Um..... ow

[orls]

Okay... this was hugely uncomfortable. What the hell had she done to herself now? With her luck it was broken. Joy of all joys.....

Right now, the diagnosis wasn't what bothered Roxanne, it was the pain. And it wasn't just her wrist, her entire arm felt as if it was on fire. But, that probably came from the fall to the semi-frozen ground after being dragged at least 30 yards across the stable yard.

Rox sighed, pressing the towel against her arm to keep the, now slowing, blood flow from getting onto her clothes. Her eyes were closed as, an almost amused, smile crossed her lips. Looking back on it now, she had gotten what she deserved. After all, if she'd been paying attention to the horse she had been holding instead of thinking about the cute guys she'd seen around earlier, this wouldn't have happened.

But, it had happened. The horse had been spooked by something, and had bolted, jerking the lead from one hand. Trying to hang on out of instinct, Rox had hung on, allowing herself to be dragged before her strength had failed her and she let go, falling hard to the ground. Her ribs hurt a bit, and the old scar was pulsing terribly along her neck and back, but her wrist was the only thing that really hurt.

But, she'd been well enough to drive herself over here. Thank heavens for automatic transmissions! She would've had to walk if she's been driving a standard. But, it was over now. All she could do now was wait for the clinic doctor to take a look at her arm.

[[&]Ryan Darcy;]

So far, Ryan hadn't taken the chance to sit down and relax, mainly because there had been no opportunity. The clinic was busy, and though Ryan didn't usually work the clinics in the middle of the day, one of the nurses had snagged him after he had finished readjusting a patient’s dosage for their IV. Normally Ryan would have made up some excuse, or said he was on break, but the nurse had cornered him, and he had seen no other option than to just do some clinic. It wasn't that he liked avoiding the jobs he was supposed to do around the hospital, like heal sick patients, but he preferred to do the kind of things that required minimal interactions. Most of his patients up on the intensive floor really weren’t up to chatting. Which was absolutely fine with Ryan. He was a nice guy, he just didn't like having to talk more than he needed, which he found was nearly impossible with clinic patients.

Ryan leaned up against an abandoned corner of the nurse’s station, his elbows on the counter, and rubbed his temples. The woman he had just dealt with had been convinced she had the bird flu and was going to die, and it took Ryan over thirty minutes to convince her all she had was a cold and she would be perfectly fine. He did understand her worry though, and if he hadn't been a doctor, he probably would have asked a million questions because he just didn't know. There was nothing wrong with that either, because not everyone was a doctor.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind, and he spun around so fast he had to hold onto the edge of the counter just to keep from falling. He gave the nurse a shaky smile as she rolled her eyes and gave him a dark maroon folder. Another file. After steadying himself, he took a look at the brief description, and the room number, and headed off to Exam Room Two.

Ryan was dressed in an old black rock and roll tee shirt, with the band Aerosmith on the front, not exactly hospital attire, but he remedied that by wearing his white lab coat over it, the fabric loose and clean. His pants were black slacks, and his shoes shiny and ebony. His thick black ebony hair was neat and had a slightly unnoticeable curl to it. The expression on his face was amiable, but his dark murky eyes were tired and worn, filled with that haunted look that often caught people’s attention when they least expected it. The desire to be a doctor hadn't hit Ryan when he was a child, or even been a childhood dream. He thought nothing of his future as he experienced his past, and now when he had so much, or so little it seemed to him, going for him, he was stuck in the past.

People who were abused as a child often are messed up for the rest of their life, and this was no different for Ryan, but it wasn't something that could make him a social outcast, or totally alienate anyone who got to know him. It was just that way about him, the way he had that he really didn't seem to think much of himself, and though he had confidence in what he did, he didn't have much in himself.

The handle of the door was cool and smooth against his pale skin, but he didn't take the time to notice as he stepped through the threshold, a polite smile on his lips, though his eyes were uncertain, like he always was when meeting new patients. There was a moment of silence before he flipped the file open once more and scanned the page. “Roxanne Devine, right?” He said, not taking his eyes from the page. “I’m Ryan Darcy.” he paused for a moment, looking up as he took a few more steps into the room, so he was off to the side but closer to her. “It says here you were…dragged by a horse and think you broke your wrist?” It was a habit of his always to make sure he knew what he was

[orls]

Rox looked up and sort of winced at her full name. It sounded so childish and, frankly, stupid. At the same time, she couldn't help but stare a little. After all, how many doctors showed up in an Aerosmith t-shirt? And, how many doctors were that gorgeous? Seriously now.....

