Who: Jack and Liam What: Jack goes to check on his patient Where: The hospital Liam was at When: After Sam's visit Warnings/Rating: A little bit of blood. Disturbing content.
Jack would say something to Sam later, when he could write without feeling it pull at his stitches with every stroke of the pen to the paper. It had been much easier when the journal was an iPad, but this new one, a white tree surrounded by stars emblazoned on the front, was something else entirely. The front looked familiar, as if Jack should know but he hadn't been quite able to place where it was from.
It wasn't the most important thing at the moment. The most important thing, as he was hanging up his phone after speaking with the young woman, was to check on Liam. If she had left him in a distressed state -- he hurried to Liam's room to find out what shape his patient was in.
In the time between Sam leaving and Jack arriving, Liam had managed to do two things. The first was remove the IVs that were lodged in his arm, leaving drops of bright, red blood dotting the white sheets and the floor, making a trail to his second accomplishment: locking himself in the bathroom. It wasn’t so much locking as it was pressing the door shut with the weight of his body and sliding down until his rear hit the floor. He needed to be somewhere where they weren’t watching him, weren’t analyzing his every movement and action, someplace he could be alone, because after the tone of voice that he had heard from Sam, the expression that had painted her face as she left, Liam had no inclination to see or deal with anyone.
Knees were pulled up towards his chest, the IV site bleeding sluggishly, leaving Liam to stare across the small bathroom as he tried to make some sense out of things. Logically, he knew Sam, Jack, the other doctors were all correct; Tristan was not inside of him, not physically at least. That was impossible. But that didn’t help to ease that feeling in his stomach that there was something wrong with him, some aspect of himself that he could no longer trust. It was anger and paranoia, an ache that pushed through him and left him questioning so much of the world. It was something that hadn’t been there weeks prior, not until the dream, the taunting, the promises of so much. She had poisoned some aspect of him that he hadn’t been prepared for, and it was that doubt and worry, that nagging feeling that everything she had said was correct, that was what drove him to the bathroom.
Emotions were a funny thing, Liam decided, as he looked at the puncture wounds on the back of his hand, splaying his fingers out, pressing one finger against the little wound left behind, his gaze growing unfocused. “Get it together, Liam,” he murmured to himself before he folded his arms across one another again and let his head rest against them, relishing the silence of the small bathroom, the cool tile against his rear, and the solitude that came along with it. He knew it wouldn’t last, couldn’t last, not in a place like this where nearly everything he did was monitored. But for this moment, things could be good. Tristan wasn’t in here, wasn’t anywhere near him, and that was what he held onto.
The bright red drops told Jack exactly where Liam was and a quick check of the door knob said it wasn't locked. "Liam?" Talking first and then brute force. He knocked lightly on the door with the knuckles of his left hand. Trying to do it with his ring hand would have been nothing short of agony. And while he did have pain killers for it, he preferred not to take them unless absolutely necessary.
"Liam? I need you to open this door." If he was bleeding, at the very least they needed to get that stopped before he did any damage to himself.
It wasn’t really all that surprising that it was Jack who showed up, the rap at the door causing him to open his eyes again, looking across the bathroom again. “I’m fine, Jack. Just... having some time on my own.” He doubted that that excuse would work here, but it was at least worth a try considering everything else that was going on. He didn’t want to see his doctor, no matter the good intentions that Jack had, because these problems... Liam didn’t feel like they were just going to go away anytime soon.
"You're bleeding, Liam." Jack had no way of knowing if he had staunched the blood or if he was in there, trying to work the wound open so he could bleed more. He stepped away from the door briefly to turn off the alarming of the IV pump before returning and knocking again. "Let me make sure you're not bleeding all over the place and I'll let you stay in there for a few." With the door open, but he didn't say that.
“I’m not bleeding all over, Jack,” Liam said, just loud enough to be heard through the closed door. Liam extended his hand again, looking at the puncture wound from the IV, clenching his fist for a moment before he again went limp and relaxed against the door. “I don’t want to die, so if I was bleeding all over the place, I would be sure to let you know about it.” There was a pause, brief, just a heartbeat of silence. “Or do you not trust me?”
That did seem true, but a week ago, Jack wouldn't have thought that he'd have Liam coming into his office saying that Tristan was inside him. Closing the door to the anteroom, Jack pressed against the door to the bathroom. "It's not about trust, it's about what I can and can't verify, Liam," he said quietly, just audible through the door. "Let me check and I'll give you some time alone."
Liam didn’t say anything for a long while, listening to the sound of a door closing from the other side, slowly shifting as he stretched his legs out in front of him, settling firmly against the door. “Well, I can verify for you that I’m not bleeding out. Though...” The pause was unsettling, a thought just coming to mind. “You think if I bled enough, I could just wash her on out of me?” He wasn’t wholly serious about those words, but it was a thought, one that invaded his mind and took firm root where it sat. “I’m not crazy, Jack. I know you think I am, and I know Sam believes I am. She left like she was scared. Scared of me, or something, I don’t know. I haven’t seen her like that before.” A sigh escaped him and he leaned his head back, letting it thunk quietly against the door.
