Spilling Guts

Part 5 - Testing, testing, testing...

Will was left in Rachel's care and Balcuwitz waved goodbye as the door swung shut. Will could only pray the psychologist would make it back to his office and not end up wandering around the cold storage. He would find out when he checked in for his afternoon session.

Rachel's lab was bright white panels and tile, the only color coming from the partitioned section where Bella's cage was being cleaned out, and the doorway leading to the connecting BT lab. Apart from the rest of Med Tech, this was where Rachel had full autonomy. No nurses barging in to borrow a scalpel, no Techs borrowing a cart or asking about lunch. Totally private.

Unless you counted the rodent scurrying about in the clear plastic tubes that hung suspended around the lab like a child's first match-car track.

"So, what's up?" asked Rachel. "Problems with your arm?"

Deep breath. He had already done this once today. He could do it again.

"I need an HIV test."

Telling Rachel was harder than admitting Balcuwitz his fears. He imagined judgment in her eyes, and distain in her voice as she asked him to sit down on and she made sure the door was latched.

He folded himself down on a chair, head down, hands clasped. Rachel sat across from him and pulled on a pair of gloves from a tray.

"Has your vision been blurry lately?" asked Rachel.

"Sometimes, when I'm tired," said Will. "I had some drops left over from the Lasik surgery that I've been using when they get itchy."

"Okay." Rachel passed a small wand over his forehead. "Temperature within normal ranges."

Latex fingers massaged under the hinge of his jaw, brushing stubble. Checking his lymph nodes, figured Will. But, unlike his last check she didn't ask him to strip down so she could account for the nodes at his armpit or groin. Probably a good thing since his deodorant hadn't kept up with his stress today.

"Say ah."

A wooden stick pressed down Will's tongue as she examined his mouth. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon candy. She gently moved her finger around his lips, checking the gum-line and the inside of his cheeks for abnormalities. Louis could probably tell her if anything was odd, he had spent enough time in Will's mouth.

"Alright, let's get you on the scale," said Rachel, changing gloves.

Will approached the silver panel with the digital display. He always hated the weigh in. Hated it in elementary school, hated it now. "Should I take my shoes off?"

"No."

After Will stepped off the panel, Rachel took advantage of his upright position to brace one hand on Will's back and the other under his shirt and onto the flat plane of his stomach. He sucked in his stomach at the cool touch, but forced himself to relax. This was a medical exam. This was Rachel. He was safe. This was not a nightmare.

"Any abdominal aches?" she asked, pressing under his ribs and up into the hollow where his liver lay.

"Only when I have Louis inside me," said Will, needing to make a joke.

Rachel huffed as she guided him back over to the chairs and the tray. "Yeah, he's a bellyache for a lot of people. Go ahead and sit back down."

It was then Will noticed the tools on the tray. A needle, hub, and vacuum tube were sealed under plastic along with three vials.

"Back of your left hand on my knee," Rachel instructed.

Will obeyed and Rachel pulled up his sleeve. A long line of scabs and fading scars streaked his forearm; the visual reminder of the car bomb in the San Francisco International parking lot. She held the sleeve up for a moment, staring.

"Let's do the right arm instead." A switch and Rachel tied a rubber strap around his bicep. She swabbed his arm and tossed the cotton ball into the red waste bin without even looking.

"Can you tell me what brought this about?"

Will nodded and gave Rachel the abbreviated story: call from an old flame that might be positive. It kept his mind off the sting of the needle piercing his flesh and the multiple vials being filled with deep red blood. Three labeled vials later, Rachel withdrew the needle, pressed a cotton ball to the inside of his arm and tapped it down. She tossed the gloves, another three point shot, and wheeled her chair back over to a side desk covered in paper files and her tablet charging station.

"Are you currently sexually active with any person or persons?" Rachel pulled out her tablet, tapping out a form. Her blonde ponytail fell over her shoulder.

Will was familiar with the questions he would have to answer. Having a familiar face ask them made the back of his neck warm. "No."

Rachel inserted one of the vials into a machine by her desk and pressed at buttons that lit up like a Christmas tree. "When was the last time you met with your previous partner?"

"A little over four months ago."

"And the last time you and he had intercourse?"

That brought red to his cheeks. "Four and a half months ago."

"Have you had intercourse or sexual activity with anyone since then?"

"No. Not since Jacob." His nerdy ass was spending more time fixing his storm-trooper armor and reading training manuals than getting vertical with someone.

Rachel nodded, puckering her lips like a fish. "Do you know how many times you've had your blood and bodily fluids tested for anything in the last four months?"

Will rubbed his hand up and down his thigh, as if trying to get the feeling back into them. It was hard remembering such details. "I know there was a test when I signed up for the Watch. And then..."

"Rhetorical question," interrupted Rachel. "Every time you've been in here for a test day with Louis, and every time you've been hurt; fluid test. I checked for STDs, antibodies, chemical composition, plasma percentage, white cell count, the whole damn chart."

"Seriously?" Will's jaw dropped. "And you never let me know?"

"I'd hate to say it was need-to-know, but it was need-to-know. And you didn't need to know because you are fine." Rachel tapped up her tablet and passed the screen over to Will. "HIV antibodies take anywhere from 3 to 12 weeks to form. There were no antibodies in your blood when we took a sample after the Freewill mission, the Luvor mission, or that stunt in California. I'll do a nucleic acid test to be sure, but as far as I can see you are HIV negative."

"Oh that's... that's good!" A shaky, tired laugh rushed out of Will's mouth. "I mean thank God. I thought I had to be positive, it would explain so many things. Why I can't sleep, why I'm achy and can't concentrate. But, oh..." Will buried his face in his hands and Rachel rescued her tablet from hitting the floor. "It's such a relief."

"Yeah, congratulations. But your white blood cell count is low."

Will stopped his internal ticker tape parade. "What does that mean?"

"It means if you keep missing sleep, like you said you were, you're going to get sick." Rachel stood and gestured Will to follow her to the door. "You haven't been around Franklin and Nathan recently, have you? They've been passing a cold back and forth like a hockey puck for at least a month."

"Not since getting their files from the California bombings."

"Okay, good." Rachel glanced up as the suspended plastic tube jingled as Dory, the rat, skittered past. "Nothing wrong with seeing them, but wash your hands before and after, okay. And you might be chained to paperwork, but you can take a break once in a while to sleep. There's always a cot and a quiet corner to take advantage of."

Will nodded, grateful. Getting to sleep wasn't a problem, staying asleep, wanting to sleep was. He had become wary of the nightmares and how they made his heart pound and body freeze.

"And Will." Rachel put a hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting. "You did the right thing asking for a test."

Will had not expected that. "I knew I had to. If I was positive, Louis might have..."

"Understood. And smart of you to think of it. Come back if you have any questions. I'll message you when the final test is done."