the autopsy, to take some samples for study."
Charlie gave a nod, although he felt numb.
It sounded so clear cut. The man was still alive, in a room only few meters away down the corridor... yet they were already talking about his autopsy.
He shuddered.
Blake handed him his blazer. Charlie took it with a thankful nod. He buttoned up his shirt, wincing a bit as he felt the sore spot on his stomach. His hand was also throbbing but Charlie could tune it out somehow easier now, with the bite wound hidden under the bandages.
"Alright then, my job here for the moment is done. Wishing you all the best, young man," Dr. Patterson said, giving Charlie a perfunctory handshake.
"I'm sure we will meet again before I leave for Sydney," Patterson said turning to Blake. The doc nodded, thanked the man for managing to arrive so quickly.
Once the door closed behind him, Charlie stood and started pacing the room.
"We don't have to wait around, Doc. I'm fine," he said, eager to leave. Unable to really look Blake in the eyes.
"There's no rush. I'm sure Matthew won't eat all our food," Blake joked. Charlie just grimaced. His appetite was the furthest thing on his mind. His gut was still churning from the nerves and the thought there was one more shot waiting for him at home. And of course, three weeks of this. How on earth would he manage to get through without making a total fool of himself? His palms were already sweating at the thought of tomorrow's shot.
"Alright there Charlie?" Blake asked from his position, leaning against the desk and watching Charlie pace the small room, like a caged tiger.
Charlie huffed.
"Yeah. I told you. We can go."
Blake didn't answer and Charlie risked a look at the man, unnerved by the silence. His feet faltered and he came to a halt.
"What?"
Blake shrugged, waiting.
Charlie fought down the urge to groan in frustration. It was no use. Blake was stubborn like that and if there was something on his mind, he usually went after it like a bull. Oftentimes, with the same level of tact.
"Doc? I'm fine," Charlie said again, this time trying to sound much more convincing.
Blake nodded and Charlie let out a sigh of relief, running a hand over his hair. He cringed when he felt it damp from the cold sweet at the back of his neck. He might actually give shower priority before dinner. Thinking Blake was finally willing to leave, Charlie headed towards the door.
But Blake didn't move.
"Charlie," he said, his voice stopping Charlie at the door. "Ten more minutes."
Charlie groaned.
"Doc!"
"Why don't you settle down? Maybe we can talk."
Charlie tensed by the door, frowning.
"Nothing to talk about Doc," he said stubbornly.
"Really? Because I've seen you face a man with loaded gun with less trouble than you did with that shot."
Charlie didn't move from the door.
Was the man making fun of him? Was he angry? Disappointed?
Charlie didn't know. His heart was thumping hard inside his chest, stomach constricting and he couldn't even guess if it was the panic returning or the side effects Patterson warned about.
"Easy, Charlie. Come on, sit down," Blake had somehow moved in front of him without actually moving, or without Charlie taking note. Charlie blinked as he felt the chair being pushed towards him... or himself being pushed into the chair.
Blake had grabbed a stool from somewhere and settled on it, facing Charlie.
"Are you mad?" Charlie asked in a small voice. It sounded far away even to his own ears. A voice from the past.
Blake's eyes widened, taken aback. Then his brow furrowed and he leaned over, closer to Charlie, resting a hand on his knee.
"Of course not. Why would I be mad?"
He seemed genuinely confused and Charlie blinked, suddenly unsure.
"Did I embarrass you?"
Blake's eyes narrowed.
"Whatever would give you that idea Charlie?" he asked and Charlie startled at the tone of the voice. It didn't hold any anger or disappointment, no sarcasm. Not like what went down years ago.
"I just-" Charlie started then paused, shaking his head in frustration. He looked down at his hands, realizing his left one was once again pressing against the bandaged bite marks. He let go, instead crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair, more like a sulky teenager than a confident cop he was hoping to be perceived.
"Talk to me, Charlie. What made you so spooked?"
Charlie shook his head.
"It doesn't matter. It's over anyway."
But Blake didn't let it go.
"You almost ran out of this room. This is no joke, Charlie. I need to be sure that you won't get the jitters and run off when it's time for the next dose. Whatever is the problem, let's clear the air right now."
Charlie frowned.
Blake was right of course, but he didn't want to admit that. The idea of just leaving town for a few days was rather tempting.
"I'm not stupid," Charlie said out loud, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself, not Blake. "I know I can't miss a shot," he added unhappily.
Blake squeezed his knee and gave a nod, looking at least a bit relieved.
