eric-wood
eric wood
Eric Wood || 32 || Nurse || Divorced
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beckett-harris:
Beckett groaned as she pulled up to the house. There was no doubt in her mind that trying to drive with her dislocated shoulder was a mistake that could lead to her being even more hurt, but she was too damn stubborn to let Eric come to her place and try to psychoanalyze everything. She knocked on the door, cringing in pain as it opened. “Let’s get this over with,” she grumbled, letting herself in.
@eric-wood
Hearing the knock on his door, Eric got up from the couch and went to open it. Before he could say anything or even invite her in, Beckett was already walking inside. “Hello to you too, make yourself at home.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Are you going to tell me how you dislocated your shoulder or you’re going to keep me guessing?” Closing the door behind him, he walked towards her.
House Call || Beckett & Eric
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beckett-harris:
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped, lashing out only because she didn’t know what else to do or how else to handle what she was feeling right now. She didn’t want help, she just didn’t want to be seen like this. It didn’t matter who it was. She didn’t want to to feel vulnerable around strangers. “We can just go now. It’s fine.” Without waiting for his help or him to agree, she stood up and started to try to make her way back down the hallway the way they’d come from.”
Eric backed off a little to give her space and perhaps avoid some more unintended insults. But he still stayed close behind her in case anything were to happen to her. After all, she was a patient he was looking after and despite of her bitter words and attitude, he wasn’t going to just leave her to hurt herself even more. “Take it easy,” he told her, wanting for some sort of quip back.
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beckett-harris:
She hated that something as helpful and innocent as an MRI machine could send her spiraling like this. Almost as much as she hated knowing how weak and pathetic she probably looked to the nurse and the technicians. She hated everything about it, which only made her try to push her panic down farther and hide it from him even if she was starting to hyperventilate. “It’s not too much,” she grit out the lie between her teeth even as the banging sounds of the machine reminded her of gunfire and soldier’s shouts. “I’m perfectly calm.” When it finally shut off, she scooted out as quickly as possible, shrugging off Eric’s helping hands. “Don’t touch me,” the words came out harsh, her mind still living in the past as she tried to catch her breath. “…Please…” it slipped out at the end, much quieter that the words that came before it, almost desperate as she sat there, trying to slow her breathing.
Behaviors like hers weren’t uncommon to Eric. He knew that machines like these did a number of things on people no matter what their experiences were or triggers. Though he was always there to offer a helping hand for them whether they accepted it or not. And when Beckett told him not to touch her, he took a step back to give her space. “Try to calm down,” he told her, looking at her every move and her reaction to all of it. “Whenever you’re ready we can go back to the examination room, don’t feel rushed. Just take your time.”
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beckett-harris:
Beckett was so in her own head, her eyes squeezed shut, her nails making indents in her palms, her heart beating erratically and so loudly she could hear it over the thuds from the machine, that she was startled when Eric’s voice came over the intercom in the MRI. Maybe she should have taken heart from the fact that he wanted to check on her, but instead she found herself growing irritated that the sound of his voice had broken her concentration. “I’m fine, fuck off,” she snapped. Her voice trembling ever so slightly through the irritation. “I wish you people would just leave me the fuck alone.”
Getting a reaction from her like this wasn’t new to Eric. He was used to harsher words from others and it just made him want to look out for the patients even more. “If the machine is too much for you, you need to tell us.” His voice was laced with concern, almost ready to step into the other side to pull her out but the machine wasn’t done just yet getting her scans. “Try to calm down, Beckett. It’s almost done.” Eric looked back and forth between the monitors and her and as soon as it was done, he stepped into the other room to help her out of the machine. He tried to study her but in some ways she was hard to read.
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beckett-harris:
“How do I know it was a joke? I think if I hadn’t gotten in the wheel chair, you would have been tempted to do it,” she challenged. She wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth or bullshitting her, but she didn’t know him well enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Oh yeah? What makes them so great?” she asked skeptically, her mind completely distracted up until she saw the hole she’d be stuffed in. Her stomach lurched and her palms were already starting to feel sweaty, but like hell she’d show weakness to this guy. Trying to focus on deep, even breaths, she laid down, her eyes squeezing shut. Maybe if she didn’t see the walls, she wouldn’t feel them. All she gave in answer was a grunt to show she’d listened, far too focused on trying to keep her heart rate steady. But it was no use. The second the machine started clanging in her ears, she felt like she wanted to crawl out of her skin. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands, and she tried to ignore what felt like a sudden inability to breath properly. “Come on, Bec. You can do this,” she mumbled to herself, not realizing she was saying the words out loud.
