My Feral

4

Finishing up his last round -a kid with a broken arm that insisted on holding Max's hand while the bone was set and then plastered- Max makes his way up to the nurse's station.

Leaning up against the counter to give his knee a bit of a break, he motions Cape over.

Sauntering up to the other side of the counter, she leans on it, crossing her arms, asking jokingly, "what's your poison, Rockatansky?"

He huffs out a laugh, replies, "the room number of that weird pale kid that was brought in earlier. I need it."

Cape raises an eyebrow, but to her credit she just rambles off the number without giving him any flack about the strange request. Nodding his thanks, he turns to walk away, but is stopped by Cape yelling after him, "I expect an explanation later, Max!"

Sighing, Max pulls a hand down his face in good-natured frustration before waving a hand over his shoulder and escaping into the elevator. He stops by the staff room to grab an ice pack from the freezer for his knee, then makes his way to the young man's room.

Stopping by the open door, he knocks gently on the wood.

After waiting a moment for an answer, he walks into the room and stops at the end of the bed to read the man's chart. Because, even if he is off the clock, he is still a doctor, and looking at the chart gives him a good excuse to be in the room.

He flips through the papers, stopping on the diagnosis page. The man, whose name, according to the chart is Nux, was in a crash at the local racetrack, which ended in a broken arm, various cuts and bruises, a rather nasty gash on his forehead and....a broken toe. Talk about an anti-climax, Max thinks, then immediately kicks himself for thinking that. He'd seen the other men that come off the track, and this Nux guy got away really lucky with the minor injuries he sustained.

Putting the chart back, Max turns his attention to Nux.

Nux is asleep, or knocked out from pain killers; the latter seeming more likely. Taking in how pale the young man looks against the white sheets, the green cast on his arm and bandages wrapped around his head contrasting starkly against his skin, Max wonders if that's what he looked like after his car accident. Small and broken up.

"Shut up," Max says harshly, then immediately goes rigid as Nux stirs on the bed. Thankfully, he just shifts on the bed, burrowing deeper under the blanket.

Nodding in agreement, Max limps over to the closet set into the wall and pulls out two extra blankets. Going back over to the bed, he spreads out the blankets and lays them over the first one, being careful of Nux's arm when he tucks in the edges.

Satisfied, Max pulls up two cushioned chairs beside the bed, sits down in one, and props his leg up on the other. Holding the ice pack down on his knee, he roots around in his shoulder bag and pulling out a worn paperback, settles into the chair.

Max doesn't know why he's in Nux's hospital room, why he got more blankets, or why he stayed. But, as he reads more of the book, he finds that he doesn't care.

It felt good to be of some use. And, being near another person who isn't in immediate danger of dying, or drunkenly swearing at him while trying to hit him, is really quite comforting. Shrugging, Max goes back to his book.