Jack paused for a moment, eyes closing as he listened to Liam's question before he shook his head. "No, I don't think you can wash her out of you." If that was true, he would have tried washing his own mother out of him long ago. "Liam, I don't really want to force my way into this bathroom, but I will if you don't open this door and let me check," he said calmly. "I'd really rather like it if you would do it."
“Did that work on you when you were a child? When you wanted to be alone, and you’d lock yourself in your room or the bathroom and your parents would yell at you and demand to be let in?” Liam asked, not that he had ever had that happen with his own mother; they had always had a good rapport, her and him, a pair against the world. “Just... Please take my word for it. That I’m fine. And I’ll come out when I’m ready.”
There was a very brief moment that Jack paused before he answered, "No." His mother had taken the locks off the doors that he could get to and he was never allowed in a room that he could lock and she couldn't get into. That was part of the rules. Jack closed his eyes for a moment, his back to the door. "I never had doors that locked," he said quietly, possibly audible, possibly not. "Have you ever noticed that the hinges on these doors are on the outside?"
Hearing that little bit of background from Jack made Liam open his eyes again, turning towards the door in response. He was quiet for a long while, just the sound of his breathing and his own heart beating giving him the only accompaniment in that small bathroom. “And I didn’t notice that, but I’m going to guess that’s so you can take the doors off the hinges when someone, like me, is being difficult.” There was the slightest amount of amusement in his voice, and while he knew he was being a problem to Jack, to Jack who had been infinitely patient with him through all of this, had never forced him in any direction without giving him a choice, Liam wanted to see no one right then. He didn’t want to see the look in someone’s eyes, the fear, the pity, whatever else that was there that he couldn’t handle right then.
"Not like you," Jack clarified. Sort of like Liam though, but it was mainly used for those patients that were violent or those that might be inside hurting themselves -- which could be Liam at this point. "Let me check you Liam. That's all I want." Jack wasn't afraid of Liam, not even with the other man thinking that Tristan was inside him but there was a small part, that as much as Jack tried to ignore because it wasn't strictly professional, that was scared for Liam.
“And as soon as I open this door, you’re not going to let me close it again, are you?” Liam asked, all too aware of how things were in this place. He might have had his issues, but he wasn’t oblivious to the way things were run here at the hospital. There was another sigh, long and drawn out, and Liam pressed a finger against the back of his hand, worrying at the mark, the blood that swelled around the pad of his index finger. A little tunnel inside him, that vein was, and for a moment, there was just quiet fascination with it. He had always been a healthy child growing up, his only visit to a hospital that he could recall when when he broke his wrist falling from the monkey bars at school. So this visit was wholly different and strange, an illness that couldn’t be pinpointed, doctors who watched more than they did anything else.
Then there was that little voice in the back of his head. If they want to watch, why not give them something to watch? Silence lapsed again and Liam worried at that little wound, digging his nail into it, pushing against the skin, much like she had in that nightmare that seemed a lifetime ago. Under his skin, inside of him... that’s where she had gone.
"No," Jack answered honestly, turning so that he was facing the door. If push came to shove, yes he could come in the room, he could call the techs and engineering to have the door removed from its hinges so he could get in. But, Jack still held out hope that he could talk Liam into opening the door for him so he wouldn't have to push his way inside. "I can let you keep it mostly closed, but I can't leave you in here with the door shut."
“You could leave me in here. If you wanted.” The response came with a decided lack of inflection in his voice, finger bloody, his hand bloody where he had worried at the mark left behind from the needle. Maybe it was the issues in his head, or maybe it was the medications that had been pumping through his veins, but there was a lack of pain in all of it. There was pressure, sensation, but nothing hurt, not like the dream, where every breath had been pain, every touch had been torture. He could still feel her, her hand shoving through the skin and muscle and bone of his chest, breaking ribs, stealing out his heart, going so far as to nibble it with him watching.
He made a choked noise in the back of his throat, gagging, and with a lurch to his knees and away from the unlocked door, Liam leaned over the toilet and retched, a futile thing as nothing came up, but fingers were curled white-knuckled tight around the rim, shoulders trembling, head hanging over the bowl.
As soon as Jack heard the retching, he was coming through that door whether Liam wanted him to or not. Of course without the other man's weight against the door, it came open easily and Jack was through, placing his injured hand between Liam's shoulder blades. "Just get it up," he said quietly, reaching down to keep Liam's hair out of his face.
Maybe it was the words, maybe it was the hand against his back, but something loosed the pressure, and with a choked cough, everything came up. The bowl was tinged with red by the time Liam had relaxed, his forehead drenched with cold sweat, bloodied fingers slipping against the bowl as he rocked back, sitting hard on his rear in front of the toilet. The episode had left him shaking and unsteady, eyes bloodshot from the strain. “Sorry,” he mumbled, pressing the heel of his hand against his mouth, trying hard to calm his pounding heart. “Sorry,” Liam said again, slowly bringing up both hands, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes.
