Looking back, the whole thing lasted barely a minute. From start to finish. A minute with dire, unexpected consequences.
Blaine was in the ER from seven in the evening until seven the next morning. The graveyard shift wasn't bad, but he much rather preferred nights at home with his husband, having dinner and falling asleep next to each other. Still, he couldn't complain. His friends in the residency program with him were some of his favorite people to be around.
That night also happened to be Halloween. It was a known fact that emergency rooms, especially in New York City, went crazy on the last night of October. Kids puking from too much candy, the rare pedestrian hit by a moving vehicle, and those strung out on drugs didn't even begin to describe what the night would hold.
A patient handcuffed to the gurney was never a good sign either. When Blaine and another resident, Lindsay, got assigned to the same case, they gave each other a look before making their way to the patient, struggling against his restraints. A cop remained by the man's side, but Blaine had just about seen everything, and he knew to watch his back, and Lindsay's, too, for that matter.
"Mr. Charles Baker," Blaine read from the chart. An attending physician stood by, waiting for a call from a resident on how to proceed with the patient's care. "Twenty-seven years old. Arrested for public intoxication, possession of marijuana, and attempted robbery. Injuries include lacerations to the face, possible fractured wrist, and a possible concussion."
Blaine got the creeps just by looking at the guy. He couldn't even see his face to examine him at all, since he wore a Joker mask covering all but his eyes. His jeans were worn down at the knees, and his raggedy sweater had multiple stains on it. Nevertheless, he continued to fight against the handcuffs, the officer remaining by his side.
Lindsay spoke up next to him. She reminded Blaine so much of Rachel: driven to be the best and prepared for any situation, but not nearly as high-strung as her, which was why Blaine liked her so much. He and Kurt had even double-dated with her and her husband.
"We'll need to get him into radiology for a head CT and x-ray," she listed off, waiting for approval. "And a suture kit."
The doctor nodded in approval. "You two are on it," he declared, heading over to the next batch of residents who were struggling with a particularly unruly child patient.
"I'll do the sutures," Blaine offered. "You want to page radiology?" He didn't want that guy anywhere near Lindsay while he was drunk.
They went their separate ways, and Blaine dared to remove the guy's mask to stitch up the gash above his eye. The man must have been drunk out of his mind, because he didn't pay Blaine any attention, not even when he injected the local anesthetic.
The ER continued to grow more and more crowded as it crept near midnight. Lindsay and Blaine examined their patient's results from the CT and x-ray, revealing no signs of any head injury, but a decent fracture in his wrist.
It took both of them to get the job done. Mr. Baker needed a cast on his arm, which meant undoing the handcuffs for a moment so they would have access to his arm.
"I can do the majority of the work," Blaine offered. "Just hand me things as I need them. That cop seems to know what he's doing."
Suddenly working on Halloween didn't seem like such a great time anymore. Blaine and his coworker approached the patient and his accompanying officer to get it over with so he could be discharged.
"Sir, the images showed a fracture in your left hand and wrist," Lindsay explained gently. "We're going to wrap it in a fiberglass cast, which you'll need for about eight to ten weeks."
The man, who still hadn't said a word since arriving, yanked on the handcuffs once again.
"We'll need full access to his arm, sir," Blaine said to the cop nervously, beginning to lay out everything he would need.
"Only pair of cuffs on me," he shrugged. "I'll switch 'em to his right side." He turned to the patient. "You make a run for it and see what happens."
It was like an animal had been released from a cage. The man, easily twice Blaine's weight, toppled over the gurney and pinned Blaine to the ground, the Joker mask not even an inch from his own face.
All Blaine felt was the back of his head hitting the floor, and he immediately felt sick to his stomach, breathing in the alcohol on the man's breath. He tasted blood, and realized he'd been punched. All he heard was screaming, but he didn't know if it was his own screams, the cop's, or Lindsay. Then, he was grabbed away, and the person was no longer on top of him.
Blaine opened his eyes. Dim light surrounded him, and the back of his head throbbed miserably. His eyes adjusted, and he saw Kurt standing at the foot of the bed, folding clothes. When did I come home?
"Kurt?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. He yanked his hand away in pain, feeling how swollen his left eye was.
His husband rushed up to his side. "Oh, gosh. How are you? Do you remember?"
Blaine tried to overcome the throbbing feeling and think back to what he remembered. Oh.
"My patient," he mumbled. "Did that actually happen? Why'm I home?"
Kurt offered Blaine some water and helped him sit up. "The patient that was arrested attacked you. You blacked out and they called me. When I got there you were high as a kite on Percocet, so that's probably why you don't remember me bringing you home. You have a concussion and your lip was busted. And he broke two of your ribs. God, who would do that do a doctor? I was so scared, babe."
Blaine took Kurt's hand, trying to reassure him with a smile. He had no doubt Kurt was scared. "Can you… lay down with me?" That was all Blaine needed. His headache likely wasn't going to go away anytime soon.
Kurt came around to the other side. "It's still just four in the morning. I wanted to stay up in case you woke up. I'm glad I did. They said you need lots of rest. Come here."
Blaine eased himself into Kurt's arms, moving cautiously because of his sore ribs. His husband kissed him on the forehead, and Blaine had no trouble falling asleep.
What he did have trouble with was getting back to work nearly two weeks later. He thankfully was able to avoid the night shift for as long as possible, since by then his head was only hurting at the end of a long day. The first time he had to go back overnight though, Kurt insisted on taking the train with him.
Blaine shrugged him off, insisting he was fine, but he was secretly thankful to have him there. At the last stop before the hospital, his head began to throb again, dull and persistent.
"Please text me on your break," Kurt was saying. "Even if I'm asleep it'll give me peace of mind."
They exited the station and walked the last block to the entrance together. Seeing the building gave Blaine more anxiety than he expected. He would have rather turned right back around and spent the night at home, away from the bustle of the ER, but Kurt gave him the nudge he needed.
"Blaine Anderson isn't scared of anything," Kurt reminded him, a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be waiting for you in the morning at home."
Blaine turned around, gave his husband one last hug, and held his head up as he went back in, not sure what the shift would hold, but ready to tackle anything that tried to bring him down.
Author's Notes:
You guys, doctor!Blaine is quickly becoming one of my favorite things to write. If you're confused why I'm writing him this way, just read the last chapter.
Anyways, my friend Jess prompted this because we both love Grey's Anatomy, and this is one of the episodes, where a main character gets attacked by a patient (no spoilers if you're in the middle of the show!). I have a couple of others things planned for now, too. Since I'm still in school, I have exams this upcoming week, but the summer should grant me some nice free time. Drop a review with a prompt if you want to see your idea come to life in this series!