ways_infirmary | (no subject)

Doc doesn't speak until they reach the hallway, but once they do, he turns to Will, eyebrow raised and a confused expression painting his features, mixing with the hints of discomfort from pain.

"...jus' what'd she mean by buried me, anyway," he hisses, keeping his voice down.

Will keeps him moving towards the infirmary since he's not quite ready to answer that question,

"Ye'd lost a door for ten years an came back in. Ramon shot ye an ye died in Colorado with Kate, she buried ye. 'eld yer wake last week."

"Ten years--"

His voice falters and dies off.

Ramon shot you.
And you died.
In Colorado.
With Kate.

And she buried you.

His throat feels like he's just ridden through the Mojave in mid-July, tongue made of lead and unable to form words.

Held your wake last week.

She buried you.

"...Jesus Almighty."

"Aye."

Will moves Doc towards a bed and collapses into a chair, he's not sure what to say.

Doc isn't sure there's anything left to say, other than that.

He shrugs his pack and the saddlebags from his shoulder to another chair, the leather and canvas hitting the plastic with a solid thwump! sound -- in addition to the sound of his gunbelt being dropped on top of the pile a moment later.

And then he sits on the edge of the bed, putting his face in his hands.

"Fuckin' hell."

The infirmary door makes a little beep in the office when anyone goes through it. Enough to startle the sleeping doctor awake.

He removes the piece of paperwork stuck to his face, pushes back his wheelie chair and goes to the office door to see who it is.

For a moment he just stares at the pair, wondering if this is still a dream. Then he realises this is Doc as he was before, when he was young. And it looks like he's just found out what the future holds.

Unsure quite what to do, he moves over and sits next to Doc, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Welcome back."

At a bit of a loss as to what to do in this situation, he sends the infirmary waitrat for tea.

"'Preciate it," Doc drawls, still not moving his face from his hands for the moment. This is all a dream, it has to be a dream...

...it's not a dream.

He lifts his head after another moment, and glances over at Guppy.

"I ain't dead, by the way. Just wanna make that clear."

Even if he might look it, with the trail-dirty coat and the bloodstained shirt that peeks out from beneath the heavy duster, the bruises on his face and the cut over his eye.

"Yes Fry, Doc died... Daddy is sad because Doc's soul has gone on its journey, and he doesn't know if he'll see him again."
"No, you're not dead." Guppy says, suddenly breaking into a weak smile. "It's really good to have you back. Where are you hurt?"

"Probably be better off askin' me where I ain't," he admits, gingerly standing so that he can shrug the coat off of his shoulders.

It takes a moment to peel out of the duster, favoring his right arm and trying not to move it. Once the coat hits the floor, the damage begins to become a bit more clear -- a ragged tear over his right bicep, bloodstained fabric plenty of evidence to the wound hidden beneath.

"Had myself a bit of a scuffle...nothin' I couldn't handle of course," he adds, glancing at Will. The barest hint of a smirk curls on his features. "Outlaws tend t'be pretty good at survivin', right?"

Guppy glances at Will from time to time to make sure he's not about to imminently pass out or something, and winces at Doc's injuries.

"That looks nasty, lie back for me and I'll see what I can do for it. Might be able to use the fuser to help it along."

Small smile. "That's a good line, I might have to use it when I explain to Alex that you're now not dead."

Doc peels out of the bloodstained shirt, as well as his undershirt. No sense in wasting a perfectly good set of clothes.

His ribs are peppered with several freshly-forming bruises, some worse than the others. There's a bandage tied tight around his right arm, blood evident on the cloth from where he's been bleeding through, the gash a few inches long.

"Bastard got the drop on me," he mutters, gently rubbing at his wrists. There's evidence of rope burn on his skin, flesh raw and irritated as it already starts to scab over. "Wasn't in m'plans."

Guppy gets Doc some painkillers first, then gently helps clean him up. Nothing he can do for the bruises, but he gets a clean dressing to stem the blood from the arm wound until it's slowed enough to treat.

"Do you want this stitching or fusing?" he asks. "Fusing is tidier and should help the muscle, but either way you're going to have to go easy on this arm for a while."

He shrugs, slightly -- the motion hurts to do as it is.

"Fusin', I guess," he says. "Long as there's a scar later, don't want t'have t'explain not havin' one the next time I see Frank."

If he ever sees him again, that is -- but Doc has a feeling that they'll cross paths sometime in the future.

Even with the painkillers slowly taking effect, there's still discomfort. He wants a bath, and then sleep. Food and everything else can come later, though a whiskey wouldn't go unappreciated at the moment either.

(But he's pretty sure there are rules against whiskey and painkillers.)

"How about I fuse the muscle then stitch the skin then?" Guppy asks. "Fusing eliminates the scar."

Whiskey is not a good idea with painkillers, if the mun recalls correctly.

"Did you run into Kate on the way in here?" he asks a little tentatively.

"That'll do," he agrees. "So long as it don't go and git infected. I don't want t'lose the whole damn thing."

At the mention of Kate, he grows quiet for a moment.

She buried you.

"Yeah...yeah, I did."

"You're not going to lose it if I have anything to say about it." Guppy says. "I can give you a tetanus shot today, and some broad spectrum antibiotic."

He nods.

"Is someone with her?" he asks a little awkwardly.

All the injuries and the rope burn especially make Will just look grimmer,

"Aye, Bela's with 'er."

"A friend of hers," he says. "They headed off someplace else. Obviously seein' me was...a bit of a shock."

He's not sure what Guppy means by the talk of shots, but he doesn't care. As long as he has his arm, he'll be fine.

Doc glances between his two friends.

"How long I been gone? I git the feelin' it's been a while."

"Hold still for me, this will be a bit uncomfortable but it shouldn't hurt." Guppy says, getting to work with the fuser.

"You were gone a couple of weeks at first, then... well I suppose you must have come in briefly to get, er, shot, and then I think it was another week before Kate came back without you. And then... well it's probably been just over a month since then, because I explained it to Alex just before his birthday. We had your wake last week."

"Aye, been strange an ye were older an just yerself but aye. Glad ye're in one piece. Who tied ye up?"

Will just sounds tired, he's not quite sure what to feel, there's relief mixed with amazement and worry.

"Bounty hunter...held the both of us for awhile, 'til I managed t'take...took care of him."

The way Doc says the words 'took care of him' makes it pretty obvious that there won't be any pieces of the body left to find. His eyes are closed while Guppy works with the fuser, trying to ignore the strange feeling of the muscle knitting together. It's slightly nauseating, but he doesn't feel too sick.

"He came 'round lookin' for an acquaintance of ours...told 'im he could go t'Hell, 'mong other things," he adds, laughing a little. It's not bravado and he's not being cocky, either.

(It's the laugh of a man who's really not quite all there, at the moment.)

"All fused." Guppy says. "I'm going to give you a local anaesthetic for the stitches, ok?"

"'unters are always 'ard to take down. Think too much o'their coin."

The fuser is bizarre as it brings the skin together so Will watches Doc's face instead.

"I won't move," Doc promises.

He's dealt with worse before, especially the last few days. He just wants this to be done with.

Guppy gives him the local, then finishes the stitches.

"You're done." he says. "When if ever did you last have a tetanus jab?"