RE: Inclination

A/N: Time warp! (For me, anyway.) I'm recovering from a mild dose of the plague.

Seated, again, on an examination table in one of the outpatient wings of Washington Hospital Center, Leon tilted his head to the side as instructed by the doctor. The pitying nurse who was, yet again, hovering. He tried to keep his eyes unfocused, but the blue and gold logo on her scrubs kept drawing his attention. Leon was thankful for the sterile smell of the examination room. His nostrils still flared at the metallic scent of blood, even if it was his own. The crimson liquid never failed to alert him. He could not be sure what it alerted him to, but it always caused a small rush of anticipatory adrenaline. His eyes strayed again to the logo on the nurse's scrubs. The color was a good contrast to his thoughts of red. The mint gray of her uniform was not what he wanted to see, but it would do in contrast to the other color ever present in the forefront of his mind. He wished, quietly, that the nurse was Claire. He'd been wounded twice in her presence, both times by gunshot, and she wasn't anywhere near as annoying as this woman. She was quiet and helpful, and without the lines of pity marring her face. The same doctor as before was checking his formerly stitched his cheek.

"I said time off, Mr. Kennedy, not fist fights," the doctor chided.

"Ex-girlfriend," Leon said.

Thankfully there had been some rather affective pain medication injected into his cheek before the exam. The hovering nurse had done something helpful, for once. It took the dull throb out of his face that hadn't succumbed to the six ibuprofen he'd taken while he was still in denial about being able to handle the torn stitches on his own.

"Date better women," the doctor shook his head. "That was a cheap shot. Tore out two of your stitches."

"Didn't quite catch that," Leon said. He pressed his lips together slightly. Even that simple motion made the skin on his face shift enough that he could feel something abnormal in the tension on the surface of his skin. It was very strange knowing that there was something wrong but not quite being able to feel it.

"Your supervisor is here, by the way."

"Super…?" The doctor motioned to the doorway. Leon turned his eyes, as his face was otherwise occupied. Hunnigan stood with a frown on her face. "That's not…"

"I take it Officer Miller wasn't impressed with this excuse?" Hunnigan's eyes were inspecting his face through her glasses from across the room. Her brown hair was pulled back in the usual immaculate bun tight against the back of her head. Her expression was somewhere between chiding and amused. The doctor took out some instruments from a drawer and tipped Leon's face to the side, beginning to cut at the stitches that were still in his skin.

"Hunnigan, sh-"

"Mr. Kennedy, stop talking please."

"I'm recommending you for light duty until you agree to take some real time off," Hunnigan said. "Don't argue."

Leon watched her, taking in the detail of her face to keep from thinking about the sounds being made by the doctor where he was cutting through the stitches in his face. It was much more pleasant than letting his mind wander, even if what Hunnigan was saying was high handed and a bit annoying. When his mind drifted from that moment it focused on less pleasant things. Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, and all the things he knew were most accustomed to lurking in the cover of it came out. All the things he'd seen could shuffle into the room, and he had no pain to dull the feeling of the memories. In normal moments when the darkness threatened his mind ignored the memories and the realness by considering it all fiction. But not when he was numbed by medication like the moment he was enduring in the exam room. His brain worked differently. There would be nothing to stop the thoughts that threatened. He could try to think of his escape, the thing he did most often when confronted by his memories, or he could try to daydream about the parts of his memories that were best, but it got hard. The pain medication… what had they given him? Amitryptyline? Diazepam? Ketamine? He hated not knowing. His body reacted slightly different to each of them, and his response mentally would change as well.

"You may not care about your health, and don't think I do, but if you're dead you're not much good at your job." She shook her head slightly. Analyzing Hunnigan was still better than the alternative. Her berating sounded as it always did, though, and the black threatened on the edges of his vision. "Honestly, Agent Kennedy, take better care of yourself. You're not a rookie anymore."

He frowned, ready to retort and keep his thoughts in the moment, but the doctor gripped his chin more tightly.

Hunnigan was apparently finished with her admonishing. She tipped her head to the doctor and turned to retreat from the examination room where he was being patched up. She paused in the doorway. "Try to pick someone better for company next time, Leon."

Leon snorted. Who did she think he was, James Bond? It wasn't like he had a gaggle of women in various countries waiting for him to call. There were a few that he had dated, and they'd all ended badly. He hadn't even slept with all of them. That wasn't a relationship that was worth anything, as being with Angela had proven yet again. The sex just wasn't enough.

Cleaning up the stitches took almost half an hour. At least seething over Angela had kept his mind in the daylight. He was glad to be numbed for the procedure, but he didn't envy himself the pain when it came back. Fingering his cheek through the bandage, Leon thought he could still smell the blood from earlier, but was certain it was only the antiseptic that had been smeared on his face.

Despite being admonished for it, he went back to work. True to her word, Hunnigan had suggested to DeKay, their boss, that he be kept off field assignments. Normally that would cause a fuss. Leon, who several of the agents had deemed the office 'pretty boy', was rarely allowed recovery time without some insipid commentary and strong censure from his coworkers. It was childish and stupid, given what accidents were likely if any agent was not fully recovered and sent into the field, but human beings were notoriously self-centered and jealous. It didn't matter what the line of work, office rivalry was likely. This time, however, was different. No one in the office argued when they saw the size of the bandage he sported when he arrived the following morning, or the mangled look of the stitches on his face when he took it off.