Who: Evie Sablier What: Narrative - Oscorp Kaboom Where: First a bit at Oscorp and a bit at Midtown Hospital When: After the boom Warnings/Rating: None - a little bit of inner monologue sass.
Evie had ventured out into the world, leaving Daisy in the good care of Wren, while she tried to get some fresh air and walk around the city. Evie loved New York, but everything about this version was slightly off kilter compared to what she had been used to when she and Will had bought their first house together after leaving Seattle. For starters there were new buildings. A few of them. Two in particular she wanted to check out, in the hopes of finding a job that she could venture out into the world with and try and stand on her own two feet. Which was still the goal.
She had done her research on Stark, and on Oscorp - and while she was hardly a scientist - she had gotten more than halfway through medical school and she was a smart cookie. She could start anywhere and figure it out, she was sure of that. Her first stop had been Stark’s building where she’d just taken the free tour and gotten a few packets of information to go over once she got home. She certainly hadn’t expected to be seen by anyone at either place. She had intended to do the same once she got to Oscorp, and she was standing in the lobby reading some of the free informational handouts on the security desk when the shaking had started.
She had no idea what was going on, but she saw people around her starting to panic, and clearly that wasn’t going to help anyone or anything so she’d done her best to calm people down. She’d held hands with strangers for the briefest moments and told people to stop running around before they hurt someone or themselves. She was terrified, but as per usual she didn’t show that off.
When it was all said and done, Evie had been knocked down and as far as she was concerned gotten a bump on the head from the ridiculously dangerous lobby furniture (anyone who had a small child knew the dangers of table corners!), but it didn’t stop her from running around and trying to help people who were still a bit freaked out and who were more injured than she was.
She’d had a splitting and pounding headache for the duration and felt a bit woozy after a bit. She’d had just enough time to put her hand to her head to test for claminess when she’d realized that it wasn’t clammy, it was blood and she had lost a fair bit of it. She took quick stock of her situation and while she was telling a man to take deep breaths before he hyperventilated she balled her sweater up and pressed it against her forehead. She moved down to her knees so she didn’t fall again, and quite sensibly waved for some help.
A ridiculous ambulance ride later and Evie was sitting behind a hospital curtain with her bloody sweater balled up in her lap while she received exactly 9 stitches on the right side of her forehead near her temple. She was made to drink water, and eat a cookie, and told not to go to sleep for a bit as she was concussed.
She didn’t know what it was, but once a diagnosis happened, she always felt sicker. Almost like vindication. When a doctor told her she had strep throat - she felt free to allow herself to have strep throat. And when the doctor told her she had a concussion, needed stitches, and when she looked at the ridiculous swollen bump on her head and the bruise on her face she took that as permission to start feeling like garbage.
She wanted to leave - but the doctor told her she needed someone to pick her up, and wrote her a couple of prescriptions. One an antibiotic, and one a narcotic pain killer that she wasn’t allowed to take until the next day when she would be allowed to sleep again. She had wanted to kick him right in the shin when he said “You’re going to have a bit of a bad night sweetheart.” Instead she glared as best she could.
She didn’t know if anyone would be able to pick her up, and she sure didn’t want to bother anyone. She had eventually devised a plan where she would just wait until the hospital forgot about her and sneak out the door. But she wanted to go home, she missed her baby, and her friends, and she knew that if she stuck around here for too long she’d just be occupying space that someone else who actually needed a hospital bed would need. She’d call Wren, and life would get back to as close to normal as it ever was for them. She hoped. And job hunting was definitely for the birds.