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Yesterday was not such a great day for Elliot, your friendly neighbourhood fireman. Jogging in the park, trying to help out a poor girl who some jerk tripped, he ended up getting mysteriously mind-controlled by said jerk, punched a random passerby, and was really just made to be a complete and utter asshat. The experience, to say the least, was jarring. Elliot has never had anything against mutants, except for the seemingly high probability of property damage, but having one take away his free will? Not cool. He doesn't want to let it colour his opinions, but it's hard. So he went home, drank a whole bunch of whiskey, and slept to try to take his mind off of it. When he woke up the next day, he couldn't shake the feeling that, what if there was something else? Something physical, that the mutant had done to him? Unlikely? Maybe? But if there was a chance, he's not going to just sit around.
Elliot volunteers at the free clinic in Harlem frequently; his first aid training doesn't qualify him as a nurse, but Claire always appreciates an extra hand when the person it belongs to can tell the difference between a tourniquet and tongue depressor. Still shaken, even visibly so, he makes his way down to the clinic, and steps up to the counter, giving the nurse there a friendly smile, trying his best to hide his unsettled state. "I need to see Claire whenever she has time. Don't rush anyone, I'm okay to wait," he says to the nurse. He doesn't want to bump anyone with a more serious problem, especially if it turns out he's just imagining things, which he probably is. The nurse gives him a friendly nod, and says that she'll let Claire know that he's here, and steps away to do so. Elliot slips into one of the chairs in the waiting area, to, you know, wait.
*
For someone who has an apartment that she steadily pays rent in; she's hardly there. Most days were spent working at the hospital nightly, and often times daily in the morning. In between those times where one would eat and sleep, she's at the clinic. Sleeping there. Eating there. Assisting a borrowed physician with a patient. Taking care of her own patients when there was no one else out there to help. It's been trying, to say the least.
Elliot was a godsend in that regard; he was teachable and he listened. Aside from him fighting fires, he proved to be a helping hand when she needed sleep. Though, she hasn't needed him in the past few days, all she treated were the usual bumps and bruises that come with a brawl over differential opinions on the assassination. Basic bullshit she didn't want to deal with.
So it took close to three hours for the last person to be cleared, Claire finally emerging from the back of the room with a slight grin upon her face. The off-white nurses uniform she wore was stained with blood already, but it had dried and it was of no consequence to anyone else. "Elliot?" She asks, giving a slight nod towards the nurse as she points him out. "Come on back."
*
Elliot had actually fallen asleep in the chair. Come on, it's been three hours, give the guy a break. He's momentarily startled, and jolts upward. Blinking after a moment, he shakes the bleariness from his mind, and stands, moving to follow Claire to the back, presumably to one of the exam rooms. "Hey Claire," he says, stifling a yawn. "Sorry to add to your day. Looks like it was a busy one, but hopefully nothing too serious?"
*
Well, she's certainly felt that way before. Tired as all get out, so she doesn't blame him. As he enters into the threshold, she begins to walk, her head tilting left and right before finally settling upon the room in the back. "It's alright. Girls' gotta work, right?" She smiles then, waiting until he entered to close the door behind her. "Just a few bumps, scrapes, bruises. Fist fights. You name it. People aren't happy out there, but it's a lot better than the first night.." She gestures towards the bed, before she moves towards the stool, settling down upon it as she pulls out a fresh sheet of paper and a clipboard. "So, what brings you on this side of the.. well.. wall."
