forever is a long time

"Well I say its your turn now. He'll be so pleased that you both took the time to come see him, what with how busy your schedules are."

She started to bustle them both towards the small knot of people on the other side. Maximus moved at a very...deliberate pace through the group. After all, why rush?

"I mean, really Maximus, Swynlake isn't like London. You really should be taking more time off to visit with people around town. We hardly ever see you except when you're on official business, and that's hardly the right time to stop and chat now is it?"

Conversations like this were exactly why he generally avoided social gatherings with people who had known him as a child. They never seemed to get any better.

Turning towards Tod, she said with a conspiratorial smile. "Mind you, Maximus was a frequent visitor to George back in the day. He was always in and out of one scrape with his friends. Nearly every town disaster he had some excuse for being in the middle of it! But he'd give you that big earnest grin, and who was going to disbelieve him then?"

There went coffee he was pretty sure. And anything else.

No one ever cared how much Tod was working. No one kept track.

And he was delighted for a glimpse into Maximus' childhood. He had been a few years younger than the Swynlake native. They had missed each other in school. And Tod had only been there for a few years anyway.

He gave Maximus a look torn between amusement and pity at having his shit aired out. Thankfully, Barbara knew no such stories of Tod's youth. And there were plenty.

"That so?" Tod said, sharing a conspiratorial look with Barbara. "Must be a helluva smile."

Barbara laughed. "And you! I'm sure you were a rascal, Tod. If you were ever like your mother. That was a wild child, if I ever saw one." She shook her head. "Thinking back, perhaps it wasn't surprising--"

"I was," Tod said, taking pity on the woman who had clearly thought she just put her foot in her mouth. Which she kind of had, but Tod didn't mind. He knew his mother's behavior was erratic better than anyone. "Complete rascal, actually."

Milori never minded questions about fairies. Frankly, he thought misunderstanding between humans and fairies could be solved if humans would simply...ask fairies things.

"We do," Milori answered. "Not to make a room smell good, but to use as a light source. Of course light-talent fairies can just produce light. But not every fairy has a light-talent in their home."

It was a valid question.

"We have a lot of things you do, but you have a lot of things we don't."

Milori explained it so frankly that Tod did feel stupid for asking. Especially when he realized: duh, of course they didn't have electricity in the Hollows. Obviously. He should've been able to put that together. Could sew up a heart muscle but put together that fairies and electricity didn't exactly mix? Above his pay grade.

Still, he tried to press on, recover from his misstep. Like when you tripped and started jogging for a step or two to play it off.

"Succinct. I appreciate it. What are some stuff that you have that we don't?" Tod asked, instead of just assuming that humans had all the enviable things. He hung out with the world's underbelly and tossed out all day. He knew it wasn't true.

But what was worse: a stomach chewing on itself because it was so empty, or a stomach that wanted to explode because it was too full? Both had miserable qualities, though Jack was intimately more familiar with the former. Even now, with his intestines bulging, there was a vague ache in the back of his throat, the urge to keep eating, even if his physical body had passed its limit.

But that was exactly why he was here. Jack closed his eyes, trying to absorb the lingering anxiety that lived in the air, like a miasma.

Then he moaned again, twisting toward the dish, though no vomit-- not yet.

"Probably... around... sushi roll number... 32...."

32 rolls of sushi?

Yeah, that was probably just about enough to make anyone feel sick. It generally didn't warrant a trip to the emergency room. It was a slow night, thankfully. (Knock on wood.) Which was why Tod was handling this and not an intern.

"Have you already vomited? When was that? What was the consistency? Any blood?" Tod asked, unamused and unphased by the writhing. Perhaps it was something more serious: a bowel obstruction or...parasite? But Tod wasn't at all convinced.

She supposed Tod wouldn't understand that. A&E wasn't a ward, it was a department, and thus was kept, in Delilah's opinion, like a barn. Lots of space with lots of shit lying around. It wasn't built for people to sit and wait, but unfortunately, as per hospital protocol, people had to sit and wait.

