Chapter Text
It was a casual day at the hospital as in causal; hectic as hell with colleagues asking for help with patients, sometimes Claire was grateful she wasn’t a surgeon, she didn’t know if she could handle patients in her trust of hands.
As the clock struck 5:30 pm, signaling the end of Claire's shift, she felt relief wash over her. Her body ached from the long hours on her feet, her mind fatigued from the constant stream of patients and emergencies. She craved for nothing more than a hot shower and the comfort of her own bed.
As she was just about to take off her gloves a coworker; Geillis stopped her. “Hey Claire do you possibly can stay the night with a patient—” she paused looking through her notepad, “His name is James Fraser a Scot like me; brunt victim, burns to the chest, face, arms, and mostly back.”
Claire thought for a moment, her exhaustion. "Geillis, I can hardly keep my eyes open," Claire confessed. Her body in need for the comfort of her bed, her mind for the oblivion of sleep.
Geillis locked eyes with Claire, her gaze couldn't be ignored. "I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't absolutely crucial. James, poor man, his injuries... he barely allowed us tae help him, hardly can speak. " She sighed deeply. "Ye have to help me Claire I can’t see anyone else staying wi’ him but ye he needs to be monitored by someone who actually gives a damn."
She crossed her arms as if her posture was her ‘standing her ground’ she gave in. “Fine yes.” She said through exhaustion. “But you owe me big time, a take out meal.”
As Claire reluctantly agreed, a
responsibility mulled on her tired shoulders. Geillis offered a grateful smile, promising to owe Claire more than just a meal, “His room is…” she looked over the notepad, “Room 34 just to yer left.”
She hugged Claire in a briefly haste, Stepping back, Geillis added with an impish look in her eye. “Oh, and about James, he’s no’ yer usual patient – he’s quite the eye-catcher.” accompanied by a playful wink.
Claire rolled her eyes at Geillis’s teasing remark, then nodded in the direction Geillis had pointed, offering a farewell wave before heading towards Room 34 some reason she had a gut feeling.
Softly knocking on the door and receiving no reply, Claire slowly opened it, peeking inside. “Hello, Mr. Fraser?” she called out, her voice gentle in the quiet room; only thing she could here was the sound of the ventilator that wasn't connected to him.
Geillis was right, he was in crucial condition something she did not expect was for him to have such severe burns, was he even responsive? “I’ll be taking care of you for tonight, my name is Claire.” Still, he remained silent. She observed him, noting the steady rise and fall of his chest indicating normal breathing.
As she began to organize the space, Claire predicted his needs. She fetched a water jug and placed it within easy reach, along with a notepad and pen. Knowing communication might be challenging, she gestured to the notepad, suggesting that he could write down anything he needed or wanted to convey he just stared at her.
Checking the IV drip, she made a mental note to monitor it closely throughout the night. Claire then glanced at the bedside table, deciding to bring personal items he may need; a cup, a toothbrush, a pathetic plastic razor, and other hygiene facilities.
Soon enough the stubborn scot attempted reach for the notepad and she quickly retrieved it, handing it to him. He scribbled a few words and handed them back to her, her curiosity peaked, and as she read over what he wrote, the message was clear: ‘Water and pain.’
Nodding in understanding, Claire fetched a cup of water and a straw offering it to him with aw a soft smile. “Here you go, James I’ll also get your pain medication right away.”
She sees him struggling to steady the cup at hand, “I— Uh do you need some help?”
she asks, reaching to grasp the cup for him. She assumes he needs assistance she brings it to his lips he drinks painfully slow.
“Are you having trouble swallowing?” she asked then placing the cup on the table he nods very slow. With her gloved hand, she touches his throat.
He allowed Claire to examine his throat. His gaze met hers. A slight hesitation, as if he was wrestling with the effort it took to communicate.
Claire’s gloved hand gently explored the area, feeling for any signs of swelling or discomfort. She maintained a comforting presence, understanding the importance of reassurance in moments of vulnerability. As she assessed, James, with a subtle nod.
“I’ll make a note of this for the doctor,” Claire assured him, jotting down her observations on the notepad. The silent communication continued, “But nothing is wrong as from what I can see.”
Moments later she came back in with a shot; Morphine, as prescribed. James eyed it he was overwhelmed and obviously hates shots she knew it. “It will be no more than a pinch I promise i’ve had lots of patients that can tell you the same.” he gave her a slight nod eyeing the sharp object.
“Can you turn to your side or is that too painful?”
He attempted and was desperate, she steadied his weight to the other side. Still enough; she was able to inject his buttock with morphine he let out a Scottish grunt. After his body went limp, she laid him down.
“You should rest now Mr Fraser,” Claire whispered in a hushed tone. James’s eyelids fluttered but he did not respond, she tucked the covers around him, as if he was child; funny. “If you need me just press the call button. I'll be just outside the door," Claire reassured him, she noticed a faint smile on James's face.
He was responsive.