seeley booth (hates_clowns) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2010-06-26 02:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | eliot spencer, seeley booth |
Who: Booth and Eliot
What: blinding migraines. E.R. trip 1.
When: Not long after the comm exchange, afternoon.
Where: Eliots truck and the hospital.
Warnings: TBA.
Booth didn't know why Martha wasn't answering. He waited as long as he could before the pain became to intense him to handle without some kind of treatment. He tried the usual things, his prescription. His Advil. But nothing even grazed it. His head felt like it was on fire. He probably should have told the complex heads, but he didn't want to say anything until he knew what it was. Whether it would put him out of commission from the combat teams or not. Combat was the furthest thing from his mind. He wasn't thinking clearly, everything was in a fog. What if something went wrong when he got sent to this world? The doctors in his own had expected a full recovery but there were side affects. Booth just wasn't able to put the pieces together and think about them logically with the pain searing through him and forcing his stomach to churn uncomfortably in response. If Martha had been there he might have been able to get a higher dosage of his medication, but he couldn't find her and didn't have the energy to search the building. His energy levels were severely lacking. He knew not to discount his health. So despite his resentment for hospitals he knew he had to get to one.
Truck, get to the truck. He tried to focus on the truck waiting outside but it was next to impossible. He had been through worse before, torture over seas as a P.O.W., been shot, and even blown up. But this was his brain and his head felt like it was being put through a blender set on thrash. So many things could go wrong at hospitals, and had. He was worried about being given anesthesia again and put into another coma. He was afraid they missed something, and he'd be sent back to surgery. Irrational fear ran rampant in his mind. So for a minute he stopped moving all together and just took a deep breath trying to calm his nerves. Pushing himself up from his chair finally he fought against the blinding pain and he zipped up a black hoodie jacket. He felt with his hands along the wall for a little extra balance, down the stairs and out to the parking lot. The sun was low in the sky but still bright. It forced him to take a step back and put a hand over his eyes as they painfully adjusted to the light. He squinted in attempt to locate his friend, but everything was blurry.
He was short of breath and his skin was an unhealthy shade of pale. He didn't want to go to the hospital, but this kind of pain wasn't going to be fixed with an over the counter as much as he tried to believe it. Not seeing Eliot for a second, Booth was forced to lean against the side of the building, his arm resting over his chest securely as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling. His arm was in a cast already, and now he was having the headaches. At least it couldn't be any worse right?