Tim Drake-Wayne (redrobin) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-08-03 02:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | flash thompson, red robin |
WHO Spencer and Adam
WHAT Getting patched up
WHEN Recently
WHERE Adam's clinic
WARNINGS None
People have always said that you could take a man from his home, but you couldn’t take his home from a man. The same could be said for his military garb, at least for Spencer and the soldiers he knew. After two tours in Afghanistan, and another in various parts of Europe that were much poorer and less developed than the typical tourist cities, Spence knew exactly how it felt to want to help someone only to be held back by red tape. No one did red tape better than the military, no matter what branch it was. There had been very strict rules regarding interaction with the local inhabitants, which strictly prohibited involvement of any kind in the violence that went on domestically. That was the hardest lesson he’d learned on his first tour and it had gotten harder each time he went overseas. His time spent with the vigilante in Chicago had been eye opening in a few ways, but the most obvious one was the idea that justice could be taken into one’s own hands. He didn’t have to stand by and let bad things happen. He could actively work to make the world a better place, one good deed at a time or helping one more criminal into their cells. Spencer hadn’t gone out looking for a fight. He certainly hadn’t gone out with the intention of landing himself in the waiting room of the first clinic he happened across. Still, despite the blood currently soaking his dark blue tee, Spencer was glad he’d stepped in to rescue the woman in the alleyway. The man that had been attacking her had been left knocked out against a dumpster for the cops to collect provided that the woman pressed charges. Unfortunately, the knife he’d taken to his side stopped him from being able to stay and ensure that she did as he suggested. The wound itself wasn’t too bad, just a deep laceration, but he didn’t want to risk reporting the injury to the Army when he’d just put in his transfer request. Adam was guilty of using the clinic as an excuse to escape from his problems. As a child, that escape usually involved comic books, but adults were required to find more useful things to do with themselves. Plus, he enjoyed being a doctor. He liked helping, he liked examining problems and fixing them. Most of the time this meant helping lower class families or drunks who didn’t want to be charged an arm and a leg for some stupid bar fight, but occasionally he met people that reminded him of Seattle. Spencer was such a case. Once the nurse informed him of the basic injuries, Adam started putting the pieces together. There was no sign of substance abuse or gang banger identification, which meant this man could have been trying to stop a fight or save another person. Knife wounds were usually how he came to meet vigilantes back in Seattle. Keeping these suspicions to himself for now, he had the nurse wave Spencer into a waiting room. After the nurse did basic check up business, Adam walked into the room with a clipboard in hand. He was a tall man, skinny with bright blue eyes and light blonde hair. He was young, but carried himself like a stately old man who spent his days studying science. “Doctor Waterhouse.” Adam introduced himself, his speech always short and to the point. “You seem calm for someone who suffered a knife wound.” He mused with a small smirk. Spencer was polite to the nurse who’d led him into the one of the rooms and ran through the basics. He answered promptly and concisely, something he knew doctors tended to appreciate. The only thing he’d insisted on was keeping his shirt firmly in place, unwilling to reveal the scars to her. It would only lead to more questions, he was sure of it, and he apologized sincerely to the nurse in the hopes that she wouldn’t be too frustrated with him. He was very thorough in describing his injuries though, including a few bruises that were forming on his opposite side and the slight cut to his cheek. He wasn’t worried about those, just the knife wound. As soon as the doctor came in, there was a slight shift in Spencer’s demeanor. Instead of actively trying to slump his shoulders slightly, his back was ramrod straight, shoulders squared and his chin up. “Spencer,” he replied respectfully, carefully removing his shirt now so that the good doctor would be able to inspect the injury for himself. It was just between his two bottom ribs, about four inches in length and deep enough where a more cautious doctor might require stitches. The real story was in the rest of his body. The scar from the bullet that had gone through his shoulder was visible, and there were a few scars along his chest and abdomen from stupid shit he’d gotten up to with his buddies. He also had a tattoo, over his right pectoral, of the insignia for his unit. “It’s not my first knife wound,” he added simply. Adam spent a couple more moments regarding his clipboard before setting it down next to him. “Military?” He asked simply, noticing the tattoo, but guessing more from his demeanor than anything else. Cops only showed respect when they were in uniform, but most military boys did it as a second nature. You see Flash? Adam silently told the teenager in his brain who was so sure he wanted to join up. It wasn’t just about getting killed out there, it was about changing an entire personality not out of desire but from a requirement. Maybe that’s what I want, doc. Adam tried not to sigh. Teenagers were impossible. Always had been. “Lucky. Missed major arteries.” He smirked, touching around the wound and his back to make sure there wasn’t any damage he couldn’t see. “Coughing up any blood?” Adam seemed satisfied and went to clean the wound. Stitches were an option, but the wound wasn’t too wide and this man would likely rip out his stitches on accident. “Army, ten years now. Two years left,” Spencer replied. He wasn’t entirely sure if they’d approve a transfer, but even if he had to commute to Monterey every other week, it’d be worth it if it meant he could keep an eye out for Nick. Talk about a small fucking world and considering who they had in their heads, there was a part of Spence that thought they’d been given this second chance for a reason. He sure as hell wasn’t going to waste it. The feel of pressure around the wound made him draw a breath sharply, effectively drawing him out of his thoughts. “No,” he replied, shaking his head. “No blood, or coughing. I’m more worried about an infection,” he added