"Good. Because you really can't, Charlie. And I won't let you."
Charlie nodded as well, taking Blake at his word. Feeling just a bit easier at knowing he won't really have a choice in the matter, that Blake would most likely pull him home kicking and screaming if it came down to that. Or simply send Lawson to fetch him. Just the idea made Charlie shudder.
"Cold?" Blake frowned and Charlie huffed, shaking his head.
"No. I'm fine, really," he assured the man, feeling slightly exasperated when Blake reached for his wrist.
"Humour me."
Charlie did, fighting down the urge to stick out his tongue at the man.
"Hm. You might live to see tomorrow," Blake said after a moment jokingly, letting go off Charlie's wrist. Charlie couldn't stop rolling his eyes even if he wanted to.
"Alright. We still have a bit of time to kill. Care to tell me what's really the issue here?"
Any humour left Charlie, his sour mood returning. He shrugged but when Blake's stare didn't abate, he sighed, giving up. Might as well come clean. Not like Blake wouldn't realize it in a day or two. Charlie knew he could perhaps tame down his reactions for a while, but even he wasn't sure he could do it for three consecutive weeks without blowing up. Or fleeing.
Seeing as the second one wasn't an option...
"I don't like needles."
"I noticed," Blake said in an equally dry tone. "I am not a fan myself. But I know you had a few stitches in your scalp and didn't hear about you trying to run off mid treatment. Not to mention IVs."
Charlie blushed a bit.
"That's different."
And it was. For one, the needle used to sew up his head wound looked more like a fishhook. Not to mention, Charlie hardly even saw it, what with the placement of the injury. And IVs... well. Those things weren't that large and it was mostly plastic tubing. Not to mention, if he needed one, he was usually not in the state to panic about it.
"It's just the big needles... if I see them. And come on Doc... I doubt even you wanna be jabbed in a stomach with that thing. It's-" Charlie shuddered, feeling the blood drain from his face at the mere thought of it. His hand rubbed against his stomach, trying to rub away the phantom feeling of the needle. It was ridiculous of course, logically it didn't hurt as badly as broken bones. It was more the strange sensation itself that made his skin crawl.
"Indeed, probably not the most comfortable feeling," Blake admitted with a grimace of his own. "Still. I've seen you going to work with broken ribs without complain. So it's hardly about the pain."
Charlie shrugged again.
"I'm not scared of the pain," he mumbled.
"But you are scared of something?" Blake nudged him, his tone gentle.
Charlie bit at his bottom lip in thought.
"I had a bad experience... as a kid. Ever since... I just feel like running when I see a needle."
"Ah. That would do it," Blake concurred, sounding sympathetic. "May I ask what happened?"
Charlie grimaced.
"Does it even matter?"
"It might. At the least, I might try and keep things as far away from your experience as possible."
Charlie looked at Blake in slight wonderment.
"Why? You don't have to try and... fix-it, Doc. Not sure it can be fixed."
Blake chuckled.
"I'm most definitely not trying to do that, Charlie. Truth is though, I'd rather make the next three weeks as stress-free as possible. For both of us. Believe it or not... I do not enjoy traumatizing my patients. Or friends for that matter."
Charlie stared at him, flabbergasted.
"Unless of course it's case related," he quipped after a moment and Blake laughed.
"Now, when did I ever do that?"
"Oh I don't know... the time when you fed us poisoned cakes?"
Blake smirked.
"Only one was poisoned... and I ate it myself. Really, I fed you perfectly fine cakes," Blake argued good heartedly. Charlie rolled his eyes.
"I'm not sure if you knew that at the time, Doc," he said, lips twitching.
Blake didn't deny that at least. Charlie wasn't sure if that made him feel better. He shot a look at his watch. Five more minutes to go before he could escape this blasted building. Assuming by the look on Blake's face, the man did not forget his previous question.
"You will think me a fool," Charlie muttered, his grumpy mood returning.
"I think you know me better than that, Charlie," Blake protested, sounding just a little bit offended. Charlie wanted to apologize, but the man kept on. "I wouldn't think you any less of a man for being afraid of something."
"Even if it's irrational?"
"Everything can be rationalized. But yes, even if there is no clear reason for a phobia, it is still a valid feeling. Nothing to be ashamed of."
"Easy for you to say," Charlie grunted.
"You do know I don't like closed spaces," Blake noted and Charlie paused. He did know that, yes. It was pretty clear on the day the Doc was thrown behind the bars. He was like a caged tiger. Needed to keep busy otherwise he would start crawling at the walls. Charlie was worried then.