"Don't apologize." If Liam wasn't his patient, Jack would have touched his head affectionately, but he couldn't. He was Liam's doctor, not his friend. So he did what he could, giving the man's shoulder a squeeze before he went to get the refillable mug of water out of Liam's room so he could have something to wash his mouth out with. The blood in the vomit worried him. "Does that always happen whenever you get sick?" he asked. Perhaps it was something normal for Liam, if not, they were going to have to look into it.
The mug of water was drained before Liam said anything else, hands curled around the mug as he sat in front of the toilet, some of the colour starting to come back to his face bit by bit, that rush of memory having come unexpectedly and in the worst way possible. “Sometimes,” Liam responded in answer to Jack’s question, daring a look up towards him before he closed his eyes, rubbing at his face with one hand. “Recent thing. I chalked it up to stress. I don’t know. And you got the door open anyways. I meant for it to be more of a challenge,” he quipped, though there was only a heavy tone to his voice, no amusement.
"How recent?" Jack asked as he crouched next to Liam. There were many reasons for it, none of them good, some of them better than others. He'd order an upper GI to be done in the morning, just in case. Glancing over at the door, Jack gave a small smile before turning back to Liam. "Probably should have stayed close to it and vomited from from there." If he could get a smile out of the other man, that'd be great, but he'd be happy with a little of the tension easing out of him. "Going to let me see that hand now?"
“And then I would have thrown up all over my lovely hospital clothes,” Liam quipped, giving a small smile in return before he sat the cup down on the tile floor at his side. It took him another couple of moments before he glanced up towards Jack, his eyes tired, but it seemed that being sick had let out a good amount of the tension from his person. Slowly, he offered the hand to him, rust red with drying blood, looking worse than it really was simply due to the worrying he had done to the puncture spot. “Don’t think it’s that bad,” Liam said after a moment. “Doesn’t hurt, at least.”
Jack took a look before shaking his head. He needed to get it cleaned off, but he didn't think that Liam was going to need stitches. "Think you can stand up so we can get you cleaned up and back to bed?"
Back to bed. The words echoed in Liam’s head, but he simply didn’t have the strength to try fighting against the doctor right then. So instead he made a sound that was purely non-committal, reaching out to brace himself against the toilet as he started to push himself up to his feet, wavering for just a moment before he gained his center. “Back to bed,” he murmured a moment later, some strange note to his voice. “Just where I want to be.” Yes, it had only been a couple of days since he had been admitted, but already, he was chafing against the rules, the policies, the procedures. He wouldn’t deny that there was probably something wrong with him, but this place was not where he was meant to be.
There was a very brief tuck of Jack's mouth upwards. "Would you rather go for a walk?" Even Jack could tell the sarcasm in Liam's voice on that odd tone that he had. It'd get him out of the room and as long as Jack or one of the techs was with him, there really was no reason why Liam couldn't. Even on his medication, Jack didn't think that Liam would randomly attack anyone in here. It was what happened outside that concerned him. Standing, he offered a hand out to the other man to help him up.
“And now I feel like a pet.” Liam tried to see the bright side in all that was going on, but it was difficult to accept at times. He was forever this soul that was independent, making his own decisions, living as he pleased, even if he still answered to his mother. But here, that privilege was denied him, and it was hard. Harder than he would have ever predicted. But instead of voicing anymore complaints, Liam accepted the hand that was offered to help him up, stilling once he was at his full height, pressing his hand against his brow. “I think I’d rather just lay down. I don’t want to be paraded around right now. I don’t feel up to that.”
Jack simply nodded. "I promise I won't ask anyone to bring you a doggy bag from a restaurant," he said lightly, trying to be playful. It wasn't something that he did often, but all too well he knew the effect that emotions and surroundings could have on someone. This wasn't something he had ever wanted for Liam, or any of his patients, but given the way the young man had been acting in his office, Jack knew this was the only option he really had. "You're not a pet, Liam. We have to make sure you're safe."
“Safe.” Liam echoed the word with a shake of his head, eventually pushing Jack away as he moved from the bathroom back to his private room, crossing it in only a handful of steps before crawling back onto the mattress and pulling the blankets back over his head. “Just go away, please. Let me wallow for a while if you don’t mind horribly.” Logically, Liam knew this wasn’t the best reaction to be having, the best method of coping. But he didn’t want to react, didn’t want to cope. He simply wanted to stop thinking for a while, let the world pass him by. Nothing since Tristan was the same as it had been before, and coming to terms with that was taking more energy from him than he was prepared for.
Jack watched him go, watched him as he curled beneath the blankets and hid from the world. It wasn't the best reaction, no, but it was an honest one. Natural. "Of course. I'll send a nurse in in a few minutes to get you bandaged up," he said quietly. It still had to be done, but Jack could buy him time. Turning off the light in the bathroom, he left the room for the anteroom and true to his word, shut the door so only a sliver remained open.