*
Elliot nods along as Claire talks about the types of cases she's had to deal with today. Nothing out of the ordinary, but the volume is definitely concerning. People aren't happy out there, as she said, but that's putting it mildly. He follows into the exam room, and hops up on the bed, sitting for now. "I was in the Park yesterday," the only one in town that you capitalize, "And I saw this guy.. I guess, he was wearing lipstick and eyeshadow, so don't quote me on that.. he purposely tripped a jogger that was passing him. So, of course, you know me, I called him on it. But then," Elliot pauses, grimacing at having to actually put it into words. "He did something to me. Must have been a mutant, I guess. Wasn't acting like myself, like he was controlling me. I tried to hit the girl he'd knocked over, ended up hitting another guy, who was I guess trying to help, too. It's all pretty blurry, but.. I could see it all happening, and was thinking that I didn't want to do what I was doing, but I couldn't help it. If that makes sense at all?" He's obviously disturbed by it, but that doesn't explain why he came to see Claire instead of a psychiatrist. "I'm worried that there's something else wrong.. I don't know how mutants work, how their powers work. I was hoping you'd just give me a quick check over, to make sure there's nothing, you know, physically wrong? I'm probably just being paranoid.. never had anything like that happen, you know?"
*
Claire says nothing. In fact, his recount of details were amazing, considering what he had been through. She does write it down, marking off a few boxes here and there, shifting within the stool to cross her legs as she draws in a breath. She couldn't even begin to believe what had happened, but with everything going on? Was there surprise?
"Okay.." She says quietly, finally standing from her seat. "..you're going to be alright. Let's get you checked out."
The stethlascope that hung around her shoulders was immediately removed, palmed for a time as she wheels the cart over. "What I'm going to do is just check your basic functions, then get a blood sample. Alright? Remove your shirt."
As he does so, she begins to assemble the necessary utensils, keeping them neatly upon the rack after she opens them one by one. "After it was all over, did you feel dizzy at all? Tired? Sick? Letharg.. that's the same as tired.." Claire laughs, hoping to add a little bit of lightness to the situation.
*
Elliot doesn't hesitate to remove his shirt, slipping the plain t-shirt up over his head and off. He's in good shape, and modesty isn't an issue there. No immediately noticeable bruises or other injuries; maybe a few scars from incidents in the past, but they've long since healed over. Elliot laughs lightly at the intentional slip-up of language. "Not dizzy exactly, more like dazed, I guess? Kind of like I had been dreaming, and just woken up? Felt a little nauseated, but I chalked it up to just guilt over what I'd just done," he explains, sitting upright to let Claire examine him without interference.
*
Being a nurse was dirty work, especially in the face of an emergency. Eventually she approaches, her hands cool to the touch as she begins to press into his ribs, and soon flipping the stethascope upright to plug into her ears. And she listens, his breathing seemed fine as well as the beat of his heart. There was a glance towards the scars, but given his current profession? She wasn't surprised.
"It may just be that. Still." She says, taking the prongs from her ears, then tosses it back towards the table with the sink. She grabs the tongue depresser, her free hand reaching up to lightly press upon his chin, lifting it up ever so slightly with the wiggle of the wood. "Say 'ahh'.."
It was clear that she was worried, but she wasn't trying to show it. But she did have a few questions.. "Did you call the police at all? Directly after it happened."
*
Elliot shivers just slightly at the touch of her cool hands on his chest, but breathes as he knows he's supposed to during such an exam, trying to make this as easy as possible for Claire. He opens his mouth wide and repeats, 'ahh' when she instructs him to. Nothing out of the ordinary there, either, but his breath, despite teethbrushing and mouthwash since, probably smell at least faintly of alcohol. But who can blame him. When done, he answers her question. "No, I didn't. No real crime occurred. Least nothing I can prove. I kind of high-tailed it out of there afterward.. embarrassed, mostly. Probably could track at least one of them down, if I wanted to report it.. weird looking' mutant, said he worked at Goodman and Leiber, in Brooklyn," which is Elliot's end of town, so he probably should at least pop in there. "But the guy who did all these, he just left, and I didn't regain my senses until he was gone."
*
Yeah, nothing there. It doesn't stop her from shining a light to look inside, ducking her head down briefly before she deposits the tools upon the tray. Her fingers lift, pressing against his neck, her eyes gone vacant as she feels around, yet still listens to him speak. "I'm sure you can probably spot him if you see him again, but you need to run the other way when you do, Elliot." She quietly says. "We're not like them."
