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Among the descriptors that can be applied to Flynn Carsen, Librarian, perhaps the most mundane is ‘asthmatic’. It seems far too… normal for such an eccentric character, and after all the things Eve has seen him tumble through without trouble, his susceptibility to allergens seems absurd. Here is a man who can survive being stabbed by Excalibur, yet is liable to succumb to an ill-timed cloud of dust. Where's the sense in that?
Thankfully, though, Flynn’s asthma is usually well-controlled. He keeps an inhaler in his jacket pocket (amidst the other miscellaneous items that reside there) and Eve always makes sure she carries an extra one with her just in case. When a flare seems even slightly likely, he takes a few puffs and is ready to go again. Even on the hardest days, when everything acts as a trigger, the worst that befalls him is spending the day in bed instead of out with the team.
Flynn is okay. Flynn is always okay.
Except this time, he's been out on his own for a few days, and the first she's hearing from him isn't his voice at all. It's a local hospital.
“Ma’am? Are you still there?”
Eve swallows, throat suddenly bone dry. The rest of the team- Jacob, Cassandra, and Ezekiel- must notice her unease, because their conversation fizzles out, and they turn to face her with silent questions on their lips.
What is it?
What's going on?
She forces her breaths to remain even. “I’m… I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
“Of course. We have you down as the emergency contact for Mr Flynn Carsen, is that correct?”
“Mhm. Yes. Yes, it is.”
“I’m afraid Mr Carsen was brought in via ambulance a little while ago in the middle of a severe asthma attack. His usual rescue inhaler appears not to have worked, and paramedics found him in a bad way after a bystander called them in.”
At once, a million questions are bouncing off the walls of Eve’s mind. Where was he? How severe was the asthma attack? What does she mean ‘in a bad way’? Is he alright now?
All that emerges from her lips, though, is a weak ‘okay’.
“He's being taken care of, but it's taking a while for the attack to settle down and I think it'd be best if you came in. He's been quite upset.”
This, at least, puts her mind at rest a little. If Flynn is upset, that means Flynn is aware enough to be upset. Still, though, the thought of her boyfriend alone in the hospital, fighting for air, is enough to make her stomach roll.
“I’ll be down as soon as I can.”
“Alright. Goodbye now.”
“Bye.”
The moment she hangs up the phone, she's inundated with inquiries from the team, their voices overlapping until she raises a hand (slightly shaking) and offers them an answer.
“Flynn’s in the hospital.”- Cassandra’s mouth opens in the beginning of another question, eyes wide, but Eve quickly continues. “He had an asthma attack. From what I can tell, he's going to be just fine, but I need to head down to see him.”
“I’m coming.” Jacob says at once. And Cassandra. and Ezekiel.
Eve can hardly blame them for adoring her boyfriend as much as they do, but a sigh is drawn from her lips all the same.
“Alright, then. Come on.”
The corridors of the ER are more of a labyrinth than the actual labyrinth they once traipsed through, and it takes Eve and the team longer than anticipated just to find where Flynn is being held. The receptionist’s directions may as well have been given in a different language- and even if they were, Eve is convinced Jacob would have cracked them sooner.
Fortunately, they manage to reach the right room at last. It's just as unassuming as the rest of the corridor, but the number on the door aligns with the one they were told, and sure enough, when Eve peers through the little window, the figure in the bed is painfully familiar.
She can't wait another moment. Her hand lands on the panelling, and she sweeps in, every step carrying her closer to the man she loves.
He does not move. He does not lift his head. He's curled on his side beneath the thin blankets, shuddering, quick breaths puffing against the nebulizer over his nose and mouth.
He's so… small.
“Flynn?” She calls gently. His gaze, half-lidded with exhaustion, drifts to meet hers, and when he lays eyes on her for the first time, something within him seems to crumble.
Eve? He seems to say. You're here?
“Hey, sweetheart. Hey, baby, I'm here. I'm right here.”
As she lowers herself into the chair beside his bed, he reaches for her, tugging her hand closer until he's holding it in both of his, squeezing as tight as he can muster given his current weakness. There's a scarlet flush high on his cheeks. It blooms fully now, evidently long-withheld tears making an appearance at last. Eve reaches down with her free hand to swipe back the curling hair from his forehead.
“You're alright. You're okay, Flynn, I've got you.”
