Chapter Text
Jemma read over the chart in her hand as she headed for the examination room—or, well, sectioned-off-by-curtains-examination-area. The curtains weren’t fully drawn, so from afar she’d already caught a glimpse of her patient—Leopold Fitz. His eyes were narrowed in concentration and he appeared to be staring through the narrow gap in the curtains at something in the distance, his eyes shifting focus when he noticed her approaching.
Jemma pulled the curtain back and stepped into the cubical before closing the curtain behind herself as best she could. She smiled warmly. “Mr. Fitz, looks from your chart like—”
“Just Fitz,” he interrupted her, a slight tremor to his voice.
Jemma paused for a moment, surprised by his interjection, before she found her composure again. “Fitz? Alright. From your chart, I gather that you have quite the cut on your arm.”
“Yep. Definitely needs stitches,” a voice to the side of Jemma piped up.
Jemma looked over at the other man in the room, her focus immediately shifting back when Fitz chimed in from the medical bed. “You don’t know that, Frank.”
“How about I’ll be the judge of that?” Jemma suggested, unable to hide a smirk as she glanced back and forth between the two men.
“Um, yes, sure,” Fitz stammered, pressing the blood-soaked towel more firmly against his injury. “It’s just—” He leaned sideways, looking past Jemma and into the distance just as when she’d first seen him. As if by reflex, Jemma looked over her shoulder to see what had caught his attention. “That little girl in the waiting room,” he continued, and Jemma immediately realized whom he was talking about. “They got here like a minute after us, and she’s still waiting. I mean, maybe—I don’t mind waiting if you think you could take care of her first.”
Jemma looked back at him, furrowing her brow. “Mr. Fitz—I mean, Fitz, are you a bit nervous? Afraid of doctors, hospitals, needles? Because I can assure you—”
He shook his head vehemently. “No, no, nothing like that. This isn’t exactly my first trip to the emergency room. I’m an engineer. Sometimes I have an idea and my tools disagree with me. Frank and I basically take turns driving each other here.”
“True dat!” Frank agreed in the background.
“No, it’s just that she’s just a kid, and waiting in the emergency room sucks enough when you’re an adult, and—and I get it, I mean—you’re saving lives and you’re understaffed and overworked and—and I would never complain about having to wait, but she—she’s just a kid and probably nervous and so I thought if she didn’t have to wait so long then—”
Jemma raised one hand in a calming motion. “I’ll tell you what—I will check on her status. See how long she’ll still have to wait. How’s that?”
Fitz sighed deeply. “Thanks.”
Jemma couldn’t help but smile. She scrunched her nose, bobbing her head once, and turned around to head to the triage desk.
“Janet,” she addressed the nurse, lifting her chin in the direction of the waiting room, “do you know how much longer the little girl over there still has to wait?”
Janet looked up in surprise, her gaze wandering to where Jemma was gesturing. “Aren’t you with a patient?” she asked in confusion.
Jemma scoffed. “I am, but my patient seems very concerned that a little girl has to wait while he’s receiving care.”
“Sounds like someone’s afraid of doctors,” Janet remarked teasingly.
Jemma laughed quietly. “That’s what I thought at first, too, but he seems to genuinely care that a child shouldn’t have to wait so long for medical treatment.”
Janet pursed her lips. “That’s kinda sweet.”
“Isn’t it?” Jemma couldn’t help but smile widely. “So, what’s the girl’s status?”
“Chris just needed a potty break before his next patient. The girl will be in-and-out in no time.”
“Excellent,” Jemma held Fitz’s chart in her hands more tightly. “Thanks, Janet.” She spun around and headed back to her patient.
“She’s up next. Her doctor just needed to follow nature’s call,” Jemma explained when she re-entered the examination room.
Fitz nodded slightly. “Alright, thanks for checking on that.”
“Now that that’s settled, may I finally take a look at your injury?” Jemma asked, gesturing at Fitz’s arm.
His eyes widened. “Oh, yes, no, of course.”
Jemma couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped her. She stepped closer, rested his arm in her hand and lifted the towel that he’d been pressing against the wound. As soon as the pressure on the cut was released, blood filled the gaping injury, prompting Jemma to immediately reapply pressure. “Your tools really disagreed with you quite a bit, didn’t they?”
Fitz scoffed. “One of them did at least.”
Jemma walked over to the rolling cabinet in the corner and started gathering the supplies she would need, looking over her shoulder back at her patient. “I’ll need to clean it to get a better look but it’ll definitely need stitches.”
“Ha! Told ya so!” Frank piped up in the corner, causing Fitz to roll his eyes rather adorably.
He let out a deep sigh, watching Jemma as she lay everything out on a tray next to the bed. “This is going to take awhile, isn’t it?”
Jemma pursed her lips. “Probably not terribly long, but you wouldn’t want me to rush, would you?”
“No, no, of course not, it’s just—” He looked at his friend. “Why don’t you head back to work? No use both of us wasting time.”
Frank crossed his arms in front of his chest, shaking his head. “Dude, no. Don’t worry about it. This trip will cost you enough as is. No need to add cab fare back to work to pick up your stuff and then home to your place. You’d do the same for me. You have done the same for me.”
“But doesn’t your kid have some kind of football match today?” Fitz asked, and Jemma had to admit that she found his caring nature—first for the little girl and now for his friend—rather charming.
“First of all, you’re in America, call it soccer or people get confused,” Frank countered while Jemma started cleaning the wound. “And second of all, it’s noon and the game’s not until 6 tonight. Unless you got yourself the world’s slowest doctor, I’m fairly certain I’ll make it.”
Jemma let out a little laugh. “I assure you, you’ll be out of here with plenty of time to spare. Now let’s get started.”
Fitz inhaled deeply. “Alright then.”
“If it’s seven stitches or more, I win the pot,” Frank remarked, crossing his arms more tightly in front of his chest and observing Jemma with excited curiosity.