It was a little smile given, her hands dropping down near his hips to feel along his stomach, pressing in to guage his reaction, then moving to another area to do the same. "I'm not saying that.. you shouldn't do anything but, if he can do something like that to you? To anyone? Run. Get help. Don't handle it yourself."
*
"Yeah, I'm not stupid enough to try to take him down myself.. but he'd be easy enough to pick out in a crowd." Lipstick and eyeshadow on a man in New York City in 1963 isn't exactly a common fashion choice, after all. "I guess I'm just lucky he didn't make me do anything worse.. when it was happening it felt like I'd have done anything he wanted. Anything." He shudders a bit. He leans back a bit, letting Claire feel around as she needs to in order to get all the information to make an assessment. He shivers again a little bit when she touches his stomach; not because he's cold, but the last person to touch him anywhere close to that area was his ex-wife.
*
Claire wasn't even going to try to guess what sort of power he had. In fact, the more that Elliot spoke of it, the more her head began to shake. To even have something remotely close to it? It.. was terrible. And incredible all the same.
She takes note of the shiver, a little frown drawing upon her lips as she draws her hands up to quick blow upon her fingertips. They were soon cupped, Claire taking the moment to heat up her hands with her breath alone before she returns to prying. "That.. isn't a good thing to hear, Ell." She says quietly. "Eat anything since then? Drink anything other than alcohol? Did you feel ill after you've eaten?"
All questions were pretty much a means to an end; a good end that cancels out all suspicion. For once she was done prodding at his stomach, she moves back to the stool, one knee pressed to as she begins to scribble a few words down. "Right arm or left?"
*
"Haven't eaten, no. Downed most of a bottle of JD last night though. Only way I could sleep," he says, offering a bit of a shrug at the question. He shifts to allow Claire whatever access she needs to continue the exam, showing no outward signs of discomfort at her touch, besides the occasional shiver. "Did feel kind of sick again when I got up, but figured it was the booze," he says. "Nothing came of it, if you're wondering." Nope, still sloshing around in there. "Either way's fine with me. Think you'll have better luck finding a vein on the right," he replies to the question of which arm to jab. In anticipation, he holds it out, knowing what to expect next.
*
"Alright." Claire wasn't going to judge. Same position, same thing. Though her's would probably start a downward spiral for the night that she couldn't come back from the day after. Lots, and lots of booze. With that said, she finally tugs her gloves on, retrieving a very, very large needle! It wasn't too bad, however, just your standard 1963 retrieval method. With the band wrapped around his arm, she lowers it, then murmurs quietly. "Relax."
Claire had the magic touch. As her fingers press around, she shifts her weight to one foot and begins to speak while she worked. "Good. Though, one of the patients have been asking about you the other day." She glances up, trying to remember a name. "Rachel?" She says, and all the while she speaks as a distraction, she begins to carefully shove the needle into the apex of his arm. "She's a real sweet girl. Sometimes I think she plays sick just to come to see you. But.. sad case. I wouldn't mind a little favor from you for her though."
*
The distraction works, and Elliot barely winces at the insertion of the needle. Claire's an expert, clearly, because the last time he had blood taken the nurse had to stick him four times just to get the vein. "Rachel?" He thinks for a moment. "Dark hair, kind of has that big jewish nose? Massive tits?" Yeah, he's not worried about a little vulgarity here. He's not the rudest man alive, but he's still a man, so that counts. "Nice enough girl, yeah. Think her dad's a dentist, or something? What's the favour?" He asks with a little bit of trepidation in his voice. Favours are almost never good, coming from patients.
*
The blood sample was taken and placed upon the tray, a piece of gauze held onto the sore spot as she takes his wrist to fold it up. "Keep that there."
