Who: Claire Temple templeclaire & Thirteen doctor13 What: Break Time When: Tuesday, April 20th, early afternoon Where: Lovelace Regional Hospital - Break Room Rating: Audience Discretion Advised Warnings: Frank discussions, Huntington’s Disease, two straight shooters Status: Closed/Completed GDoc
~*~
Getting dumped in some random ass city was not high on Claire’s to-do list, but it was honestly better than what she’d had in mind. Wandering from place to place with just her bag was not her idea of a good time, no matter how safe it would make her. Knowing Daredevil’s face was a dangerous thing, but in Test City? No one gave a damn, except maybe that redhead who showed up with him. That was one secret that Claire wasn’t about to touch with a ten foot pole, mostly because it was none of her damn business and partly because that poor girl was going to get her heart broken and she was only good with physical injuries. That particular skill set was probably why whoever ran Test City decided to give her a job in the hospital.
Lovelace Regional was pretty nice, all things considered. They were well stocked, not too overcrowded, and there seemed to be a good mix of specialities between the doctors. Claire stuck to the ER, since that was what she knew. There were quite a few patients that spoke Spanish, which made her a valuable asset to the staff across the board. Still, it was a new place with new people, and Claire knew to keep both eyes open. It hadn’t taken long at all for her to spot the shaking hands on the young doctor who sometimes took shifts in the ER. The tremor was a slight one, a symptom of half a dozen possible illnesses, so she wasn’t all that worried. It was one hell of a conversation starter, though.
“You gonna do something about that?” Claire asked, stirring a packet of Sweet’n’Low into her crappy breakroom coffee. The doctor - Thirteen, they called her - was moving about, and she happened to catch the slight tremor. “Not really any of my business, I know, but call me curious. You’ve got quite the reputation for knowing your shit, and that’ll get you far, but so will a steady hand.”
~*~
Thirteen didn't share her disease with just anyone. She hadn't told her team at Princeton-Plainsboro. She hadn't even wanted to know herself when it was all said and done. House had pushed the issue until he'd gotten his way. His damned curiosity was what set everything in motion always. It was interesting to see him go wild over a new puzzle---until she had become his puzzle.
It had been an experience she hadn't wanted to go through whatsoever and would never go through again. No one needed to know her personal business unless it was an absolute necessity. Thirteen would tell people what they needed to know on a need-to-know basis. She would also judge each situation for need-to-know basis as it came along.
"Steady hands are only important in fine tuning. I'm more like the brute force who comes along to slap some patches on it to hold the ship together until it can make land. Besides, if you're questioning my ability to perform my duties? I'd be glad to prove my capabilities."
She was a good fucking doctor. House had never taken that from her. He had taken her name, her secrecy, even her health. House had literally proven her mortality was real yet he'd never taken her knowledge of her abilities as a physician. That knowledge was more ingrained in her than her own name. This nurse could go fly a kite if she thought she was going to push Thirteen into some kind of corner because of a little tremor.
Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Do you have have a complaint against my work or any treatment of any patient? You can feel free to bring your concerns to light. I'm ready to defend my competency to anyone."
If this woman wanted them to go before the hospital's board immediately, Thirteen was prepared to go. She had made no wrong calls since arriving in Test City. No one had any knowledge of her Huntington's except for the people who handled things regarding her medication and treatment. They had her on a regime different from what she'd been taking at home. It was helping her more yet the trements? It was worse in her hands. They had to know that. They couldn't fire her for being sick. She was positive. Somewhat.
~*~
Someone was a little defensive. Claire arched an eyebrow, stirring her coffee for a moment before taking a sip. Not too awful, all things considered. Thirteen seemed mighty keen on fighting back, which meant whatever it was? It wasn’t good. Claire didn’t need to know the details. She only needed to know exactly what Thirteen had just told her; that it didn’t matter what was going on with her health because it wasn’t affecting her work as a doctor in the slightest.
“Nope, no complaints. Like I said, you’ve got a reputation for knowing your shit. You’re a good doctor, and I appreciate that. Hell, I know I don’t have to worry about you when you’re the doc in the ER. Back home? In Hell’s Kitchen, I had to worry about some doctors who didn’t do enough for certain kinds of people, but here? That’s not even a thing. Not too crowded, decent shifts, no vigilantes running around. I’m not interested in stirring up any kind of trouble.” Claire was pretty happy with the way things are going, and she appreciated Thirteen a hell of a lot more now.
“Look, whatever you got going on, it’s your business. It’s not affecting your work, and until it does? You’re not going to hear anything from me. Figured it was one hell of a conversation starter, honestly.” She grinned, before topping off her half empty cup. “Try not to be so defensive right off the bat. Makes me think something serious is going on that you’re keen on keeping under wraps.” It was advice freely given, even though it was perfectly possible that it would just be ignored.
“How late’s your shift tonight? I’m on til midnight.”
