Lights will guard you

Over the next several hours, Rachel drifted in and out of consciousness. Never more than a few moments. Every single time she tried to get answers. What happened? How bad were her injuries? Would she ever be able to operate again? But, before she could even form the sentences in her mind, much less find the strength to speak them, she was back out. The one thing that registered each time she came to was that she was alone. Her parents weren’t there, and none of ther friends. That didn’t much matter to Rachel though. Her parents lead extremely busy lives, and she partly hoped they weren’t even notified of her accident in the first place. She would call them on her own later, once she was able to assure them everything was fine. What did matter though, was the each time she opened her eyes, Rachel wanted to see Andrew’s face. She hadn’t seen him in months, but now, under the circumstances, he was the only person she wanted beside her.

More hours passed, and Rachel’s body grew stronger. They moved her from the Intensive Care Unit, down to a regular room. Finally, she woke, more lucid than before. Her eyes focused on the face she had been waiting to see. Half of her refused to believe Andrew was actually sitting there, though the other half wasn’t surprised that he had showed. She felt the warmth of his hand on hers and accepted that he had really come for her. Silently, she cursed herself for thinking it would have been anything otherwise. She should have given Andrew more credit than that from the beginning.

When Rachel asked for water, Andrew nodded and stood up, taking a plastic cup from one of the cabinets of the genetic wardrobe placed in front of Rachel’s bed. He grabbed the bottle of water next to the pile of cups and filled it halfway, unsure of how much water his friend could ingest in her state. “Here,” he said, offering the cup to Rachel before sitting back down on the chair next to her bed. 

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Andrew considered very calmly what to say to Rachel about Baltimore. She knew well enough what had happened, she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to return. Everything in the city reminded him of how badly he had been hurt and how betrayed he had felt, it also reminded him of how he had hit rock bottom. Alcohol, drugs... Hell, Andrew felt ashamed just thinking about it. It had been so unlike him to rebel that way, which reminded him of how badly his ex-fiancée had drove him to the edge. The harlot had transformed him into something he didn’t even recognize when looking at himself in the mirror. 

“Seattle isn’t so bad, y’know.” He offered, flashing Rachel a weak smile. “It has the best coffee in the country, people aren’t so irritating as they say they are and you learn to appreciate the sun because you only see it once every eternity. But hey, let’s not talk about that today, okay?”Andrew waved his hand as if to push the topic of the conversation away. He didn’t want to talk about Seattle right now, he was worried about his friend. 

“I’ve missed you,” he said, grabbing Rachel’s hand in both his own once more, caressing the skin with both his thumbs. “I’m sorry I never called, it’s just...” He stopped abruptly, unsure of what to say. Had wanted to be alone? Couldn’t take the pity in Rachel’s expression? He wasn’t sure. “I don’t know, honestly. I just... Didn’t think you would want to talk to me after disappearing so quickly, without even bothering to say good-bye to you.

“Because I wanted to say good-bye to you. Hell, you were the only person I wanted to see before leaving. But I just couldn’t, and I’m sorry. I really am sorry. I have been the shittiest friend to you, when the only thing you ever did was be there for me, to support me. You didn’t deserve that. Being abandoned like that, as if you didn’t matter. Because you did matter, you still do. You mattered most than anyone else here and I didn’t value that in the end. I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I just didn’t care about anyone but myself, and that was so wrong.” He kept looking at Rachel’s hand as he spoke, not wanting to see the expression on her face. He expected her to hate him, to be annoyed by him. He couldn’t bare to look at that.

     Rubbing her palms lightly on her thighs, she nodded at his question. She’d been through all this with her last doctor–though they had been specifically assigned through the agency. So there was less surprise at the long list of injuries that adorned her personal file, but she still figured it was more than most normal people. “Yep,” she confirmed, unfazed by the information. “I was told the knife nicked the radial nerve. And I kept using it so the cluster was under stress for a period of time. The few months after it happened I used to have sporadic numbness every once and a while. And the tingling. Couldn’t grip things. But it seemed to heal itself. This is the first time it’s happened in a year. I usually just wait it out–I’m not that big of a fan of hospitals,” she shot him a small, apologetic smile, “But the numbness and the weakness hasn’t gone away.”

“Let’s see,” He said, passing his finger through the scar. “I can’t make a diagnose by looking at the scar, I’m going to need some tests to see what might be causing the tingling in your hand.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Andrew considered the possibilities. His biggest bet was that Riley’s nerves had been damaged by the knife and had never been repaired, which was unlikely, but possible. He knew there were very irresponsible surgeons and the nerves connecting the shoulder to the hand could have been easily overlooked when doing surgery. 

“I can give you a possible diagnose of what I think is happening here,” Andrew said after a few seconds of silence, taking a step back from Riley to talk to her face-to-face. “But I will need to run some tests to make sure I’m correct. You see, your nerves were damaged by the knife and what you’re experiencing is a symptom of an Ulnar nerve dysfunction. If I’m right, you’re looking at a few months of physical therapy to recover mobility on your hand.”