"I don't have a spare bed" She said simply, looking back to Tod again. The nurse sitting beside her turned, looking conspicuously at the bed board, which was as full as Delilah said it was. "We'll have a bed in half an hour. You'll have to take the patient back down to A&E until then."

Delilah sat back down, signalling that she was very much done with that conversation. "Had you called me for a consult, I would've told you as much."

But he supposed Delilah wouldn't understand that. The other departments worked like machinery. They were scheduled, they were consistent, and they rarely dealt with unstable patients. (ICU, Labor and Delivery, and NICU notwithstanding, of course. Tod had respect for those floors.)

His jaw rippled. The tension spread it's tentacles out between Tod, his intern, Delilah, and her battalion of nurses. He should've brought more back up.

"Fine," Tod said stiffly. "Half an hour. But I'm putting down that you refused his care." It was a meaningless threat, he knew they both knew. The patient was stable and most likely wouldn't have another stroke in the next half hour. Even if he did, Delilah was within her rights to refuse him admission to the ward.

But Tod hated feeling like he'd somehow lost.

He jerked his head at the uselessly quiet intern and started back towards the elevators.

Shang kept going for a little while longer, so by the time he finally pulled away, Tod was sweating and panting already. His whole body was tingling as he caught his breath.

Not that he got much time for that because not only did Shang shed the rest of his clothes and--god, he was hot--but he was right back over Tod before he could even really think. Not that Tod minded. He didn't want to think.

It had been too long since Tod had had sex. Usually, the adrenaline of the ER was enough to keep his thoughts occupied from the things he liked to not think about. But sex was always the best way to do that. He wanted it hard and fast and to hurt a little, so later, he'd think about it too.

He met Shang's mouth with his own, open and eager. His hand clasped the back of Shang's neck, pulling him in as Shang pushed into him. Tod's other hand slipped around Shang's strong back, feeling the muscles there as Shang pulled out and pushed in a little more, filling Tod up.

"More," Tod panted against Shang's mouth, his voice an octave higher than usual. "Please."

Really, Copper should go home. He had been on overnight; she was now in the care of healthcare professionals, in a hospital setting. There was little else he could do that someone else couldn't. He should go home and rest, and when he came in for his next shift, he could ask about an update.

Yeah, right. Like he was going to do that.

As someone worked on a cannula and someone else got an oxygen mask on her, Copper checked her pockets. He had done it many times before, when he and Ren had been called to people passed out on the street, or people too drunk to remember their own name. There was a way to do it to make sure you weren't going to get hurt, and so Copper did his best, frowning until--

"Got it!" There was an ID card tucked into her jacket pocket. Stepping back to let the rest of them work, Copper read aloud, "Angela Simcox. 33 years old. She's local. And--" Copper paused, hearing a gasp from the end of the bed - from Angela, who was now blinking, groggy, dazed, but awake. "Hey," He said, moving to stand where she could see him. "You're okay. You're in the hospital. These people are here to help."

Pulled away when Angela suddenly regained consciousness. He put his stethescope around his neck and reached for Angela's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"My name is Dr. Mitchell, head of emergency medicine. And this is Krish, he's a paramedic and found you in the car park. You lost consciousness. Has this happened before?"

Angela blinked and shook her head. Tod watched her as she moved. Her facial muscles seemed intact for now, so the thought of a stroke got checked off the list. But so did a regular syncope.

"No, I-I--low sugar."

"Ah." Tod glanced at Krish. Well, at least there is that, he shrugged in his old friend's direction.

And she knew that Tod knew that too.

She should’ve been called for a consult, at which point she could’ve taken herself off downstairs, seen the patient, checked the ward capacity, and admitted her. It was about responsibility, and assuming care so that people didn’t fall through the cracks.

On any other day, Delilah might’ve (probably not) let it slide. But today? Of all days?