“What, you didn’t catch my amazing sense of humor?” He smirked, still trying a bit. He kind of made it a goal in his head to make her laugh or smile at least once. And hopefully it wasn’t forced. “What makes them so great?” He repeated in a question within a question. “You won’t get nurses like me most of the time, certainly not at this time of the day when they’re all grumpy and dragging their bodies across the hospital.” He told her, exaggerating just a bit for the purpose of the story. “I’ll be on the other side, you know what to do if you need me.” Eric walked over, letting the technicians do their thing would he observed Beckett from a distance. Within a couple of minutes, despite of the loud machine they could hear mumbles coming from Beckett. Eric turned on the mic to speak, “did you say something? Are you okay?”
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beckett-harris:
“Private,” she corrected. “There’s a difference. I’m not keeping any secrets.” It was partially true. At least about this. There were other things she was actively trying to keep a secret, like how she’d gotten the concussion, but this was just wanting to keep to her privacy. “If you’re not going to do something, then don’t threaten to do it,” she rolled her eyes. “So what’s the point if it’s not going to help? The brain isn’t an exact science, right? Staying here can’t really do any good.” She wasn’t trying to be mean to him. It wasn’t anything against him personally, he was just the poor sap who was tasked with making her stay somewhere she didn’t want to, and she wasn’t impressed. “You don’t need to pretend to share secrets with me. It’s not going to make me like you any more. It’s nothing against you. You’re just doing your job, and that happens to not work for me.”
Eric wasn’t going to keep pushing at her private matters. Or so she called them. There were always boundaries that had to be set and he wasn’t going to keep poking if clearly she didn’t feel like sharing much. At least what he had gotten from her, was enough to better treat her. “I wasn’t threaten it, just jokingly putting out an option like I said.” Eric had encountered many patients with multiple of attitudes, but she was something else and he couldn’t exactly read her entirely. “It wasn’t a secret. My bedside manners really are better than some people here.” He said again, finally arriving to the room and helping her to the machine even if she refused, he was still by her side until she was settled. “Alright so just lay here and don’t move. It’s going to feel like the space is tightening and if at any moment you feel uncomfortable or want to get out, just raise your hand and we will stop and pull you out. Sound good?”
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beckett-harris:
“Somewhere where I didn’t have time to watch the ten thousand superhero movies coming out,” she said vaguely, hoping he’d drop it at that. She didn’t really want to go into the whole her being a veteran thing with him. People got weird once they knew. “If you tried to carry me, I’d give you a nice shiner,” she scoffed, but slowly pushed herself up from the bed. Her muscles ached with soreness. but she ignored them and sat curtly in the wheelchair. “As long as it gets me out of here faster.”
“Secretive.” He noted with a nod of his head. “I knew that was coming so I wasn’t going to even attempt to pick you, but I wanted to lay out the options anyway.” Eric waited for her to take a seat on the chair before he started to roll her out to the room they were supposed to head to next. “It probably won’t. Now. am I really so bad that you want to get out of here so fast? I like to believe my bedside manners are way better than some doctors here,” he leaned down a bit to say it lowly and only she could hear.
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beckett-harris:
“Oh yeah, naturally. Don’t you see the family resemblance?” she gestured at her face. A poor joke probably considering how beat up she was looking right now. “I was busy abroad,” she excused. “Besides, no DC film has matched up to the old Batman films yet. And Marvel basically hits you over the head with all their stuff.” She fell silent again at his mention of her opponent, only sparing him a grunt. It was just a reminder that she’d lost that particular fight, and even more reason she needed to get back in the ring. She needed to do better. She rose a brow at the wheelchair, not moving to sit in it. “I can walk you know. This is ridiculous. I’ve got a concussion, I didn’t break a leg.”
“I think I do somewhere there.” He pointed aimlessly at her face. “Abroad? Where were you? I’ve been to Portugal and Morocco.” Not that she asked him where he’s been but Eric liked to share to make conversation with patients. “Yes, you’ve got a concussion which means you shouldn’t be on your feet. Now, get in the chair or I’ll have to carry you in my arms and I have a feeling you don’t want that.”
