xp_logs | [Paul, Madelyn] ...you've found the right person.

Paul is a good boy and goes to get his shoulder checked out. He manages to get a smile out of Madelyn as well.

Paul took the hall over to the medlab once he'd left Nathan, limping a little as a bit of stiffness set in now that he wasn't caught up in the combat. He was slightly gritty with metal glitter and it clung to his black t-shirt and fatigues and the laces of his jump-boots. He prodded at his shoulder again, trying to determine if the damage were serious. He'd put it to the test and then Nate's 'net' of thought and metal had clipped him awfully hard.

The medlab smelled... medical. He wrinkled his nose. The smell was that of death and degradation, loss of pride and self... he'd smelled it too often in the past. Still, it wasn't the fault of the people here and this wasn't the kind of place he was thinking of. This was dedicated to making people stop hurting. He looked around for whichever doctor was on call.

"Hello?"

A woman with reddish-blonde hair wandered out of one of the rooms, looking intently at a clipboard in her hands, but then glancing up at Paul. "Yes?" she asked, then took in his rather sweaty and sparkly appearance.

"Well, aren't you festive? Were you looking for someone in particular? I'm Dr Bartlet, although Madelyn is what I prefer."

"No one in particular," Paul said, shrugging and then really regretting it. "I'm Jean-Paul Beaubier. I was just looking for the physician on call." He held out his hand in greeting.

"Then you've found the right person. Pleased to meet you." Madelyn shook Paul's hand with a firm grip, and then eyed him carefully. "Left shoulder, right? Follow me, the exam room's right this way."

Paul followed her, feeling a little sheepish. In the room, he obediently wriggled out of his t-shirt and tossed it on the gurney before sitting down. He had more than a few bruises and welts, almost all of them fresh, none of them very serious except for the blackening around his left shoulder. "Just a few bad hits," he explained, poking hard at the mess. Ouch. He did it again promptly. "They added up more than I was expecting."

"Stop poking it. That's my job," Madelyn told him, pulling a tray of equipment over to the table and switching on the overhead light. Medlab had been prepped - and unused, apart from Madame Colbert - since the softball game, and Madelyn was glad of the chance to actually do something. She examined the shoulder, testing the range of movement and the amount of swelling. "And yes, this has definitely added up. Danger Room?"

Paul nodded. "Nathan and I went a few rounds. I was testing his telekinetic shielding and discovering that I've gone soft on flying fast in a tight space. Got myself fairly schooled in the second half of the game," he said, sounding far more pleased than disappointed. "Don't think I separated it. Definitely didn't dislocate it. That's got a totally different sound. This was a crunch, a couple times, not a grind and thunk."

"The joint's moving all right, so I think you've got mostly soft tissue damage here. Nothing some anti-inflammatories and maybe a steriod shot can't deal with. There's nothing you're allergic to, is there? I'm afraid I haven't had a chance to go all the way through your file. Iceland sort of interrupted my schedule." Madelyn said it flippantly, but there was a slight edge to her voice. To cover for it, she moved to where they kept the cold packs, and pulled one out, activating it with a brisk punch and laying it on Paul's shoulder. "Hold this while I get that shot ready."

Paul held the cold pack in place obediently. "Allergies? American politics makes me break out in hives but I find that some decent wine and switching to the BBC usually clears that up." He gave Madelyn a mischevious grin when she looked over at him. "Not to anything you'd be giving me, no, to answer your question."

She rolled her eyes at him, but seemed to relax marginally. "Nice to see you didn't break your sense of humour," she said, drawing up the shot and grabbing a swab to rub a spot on his bicep sterile. Small flecks of metal adhered to her gloved fingertips. "Isn't it a little early for Christmas?" she asked, brushing a spot clean before wiping it down with the swab.

"Nathan did it," Paul said reflexively, sounding seven for a moment. "Just as a warning," his voice dropped back into normal adult tones, "you're going to have to use some muscle to get that in. You might want to try a scalpel or something to break my skin. Sorry. Had the same doctor for more than ten years, didn't think to say anything."

Madelyn raised her eyebrow, but said nothing as she exchanged needle for scalpel. She poked gently at his skin with the tip, then exerted more pressure as the sharp blade did nothing to Paul's smooth skin. Finally a small spot of blood welled up, and she wiped it away before picking up the syringe again and injecting the steriod into his arm. "I'm definitely behind on my reading," she said, taping another swab over the top of the small wound with an apologetic look.

"Evidently, but it's not important," he said. He was really going to have to give up shrugging. It was an indelicate gesture, a weak one, and he did it a lot, apparently. Ouch. "It's been hectic. If there were any red flags, you'd have seen them."

"True. And you're mature enough to let me know everything from the start, which helps a lot. You'd be amazed at how some people seem to think all doctors are telepaths." Madelyn unlocked a cabinet and pulled out a small white bottle of ibuprofen. "Take a couple of these every four hours or so," she instructed, taking the cold pack so Paul could take the bottle. "And if the shoulder's still bothering you beyond your normal healing times, come down and see me again and we'll do an x-ray, make sure there isn't any joint damage I've missed."

"Well, you know, I had to channel my maturity somewhere." Paul took the bottle from her, smiling. "It was really interfering with my social life. I'm glad someone's benefiting from it, though." He picked up his shirt. "You can be sure I'll be back if it's not clearing up. I like my body working, I use it all the time."

"Well, as ghoulish as it may sound, being glad of someone else's pain, it's good to be doing something. Waiting..." Madelyn pulled off her gloves, smiling a little at the shower of glitter Paul had left behind. "Well, it's something else we doctors have to do a lot, but it never gets easier."

"I'm terrible at waiting," Paul admitted, gauging whether or not to try and put his shirt back on before heading upstairs. He settled for not, tucking part of it into the back pocket of his pants. "I think they'll be okay. It's just the small odds that bother me. But those? Those could happen anywhere." Especially here, he thought.

"Up until a few months ago, I thought magic was Harry Potter and Buffy," Madelyn said. "The medical background doesn't allow much for healing spells and love potions. So it's all a bit hard to grasp sometimes. But Moira trusts Doctor Strange's analysis, and he seems certain they'll come back, so I'll have to accept that, small odds or not."

"They'll be back." Paul's voice and expression were calm and certain. "Maybe not soon, but they will be."

"They will," Madelyn agreed, but there was a lightening of her spirits in the face of Paul's certainty. "And you should probably go and clean up before Clarice sees you and gets ideas. Girl's got a glitter obsession." Throwing her gloves in the trash, Madelyn gave Paul a smile. "Before all this happened, there was talk of us staff types exploring the big bad world out there. When things settle, care to join me at Harry's? I believe there's a nifty substance called 'beer' I've been wanting to try out."

"Given that Clarice has been hiding in my room, I think she'll find out. It's okay, I am all in favour of her glitter obsession. It's a drab world out there." He plucked at his dull, practical black pants as an example. "As for Harry's, any time. Just let me know, I'm a firm believer in helping people learn to relax. And speaking of that, I'd better get back to my room, Nate's meeting me up there to discuss the destruction of private property and other field trip ideas."

Madelyn shook her head. "As long as you keep the contusions down," she said, with a wry smile. "No dropping buildings on each other's heads."

Paul paused in the doorway, expression genuinely disappointed. "Bits," he said, compromising. "Just bits and pieces. I promise." He gave her a wave with his good hand as he pushed the door open with his hip.