"Nice to meet you, just call me Rox. Roxanne is such a mouthful,"
she said with a warm, yet shy smile.
"With my luck, it's broken. But, I can move it around a bit, so I think it might just be sprained."

Slowly, she peeled back the towel, wincing as some of the fibres pulled at the new scabbing along her arm. At least the bleeding had stopped by now. This was a start. At least it might mean she wouldn't need stitches. With a deathly fear of needles, this was a total bonus.

[[&]Ryan Darcy;]

It was habitual for Ryan to hide behind the folder as he was doing now; pretending to read it even though by now he had pretty much memorized the whole paragraph. He did it with all his patients, and had no clue he actually did it. It was easier that way, though; it kept him from becoming involved, kept him from caring too much. The one thing that would bring him down would be caring too much, or getting too involved. It would only remind him of himself when he was a child, but it was opposite, it was the fact that no one had gotten involved, they watched him suffer and hadn’t said a thing. His teachers, classmates, the cashiers at the grocery store. They had all ignored the fact that Ryan wouldn't meet anyone’s gaze, that he couldn't met anyone’s gaze. They had ignored the bruises on his face and the way he was so skittish when people spoke above a whisper. Ryan was over that now, he had forgotten, or at least tried to, and he wasn't about to remember just to be hurt again.

He gave her a small smile and a nod, a nod that wasn't condescending or mean or anything, it was just he really didn't see the need to respond verbally. He licked his lips in concentration as he listened to her describe her wrist, and stepped forward, so he was now in front of her and could easily touch her. “It's a good sign if you can move it, and I agree, it's probably just a bad sprain.”

When she peeled back the towel, he noticed the blood, but the fact that it was already scabbing meant he probably wouldn't have to stitch it up. Which was a good thing; because although he wasn't squeamish, stitching was one of his least favorite things to do. “Okay, but first we’ll need to clean that up.” He headed to the sink, where he reached up and opened the door, getting out some gauze, a towel, and some antiseptic. He grabbed a clear pan and filled it with warm water, before he picked the stuff all up and set it on the small stand next to the examination table.

[orls]

Roxanne watched with a less than pleased grin on her face. Doctors offices were never her favourite place as a child, and still weren't. Especially ones in hospitals, but life simply gave her no choice anymore. At least this was a simple matter of a cleaning of blood and diagnosing a sprained wrist. She could handle this. About ten more minutes, and she’d be outta there!

“Oh, good. A sprain I can live with,”
she said, visibly relieved.
“I’ve had enough breaks to last me a lifetime and a half!”

Again, she couldn’t help but allow her eyes to travel over his body. Damn, but he was good-looking. Grand.... now she was beginning to get a crush on a doctor she’s almost guaranteed never to see again. This is just gonna be grand! A simple country girl who couldn’t keep her eyes in her head.

But, this was way worse than anyone else she’d met. Despite his attempts to avoid looking directly at her, he was still polite, and charming, in an almost nonchalant kind of way.

With a soft sigh, she held her arm up for inspection. It was gonna sting, no doubt about it. It always did. And, as a kid, she would’ve winced and bit her lip and earned the sympathy of whoever was dousing her cuts with cleaner. The last thing she wanted to do was do that now. That’d be hideously embarrassing! So, she was gonna play the part of tough country girl and suck it up.

[[&]Ryan Darcy;]

Ryan had always been good at anything medical. Anything that required hard thought, weighing the benefits and costs, anything calculating and detached. Anything that didn't bring him too close to people, though, if you asked those whose lives he had saved, they would tell you they were pretty damn close to Dr. Darcy. And, perhaps they were, but only to the doctor. Ryan tended to keep those two lives separate, so he wouldn't have to deal with the feelings and emotions that life required when interacting with other people. Sure, he could handle the same emotions when it was only himself that was affected, but add another person into the mix and he just couldn't get a hold of it in the same way. It was not all together healthy for him, and it certainly didn't help him emotionally or socially, but it worked; for the most part, for him.

Of course, it didn't always work out that way, because really, who could control their emotions that well? But, he tried to make it work, because the simple truth was, he didn't think he could handle being hurt again. Even if the hurt wasn't intentional. He looked up and smiled, a gentle smile that reached his eyes and was totally believable, even if it was only a hint of one. He knew what it was like to break bones, even if the only one he had, believe it or not, had been due to a car crash, but was one of the most brutal and worst breaks he could ever experienced, and still today the leg gives him some trouble if he isn't too careful. Which, most of the time he isn't, so he keeps some mild pain relievers handy.

He tried to keep his grip gentle as he clasped his hand around the bottom of her arm, so he could hold it steady as he cleaned it. His hands were smooth, cold though, because it was just the way his hands were. First, he’d wash away the dried blood with water, and then he’d put the antiseptic on. He explained as much as he dipped the rag into the warm water and gently wiped away the dried blood.