Delilah looked up at him, knowing she looked exactly as frazzled as she felt. I’m sorry, she wanted to say. Who died and made you king of the hospital? She managed, only just, to rein herself in. Accusingly, she said, “You didn’t call me for a consult.”

Yes, there was protocol and it was important, but protocol didn't always fit the situations that arose at the hospital. Especially in the A&E. Things changed rapidly. You had to make decisions that would save lives, not preserve whatever social hierarchy or political structures kept the hospital functioning on the day to day.

Like today--he didn't have time to call Delilah down for a consult. So, they'd done the imaging themselves and stabilized the patient. (Who was asleep, for the record. Thankfully.)

"No, we didn't have time and y'know, strokes are pretty easy to diagnose. So, we stabilized and now we're bringing him up here because we have another two incoming traumas and we need the space. Would you rather him get shoved in the hallway and have another stroke while not being adequately monitored, because I am happy to do that."

But he could only nod and slip off the cot. "Got it, doc. Thanks for the advice--" he said, flashing a wan smile, though it slipped off fast. Looked like he was going to have to find his salve a different way.

~~~

A week later, Jack came up with a better plan! He needed something serious enough to earn him a longer stay. Something that couldn't be quickly disproven by simply flashing a light in his eyes. So... something internal.

Jack planted himself in his hotel room at the Tipton, then ordered five rolls of sushi. He inhaled every roll, and then downed soy sauce like it was tequila sauce.

Jack rolled up to the emergency room, clutching his stomach, begging to be seen.

It got him the ticket in.

This time, when Dr. Mitchell arrived, he was curled up in the fetal position, moaning and moaning and moaning.

"I'm going to throw up," he groaned.

Tod was...confused by this series of events. He might even think that Jack was drug-seeking. But, the first time he'd come in, he had had appendicitis. And, after weaning him off morphine those first twenty-four hours, Tod hadn't prescribed a strong painkiller. Over the counter would've been fine for his pain management.

So, there was something else.

He wondered if he had missed something the first time. Had the morphine triggered something in Jack, even if he'd only briefly had it?

Or was he really just more accident and illness prone than Tod knew? That would be fair enough, Tod had to remind himself he didn't really know Jack at all. Even if his friend who had brought him in had mentioned an aversion to hospitals. Which, by the state of the infection, had seemed likely.

"Mr. Skellington," Tod said, somewhat more reserved. "What--"

Jack cut him off.

Tod sighed through his nose but nodded to one of the nurses to hover by Jack's head with a dish.

"When was the onset of the stomach pain?" Tod asked as he moved closer to the bed to attempt to listen to Jack's heart and lungs. His blood pressure was already up on the screen, but it was rather steady. Nothing too concerning. "And are you in pain anywhere else?"

Tod was right about that one; living so long, it could be quite miserable, especially when people who walked with you throughout phases of your life were long gone and you were still here, barely aging in the last hundred-and-thirty years or so.

But it could also be a privilege, seeing the children of those fairies, grandchildren even, live their lives.

In any case, Milori was a royal talent and they lived even longer than the average fairy. Even despite not having a hollow anymore he didn't feel a shift in his energy, in anything, which meant his time was nowhere near over. How or why? Milori wouldn't know until it was time to know. The decades he spent in the Hollow in Russia, he had no idea a pixie dust tree all the way in Kyrgyzstan was calling for him. Perhaps one day there's another pixie dust tree with an aging royal talent that will seek him out. Perhaps not.

That's not really for him to speculate on and hope about one way or another. It could be decades before that's revealed to him. For now...he just had to fill his time. With working out, observing the humans in town, helping around the Hollow, and maybe making friends by talking to people like Dr. Tod Mitchell.

"It's easy to get distracted by candles. They smell so nice these days. I came across one that was lavender lemon bar scented at a store once. Smelled good enough to bite into." A beat. "I didn't, obviously. Fairies know not to eat candles."

"Oh good, I was gonna be concerned. Forgive my ignorance, but do you have things like candles in the Hollow?"

