A Lover Cursed

Parent Trapping

"Did someone die and you didn't tell me?"

Nash, startled, looked up from where he was sitting just as Havers rounded the nurses station and sat down next to him. "If they did then I forgot," Nash replied.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time."

"Hey, I resemble that remark." Nash tried to joke, but his chest felt too tight and tense. "Are you okay?" he asked, looking closer at the male next to him. "You look like crap."

"Oh, I am well enough. It's just been a long 24hrs."

"I hear you there." Nash responded. He stared at the phone as his brain resumed skipping around again and he tried to repress the fight-or-flight that phone call had caused.

What was the feeling exactly? Nash though, maybe if he could just name the emotion then he could get rid of it, like naming the diagnosis would lead to some kind of treatment. Was it fear? Anxiety? He wanted to march right back down to room 3 and demand to know more, but that would cause a scene. In addition to his medical training, Havers had introduced Nash to a world he had only seen on the periphery: glymera; aristocracy; high society; the people with money who made the decisions and held his future in their hands. Piss them off? No way he was going to be able to make it in their world, and he desperately wanted to.

Nash buried his face in his hands, elbows planted on the table. He told himself he shouldn't care about what they think, but burying the part of him that wanted acceptance by someone, anyone, was like trying to treat a virus with an antibiotic. He craved society and all it brought with it. He wasn't stupid, he knew himself well enough to know that he had placed Havers on some kind of pedistool as an unhealthy coping mechanism to try to deal with his abandonment issues. But living "authentically" as they called it would cost Nash the only father figure he'd ever had in his life.

But maybe bed 3's hellren would show up and ruin it all before Nash had a chance to do it himself.

"So, hows bed 3?" Catya's voice startled Nash so bad, he jumped and nearly yelled.

"Holy... crap,female." He muttered, rubbing his face.

"Well?"

He glared up at Catya and raised an eyebrow. "Her hellren is coming to pick her up, just gotta get her paperwork and a kit to get her through her needing."

"Seriously? Well, remind me in the future not to bet against you. I was sure I was going to have to deal with her another three days in a row." Catya was about to walk away again when she looked over to where Havers was sitting. "Is he okay?" she asked Nash.

Following her gaze, Nash looked over at where Havers was sitting. His head was slumped forward on his chest, eyes closed, and hands resting relaxed in his lap. So of course Nash's mind did NOT go the the first most likely scenario, which was that the male had simply fallen asleep because he'd been up for a few days. And instead of gently nudging the male awake, he panicked.

"Havers?" Nash said, and put a hand on the male's arm, praying...

As soon as contact was made, Haver's head flipped up and he winced. "I'm up, I'm okay." He said, blinking. His eyes found Catya, and his face resumed a semblance of its usual passive professionalism. "Who do I need to see next. Bed 3 did you say? Where's the chart?" He tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

"I got bed 3. Just getting her discharge paperwork ready."

"Okay, thank you."

Catya tilted her head and put a hand on her hip. Which is as soft as she got with any of her coworkers. "Havers," she said. "Are you okay? I thought you were going down to get some good coffee and something to eat. Have you eaten tonight?"