[orls]

At his smile, her face warmed slightly. However detached he seemed to want to be, there was a hint of genuine warmth and feeling in that smile. If he knew it, which she doubted, than she could only wonder why it would be there. Surely he got little, insignificant cases like this everyday. After all, he was working in a hospital. He probably got hugely significant cases as well, and probably wouldn’t remember her five minutes after she left.

Unlike most people she knew, Rox watched as he cleaned up her arm. Working around horses most of her life, and living on a ranch for a good piece of time sort of forces one to suck it up and get used to dealing with blood. Of course, the accident helped in that one too. She could still remember her fear at being unable to move out of the pool of blood as she waited, praying for rescue.

Thinking of the accident always made her painfully aware of the way her scar stuck out. This guy was very polite about not staring. Most people do, doctor or not. It was almost as if he hadn’t seen it yet, but it was impossible to miss. A jagged, raised line of ugly flesh running in a zigzagging line around her neck, and then down under her shirt line. And thinking about it, made it hurt. Well, not really hurt, but just even more aware of it, making her uncomfortable.

Without thinking about it, she lifted her other arm and rubbed her hand across the scar. Then, almost ashamed by the action, dropped her hand quickly to her lap and looked away. Her heart pounded slightly, both out of the strange feeling she was getting by being near him, and out of the nervousness that he thought her weak, or strange due to the massive scar.

[[&]Ryan Darcy;]

Ryan was used to letting go. He let go of his mother, he let go of Elizabeth, granted both times quite literally he had been dragged away, kicking and begging. He let go of his patients and a while ago he had stopped thinking about them weeks after they were healed, wondering if they were doing okay or if he had really cured them. The detached expression only further helped him to move on after solving a case, which might sound odd, but he got hung up on things he did wrong, what he could have done better, and even if he had done the right thing at all. He used to be so bent out of shape about it he’d be off for a few days after a really hard case, but he had gotten used to his job and now was cured of that habit.

He used gently applied pressure to remove the dried blood, and examined it with a medical eye. No, it would not require stitches, but it was still a pretty nasty wound. Certainly not the worse he had ever seen, but not the cleanest either. He vaguely wondered how she had gotten to be dragged by a horse in the first place, as Ryan wasn't the most horse savvy person in the world. He watched Mr. Ed once and that was about all the knowledge he’d ever get. That said, he dismissed the thought immediately, because unless this was a major issue, he had no right to ask, or even know.

He caught her motion out of the corner of his eye, but he said nothing about it and continued cleansing the wound. His murky optics had scanned the wound before, but he had neglected to comment on it. Besides, he had many scars, many that were now no longer visible on the surface, and he’d probably become just a little bit bad tempered if anyone tried to ask him about it.

He finished with the rag and looked up, his lips in a polite doctorly smile he had somehow made personal and cleared his throat slightly, the motion making it seem as if he was clearing his throat to himself. “All clean. Now, I’m going to flex your wrist a little to make sure it's not broken, but you tell me if it hurts too badly.” Gently he grasped her arm between his fingers, and flexed the wrist slowly.

[orls]

Rox bit her tongue, hard. It hurt like devil's fire, but the pain was brief. It dulled quickly, leaving her with just a dull ache that she could handle with no problem. Well, if this was all it was, she'd be back to being hauled around the stable yard by horses in no time. Hah!

She watched his face, noting his eye as they moved to her scar. But, like the polite, casual guy he seemed to be, he made no comment, and didn't even stare. He just moved smoothly on to the next thing he needed to cover. Very nice, very smooth.... very sweet.

She smirked good-naturedly, looking at him.

"Well, if this is all the pain I'll be feeling, I might even go back to work after I leave,"
she said, her tones joking and her face free from any major discomfort.

[[&]Ryan Darcy;]

Pain was something Ryan saw each and every day. He saw all different times, mental, emotional, physical, and even sometimes physiological pain as well. He himself knew what pain felt like, in the broadest, vaguest sense of the word. He had experienced each of the above listed types of pain, he knew how it felt to be abused, to be ignored, to be unloved. He knew what it was like to loose and forget, and to long for. All these he knew as well, probably even more so, than the next guy. So, maybe that was a contributing reason to why he had decided to become a doctor, because he knew what it was like to feel pain and just want it all to end, and because of this, he could relate in a detached fashion that made no sense to anyone but him.

