Disclaimer: See Ch 1.
Spoilers: Season 1, Between "Camera" and "Meow."
Reviews: Please! Thanks to all who've taken the trouble.
___________________________________________________
Logan didn't want to hear it. He was almost tempted to count the floor tiles in an attempt to block out the doctor's voice, a technique he had perfected in his mother's hospital room in Seattle a lifetime ago, but that would require movement and today movement equaled pain.
"Definitely three ribs broken, maybe more. You can't always tell from the X-rays, especially the ones our ancient equipment produces." Doctor Eugene Ryan, the Richards' family physician had always been a talker, which had been a welcome distraction when a sprained ankle or a case of poison ivy had landed Logan in his office during his summer vacations, but right now he wasn't saying anything Logan wanted to hear.
"Should take three to eight weeks to heal…." He'd only have to lean forward a little from his present position sitting up in the bed and he would be able to see around the nurse supporting him. Right now just knowing the color of the tiles would be enough – off white, dirty white, cream, maybe even hospital green. "…No physical activity, no lifting…." The annoying voice kept droning on behind him as the doctor finished his examination of Logan's injured back. "…Need to be careful…" He'd bet they were green. Closing his eyes he began to count. God he hated hospitals.
Before he was fully awake that morning, he'd known where he was. The unmistakable, indecipherable dawn sounds of hospital life had crept into his consciousness followed by the clinical, sickening smell. By the time he'd opened his eyes the feeling of nausea began to sweep over him, chased by barely caged panic. But these were normal reactions for him, almost reassuring in light of the pain he encountered when he tried to rise up. Once he'd heard his grandmother was all right he'd willingly given into the weariness the drugs enveloped him in.
Doctor Ryan was carefully tying the hospital gown closed. "That's going to be one hell of a bruise down your back—looks like the tree won this round. Don't think I'll have to worry about you going against doctor's orders for once but, in case you're tempted while we have you tanked up on painkillers, just remember the possibility of doing some internal damage is very real. Still, it could be much worse, Logan." At least he hadn't added how lucky he was.
"Your girlfriend is wearing a hole in the floor outside." The elderly man grinned as they settled Logan back on the pillows and his glower was replaced by a questioning expression. "I'll send her right in." He left Logan looking bemused, whether at the thought of Max mistaken for his girlfriend or the thought of Max pacing with him on her mind, Logan himself was beyond fathoming.
The object of his confusion breezed in. "So how are you feeling?" Her eyes bored into his, showing concern and, maybe, a challenge.
He bit back the emphatic "I'm fine" that had started to form involuntarily on his lips.
Max gave him a slight smile. "Your doc says what isn't broken is bruised."
"Yeah? Well there's nothing worse than a physician with a sense of humor." He had the presence of mind not to cringe as she shot him a glare. "Actually I think my little toe on the left escaped unscathed."
"Well that's OK then."
"Yeah, that's OK." He scratched his neck, bad idea-that hurt. "Thanks for saving my ass …again."
"We should be about even now."
"So how's the hand. Heard you resisted the idea of stitches rather …er…enthusiastically."
"How'd you hear about that?"
"The good doctor is nothing if not indiscreet."
"Well, a couple of butterfly bandages and it will be good as new by tomorrow. And no, I didn't share that observation with the old quack." Max was definitely in good form; he shot her a relieved grin.
"Feeling up to busting me out of this joint? Just as a favor …I'd owe you."
"Much as I'd like you to be in my debt, Grandma's beaten me to it. Not only is she familiar with your aversion to hospitals, seems she kinda familiar with Bling." Logan raised an eyebrow, that didn't hurt – too much. "Caught her on the phone with him discussing herbal remedies and his trip up here to collect her heroic grandson."
Should he laugh or be mad. Laughing would be a lot more painful and he didn't have it in him to get angry with his wonderfully interfering grandmother. "Show me what room she's in." He had begun to swing back the covers, trying not to grimace, before he remembered the gown. No way he was wheeling around the drafty hallways in that unreliable garb, at least not with Max in tow. His eyes took in the room. "Where did they put my clothes?"
She was looking in the empty closet when the thought struck her. "Jake must have left them in the ambulance."
"What do you mean?" Something in her face made him stop all attempt at motion, except for his jaw, which was falling of its own accord, something he had never seen before nor ever expected to see. Max was blushing.