Resting his elbow against his other arm, Andrew brought his hand to his face and rested his chin on his palm, still thinking. The chart he had been given with Riley’s information and medical history had been vague and all the jokes she had been doing about hurting him or taking him down made him believe that she was in some sort of intelligence agency, maybe the CIA or FBI. The possibilities that she hadn’t been treated were very slim, considering how agents were normally checked by the best doctors in the country. But, although they were very slim, it was still possible Riley had not been treated correctly.

     The mantra from Doctor Stevens was something Riley was used to–no matter how much she hated to admit it. She was never one who voluntarily took herself to the hospital. It was always someone threatening her about getting blood somewhere they didn’t want and then an offer to take her–or she was ordered to. The latter was more frequent. Especially back in D.C. She’d found that life in Seattle was quiet, a fact that she thought wouldn’t concern her. But she couldn’t deny that she’d turned into a bit of an adrenaline junkie. She missed the high stakes of the Secret Service.

Always the polite man, Andrew didn’t want to offend Riley by calling her by his first name. For some odd reason, she didn’t strike him as a common woman. Most female patients he treated introduced themselves right away and didn’t take a second to start batting their eyelashes and act all touchy-touchy around him; they would insist he call them by their first names and be completely fine with him touching them anywhere, yet Riley on the other hand... Well, she hadn’t even given him her last name and had shaken his hand with a firm grip, as if wanting to let him know that even if he was the one checking up on her, she could take him any second. She probably could, she definitely looked like it. 

“Alright, let’s see,” he said, reading the rest of the chart, Andrew listed the symptoms she had described to the receptionist and the rest of the information she had provided when she had checked in. “You say you have a tremor, or a tingling, in your fingers whenever you... uh... try to grip something. It says that it was caused by a knife wound from a few years back, yes?” Andrew re-read that part, shooting Riley a sideway glance with an awed expression plastered on his face for a second before he forced it to return back to normal. “How long has this been going on?”

     Hospitals weren’t places Riley liked to visit all that often. She’d spent her fair share in them and found that they were all the same–no matter how often the places tried to sway you differently. The walls were almost always white (unless you happened to wander into the children’s ward where the white was replaced with colorful fishes or animals) and the hallways almost always smelled of antiseptic. On top of that, they were almost always crowded. It was amazing, Riley thought as she trudged into the University of Washington Medical Center, that so many people found themselves hurt at the same time.

    Frowning slightly as she approached the front desk, she scanned the waiting room, cataloging everyone–every tick–every twitch. She’d made note of the emergency exit and the fastest rout just in case–what? Just in case what? a voice retorted in the back of her head. Blinking and returning her attention back to the receptionist, she smiled lightly and revealed her name and time of her already scheduled appointment. It was the first time since moving back to Seattle that she’d actually had to venture to the hospital and she wasn’t fond of the idea of another doctor getting a look at her medical records. She was a private person, and while there was the whole doctor patient thing, she still didn’t like someone knowing more about her past than she was comfortable divulging.

Making his way towards the main reception in a hurry – he was still having a hard time adjusting to this new medical consultation he had to get done every day – he hoped that there weren’t many people waiting on him. Although neurosurgery wasn’t as frequently requested as other medical specializations, there were still many cases that were placed on his charts every day. Most of them required urgent surgery and were brought in through the ER, but some of them, like the ones he had forgotten he needed to attend, came waltzing in through the front door without guts spilling out of their bodies or brains spurting down on the stretcher. 

“Mornin’,” He said to the receptionist as he reached the main lobby, flashing the woman one of his usual smiles. “I’m not that late, am I?” Shaking her head, the receptionist pointed towards a good-looking woman with dark brown hair and light colored eyes. Andrew observed the woman for a few seconds, wondering what could be wrong with her. She looked fine from where he was standing. 

Walking towards the dark-haired woman, Andrew flashed another pearly smile and extended his hand in a polite manner. “Good morning, I’m doctor Stevens,” He said, before adding as an afterthought, “the neurosurgeon in charge, I’ll be taking care of your case today.”

We’re reeling through an endless fall

She also liked coming to the bar because she could talk to the customers about problems that weren’t her own. Where she could listen to someone else’s sob story and not feel so bad about her own for a little while. She went to school to be a psychiatrist, and in a weird way, being a bartender sometimes felt like it the same thing. Seattle was sneaking back up on her, she was settling into this life and helping people with their problems at the bar and her two week visit had already become almost a month. The way she saw it though there were only two options; sell the bar, or run it herself, it was a no-brainer because there was no way in hell she could ever give up the bar and watch it get turned into some hip juice bar or upscale exclusive lounge. Shenanigans was her dads pride and joy, her family joked on far too many occasions that he loved that old bar more than he loved them.

Yet, there were some patients that he could remember by face and name, and in even stranger cases, family members of a patient he had done surgery on. They were extremely weird cases, but for some reason or other, had stuck on the back of Andrew’s head. 

Still lost in his thoughts, Andrew didn’t notice the young woman looking at him from the other side of the mahogany bar until she babbled something he didn’t catch. Blinking twice, he snapped back to reality and flashed the brunette a gentle smile out of habit, still not focusing his attention on her face. 