He didn't know much about fairies and what he had learned in school, he didn't really want to take as truth. Tod knew better. His mum used to tell him things too. Different stories about Magicks she'd known or grown up around in Swynlake, but Tod knew to take those with a grain of salt as well.

A lie, but she could spin the same story and passion and trajectory for her actual given career.

“I always thought that maybe I’d be a big investigative journalist at some major publication — like Tanya Qin? She’s this fantastic investigative reporter who does work for the New York Times — but I realize that working for local news can be even more fulfilling. You can get right to the source of big stories that otherwise would be glossed over. Like the fairy crown! No one at the British Museum would’ve even looked twice at it.”

She’d started gesticulating, sitting up straighter, and talking faster as her face lit up. Because all of it was true — she’d thought she’d maybe want a deep undercover covert ops position, but she’d found so much fulfillment in Swynlake, in managing a team, in helping people directly. 

She shook her head sheepishly.

“And you? Have you always wanted to be a doctor?” 

"More or less," Tod said with a little shrug. "My mum had addition issues. I wanted to help people like her...originally I was training for psychology but I got an internship working an Emergency Medicine ward, shadowing the on call psychologist and decided to switch. Felt like I could help more people that way. And I think I would've made kind of a shit psychologist." He snorted and grinned.

That was how it felt anyway-- realistically, it had been an hour-ish, but Jack's gut still clenched. Last time, he'd been here overnight! What kind of sickness did he have to score to buy himself a one-way ticket to Gown Town, huh?

He frowned. "Are you sure? Concussions can be serious," Jack pouted. "What if I sleep it off and pass away?"

"I mean it could happen, but just have someone wake you up every four hours and check your cognitive function. If it declines at any point, come back in. Otherwise, pop a few--the recommended dose of--acetaminophen and you'll be right as rain in a few days."

Which was a relief. Tod didn't want to keep seeing his hook up in the ER. Not just because it was going to get slightly less professional every time, but also--he didn't want Jack hurt.

"Perhaps if you wanted -"

"Maximus! Tod! What are you still doing over here?"

He managed to avoid wincing but only barely, instantly feeling that spark of guilt at setting up a potential hookup instead of socializing like they were supposed to. He was here wasn't he? Wasn't that good enough?

"Hello Barbara. I didn't want things to be too crowded around Dr. Sitwell."

"Considering this party, don't you think its about time you started to call him George?"

"No." Just the idea of it made his skin crawl.

Barbara sighed and looked over at Tod. "I suppose you're going to give me the same excuse?"

He didn't have quiet as much of an attachment to things like hospital hierarchy. Of course, he minded in the moment, when it mattered, but outside of work, he tended to call his colleagues by their first names anyway. And he didn't mind what they called him. (Considering both his names were first names, even being called "Mitchell" was rather normal and casual to him.)

Plus, he liked being a little bit of a shit, when the occasion called for it.

Barbara shook her head.

"But same," Tod continued. "Figured we'd wait our turn for George to make the rounds and what not."

"Follow me." She said to the intern, rearranging her expression into one of reassuring warmth as she headed back inside the bay to speak to the patient.

~*~

It had been a very, very long day.

It was one admission after another. Delilah had sent her third year resident downstairs so that she could remain upstairs on the ward, clerking each new arrival and trying to help the nurses get as many patients as possible discharged. They were very quickly running out of beds.

Delilah was finishing up yet another discharge letter when the doors to the ward opened, a bed being pushed through them - a bed Delilah had neither ordered nor approved And who would be standing behind it, but of course, Dr. Mitchell.

Delilah stood up, folding her arms over her chest. "What're you doing?"

Which meant that beds were filling up fast and patients ready for observation needed to be moved.

"Dr. Mohanty," Tod addressed her with a tight smile. "Apologies for the intrusion but Mr. Quinn here needs monitoring. He had a minor transient ischemic episode earlier today and needs rest. He's stable for now. All you good folks up here need to do is monitor until his blood pressure stabilizes. Catheter is already placed and imaging done."