"You have a reason for that," he said, knowing well the story of Blake's capture and solitary confinement during war. It would've driven lesser man mad. It did drive someone mad.
"Yes, I do," Blake admitted with a faraway look on his face. Charlie regretted bringing that up. Before he could try and salvage it though, reroute the topic to something else, Blake shook his head, seemingly shaking off the memories. "But you were about to tell me your own reasons."
Charlie sighed. Supposed he owed that much to the man, if nothing else than to warn him of what the next three weeks might bring.
"I think I was maybe eight years old. Had been sick for a week or two, don't even remember. Pneumonia. I ended up at the hospital. Mum had to stay home with Ray and she was expecting my little brother Mikey, so it was dad who took me. I was having trouble breathing and everything was fuzzy, couldn't keep anything down. I remember dad being there then suddenly him leaving as a nurse came in. I could hear dad talking in the corridor. I was scared. The nurse looked stern and tired, and she had this huge ass needle in her hand. Before I realized, she tried to stick me in the wrist. I remember gritting my teeth through the first jab. It hurt like hell but I thought that was it. Unfortunately, it was just the start."
"She was trying to draw blood?" Blake surmised, grimacing.
Charlie nodded.
"How many times?" Blake asked, obviously figuring out it wasn't a success.
"I think about three... before I started screaming for my dad. She tried once more, cursing up a storm just as dad came bursting through the door. I'm not sure if I jerked away or if the nurse startled, but the needle broke off."
Blake winced even as Charlie looked at his left wrist, his finger running over a small scar hidden by the watch band.
"I think I fainted when I saw the blood. Don't remember much else honestly. Just that I spent a few more days there, screaming up a storm every time someone came near me with a needle."
"Oh Charlie," Blake sighed, voice full of sympathy. "That's quite an understandable reaction."
Charlie gave a small self deprecating shrug.
"Dad got fed up with it rather quick. He thought it was unbecoming of a police officer's son... to act like a baby."
Blake frowned, his hand clenching. Charlie's lip twitched as he noticed. It felt kind of good, to see that perhaps his father's reaction wasn't as justified as he thought it to be.
"I can assure you, Charlie... that most children would be scarred by such experience. Your reactions were perfectly understandable. The way your father dealt with it was not," Blake added in a lower voice and Charlie had a feeling that he wanted to add something, but decided against it. Perhaps knowing that despite all the faults, Charlie still thought the world of his father. Especially as the man was no longer there to change his mind.
There was a knock on the door and a nurse peeked in.
"Are you finished, Dr. Blake? I don't want to disturb, but we will need this room shortly."
Blake looked at the watch then at Charlie.
"Feeling alright there Charlie?"
"Yeah. Ready to go home," Charlie said and got up.
"Splendid. In that case, the room is all yours, madam. Thank you for lending it to us."
The nurse smiled and opened the door wider. Blake put the box with the vaccines into his jacket pocket and gestured for Charlie to go ahead.
"Let's see if we can make it home in time for dessert, shall we?" he said with a smile, one hand giving a pat to Charlie's shoulder as they passed the room with Mr. Turner and his wife. Charlie caught sight of Dr. Patterson through the glass on the door. Thankfully, the room's occupants were silent.
Minutes later though, when they had already left the hospital far behind, Charlie still thought he could hear the raspy grunts of the man, even through the rumbling engine of Blake's car.
The alarm clock kept ringing until Charlie's palm finally landed on top of it. Unfortunately, it was his bandaged hand and in his haste to silence the offending sound he didn't go easy. Biting off a curse, he pulled the hand back and rolled onto his back, blinking at the ceiling.
Two hours. That's probably all the sleep he managed. When they arrived home from the hospital, Charlie knew he still had to get the bloody tetanus shot. He wasn't looking forward to it but thought that once it was done, he would feel some relief and enjoy the dinner that Jean kept warm for them.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Blake let him decide if he wanted to have it over with right now or later. Charlie picked right now. He bore the jab with more stoicism than the previous ones, if only because it was in his upper right arm. If he was destined to have a sore arm for a few days, it might as well be the one that already hurt.
"Feeling like a pincushion," he grumbled irritatedly, his mouth suddenly parched.
"Worst is over now. Only one jab a day," Blake tried to cheer him up.
Charlie didn't feel much joy about that.