She returns to the stool then, writing up a few orders, a slight grin quirking her lips as she side-eyes in his direction. "Is that the only way you know her? Christ, Elliot!" The gloves were soon snapped off and tossed away once she finished her writing, turning to face him, scooting close just enough to keep the conversation between them. Some nurses were nosey, that was a fact. Claire was one herself and she could attest to some of the conversations she's heard behind closed doors.
"Just take the girl out for a date." Claire says, reaching out to give a quick pat to her thigh. "Now I know it's not professional, but.. two weeks in to her illness and I'm afraid for the worse." As in, the girl might be gone before they figure out what is really wrong with her. "So just show her a good time, you know? Take her to the pictures. Maybe dancing." Lord knows Claire needs a little bit of that herself, and it shows. The wistful look in her eye.
*
Elliot looks a bit sheepish at Claire's scolding. "Okay," he says, as if he'd has his arm twisted. In truth, he'd thought about it; the girl hadn't exactly been too shy about showing her interest, but Elliot didn't really think it was appropriate. But he's not heartless; if she's taking a turn for the worse, maybe he could do something to lift her spirits. He holds the gauze in place as instructed, putting pressure on the tiny wound to stop the flow of blood. "What about you? Any guys I should be dropping hints to on your behalf?" He smirks, obviously joking. Well, half-joking, maybe.
*
Claire plants her feet upon the ground to slide the stool to the side, collecting the vial of blood with a shake of her head. "Oh no no no.." She says almost immediately. "..I mean. I'm seeing someone. Sort of." She smiles, but it fades rather quickly. "Though I think with our combined schedules, it's hard to plan a date. Plus I yelled at his boss. So I'm not too sure where that's going to head. I don't know." She was rambling now, finally giving the vial a quick shake so the blood within could coagulate.
"But, win some, lose some, right?" She looked a touch hurt, then gestures. "Can put your shirt back on, I'm going to go and have a look at these, if you don't mind sticking around."
*
"If it's hard to plan a date, it's gonna be harder to much of anything else," Elliot comments, his intention pretty obvious. "But hey, I'm not one to judge. I haven't been with anyone in.. I don't know, four months? Date, or otherwise?" Not that he hasn't had the chance, just nothing has really felt right. And then there's the kid to think about. Can't be setting a great example if he's off on dates with random women every other night. And who knows what the ex-wife has been telling the boy. "Yeah, no problem." Already waited three hours, what's another 15 minutes? Elliot reaches for the shirt, and slips back on over his head.
*
Claire was an adult. And she agreed. "It's not for the lack of trying, El. I call him. No answer. He calls me. No answer. But I get food delivery and a little card attached to it with him telling me to get some rest after shift. That's.. the extent of our relationship." You can't fuck food, after all. Or you can, unless you're gross. "Definitely a month or two for me.." She admits, then shrugs her shoulders. It was neither here nor there.
"I'm not saying to sleep with Rachel. Just take care of her for a day, by the way." She wriggles the glass vial, then heads for the door. "Give me ten. If you need me, you know where to find me." Of course he would, she'd be in the room at the very end of the hall. The locked room where their makeshift lab is. He's been there before.
*
"Sometimes things just don't pan out the way we want," Elliot replies before she goes. He's a prime example. Look at his marriage. Claire knows the story there, no doubt. He sits and waits after she's gone, looking at the posters and pictures on the walls, just like in any doctor's office. He's seen them all a million times, but for some reason he often finds himself looking them over again. His arm throbs, and his head hurts, one from the needle, the other from the hangover. He needs to eat, that much is certain. And he's not planning to sleep with Rachel, even before Claire says she doesn't expect him to. She's a nice girl, but he's not going down that road. Especially not with a patient. She'd expect too much afterward, and Elliot's not ready to commit again, even after all this time.