He finished flexing her wrist, not missing the initial response to the pain. Yeah, he was a very observant fellow, intense too, which is why so many patients were intrigued by him, but at the same they almost feared him and his dark and brooding ways. He shifted his weight to his other foot, because after the surgery and all so many years ago, and even with the pins, he still couldn't rest all his weight on his ‘bad leg’ for too long.

He looked up as she spoke and bit his lip to hide his smile. He took the water and dumped it into the sink, watching the water swirl down the drain. Now came his least favorite part, the antiseptic. He had no clue why he hadn't done that step right after cleansing the wound, but didn't really matter. Plus, he’d get the stuff on his hands when he was checking to make sure the wrist wasn't broken.

“I’ll write you a `script for some painkillers just in case. You may need them later.”

Like her tone, his was teasing, but it was harder to tell and more restrained, more diluted than her tone.

[orls]

Roxanne nodded, though she doubted she'd need them. After all, if she lived through the accident with only minimal painkillers, she could go through this no problem. More than likely, she'd forget she' even hurt herself by the time she got home. But, it was probably habit, or a requirement that he prescribe something.

"I doubt I'll be cashing in on that "`script", but thanks,"
she said vaguely, more to herself than to Ryan.
"I mean.... after all, once you've walked through hell's fire and come through the other side, a little sprain isn't going to slow you down."

As she spoke, Rox's expression was distant, as if she was no longer living in the present. Her eyes shut tightly, forcing the tears back. There was no way she was going to cry. Not now..... not in front of him. It was just not going to happen.

[[&]Ryan Darcy;]

Ryan watched her carefully, while at the same time trying not to let on that he was actually watching. Which, sounds simple enough, sort of, but in reality, it's a lot harder. Okay, sure, it doesn't really sound simple, but you get the point, it was hard. Whatever. The first few days after his leg surgery had hurt like hell. Literally, I mean, Ryan could become the devils child now and not fear death and heading straight to hell because he already knew what it felt like. And he had even had the highest dosage of painkillers available.

He recognized the distant tone in her voice, and the expression to match. Maybe he wasn't the only one who was stuck in the past, but Ryan pressed his lips together softly and averted his gaze. “Hell’s fire, huh...” he inquired softly. Ryan knew what she meant. If his patients could see him outside the office, they’d recognize him, but they’d also see the same expression Rox was wearing at the moment.

[orls]

His voice brought her sharply back to the present. Her eyes jumped to his face, a flush warming her own. She was silent, no reply coming to her lips. Her eyes dropped quickly, almost as if she were ashamed of her comment.

For a few, long moments, she stayed that way. Her eyes firmly fixed on the floor, her uninjured hand drawing insignificant shapes on her leg, her lips tightly shut to keep anything else from being said.

"Well, that's what it felt like,"
she finally said, her voice no more than a whisper of regret and pain.

[[&]Ryan Darcy;]

Ryan kept his gaze to her arm, but he could feel her eyes on his face. That only lasted a moment, but his gaze did not rise. He was well aware of how a bad past could affect a person, probably too aware; at least in his opinion, and he’d gladly be blissfully unaware, though, there probably was some good, if that could be called an oxymoron, to having a past like his. Even though it made it hard for him to trust, and completely destroyed most pleasure to be found in any physical contact for him, it made him a little wiser, a bit more able to adapt.

His jaw clenched, aware of how awkward the silence had become, but not willing to say anything at all to break it, as he readied the antiseptic solution. He drew in a breath through his mouth, lips parted slightly and he barely caught her next statement, and the distinct threads of pain and another emotion that he could call regret flooded through his ears. His dark murky eyes trailed over her face, his expression unreadable, but you might be able to call sympathetic, if not a little remorseful. He swallowed, and dabbed the edge of the cotton swab in the antiseptic solution. He cleared his throat lightly, more to himself than to her or for any other reason.

“This might sting…”
he said, his voice almost apologetic.

[orls]

She looked away, silently cursing herself. She never knew what made her open her mouth. She usually kept everything to herself, so why let something slip now? Why now, of all times? Was it because the accident had been around horses? Had it reminded her of the accident with Sam? Even so, being reminded of the accident had never made her talk about it before.

Her head was pounding, and her vision blurred for a moment. Blinking hard, she barely caught his soft words. For a moment, she couldn't move, because it took that moment for his words to truly register. When they did, she forced herself to nod, to let him know that she had heard him. But, she coudn't help thinking that whatever slight pain she felt would pale in comparison to the pain she carried in her heart.

Still, the warning was appreciated. After all, this couldn't be very easy on him either. Sure, he probably got a few patients who came in and burdened him with tales of woe and sorrow, but it wasn't something that you could just take like it was nothing. And she really appreciated that he was being so damned nice about it.