"Marvellous," he said with a sigh and let the shirt sleeve fall back down his arm. Standing up from the chair made his stomach muscles twinge, reminding him of the earlier predicament. He could hear Jean and Lawson chatting at the dinner table, waiting for them to join but suddenly lost all his appetite.
"Uh Doc... would you mind if I just skip dinner?"
Blake, who was cleaning up the tray and putting away stuff looked up, concern evident in his eyes.
"Feeling alright Charlie?"
Charlie nodded, gritting his teeth at the ever more reoccurring question.
"Yeah. I'm just tired and I want a shower. Need to... wash off everything. I think I can still smell some bleach on my clothes," he said, feeling a shiver run down his spine.
"Of course. We will put a plate away for you for later if you get hungry."
"Thanks Doc," Charlie said with some relief and headed for the door.
"If you start feeling sick though... do let me know, alright?"
Charlie turned and gave Blake a sincere smile.
"Sure, Doc. It was just a long and tiring day. Need to clear my head a bit."
Blake nodded and Charlie left before the man decided to probe a little more.
He was thankful that he managed to sneak up the stairs without Jean and Lawson taking notice. He used the bathroom, revering in the warmth of the water, staying as long until it ran cold, wishing to clean off any speck of his encounter with Mark Turner. He rubbed at his skin long and hard, though he gave a wide berth to his stomach. A plastic bag kept the bandage on his hand dry and so he had no need to venture downstairs again.
Despite it being only eight in the evening, he slipped into bed.
It took longer than he would have liked to fall asleep. His brain seemed unable to turn off, replaying the scenes from the day in vivid detail. Once he finally managed to sleep, it was equally restless. The day's events were replaced by warped memories of the past, the nurse from his childhood wielding an even larger needle and repeatedly stabbing him in the stomach.
Charlie woke up with a gasp, drenched in sweat.
It was barely midnight.
He squinted into the darkness, expecting movement, but the house was silent. He let out a breath. It seemed he didn't scream at least.
He let his head fall back into the pillow, hands rubbing at his face as he uttered a groan.
He felt like such a fool. Despite Blake's words that were meant to calm him down, bearing a surprising lack of judgment... Charlie felt like a failure. He wasn't a child anymore. He should be able to work through his fear without hyperventilating at the mere prospect of getting a bloody shot. He knew he would have to deal with the fear somehow... he would not become a quivering wreck in front of Blake every day for the next three weeks. He couldn't.
While the man might've been understanding, Charlie knew it wouldn't last. It never did. After all, even his own father ran out of patience after several incidents, didn't he? Charlie could feel heat colouring his cheeks even now as he remembered his father's disappointed and annoyed face when he was called at work to come and calm down his hysterical son so he could get his damned shot.
Never again.
He would just have to suck it up, that was all.
He trusted Blake, knew the man wouldn't hurt him intentionally. Well, unless it was some stupid 'experiment' in the midst of a case. In such cases all bets were off and Charlie knew to keep at a safe distance from Blake when he gets into his Sherlockian mood.
Somehow calmed down by that thought, Charlie managed to nod off once again. But where his brain might've decided to give him a break, his body had different ideas. Charlie kept tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position as his muscles ached. He lost count of how many times he pushed off the blanket only to reach for it again within few minutes. The light was starting to penetrate the darkness by the time he finally fell into deep, undisturbed sleep.
That was until the alarm clock started blaring.
Charlie ran his hands over his face, trying to will away the cobwebs that seemed to lodge in his brain. It took him a moment to remember just why he might be feeling so shitty. The bandage on his hand definitely helped with that recollection.
With a sigh, Charlie threw off the blanket and sat up. He grimaced when he smelled his clothes and felt the grittiness of them. He would need to change the bedding and get another shower to wash off the night sweat. If only moving didn't feel like such a chore.
Charlie dragged himself to the bathroom with fresh clothes in hand. He could smell bacon and eggs from downstairs and his stomach gave an angry rumble, reminding him that he skipped dinner. Even though he didn't feel like his appetite improved all that much, he knew he would have to grab something to settle down the beast.
The shower helped, Charlie felt almost human again when he headed downstairs. He even made sure there was some hot water left for the others, unwilling to listen to Lawson's grumbling.
"Ah, who did the wolves drag in?"
Speaking of the devil, the man was already sitting behind the table, perusing the morning paper. Jean was bustling around and turned to shoot Charlie a smile.
"Feeling better Charlie? I hope you'll grab something today."
"I'm fine Jean, thank you. Sorry for skipping on dinner last night."
