Psi War: Obscura | Jean Grey

[xp_erverse]

Jean receives a new patient who, despite displaying unusual symptoms, seems to be in a good humor.


The nurse twirled her hair around her finger and laughed softly to herself as she left the room and headed down the hall, almost bumping into the approaching doctor. "Oh, Doctor Grey! Uh, here." She handed a clipboard with an intake chart to the other woman. "Patient's ready for you."

Jean skidded to a stop, grabbing the intake chart. "Thanks," she said with a smile, glancing over the records as she made her way toward the patient's room. It'd been fairly typical the past few days, thankfully...or at least she told herself. Sometimes she craved a bit of excitement (as long as everyone lived, with no lasting effects).

Knocking on the door, Jean stepped inside.

"Mr....Matthews? I'm Dr. Grey," she said, making one more glance at his chart before she got a better look at the patient.

"You don't look very well, Mr. Matthews. What seems to be the problem?"

"According to WebMD, everything. Literally everything. Including Black Death. That's when I decided self-diagnosis wasn't my best plan." He gave her a wan smile, unconsciously scratching the inside of his wrist. "I've been feeling like crap for... uh... what year is this?"

Jean laughed. "I'd rather you tell me. That way we can measure your cognitive function," she said. He looked abnormally pale, and his skin glistened with sweat, even though it was 68 degrees in the room.

"Do you mind if I check your temperature?"

"It depends how you want to. I might need a drink first. Is there a jazz bar in this hospital?"

"Sadly, no," Jean said, glancing over to check his pulse rate on the monitor. It seemed unusually high for someone just laying in bed. There were a number of factors that could've caused the elevated pulse, so she had to rule everything out.

"Are you in any pain, Mr. Matthews?"

"Mostly tired... like one of those flu bugs that just leaves you drained all the time. Or a hangover, although after this long, I'm pretty sure I'd be both bankrupt and, well, dead of alcohol poisoning."

"Hmm," Jean nodded in acknowledgement, pulling out a thermometer from her jacket pocket. It was one of those ones that didn't need to go into the mouth.

"I need to take your temperature. The nurse checked it earlier, but we want to see if there's any change."

"Sure. Um, if there is, it is totally whatever is making me sick. Totally."

Jean laughed. "It's a symptom, not a disease. Fevers are the body's way of fighting off an infection. It means there's something in there that it wants out," she said, reaching up to run the thermometer gauge across his forehead.

"102," she said quietly, shaking her head.

"Your chart says you've been feeling weak and you have body aches. Are you still feeling those?"

"Yeah. I've been going through Tylenol like Tic-Tacs and it doesn't seem to get any better. Worse, I've been sleeping really badly. I'm lucky if I get a couple hours a night."

Jean nodded thoughtfully. She had a few ideas, but she'd need to take his blood to figure it out. His condition vaguely resembled the ones that were caused by the "cursed" emeralds that were going around. She'd check the clothes he was brought in with just to make sure, but he didn't seem to have one on him so she was keen on ruling it out.

"I'll get the nurse to do some blood work, see if we can rule out infection. In the meantime, I recommend that you stay overnight for observation."

"Well I had a marathon scheduled but because you asked so nicely..." He eased himself back with an audible groan. The hollows around his eyes were dark and deep. "I suppose a night in bed is a much better plan."

Jean laughed. "We don't have the best beds, but we have impeccable turn down service," she said, closing the chart.

"What were you planning on watching?"

"I think Breaking Bad might be asking for it. What would you suggest I petition the Gods of Netflix for?"

Resting her elbow on the back of a nearby chair, Jean was contemplative.

"Are you a fan of Stephen King and Steven Spielberg?"

"Are you implying that I'm somehow anti-Steven? I mean, if you're a Seagle, you're right, but I like other Steves." He started to count off on his fingers. "McQueen. McGarret. Austin. Universe." He gave her a sidelong smile.

"Wonder?" Jean mused. "You have good tastes then. I'm guessing you've probably seen Stranger Things, then, with it being the love child of the two."

"Of Stevie Wonder and I? I'm not sure that's the connection I see."

Jean smirked. "I meant King and Spielberg. I don't know enough about you to have made that connection between you and Mr. Wonder."

"Well, to be fair, I only have a couple of albums. But I have watched Stranger Things. Suggestion number two, doc?"

"Hmm," Jean tapped her chin. "I've played my generally unilateral favorite. Now I'll have to get more information about you before I can make an informed recommendation. For example...what do you do for living? And what do you like to watch?" Jean herself, being a doctor, had a love/hate relationship with medical dramas.

"I got to be honest, I'm kinda terrified about what might happen. So I'm thinking of watching old Friends episodes. Do you think we could share a coffee watching one before you need to move on?"

Silent a moment, Jean smiled. "I really need to get back to my rounds. But it was lovely to meet you," she said.

"That's fair. Thanks for the talk, doc."

Jean extended her hand for him to shake. "You're welcome," she said. Her smile lingered.

"I'll be back in to check on you a little later on. Anything happens between now and then, tell the nurse to page me and I'll be here right away, okay?"

"Wow, a Doctor and an internet connection repair woman? That's quite the resume." He said as he shook her hand.

Jean grinned. "The medical kind of problem," she said, tapping the Caduceus symbol of two snakes intertwined around a staff, with wings sprouting from the top, embroidered on her lab coat beside her name.

Her grin turned into a smirk. "But you'd be surprised."