WHO: Nathan Wuornos & Simon Tam WHAT: Nathan gets frostnipped; Simon takes care of them; there is bonding! WHEN: this was way back when there were like dementors and then chocolate falling out of the sky. Way backdated. WHERE: their unit. WARNINGS: nah.
It was cold, at least for other people, but it was worth the trip outside. Hot cocoa didn’t do much to solve Nathan’s problems (problem, singular: Audrey’s health), but it did lift his spirits. He didn’t realize that he hadn’t entirely shaken off the effects of the dementor’s attack until he’d had a cup of chocolate, and felt hopeful and optimistic for the first time in -- what, a week? He couldn’t even remember.
There was a slight spring in his step as he headed back to his room, still savoring the taste of chocolate and whipped cream on his tongue. He stepped inside, closed the door, and finally shedded all his outer layers - coat, gloves, hat. He greeted Simon with a smile. “Hey. There’s cocoa down in the mess hall, if you want some.”
--
Simon was usually in medical, working. When he wasn't, he didn't really know what to do with himself. Beverly insisted that he take time off and take care of himself, take a mental health day every so often, but Simon wasn't good at resting. He felt too worried about watching over River.
Being home was … complicated. He knew how to relax, cognitively. He liked books — and he liked learning for fun. He had a few card games that he liked to play. But sometimes he looked at River and all it did was remind him of what he'd lost, of what he'd done to rescue her, and the person she'd been before all of this. Other people didn't understand that. They didn't get that River wasn't always this way, that her mental illness wasn't a sweet quirk of hers. It was damage. It was deliberate experimentation and abuse, and Simon found it hard to relax.
So he was trying to relax right now, with a book open in his lap, but he was watching the clock. River was out somewhere, and Simon never liked letting her wander on her own. She wanted independence, he knew that much, but that didn't mean he wanted to give it, or felt like it was safe to do so. It was a double-edged sword: he wanted his freedom, but he didn't trust River's freedom. Not yet. Letting go wasn't that easy.
When Nathan came in, he glanced up from his book. "Were you outside?" he asked, without preamble. Saying hello would have been kinder, but he was watching Nathan shed layers, and usually "going outside" meant "getting hurt without knowing it".
--
“Mmhm,” Nathan said, an unconcerned sound of agreement. He knew that there were risks to going out in the cold -- that was why he’d bundled up. But he didn’t feel it, which meant he always felt fine, relatively speaking, so it was hard to be concerned about it. He’d volunteered to help bring the pod in specifically because he wouldn’t feel the cold. It didn’t make him any less vulnerable to injury, but at least it made him more comfortable and functional while he was out.
And he was friendly, but he also tended toward monosyllabic, so skipping over the small talk didn’t bother him much. “Pod fell. It had cocoa in it. Marshmallows and whipped cream, too.”
--
"Thanks be to the PodSayer," said Simon flatly. He sighed a little, putting a marker in his book before getting up and crossing over to Nathan.
"Come here." He beckoned a little before he took Nathan's hand and tipped up his fingers and examined them, his expression impassive. He reached up and guided Nathan to turn his head. This was a relatively common routine for them these days; Nathan would come home with scrapes and cuts and other injures, and Simon would give him a quick exam before fixing anything that was wrong. He didn't immediately look after anyone else this way, but Nathan didn't feel pain. It was a warning alarm he had no access too, and that meant that Nathan was in far more danger than someone who was hurting.
"You're beginning to show the early stages of frostbite," he said, lightly touching Nathan's ear. "Out much longer and I'd have to start hacking off extremities."
--
Nathan rolled his eyes at the mention of the Podsayer, or Pod God, or whatever the kids were calling it these days. He’d have liked to have a word with whatever was sending them down here. Even if he had enjoyed the cocoa, that didn’t mean he could ignore the other things they’d done. Highest on his list of pod-related crimes was the blonde woman currently being held in custody, and all the trouble - plural, with a capital T - that she had caused.
He looked down at his fingers as Simon examined them, and then lifted one hand to touch his ear. He had a bump or a bruise almost every day, which he didn’t feel, and usually insisted that he could handle small scrapes perfectly well on his own. But he nevertheless seemed to get himself cut up or, in this case, frozen, on a semi-weekly basis. At least, he thought wryly, he hadn’t needed an MRI yet.