Jean gave him an ascertaining look.
"Did you get any sleep?" her brow furrowed.
"Really, Davis. Only you could go to bed before dusk and come out looking like a raccoon."
Charlie grimaced, quite aware of how restless his night was.
"Give the boy a break, he had a harsh day," Blake saved him from replying as he sauntered into the kitchen. He gave Charlie's shoulder a pat as he settled down in his usual chair at the head of the table.
Charlie grunted in reply, taking a sip from the cup of tea Jean put down in front of him. He took several hasty sips because he was thirsty, most likely from sweating through the night. But the tea was hot and his throat closed up in reaction, causing him to choke a bit. He coughed, putting down the cup with shaky hand.
Under normal circumstances, he might've laughed it off.
Right now though, his mind snapped towards yesterday and Dr. Patterson's words.
'The victim is thirsty but his throat spasms and he can't take in any liquid.'
Charlie's heart sped up.
Was this it?
For a moment his body was flooded with irrational panic that he had the rabies, that the vaccine didn't help and he was going to die the most horrible death.
Of course, his throat closed up even more, reacting to the sudden rush of fear and Charlie coughed more, trying to get some oxygen into his lungs.
There was a strong pat on his back and the sting of it more than anything else helped bring him back to the reality. His sight cleared and he saw Blake leaning over the table, his arm ready for another smack most likely.
Charlie raised his hand to stop it, shaking his head even as he tried to clear his throat and calm his breathing.
Blake settled back down in his chair, giving him an eye. Charlie caught Lawson's unamused glance. The man had actually stopped eating during the drama.
Charlie gave a hitching cough then uttered a raspy sorry. He wanted to wash down the embarrassment and sooth his throat with a cool glass of water, but was afraid it would go down the wrong pipe again and he wouldn't be able to reason that away and stop the panic the second time.
"Alright Charlie?"
"Uh, yeah. Thanks. Sorry... just-" Charlie waved a hand. "Tea too hot."
Lawson gave a snort and rolled his eyes, but thankfully didn't comment. He returned to his breakfast and Charlie wished everyone else did the same. Really, he managed to make himself a spectacle and he hasn't even touched the food yet.
"Well, if you don't dig in, the eggs will be too cold," Jean noted lightly and her hand brushed Charlie's shoulder comfortingly as she settled down to her own plate.
"Ah, and we can't allow that now, can we?" Blake said with a wink as he dug in.
Charlie took up his fork and took a small, careful bite. He chewed longer than necessary, somehow worried that his throat would close up if he tried to swallow, but the bite went down well. After a few more he dared to grab a glass of water. It felt like heaven going down and the tension in Charlie's shoulders tensed.
Of course.
He was acting like a fool, he thought. Both Blake and Patterson assured him the rabies wouldn't show up for weeks if he went untreated... but he didn't. He took the shot, had the bruise on his stomach to prove it and will most likely have a few more by the end of the month. The choking... it was all just his mind. Same as the panic when he saw a needle.
Charlie bit down on the fork a bit more harshly and felt his teeth cling against the metal. No one else seemed to notice, busy with the breakfast and the usual chit-chat, but he slowed down considerably.
The food was good, of course, everything Jean cooked was wonderful. And his stomach had been growling with emptiness since the middle of the night, adding to his inability to sleep well. Yet Charlie still didn't feel truly hungry and he couldn't enjoy the taste. His muscles gave a slight protest every time he moved his hand with the fork and there was a sense of nausea lurking in the background. Despite that, he finished his plate, because not doing so would only cause concern from all involved. As if his earlier display hadn't taken care of that already.
The breakfast over, everyone got up. Jean started cleaning off the table, Charlie handing her some of the plates. Lawson headed to his room to get ready for work. Blake waited until Charlie turned to head upstairs as well.
"A moment, Charlie?" he asked, gesturing for Charlie to follow him to the living room.
"Yeah Doc?"
"How are you feeling?" came the blunt question. "You know if you have any side effects-"
Charlie shrugged.
"It's not like I can stop taking the vaccine now, can I?"
Blake frowned.
"Not likely, no. But there are things that can make you feel better if there is a problem." Blake paused, giving Charlie a searching look. "Is there a problem?"
Charlie sighed, leaning against the back of the couch and shrugging his shoulders.
"Nothing Dr. Patterson didn't warn about," he admitted. "Feeling a bit sore all over. Not much of an appetite."
Blake nodded.
"And trouble sleeping?"