~*~
Being defensive was a natural state of being for Thirteen. She had worked with House who was literally the most intrusive being on any planet. It was terrible to always feel as if one had to hide. Sometimes things were better left in the closet though. There wasn't a lot of good in the air when someone announced they were dying. Death was inevitable, but talking about it in a hospital?
Bad karma.
"I'm naturally defensive. You could say it's my normal state of being. Don't take it personally."
Thirteen considered the woman across from her. She was interested in her in a way not sexual -that was something she could recognize with no trouble- but not wholly friendly either. It was as if she were being felt out to see if she was a genuine caregiver or someone who was putting on a show for the first few weeks of employment. In another life, she'd have been offended. As it stood now? Thirteen found it oddly flattering to think she'd become hard enough to worry people.
Who said a person couldn't learn anything useful in prison? Thirteen had learned to be more human. She'd come to understand the value of joy in the remaining years of her life. No one could give her years back. They couldn't cure Huntington's Disease. It wasn't possible to reverse her diagnosis.
It was possible to be happy.
Clearing her throat, she said, "I don't judge based on anything. I don't have the room to be judgmental. Every patient is a patient to me. A set of symptoms I need to cure. Is it cold to look at them as a puzzle? Yes. It's how I learned though and I learned from the best in the business. I am a good doctor. I'm a damn good doctor. That's all that's really important about me right now. Unless you want to get a drink after work to bullshit about how understaffed we are? Then, in that case, I get off at midnight too."
If she were at home, she'd have gotten a lecture about drinking while taking her medication. Here? Thirteen didn't worry so much about it. They weren't giving her the exact formula she'd had even though had thought it was the same. Her treatments were working well enough for her to work. That was all which mattered. Beyond that? Thirteen was going to consider it all a chance at living life in a strange place.
~*~
“Never do,” Claire replied easily. She liked Thirteen, hand shaking notwithstanding. She had attitude and confidence for miles, and the same kind of no-nonsense attitude that Claire appreciated in her co-workers. It took a long time for her to trust anyone, especially the people she worked with. In Hell’s Kitchen, money changed hands and insurance companies fucked well deserving people over all the time. There were a core group of doctors and nurses Claire trusted back home, but mostly she had to depend on working the system to get her patients the care they needed. They were lucky most of the nurses were bilingual.
She liked the way Thirteen approached things, even if it took the humanity out of it. Everyone had their way of coping, and Claire wasn’t going to judge or begrudge her for it. “You do what you have to do. We both play our parts and it’ll turn out just fine.” That was the way the hospital worked, and it was a good system when everyone played their part. Whatever was going on with Thirteen, it wasn’t Claire’s job to mother her or play nurse to her. She could do whatever she wanted, particularly since she was the only one who knew the details of what was going on with her medically.
“I’m always up for bullshitting about work after I clock out. Meet you at the Test City Bar & Grill? First round’s on me.” It was the least she could do, after starting off their conversation the way she did. “Although I’ve got to say, this place? Not as understaffed as some places I’ve worked in. New York City was a hot mess after the Battle of New York, damage everywhere. Plenty of people died and more were injured, overcrowding all kinds of hospitals and clinics.” Claire smirked. “I’ll tell you all about it over drinks, and you can fill me in on where you learned the puzzle approach.” Seemed like a fair trade to her.
~*~
Battle of New York? Thirteen couldn't keep the confusion off her face as she tried to think what the woman could mean. It wasn't likely she meant 9/11. Everyone called it 9/11. Even House called it 9/11 which said more than anything else could about how common the name was given the man liked to put his own spin on everything. House would have renamed every disease if his analytical mind hadn't stopped him from going that far.
He'd renamed her, after all.
"I think that sounds like a very tempting deal."
Thirteen cleared her face as she considered how it was nice to have someone approach her with genuine curiosity rather than a hidden agenda to try to gather information for her nosey boss. It'd been a while. Claire didn't seem interested in fucking her or fucking her over which put the woman on a whole new playing field for Thirteen. Of late, those were the only two categories people could fall into while still being a part of her life.
She decided she'd grant the woman a little slack. It wasn't as if she didn't deserve something for her kindness. Thirteen could be standoffish, but she wasn't a total bitch. That was something they'd reserved for Amber. Cutthroat Bitch had truly deserved the name even after she'd started getting laid regularly in Dr. Wilson's bed. Some would argue it was callous of her to think such about a dead woman, but Thirteen was a dead woman walking.
As far as she was concerned, she was on the same level as any casualties of war or otherwise.
"I was working in New Jersey before I came here. Princeton-Plainsboro. I'll at least know what neck of the woods you're from when you're talking. That's something. See you tonight, Claire. I hope you do shots. I have a feeling we'll both need them if we're swapping war stories."
Thirteen meandered away to do her post-op checks, hoping it was all going to work out for the best in her first attempt at making a new friend in years.