“At least you wouldn’t need any anaesthesia,” he said, dryly. It was kind of a joke, but it was also true. “I’ll get warmed up.”
--
"Be careful," said Simon, pulling Nathan's hand away from his ear. "Don't rub it, especially since you can't feel it. Sit down, I'll get you something to put on it."
He wouldn't say that he wasn't friends with Nathan, but their relationship bordered on more professional than anything else. Nathan helped look after River, and Simon looked after Nathan and Audrey (and wryly said that he made house calls). Simon liked him, but Simon wasn't very good at admitting it. He came off as somewhat detached, distracted and quiet, and more often than not he read as arrogant.
Still, he respected Nathan immensely. Nathan was an officer of the law, he put himself in danger of physical harm despite his condition, and he was particularly good with River — and that was everything.
He patted the arm of the couch as he passed it on the way to the bathroom. "You're going to sit with a warm cloth on any affected areas, let yourself warm up. I don't think there's going to be any lasting damage."
--
Nathan lowered his hand obediently, and sat down on the couch. He had done this more than once before during winters in Haven, and, once, nearly died of cold trying to get Marian Caldwell to calm down enough to prevent her weather Trouble from destroying the town. He had been aware of how much the cold had affected him then, the way it had made his body shake and grow weak, the way ice had accumulated all over him. Doctors had taken care of him then, as now. He probably could have figured out how to warm himself up, or gotten Audrey to help him with it, but seeing as she had her own problems -- well, maybe it was better to let Simon handle it anyway.
“Thank you,” he said, sincerely, when his roommate returned. “I know you’ve got your hands full around here.”
--
"Please, it's fine," said Simon dismissively. He stood in front of Nathan, reaching out to gently tip the other man's chin upward in order to get a better look at him. His other hand had a couple of washcloths that he'd soaked in warm water.
There was something almost soothing about the perfunctory way that Simon looked him over. He had an easy, somewhat detached professionalism despite being friendly with Nathan — but Simon was simply cool and detached by nature, for whatever reason. Awkwardness, shyness, a feeling of isolation, a feeling of being smarter or having better breeding than other people. It might have been awkward in personal interactions, but it made him seem more than competent as a physician.
It was also an easy way to avoid discussing his personal life.
"Here," he said. He gently wrapped each of Nathan's hands in a cloth. "Hold these over your ears, you'll warm them up along with your fingers at the same time. I'm going to check your feet." He briefly gestured to Nathan's boots. "May I?"
--
Nathan held out his hands as they were wrapped. He couldn’t feel the warmth, or even the texture of the cloth, but he assumed that it was warm enough to do the job. It felt a little ridiculous holding his hands over his ears, but hearing was one of the few senses he had left, and he wasn’t interested in having it compromised by losing any part of his ear. Besides, he’d had enough injuries he couldn’t feel to know that sometimes he just had to sit back and let doctors tell him what to do. If there wasn’t anything more urgent for him to do, at least.
Despite how ridiculous it felt to have someone else remove his shoes for him, the fact was that his hands were occupied, and his boots were tied too tightly for him to be able to toe them off himself. He wouldn’t make this any better or happen any faster by objecting, so he ignored that instinct, sighing inwardly, and said, “Sure.”
--
Simon's fingers were quick and efficient in unlacing Nathan's boots, loosening them and taking them off without comment. He set them neatly to one side, and the fact that he was taking off another man's shoes didn't seem nearly as awkward for him as it did for Nathan.
It was far, far from the weirdest thing he had to do as a doctor.
"Are you taking precautions against the cold even though you can't feel it?" he asked as he rolled Nathan's socks down off of his feet so he could examine his toes. "The warning signs aren't exactly the same as an explosion of blood."
--
“Yeah,” Nathan responded. He gave a wry smile. “I listen to Audrey when she tells me to put on my coat.”
He tried, he really did. He wasn’t intentionally reckless with his physical health, most of the time, only when there was an urgent danger that required it of him. The cold didn’t quite qualify, he had tried to dress warmly enough, but obviously it hadn’t been enough. “Problem is, when I’m covered up, I don’t really see the warning signs.”
--
"Understandable," said Simon, who had Nathan's right foot in both of his hands. He examined the other man's toes, which seemed to be in far better shape.
