Hidden Pain

By the time Tom came in with Miles’ breakfast an hour later, he’d managed to get rid of most of the evidence of his odd dream. He’d deposited the bloody blanket in a medical waste bin and had procured some bandages and antibacterial cream from an unattended cart across from his room. His wounds had stopped bleeding and he’d carefully wrapped them. Tom, thankfully, was distracted by his own chatter about the date he’d had the night before and didn’t seem to notice that Miles was using his left hand to eat.

“...man, she was wild. I mean, wild. You know what’s wild - you’re kind of like a virgin, man.” Tom went on. “I mean, you don’t remember having sex, do you?” 

“Huh,” Miles grunted, his face tilted in genuine thought. “That just doesn’t seem right, Tom.” 

“Yeah, you’re not a bad looking dude. I bet you’ve had plenty of women, er, or men, whatever floats your boat.” 

“Well, thanks Tom. That means a lot coming from a heterosexual such as yourself,” Miles laughed and was rewarded by a light punch to his arm from RN. 

“Excuse me,” a sharp, feminine voice spoke from the doorway and both men looked up to find Dr. Temple looking owlish in her large glasses, her hair now pulled into a tight low ponytail. “Nurse Lassiter, I am quite sure proper bedside manners do not include punching our patients. 

Tom flushed for a minute, “Sorry, Dr. Temple. Won’t happen again.” He turned and rolled his eyes at Miles in camaraderie before addressing him, “Let me just get these out of your way, Miles. Sorry about that man,” he said as he piled dishes back on his tray. Miles didn’t miss that as he left the room. 

“We’re releasing you today, Mr. Clark, I hope you’re ready to rejoin the rest of society.” 

“Sure, why not,” he shrugged. 

Her cold blue eyes raked over him and Miles had the urge to cover himself, though there was nothing he needed to hide, save his injured wrist, which he had been careful to partially hide under a sheet. The bandage felt conspicuous and sloppily done in hindsight. 

“Right. Well, you’ll let us know if you start remembering anything, won’t you Mr. Clark?”

“Sure, I’ll call the Psychologist. I think I have his number somewhere around here,” he patted the sides of his pocketless hospital gown, which he immediately realized was a mistake when her cold gaze shifted to his lap. 

“What’s that?”

“What? Oh this? This is...well, this is nothing,” he chuckled once. 

“Let me see.”

“It’s nothing, really,”

“I didn’t see anything in your notes about an injury on your wrist, Mr. Clark.”

“Oh, come on, Dr. Temple. Miles, please. No need to be so formal, I’m almost out of here anyway. Speaking of which, seeing as I’m not your patient anymore, I was wondering. Would you like to get a drink with me sometime?”

“You still are my patient, Mr. Clark, therefore I’m afraid I must insist that I see your injured wrist if you’d still like to be discharged.” 

Miles opened his mouth to argue, but here was no question who had the most control in the situation. 

“Fine, fine,” he began to unwrap it, but she caught his hand and took over. He was pretty sure his heart rate doubled as she unwinded the badly concealed injury. He closed his eyes as she removed the gauze, still oily from the medicated ointment he’d used. He hissed as she revealed the tender skin. The doctor remained very still, he listened for her for an intake of breath, but he heard nothing. “Look, I can explain,” he started as he opened his eyes, but she interrupted him. 

“I’ve seen this before,” she said as she dropped his wrist. He risked a quick glance at the injury, still red and weeping where the wolf had bitten deep into his flesh. 

“You- you have?” he asked, as he turned his arm over and inspected the other side. 

“Yes, sometimes patients will self harm or fake an injury because they’re scared to leave the hospital, especially after an extended stay.” 

“Okay, doc, but that’s not what happened here,”

“Mr. Clark,” she addressed him as she sat on a rolling stool and took his hand. “Miles,” her lineless face very nearly smiled “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Fear of the unknown is simply human.” 

He frowned at his angry looking wrist and then met her gaze. “Thanks,” he said, though his response was more of a question. 

She patted his bad wrist a few times and he managed to maintain his composure, though pricles of sweat erupted across the back of his neck as he swallowed the pain, “Like I said, let me know if you regain any of your memories, even something as small as, oh I don’t know...a dream that feels like it was from another life, I’d like to know, okay?”

This time she did smile, her white teeth reflected the fluorescent lighting in the room and he suddenly realized just how very unattracted he was to the good doctor. Yeesh, no wonder she didn’t smile much, it was truly a harrowing image he hoped didn’t make it into his dreams. 

“Thank you, Dr. Temple, really. I’ll-I’ll be sure to do that.”

She squeezed his hand once more, nearly sending him doubled over in pain before she stood and walked toward the door. She turned once more before she left, “I’ll have Nurse Lassiter bring you your paperwork and maybe I will let you take me for a drink when you're no longer my patient. I have your number.” 

She turned and left before Miles could react. He was grateful she was there to witness the slight convulsion his body made, either in disgust of the idea of having a drink with the woman or from pain, he wasn’t sure. Maybe both.