“Uh...” He thought for a second before nodding. “Yes, I’ll have a whisky on the rocks, not a lot of ice, please.” 

As he ordered, his eyes fell on the girl’s face. Frowning slightly, Andrew recalled a bitter memory from a few weeks back, one that had torn at his insides. He took in the paleness of her features and the bewildered look on her face and figured that his instincts were right, the woman standing in front of him was the same broken girl that had spent almost fourteen hours sitting on a chair in the waiting room. His stomach clenched for a second, remembering the look on her face as he delivered the news of her parents’ passing. 

Surprised, Andrew didn’t know what to say or what to do. He was completely taken aback, speechless, cold like a statue. He stared at the girl for a few seconds before forcing himself to do something, to react. Clearing his throat, he fixed his collar as he looked away from her face, passing a hand through his hair - his normal reaction to feeling awkward or trapped. 

Overview.

Full Name: Andrew Stevens.

Title: The Evader.

Age: 34.

Occupation: Neurosurgeon.

Sexuality: Heterosexual.

Face Claim: Ryan Reynolds.

Background.

Born in Boston, Massachusetts, Andrew was the pride and joy of his upperclass parents, whom expected their son to be great and achieve fame and fortune before the age of forty. His father was a respected congressman and his mother a socialite who cared more about people envying the life she had than actually living it. His life was pretty average for a privileged kid; he was enrolled into the best schools in Boston as soon as he was old enough to learn, he was part of the soccer team and his social life consisted of shallow friends his mother thought “appropriate” to hang out with. Even when he made it to high school, Andrew did not rebel against his mother’s shallow reign over his life. He had too much respect for his parents to actually try and change the plan they had for him, so he bent down his head and allowed them to tell him what to do with his life.

Andrew did not make a decision of his own until he graduated from high school and announced that he wanted to become a doctor. His parents were pleased with the decision and shipped him off to George Washington University to start his pre-med studies. For the first time in his life, Andrew got to live without having to double-think every single word that came out of his mouth or every decision that he took. He enjoyed the freedom of not being under his mother’s constant glare. In GW, he finally became his own person. He became friends with people he actually liked, found a girlfriend that was not half-girl half-robot and worked hard to earn good grades.

After the two years of pre-med, he got into Johns Hopkins University and moved to Baltimore to continue his studies. Four years later, he graduated at the top of his class and continued his residency in John Hopkins to become a neurosurgeon. In Baltimore, Andrew created a life that he enjoyed living. Sure, the stress of the hospital got to him from time to time, but he was actually happy with who he was. He had a close group of friends that he cared about, had moved in with his serious girlfriend whom was now his fiancée and was on his way to becoming a neurosurgeon. His life was practically perfect, or that’s what he had believed, until he found out his fiancée had been cheating on him with one of their mutual friends.

Completely devastated, Andrew moved out of the apartment he shared with his fiancée and finished his last year of residency in a blur. He got through by hitting the bottle hard, sleeping around with random women and spending most of his time on the hospital, avoiding his reality at all costs. Once he finished his residency, he desperately searched for a way out of Baltimore and found solace in Seattle, Washington, after he was offered the position of attending neurosurgeon in the University of Washington’s medical center.

Once in Seattle, Andrew got his act clean. He stopped drinking so much, cut down the amount of women he slept with and focused instead on his new job. He got a small studio near the hospital and mostly kept to himself, still hurt by what had happened in Baltimore. Now, four years later, not a lot has changed. He still lives in the same studio, still works unhealthy hours and still likes to drink scotch and take women home, but he’s ready to move on from his fiancée and the life he left behind in Baltimore. He’s finally opening up to others and making friends, sort of becoming the person he was before he got his heart broken.

Personality.

Andrew is a charming individual. He’s good-looking, flirty and humorous, which makes him popular with the general human species. He’s also a quick thinker, which has helped him save a life on more than one occasion. Yet, he’s not all friendly and kind, Andrew also has a side he won’t let most people see. Guarded and unforgiving, Andrew has built up walls around his heart that refuse to fall down for anyone. He can be spiteful when provoked and tends to act recklessly, even when it’s uncalled for. He won’t let people in and refuses to be anything more than casual and friendly, preferring to keep his distance when he sees he’s growing too attached.

+ charming, humorous, intelligent and kind. - arrogant, guarded, reckless and unforgiving.

Appearance.

Andrew is very good-looking, yet he tends to look untidy with his two-day beard and shaggy hair. It doesn’t mean he’s unclean though, his job doesn’t permit him to be. His style is mostly formal and his closet consists of buttoned shirts, dress pants and medical clothing.

Miscellaneous Info.

Andrew has a thing for bars with character. He likes to drink in places that are interesting and appealing to him.

He’s highly competitive, his goal is to become one of the best neurosurgeons in the world.

Andrew doesn’t know how to cook, so he mostly eats food from the hospital’s cafeteria or orders takeout.

He is not big on movies but enjoys a good novel or two from time to time.

Andrew is also very allergic to cats.