He was quiet for a moment, checking Nathan's left foot, before he went on. "You know, it's funny." He paused, almost as if he was expecting some kind of a snide remark or someone telling him to shut up. "We all think that life would be better if we couldn't feel pain, that it would be easier. But it's not really that way, is it. Your feet are all right, thank you."
He started to push himself up, but with his leg twinged with pain — a persistent carryover from being shot several months ago — he settled back to just sit on the floor.
--
Nathan watched him mildly, unperturbed by the commentary on his condition. It was the sort of thing that made people a little philosophical, and he understood why; he’d spent a lot of time thinking about it.
“When people say that, they usually only want to get rid of the pain, and keep everything else - all the pleasant sensations,” he said, with a little shrug. “But it doesn’t really work that way. Besides…” He trailed off, looking down at his feet after Simon had let them go. Experimentally, he wiggled his toes. “Pain is important. Underrated, if you ask me.”
--
"It's a vital signal to the brain to stop doing what you're doing in the same way pleasure is a reward for doing something biologically beneficial." Simon leaned back against the coffee table, resting his arm on the surface and his head in his hand. "You lose that signal and you don't know when to stop. You do more damage in the long run … but you know that, I don't need to tell you that."
--
“I do know that,” Nathan answered, with a small but genuine smile. “But I don’t mind talking about it. I think about it all the time.” He paused. “Missing out on that signal is difficult, but to be fair, I’d probably try to ignore that signal a lot of the time anyway. The hardest part is how isolating it is.”
He lowered his hands briefly to look at them, examining them. “I don’t think most people realize how tactile we are, as humans, and how cut off you can feel when you don’t have the ability to touch and feel. Even the smallest things - hugging a friend or family member, petting a dog, even feeling water or wind or sun on your skin. It disconnects you from the entire world around you.” He put his hands back up against his ears, belatedly. “I’m lucky, in a way. I haven’t been numb my whole life. I still remember what all those things feel like.”
--
Simon had questions, but they all felt invasive. How long had Nathan been like this? How did he deal with it? Was it true that he really felt nothing when he was with Audrey? They were all the kinds of things that a doctor could reasonably ask, all things that even a friend could reasonably ask, and things that Simon hadn't asked in the past, because he'd been busy and distracted with his sister.
So now, he just watched Nathan curiously, and he tried not to seem overly fascinated or curious. Nathan's Trouble wasn't genuinely any of his business, and it wasn't like Nathan was a dead calf in a jar at a freakshow for Simon to gawk at.
Still, he blurted out a question anyway. "How do you connect, then?"
--
It was a good question, and although he didn’t mind being asked, Nathan wasn’t entirely sure how to answer it. He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, and then shrugged. “I lived in a small town. I knew people. Of course, that had its downsides, too.” He gave Simon a small smile. “Then Parker showed up, and we got distracted fighting the Troubles, and… I’m part of a team.”
--
Simon's mouth twitched. "Being part of a team helps?" he asked, feeling a pang of longing for his own friends.
--
“Yeah,” Nathan said, his own mouth twitching a little. “I’m not much for team sports, but… working with people, it helps.”
--
Simon was quiet for a while, rubbing his fingertips over the place on his thigh where his scar was. "I have … problems connecting to people," he admitted. "It's not for lack of trying, I think I just don't connect well. I've been told I'm awkward and not very good at talking to people."
He smiled briefly, embarrassed. "Not that that's important."
--
Nathan smiled back at him, a small smile, but a reassuring one. “I know the feeling,” he said, honestly. “Believe it or not, Parker had to annoy me for years just to find out even the smallest thing about me. It took me a while, but… well, I’m still a little awkward.”
He certainly felt awkward, still holding his hands over his ears. Tentatively, he lowered them, looking down at his fingers as he turned over the cloth between his fingers. It was probably cooled off by now, though he couldn’t feel it. “I don’t think it matters if you connect with a lot of people, just the ones that matter. Being far away from any of the other people you knew, besides your sister - that probably doesn’t help.”
--
"It doesn't," Simon admitted. "But … you know, I've met some people here, and they matter to me. You matter to me. So that's a start."
He smiled, reaching out and giving Nathan an awkward punch to his shin. "Right?"
--
Nathan grinned. He didn’t feel the punch at all, but he appreciated the sentiment. Both of them had trouble connecting, but they had connected anyway. And in the interest of not embarrassing or flustering his new friend, he said simply, “Right.”