Tod held out his iPad with Mr. Quinn's patient information.

They'd find out, he supposed.

He let his eyes fall back to the patient as he slipped the pen light into his back pocket.

It was a job to try and keep her stable whilst lifting her from the floor, but it was nothing that Copper hadn't done before. He'd been on many a job where they had gotten called out to the most rural, random place outside of town, had to leave the ambulance a half a mile away, and then make do from there. He was careful to support her head as he grabbed her shoulders, giving Tod a nod when he was ready.

On three he lifted, pausing once she was off the ground to make sure her neck was secure. "Got her?" He asked, looking up at Tod again. He waited for confirmation, and then took a breath. "Let's go."

It wasn't far to the doors of A&E, but it felt like miles. By the time they got to the door Copper's arms were beginning to ache, the top of his back not much better for being hunched over. "Can we get a bed?" He called out once they were in earshot of the staff, holding the woman carefully whilst a nurse hurried round wih a gurney.

"Yeah," he huffed, readjusting once more before he and Krish moved in tandem towards the A&E doors. His muscles were already straining from the few miles he'd run to get to work, but he ignored them. Easy enough to do with the adrenaline that had jumped through his body, lighting his nerves on fire. He was only thinking about getting the woman to safety and figure out what had caused her syncopate.

The bed came quickly and with a nod to Krish, they managed to transfer her over with the help of the nurses.

"Blown pupils, she collapsed just outside the doors," Tod informed the swarm of people as they moved towards one of the trauma rooms. He reached out to rub her sternum and she groaned, her eyelashes fluttering a bit.

"Ma'am?" Tod said, but the patient was still too out of it to adequately respond.

"Let's get her hooked up and take a look at her vitals. See what we can figure out. And can someone look for a wallet or other identification? Hopefully she's in our system already." If she was already in the hospital parking lot, the assumption she was on her way in to be treated for some symptoms. Or just a lucky visit to someone else...

Shang teased him further and Tod waited with bated breath and blown pupils as Shang's lips moved closer and closer.

Finally, his hot mouth closed over Tod's cock and he groaned, his hand sliding into Shang's hair. He wanted to press Shang down to take more of him, but the pleasure building would be better in the long run, so he refrained. Instead, he just whined high in the back of his throat as Shang's tongue ran over the sensitive tip of his cock, which leaked for him in response.

And then Shang's head sunk lower, nearly covering his entire cock, his mouth hot and wet. The feeling ran up and down Tod's spine. "Oh god," he panted. His own head tilted back as he felt Shang's finger playing with his hole.

"Please," he said again.

Shang slipped his fingers inside, working him over inside and out. Tod's hand slipped from his hair, so he could lean back and brace himself on the bench.

"F-fuck," he groaned, eyelashes fluttering. He put his hand on Shang's warm shoulder, not sure if he wanted to push him closer or push him away as the sensations overwhelmed him. "Want your cock, please."

“That’s me. New oncology attending, though I’m sure you know that already. Nice to finally put a face to the name.” 

In his opinion, he didn’t think he looked at all like Dr. Mitchell. Well, maybe from the back. They were roughly the same height. Okay, maybe he could see it.

Well, maybe he should test the theory and figure out how much they had in common.

“I gotta ask you a question,” he said. “Is there anywhere around here to just grab a cold beer? Google Maps is telling me my options are a jazz lounge and a … clown-themed night club? That can’t be right.” 

He guessed the lounge would work, but it seemed like more of a night out thing than a quick drink after work situation. 

He rarely had an actual relationship with his patients. Unlike, say, oncology, which often saw patients for years at a time.

Tod snorted. "Er, no that about sums it up. There used to be a pub, I heard that someone is trying to build a new one? I dunno." He remembered going to the Hunted Deer as a kid. The stuffed heads on the wall had always made him uncomfortable.

"Oh, there is [name redacted]. It's kinda hard to find, though. It moves around," he explained, as if that was any explanation.