Charlie blushed, averting his eyes.
"That might've been more from nightmares than the shots," he said quietly.
Blake nodded in understanding.
"Mind if I give you a quick check?"
Charlie blinked.
"I'm fine, Doc," he said but didn't protest when Blake stepped into his personal space.
"If it's all the same to you... I'm sure Dr. Patterson will ask about you when we meet later today. Perhaps he can offer some advice as well."
Charlie highly doubted that. Patterson didn't seem that much of a people person... more like a lab rat or a mad scientist. Oh, Charlie didn't doubt the man was qualified, but his bed side manners had a lot to be desired for.
"If it won't take long... knock yourself out Doc," Charlie said with a sigh.
Blake chuckled.
"Won't take but a minute," he assured him as he went on with his probing. He did a quick pulse check, looked Charlie in the eyes and felt around his neck and under ears, resting his hand on the back of his neck for a moment.
"Will I live?" Charlie asked, half in jest when Blake stepped back.
"As long as you don't fall down a manhole or get splattered by a falling piano, I see no reason why you shouldn't," Blake replied in the same tone.
Charlie chuckled.
"You feel a bit warm though and it is clear you didn't get much sleep. Do you feel up for work? If you want, I can convince Matthew to leave you home-"
Charlie was already shaking his head.
"No, really. I'm fine. I want to go to work," Charlie insisted. The mere idea of staying at home and having all day to think about things made his gut churn.
Blake pursed his lips in thought, but nodded.
"Alright. My offer stands though," Blake said with a pat to Charlie's shoulder as they headed back to the hallway.
"Thanks doc, I appreciate it," Charlie said, meaning it. Though he was pretty sure he won't take him up on that. "Any plans for today?"
"Well, unless we get a body popping up somewhere of falling down from the sky, same as usual. I have a few patients then I want to check in on Mr. Turner and have a chat with Dr. Patterson. The fellow has some interesting stories to tell after all."
"Uh, I bet he does," Charlie muttered with a grimace. Really, he oftentimes got queasy just listening to Blake chatting with Alice over a case. He'd rather not be anywhere near when Patterson and Blake got to discuss horrible illnesses. Hell, he would even prefer a new murder case instead of that. Would definitely help take his mind off of things.
Despite the lack of anything exciting happening, the day had passed dreadfully fast for Charlie. Most of the day he was bored out of his mind behind the desk, because for some reason Lawson decided he would be most useful picking up phones and writing reports. Of course Charlie could have told him that writing on the old typewriter wasn't doing any favours for his hand, but the slight discomfort wasn't worth the complaint. Charlie wasn't utterly sure that the man wouldn't just send him home instead.
He wasn't at all surprised when Blake popped in during lunch break. They didn't have any interesting case, but he brought a file from the hospital.
"It's a report on Mr. Turner's state, in case you need it to wrap up the incident report from yesterday."
Lawson took the file with a nod, giving it a perfunctory glance over.
"How is he doing?" Charlie asked, dreading the answer.
"He's holding on. Mostly out of it at this point, but... still there. Dr. Patterson is actually trying some new method he read about... it might help. Might not."
Based on Blake's tone, Charlie thought the man wasn't giving it much chance.
"What method?"
"Putting him into a medically induced coma... before he can slip into one. It's rather... experimental, but there isn't much to lose. Mrs. Turner gave her consent to the procedure in any case."
"Oh. When-" Charlie cleared his throat as it become somehow scratchy. "Was Mr. Turner even awake? Does he know what's happening to him?"
Blake gave him a look of sympathy and Charlie recoiled.
"He does, doesn't he?"
Blake sighed.
"I'm sure Dr. Patterson handled it with tact. Despite the impression he gave you, he did show more decorum in the presence of Mrs. Turner."
"I would surely hope so," Charlie said with an unimpressed snort. He was hoping not to need the service of that man anytime soon, or ever.
"How about you? Feeling any better?" Blake changed the subject, not that Charlie appreciated it all that much.
"I would, if Boss let me actually do some work," Charlie muttered, though loud enough to be heard by both Blake and Lawson.
Lawson raised a brow.
"Oh, you feel like your skills are unappreciated? Why didn't you say so, Sergeant Davis? I'm sure constable Goodman would love to change places with you. Does the rest of the shift spent directing traffic on Almond street sound good to you?"
Charlie cringed.
While being out in the fresh air sounded nice, the idea of standing in the middle of the road, directing grumpy drivers, listening to car horns blaring just made him acutely aware of the growing headache.
