A Medical Emergency Pt.2
Howdy friends! It’s wee bairn Marlo, coming to you live from a family holiday to Montreal. So many of you asked for a second part to my prompt surrounding doctor Claire and patient Jamie, which I have since dubbed A Medical Emergency (which you can read here). And, considering how angsty the last few TSS fics have been (blame Kaitlyn and Mikayla), I figured it was time to deliver some fluff for your amusement!
As always, a major thank you to my Kilt Kult buddies and fellow TSS mods for keeping me on track and reassuring me that my writing isn’t trash. Also, I owe all of you a major shout out as well, as I would never have written this fic without your overwhelming positive response. So, thank you thank you thank you from the very bottom of my heart!
It was two weeks before Claire could stomach facing Jamie again. The surgery had been a success, and Claire had meticulously mended the shattered bones of Jamie’s hand. She hadn’t counted on the infection that set in, keeping him bedridden and feverish for nearly a week. Claire couldn’t help but feel responsible.
“It happens all the time LJ. I wouldn’t worry about it.” said Joe Abernathy, Claire’s fellow doctor and hospital confidante. She knew that there was nothing she could have done, that infections happen and it was out of her control, but the thought of seeing Jamie in more pain, with even the smallest chance of it being by her hand, was too much to bear. She didn’t know what is was about this Scot: his bull-headedness, the way his nose crinkled when he smiled at her as she was wheeling him into surgery, or how peaceful and innocent he looked under anesthesia, the softness of his face making him look like a child. Whatever it was, Claire found herself experiencing feelings she had never felt before, and it left her simultaneously terrified and exhilarated.
It was a Tuesday afternoon, and Claire had just finished a run of the mill appendectomy. Granted with a brief reprieve, she quickly cleaned herself off before heading to the on-call room, eager to take a quick rest before her pager summoned her again. Unfortunately, she found herself having to cross through the recovery wing, where Jamie lay behind the closed door of room 263. Claire had continued to follow his case, coercing nurses into providing valuable intel on his condition and moral.
“Yes, he is eating.”
“No. He doesn’t have a fever.”
“If you’re so interested Doctor, why don’t you go ask him yourself?”
Still, Claire refused to step foot in that room. The nagging guilt in her stomach surrounding his prolonged hospitalization, coupled with the more puzzling stirrings deep in the pit of her stomach, wouldn’t allow her to walk down the white tile hall leading up to his room. Unfortunately, she currently had no other option.