Unholyverse

~Part 3~

By the next day, the pain was unbearable. Even repeated applications of the stuff Luke gave him weren't touching it, and Frank finally had to admit defeat after his last appointment when a spasm almost caused him to pierce some poor dude's skull during a routine industrial.

"Jesus," Frank groaned, curled up in a chair in the back room, both hands held close to his chest. "Fuck, fuck, what the fuck is it now?"

Brian stood in the corner of the room, watching Frank with his arms folded and his mouth all pinched up like he'd eaten an entire bag of lemons. "You're fucking kidding me, Frank, right?"

Frank opened his mouth to tell Brian to fuck off, but then another wave of pain went shooting through his wrists and all that came out was a moan.

"I don't think he's faking, Brian." Ray was crouched next to the chair, one hand rubbing Frank's knee. "I think he needs a doctor."

Frank banged his head against the back of the chair. "I fucking hate the free clinic, man."

Brian frowned. "Why can't you just-"

"They refused his Medicaid again," Bob said quietly from the corner.

Brian, who Frank knew wanted to offer them benefits but just hadn't figured out a way to afford it yet, let his face shift minutely away from rage and towards guilt. "Oh."

Frank closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing and not throwing up from the pain. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll drive you," Bob said.

Mikey rode along and Bob dropped them off - he offered to cancel his afternoon appointment but Mikey said, "No, the guy's leaving for Africa next week and you're booked solid."

"You need anything?" he asked, when he'd filled in Frank's forms for him and they were getting settled in amongst the drunks and the bums for the inevitable year-long wait.

"Your brother," Frank said without thinking, and then wanted to bite out his own tongue. What the fuck was he supposed to say next, 'your brother's hands have magical healing qualities and if my wrists don't stop hurting soon I'm going to break down and cry?'

Mikey didn't even look surprised. He just sighed and said, "Dude, there's something you need to know about Gerard. He's-"

"Jesus Christ," said a voice, and Frank looked up to see a familiar face staring down at him with an equally familiar look of exasperation. "Frank, what the fuck, I thought we agreed I wouldn't have to see your face for at least a month?"

Frank smiled weakly. "Hi, Doctor Durning."

Durning rolled his eyes and gestured at Frank. "Come on, asshole, let's make this quick. There are other people in this state need medical care, you know."

"I missed you, what can I say?" Frank waited for Mikey to gather their things, then followed Durning off to one of the treatment rooms on the side.

Durning motioned at Frank to hop up onto the examining table and snapped on a pair of gloves. "What is it this time, the aliens in your sinuses or the cave trolls in your stomach?"

"Uh." Frank shot Mikey a look, but Mikey just looked intrigued. "Neither, actually. It's - my wrists hurt."

Durning rolled his stool over to sit in front of Frank and clicked on the overhead light. "'Jerkoff marathon' hurt or 'nanobots mining you for calcium' hurt?"

"Nanobots with napalm," Frank told him. He gritted his teeth and looked away when Durning took his hands and gently extended his forearms. "It started two days ago."