"Uh, no Boss. I think handling the phones is just fine today," he admitted with a grimace.
"I thought so," Lawson nodded with a smirk then shared an amused look with Blake.
The good doctor spent few more minutes around chatting then left, seemingly satisfied that Charlie wasn't going to keel over. Of course, he also reminded him to be home at six sharp. It was Lawson who said he would be there, not to worry.
Charlie just shook his head and said a prayer of thanks when the phone rang, getting his mind off of the forthcoming evening at least for a minute.
He wasn't sure whether Blake told Lawson about his fear of needles or not. Charlie hoped not, that Blake wouldn't break his confidentiality in such a way. Lawson was the last person Charlie wanted to know about his phobia really. Yet he had no other explanation as to why his Boss was so adamant on heading home the second their shift ended, making sure he didn't lose sight of Charlie even for a second. As if he would bolt and run.
Not that it didn't occur to Charlie, but that was just a flash, a moment. His brain kicked into gear pretty fast, letting him know it would be a stupid idea, one that would cost so much more than a few minutes of discomfort.
Whatever rode Lawson, he made sure they made it home with half an hour to spare. When they entered the house, Lawson nudged Charlie towards Blake's surgery.
"He's all yours," Lawson said when Blake came out of the door, pausing momentarily.
"A bit early, aren't you?" he noted amusedly.
Lawson just waved him off, muttering something about freshening up before dinner, then left.
Charlie stood where he was left, reluctant to make a step forward. Blake took in a breath, as if to say something, then closed his mouth, brow furrowing. He pointed a finger in the air victoriously, making it clear he had an idea.
"Actually... why don't you go upstairs? Change into something more comfortable? I'll stop by in a moment and we can do this in your room."
Charlie blinked.
"My room?"
His brain seemed to freeze a bit. What was Blake talking about?
"Of course. Unless you do prefer the surgery. But I was thinking... it might be more comfortable to you somewhere less... medical."
Charlie wasn't sure anything could make the experience of being stabbed with a long ass needle in the stomach comfortable in any way, but he had to admit that the thought of the surgery was making him a bit nervous. Definitely more nervous than his room.
"Uh... okay. We can try that I suppose," he said, still uncertain.
"Splendid," Blake said with a slap of his hands. "I'll be right up with you."
Charlie nodded and headed up to his room, albeit he felt like his feet were getting heavier the closer he got. Sighing and recognizing there was no way out of this, Charlie entered his room. He paused, noticing that his bed was made, blankets changed. He grimaced, cursing himself for forgetting to do that in the morning and leaving the job to Jean. While usually he wouldn't much care, he felt just a tad self conscious about the state he left his room in.
Well, there was nothing to do about it now, perhaps just offer Jean a bit more help in the kitchen. Or make sure to not leave his room a mess the next morning.
Putting his clothes down in order was the first step. He grabbed a pair of comfy pants and a simple undershirt, having a feeling he might break out in cold sweat at one point or other and not wanting to mess up another shirt within minutes.
He was just about done and unsure of what to do next when there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," he called out, at the same time feeling the coil in his stomach tightening and his mind giving a sigh of relief, because it didn't have much time for contemplation and panic.
"Alright Charlie. Why don't we first check that hand and change the bandage?" Blake said once he entered the room.
Charlie gave a silent nod and sat himself on the edge of the bed. Blake grabbed the chair from the corner and pulled it so they were sitting face to face.
"Did it give you any trouble?" Blake asked even as he was unrolling the bandage.
Charlie shook his head.
"Just a twitch here or there."
"Mhm," Blake inspected the wound and Charlie let him turn his hand this way and that, following the commands to close his hand or move his fingers.
"The bite looks a bit irritated, but no sign of infection. That's good. Let's put on some cream and wrap it again."
Charlie didn't protest. While the hand throbbed a bit, especially when Blake poked at it, it didn't bother him half as much as the thought of what was to come.
"There you go. Now for the less pleasant part."
"D-do I need to lie down?" Charlie asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. Blake had brought up his medical bag and was digging through it, though Charlie still didn't catch sight of the needle.
"Actually, you're fine sitting. I think that might be better. Just pull up the shirt-" Blake put on a set of surgical gloves, got out a bottle of disinfectant and a sterile pad. Charlie rolled up his shirt, one hand keeping it in place, the other pressed into the mattress. He watched as Blake cleaned a spot, only few centimetres from the one Patterson used the day ago.