*
Claire stops at the door, but she continues on. There wasn't any sense in dignifying that with a response. Given their nearly close to similiar shared situation, they both understood. But once she was in the room, she divides up the blood into random slides, some put through the little mechanical whirrer, some underneath the microscope to check out a few things…
…And within ten minutes, she returns. A stricken look upon her face. In fact, her face was entirely grave, that she has to sit down and process the information. Her hand even lifts to rub at her face, a deep breath taken, and exhaled slowly. "El. I just want you to know, that whatever you need, I'm going to be here for you. Til the end. Alright?"
*
Oh god. Oh god. That mutant gave him an incurable disease. He's gonna die. What'll he tell the wife? What'll he tell the kid? WHO'S GOING TO LOOK AFTER THE DOG?! Priorities in order of capitalization. Elliot goes white when Claire sits and looks at him like that. Those are the words that come right before "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do." He's been in the room for those moments. Never thought it'd happen to him. But with all that going on his head, he only says, "What is it? Lupus? Cancer. Oh god, I have cancer." He stares forward blankly.
*
Claire had a decent poker face. Though the cracks were starting to show. She had to move around, even go so much as to stand up to reach out and grip his hands. But.. she couldn't hold it for long, his questions, the way he looked, she had to give him a good working scare before she delivered the news. "You're going to be okay." Beat. Man! She was -horrible-!
But this was Elliot!
"I mean, aside from you being you, you're healthy as an ox!" And, she breaks out into laughter, still holding his hands, dancing them around in a slight tease that she could barely even contain. She was wrong for that, sure. But the look on his face was totally priceless!
*
Elliot's face goes from fear to anger in a flash. "Fuck, Claire!" He shouts, pulling his hands away from hers. It lasts only a moment though, before he too finds it funny. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Thanks for checking me out. Feels better knowing everything's still, you know, normal. "Gonna get you for that one, one of these days. Wait for it," he says. This is a man with access to fire hosts and hydrant wrenches. Water, Claire. Lots of water. You've thrown down the gauntlet.
"
*
She takes a step back, her hand reaching out as she stumbles over the stool, attempting to keep herself upright until she's flat upon her ass! She cracks up, still laughing, rolling back and forth until she moves to her knees to try to catch her breath. "Your face.. jesus Elliot.. you.." And she howls with laughter again, her hands soon clapping to try to calm herself. Goodness!
*
Elliot just stands there, having gotten up from the bed, and lets Claire laugh it out. Yeah yeah, very funny. Give the poor guy a heart attack next, why don't you. His arms cross in front of him, and he gains a bemused smirk. "Let me know when you're done," he says, rolling his eyes a bit. "I'll take you out for a drink, if you're gonna be done for the night. Owe you that much, I guess," he says, though really for the joke, she should be buying him a drink. Though he'll probably keep away from the stuff tonight; he and his good buddy Jack might have done a number on his liver already last night.
*
"Hoo.." Claire finally gets it out, using the stool to help herself up, her cheeks obviously flushed with laughter. Eyes just a tiny bit red, but that was possibly due to lack of sleep. "Alright, alright.." She says, clapping her hands together a final time, then gestures. "See? Got your blood pumping, you didn't have a heart attack, stroke out, or change different colors. I say you're right as rain."
She does look down at herself, then offers a little bit of a frown. "I think I need to get cleaned up before we go anywhere. And I think you need to take it easy tonight. Let's just grab a bite to eat and you can tell me how your boy is doing. Sound fair?"
*
"All part of the medical process, right?" Elliot says, giving a smirk. "Hope you enjoyed it. I'll never believe anything you say again," he says with feigned seriousness. "Yeah, I'm not drinking tonight. Me and Jack, we're on the outs," he grins. "A bite sounds great. You pick the place, I'll pay this time." He's the one without rent to pay, after all. Of course, the alimoney payments, and the child support, they more than make up for it. Ex-wives, man, am I right? "Meet me out front when you're ready, I'll get the car warmed up." Because it's winter now, ladies and gentlemen. AKA COLD.
*