honestly. Spencer was up to date on all of his shots of course, but infections could get very nasty very quickly and that wasn’t something he needed to be dealing with right now. “I’d prefer if you didn’t stitch it closed unless it’s absolutely necessary.” The request probably wasn’t an odd one for the doctor, but it was a little out of character for Spencer to make his preference known instead of simply trusting him to do his job. Adam moved like a program or one of those androids from the Aliens movies. Quiet, efficient and with a certain amount of gentleness that seemed hardwired into his system. “I’ll give you some antibiotics after I clean this up. The nurse will also give you some extra bandages so you can redress the wound if it gets dirty.” He said with a nod, going quiet for a moment as he tried to remember how he got around to talking about vigilante work in Seattle. There, it was all natural. Luke’s mentor was efficient at getting everything into place while Adam made sure everything worked like a well-oiled machine. Now, he was the one set to be in charge of the whole operation. So, he took a wild guess. Adam was good at reading reactions and even if the man tried to deny what happened, the doctor would certainly be able to tell. “If you find yourself stepping between a fight on the street or saving a woman from assault, you can always come here, Spencer.” He said calmly, knowingly. “I could even equip you with supplies and information. Operating a free clinic tends to let me keep my ear to the ground.” “Thank you,” Spencer replied, but otherwise he stayed completely still while Adam worked. He was certainly nicer than some of the army doctors, most of whom simply assumed that all injuries came from stupid shit and therefore didn’t deserve a bit of gentleness. He would have been content to simply leave it at that and remember to be more careful if he found himself in that situation again, but then Adam caught him entirely off guard. He stiffened just slightly and his eyes widened, more surprised than anything. It took him a moment to relax and manage a slight smile. “Was it that obvious?” he asked, genuinely curious about what gave him away. “It was the latter. I didn’t stick around to make sure she called the cops but...I did what I could.” Spencer was also surprised that Adam was willingly offering up supplies and information, which led him to believe that maybe things in Las Vegas weren’t good at all. He didn’t like that, especially after what happened with Nick’s brother. Maybe...maybe he’d be able to find out more about that, too. “I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised that things aren’t so good here. If my transfer goes through, I think I’ll take you up on that,” he added. He’d always wanted to do what he’d seen those vigilantes in Seattle had done and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity. Adam laughed. “Had experience. Doubt you’ve heard the tales of masks in Seattle, but The Waterhouse was named after me. Well. I named it. After myself.” He smirked up at Spencer, carefully bandaging up the wound. “First experience with a mask was on the street. Fell off catwalk into some bushes and pinched a nerve...among other things. I patched him up and, well, word got around that I was a sympathizer pretty fast.” He smoothed his hand over the now bandaged area. “You have combat training, but urban fighting is much different than what they teach you in the military. More vertical, stealth based and close quarters. Can introduce you to people that can train you if you feel that you need it as well. But, sure you’ll be fine. Everyone gets stabbed.” He smiled, no irony in his voice. The amount of time his best friend had been stabbed were almost funny. “I have. Worked, well sort of worked with one of them, when I was in Chicago. I followed the masks pretty closely after my tours. It hit close to home, I guess.” Spencer was smiling now, far more boyish than he ever was with most people. As soon as he was bandaged up, he moved to pull his shirt back on, careful not to disturb the work Adam had just done. “I certainly wouldn’t turn down a few pointers from them, if they’ve got the time and inclination.” Spencer wasn’t stupid and he certainly wasn’t going to turn down first hand knowledge instead of what he’d read in the news. He did have to laugh at the comment about everyone getting stabbed. “The first time I ever needed stitches, it was because of a stab wound. I’d take that over a gunshot wound any day.” Of course, he’d take either one of those over getting the shit beaten out of him by his father, but Adam didn’t need to know about that. “Good to hear.” Adam picked up his clipboard again and opened the door. “Before you go, have some extra supplies. In good faith.” He understood that vigilantes liked goody bags more than most people in the world and an extra stash of medical supplies was always appreciated. Even if he didn’t plan to go out and stop some crime lord and instead wanted to stick to small muggings and such, the supplies would still be a great asset. Walking to his office, he opened the door and rummaged through a locked compartment in his desk. He opened a thick paper bag that was usually meant for simple medications and dropped in a couple small, injectable painkillers, disinfectant, bandages and adhesive clay for hiding cameras or listening devices. “Nothing that could hurt anyone else, just supplies to make sure you don’t die before I see you again.” Adam smiled brightly like a mad scientist. He was brilliant, but a little intelligence usually came with quirks. “The nurse will have your other medication.” Spencer was incredibly grateful for the supplies and knew he’d make sure they got put to use for something worthwhile. He certainly hadn’t planned on stepping in on an assault or getting stabbed, but now he was rather glad at the turn of events. By the time Adam had his goodie bag put together, Spencer was dressed again and ready to leave. “I’ll do my best,” he replied with a grin, not at all put off by Adam’s smile. Maybe he should’ve been a little cautious but he was being given a chance to do something he’d wanted to for a while now. “Seriously, doc. Anything you’ve got, I’ll do my best to help out.” He fished out a scrap of paper from his pocket, along with a pen, and quickly wrote out his name, cell number, and the hotel he was staying at. He wasn’t sure if Adam was on the journals, but he’d keep an eye out for the man just in case. “Thanks again.” He slipped out, supplies in hand, and picked up the meds from the nurses’ station before heading back out. |