"We will want to keep changing the spot, circling around. Main thing is to keep in a 5 cm radius from the belly button," Blake explained calmly. Charlie thought it strange. It felt as if the man was trying to include him in the process, making sure everything was explained. Maybe hoping it would make the fear lessen.
It didn't help.
The moment Charlie spotted the syringe and the needle it was as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over his head. The room around seemed to become blurry around the edges while the only thing sharp and clear was the glinting needle in Blake's hand.
"Charlie?"
Blake's voice sounded a bit tinny and the air became stuffy, so much so that Charlie felt his breathing speed up in an attempt to compensate.
"Hey, look at me," Blake's voice sounded more pressing and Charlie wanted to comply, but he couldn't pull his gaze away from the needle. His left wrist throbbed in remembered pain and he could've sworn he caught whiff of the hospital smell. All that was missing were hands holding him down as he trashed, shouting for his dad to come and save him and-
A hand grasped his chin, forcing his face up, the needle out of sight. Instead he found himself gazing into Blake's face, marred with a frown.
"Relax, Charlie. You're fine. It's just me and you."
Charlie blinked, the horror of seconds ago washing away as the room cleared. He was panting for breath he realized, as if he'd just run from a threat.
There was no threat though. Only Blake, sitting in front of him, one palm still cradling his chin.
"Doc," he spoke and the frown vanished from Blake's face.
"That's it. Can you try and slow down your breathing for me?"
Charlie gave a shaky nod and focused just on that. Blake let go of his chin and Charlie almost missed the touch. It felt grounding, keeping him in the presence.
Blake gave him a minute or two, just sitting in silence, waiting.
Once Charlie was breathing at a calmer pace, he ran a hand over his face, groaning.
" God... sorry. I don't know what got into me."
"Looked like you went somewhere else for a moment," Blake noted, his voice holding no judgment.
Charlie shook his head.
"I thought... it doesn't matter. Sorry."
Blake looked like he wanted to press the matter but then he glanced at the clock. Charlie followed his gaze and noticed that it was past six.
"Just do it," he muttered, wishing his resolve would last.
"Alright. Maybe keep your eyes on something else?"
Charlie thought that was a good idea. He settled his gaze on the clock on the wall. If nothing else, he could time how long this hell took so he would be better prepared next time.
Blake didn't warn him this time. Charlie felt the Doc pinch a bit of skin on his stomach, uncomfortably close to the previous site. Before he could balk, there was the feeling of the needle piercing skin, sinking in deeper.
Charlie sucked in a breath and held it, his body freezing up.
If he didn't move, the needle shouldn't break. If he just stayed still...
The clock hand was clicking away, seconds passing by at the speed of a snail.
"You're doing well, Charlie. Just a moment longer," Blake cajoled and Charlie followed the ticking of the clock. Ten more seconds passed and he felt the burning sensation across his stomach.
How much bloody stuff was in that syringe? How long would it take?
His lungs started screaming for oxygen but Blake still wasn't done. Charlie ever so slowly let out a breath, taking in another, watching the clock. He felt sweat break up on his temple, trailing down the side of his face, tickling. He wanted to wipe it away, but his bandaged hand was holding the shirt rolled up and the other hand was tightly clutching the mattress, fingernails digging into the course material.
"All done," Blake said and Charlie blinked in surprise. He didn't even realize the man had pulled the needle out and was already pressing a small pad against the mark to stop it from bleeding. "You did well, Charlie. You can breathe now," Blake added with a smile and Charlie let out a shaky whoosh of air.
"Alright there?"
Charlie nodded, fighting off the urge the rub against the needle mark. He knew that would only make it feel worse.
"Y-yeah. Thanks, Doc. And... sorry."
Blake shook his head, giving Charlie's shoulder a pat as he stood.
"Nothing to apologize for, Charlie. It might not be an enjoyable three weeks, but I'm sure by the end of it, we will have this worked out down the pat."
"Or die trying," Charlie muttered under his breath, though not quietly enough. Blake chuckled, but shook his head.
"No one's dying on my watch," he said with a wink. "Now... take a moment to relax, but I want to see you down at the dinner table soon, alright? I doubt Jean would handle well if you refused her dinner twice in a row," he said with a wink.
Charlie nodded. When Blake picked up his things and left the room, Charlie let himself fall back down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Wondering how on earth could he get over this childhood fear, preferably without making a fool of himself in front of Blake. Once again that was. Two shots down. Only 19 more to go. Piece of cake.
tbc