She keeps her voice as even as possible, but it's difficult to remain the composed guardian when her librarian is so sick. His breathing is so shallow, so rapid, every inhalation requiring more muscles than it ought to, and there's an unnaturally glazed look in his eyes which is no doubt attributable to pure exhaustion. All Eve wants to do is wrap him up in a blanket and bring him home with her, where she can stroke his hair and soothe him. But she can't. Not right now, at least.
So she lets the thumb of her right hand rub gently against his knuckles, while that of her left grazes his temple. Up and down. Up and down. In bed, he always finds the regularity of the rhythm soothing, and she hopes the same applies here.
“Looks like we can't go a day without you getting into some kind of trouble, hm?” She teases.
Flynn's lips twitch beneath the mask. Slowly, he lifts one hand (weighed down by the weight of an IV) and curls it into a fist, rubbing it in a circle against his chest. For a moment, Eve thinks he must be in pain again, but then Cassandra steps forward from behind her, apparently picking up on the miscommunication without her needing to voice it.
“It isn't your fault.”
Eve turns to her, brow raised.
“It's ASL.” She explains. “Right, Flynn? You said sorry?”
An impressed look crosses over the ailing librarian’s face. He offers a small thumbs up (Eve doesn't have to know ASL to understand what that means), then makes a few more gestures: spins his index finger, points to Cassandra, then lays his hand palm up in front of him, using his other hand to mime picking up something from it and bringing it to his temple.
Cassandra blushes slightly. “Just at the hospital. Sometimes there were deaf patients, and I just kind of… picked it up, I guess. I'm not great, though.”
Flynn, sick as he is, makes a rather emphatic gesture that Eve can only assume means, you are great, silly, because Cassandra only flushes further and mumbles something evasive.
With her help, Flynn is able to explain a little more about what happened- he was out, his chest got tight, blah blah blah (his actual words, according to Cassandra at least). He was sure it would go away with his inhaler, but this time it just… didn't. He doesn't remember much after that. He's feeling better now, though.
Eve can tell by the slightly haunted look in his eyes that he isn't telling the whole truth- not to mention the fact that she saw his demeanour change when he realised it wasn't just her in the room with him. When Cassandra stepped forward, the real Flynn stepped back.
All this is to say that Eve knows there's more to the story. Later, when he's regained his breath and has no more need of an interpreter, he'll likely whisper the remainder against her chest- the fear he must have felt, the shutdown that led the medical staff to label him ‘upset’, the relief upon seeing her there.
For now, however, exhaustion is sinking in again, and this is something he can’t hide. His trembling hands move, and Cassandra translates another apology-
Sorry. I’m really tired.
“No need to apologise, man.” Jacob interjects as Eve continues to card her fingers through her lover’s sweat-slick hair.
“Yeah.” Ezekiel says, far more muted than usual. “Just rest up, big guy.”
Soon, Flynn's eyes are closed, and Cassandra, Jacob, and Ezekiel head off in search of shitty coffee and vending machine snacks. A few moments after the door shuts behind them, Flynn cracks open an eye, and a weak but playful smile dances on his lips. He tugs the nebuliser down.
Rasps,
“Wasn’ actually sleeping.”
Eve rolls her eyes fondly. “Masterful escape plan, Houdini… They're right, though. You need to rest, sweetheart.”
Flynn’s expression wavers again. He chews on his lower lip. “Don’t quite trust myself y-yet.”
“To do what exactly?”
He looses a humourless laugh. Cocks his head, eyes shimmering with moisture.
“T’ keep breathing. D-don’t have a… a great track record to-today.”
And for a moment, his fear is bared to her, the distress radiating from him in waves.Only a matter of hours ago, he was suffocating. Though he's doing a little better now, it's hardly unsurprising that he's worried it'll happen again.
Eve cups his cheek with her palm, using her other hand to gently drag the blankets up to his chest. “I’ll make sure you do.”
“P-promise?”
“Promise.”
He exhales a sigh, and the tension slowly unspools from the tight wire of his chest. As his eyelids begin to droop, Eve positions the nebuliser over his nose and mouth again, and contents herself in watching the gradual evening of his breaths.
In out in out… in out… in out… in… out… in… out…
The heart monitor’s beeps grow less frequent, the peaks and troughs on the screen appearing at a greater distance. Eve only has to glance away once, and when she looks back, Flynn’s eyes are fully closed, his lips parted in deep sleep. She lowers her hand onto his forehead again. Smooths back his hair.
“Don’t you dare scare me like that again.” She whispers, when she's sure he's too far gone to hear her. “I love you far too much to lose you now.”
Flynn sleeps on.
She counts every breath.