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beckett-harris:
“Then I guess I’m stupid,” Beckett shrugged, obviously not bothered by his thoughts on the whole thing. She wasn’t looking to make a friend or find a confidant. She’d feed him whatever bullshit she had to to make it clear she wasn’t looking for a therapist and then she’d get out of there the second she was cleared. “Michelle Pfeiffer did the same thing, and she had the edge Catwoman is supposed to have not, ripped pants and a bare mid-drift,” she rolled her eyes at his explanation. “I never actually watched the Edward Norton movie, so I guess it has to be Ruffalo by default,” she admitted. “I’m less caught up on the newer Marvel stuff.” She’d been abroad when a lot of that was coming out, but she wasn’t going to offer that up to him only for him to start poking around the why of it all. Her eyes narrowed at him, evaluating if he’d actually put her through a psych eval, but she doubted he was bluffing. “Fine. I got into a bar fight,” she lied, better than she had the first time. “A guy was coming on a little too strong and I put a stop to it. Not that that’s any of your business.”
“Are you and Michelle related in some way? I feel like you’re defending her a little too much.” It had been a while since Eric saw the movie so his arguments weren’t going to be up to par, but at least holding a conversation like this with her told him that maybe she didn’t have too bad of a concussion. “How are you less caught up on the newer stuff? It’s all over the place, you can’t miss it!” He exclaimed, shaking his head. Eric never liked telling a patient they had to do a psych evaluation because it made him sound as if he thought the patient was crazy or just unstable when they could’ve been just fine, but sometimes it had to be done to get the truth out. “If this is what you look like, he must look ten times worse.” Eric stepped out for a moment to get a wheel chair and brought back into the room. “Let’s go get you checked for that concussion.”
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beckett-harris:
“Construction,” she repeated, watching as his gaze settled on her knuckles. To her credit, she wasn’t stupid enough to try to hide them from him. “Who said the beam tried to hit me back? Maybe I thought my fists would make better hammers than the actual hammers,” she responded with a shrug, a small hint of amusement in her voice. “Oh, I think I can figure it out. Don’t get me wrong, you’re an attractive guy, and I’m sure that normally helps you with the ladies, but people love attention If they feel like they’re being heard, they’ll spout out anything and everything that’s on their mind. Add the nerves to that, and it’s no wonder you think you’re some kind of therapist.” Beckett clicked her tongue, “Halle Berry did shit in that movie, and you know it. You just like her because you think she’s pretty,” she called him out. The grin that was threatening to spread on her face immediately disappeared as he brought the topic back to her. It was abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to let the matter drop. “I did it to myself,” she said simply. It wasn’t an entire lie. If she’d just given up, she wouldn’t be in the hospital at that moment. She’d made all the choices that led her to the ring. The other fighter was just the gun. She was the trigger finger. “I know you think I need help. I don’t.”
He didn’t know if she thought he was stupid or oblivious, but Eric wasn’t buying a single thing. “Now, I would really think you were stupid if you decided to use your fists instead of a hammer.” He told her. She wasn’t wrong when she told him about people loving attention if they were being heard. Eric did listen to them, though sometimes he pretended to listen about someone’s favorite cat but he was focused on finishing his job faster to move onto the next patient and not be stuck in that kind of conversation. “I don’t like her just because I think she’s pretty. Her shift between acting like a cat back to a regular person was impressive. But if you want to have this type of conversation, who was a better Hulk Mark Ruffalo or Edward Horton?” Conversations like these gave him the chance to get to know his patients better and if this way one way he was going to get something from her then he’d accept that. “If you did this to yourself then you’d be consider a danger to yourself and we’re going to have to keep you here even longer for a psych evaluation.” Eric wasn’t buying it one bit and the sooner she saw that, the better it was going to be for both of them.
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beckett-harris:
“Construction,” she lied. “Walked right into a beam of wood.” She doubted her injuries looked anything like someone who walked into a wooden pillar, but she wasn’t trying too hard to form a convincing lie. She just wanted to get her point across that she wasn’t going to be answering his questions with any ounce of truth. “Alright, so let’s get me scanned.” Despite how it looked, she didn’t have a total disregard for her health. If she was going to go out, she didn’t want it to be because of brain damage from being stupid. “You sure the patients actually like you and they’re not just being nice in saying that?” she rose a brow in challenge, “Cuz if you ask me, you seem nosy.” She could see the appeal, but like hell she was going to let that charm work on her. She scoffed, “They’re definitely pretending. Your taste in movies is awful. Batman Returns is the superior Catwoman movie. Michelle Pfeiffer is Catwoman.” She tilted her head as he kept cleaning the cut. “You seem to have made up your mind about what’s happened to me, no matter what I say, so why don’t you tell me? What do you think’s hurting me?”
“Construction?” Eric glanced down at her hands, not seeing construction hands at all. What he saw were bruises you couldn’t possibly get from construction unless all the work was done with her knuckles. “What did you do to that beam that it hit you back, hm?” He chuckled slightly. He still wasn’t buying her lies though. “I’m sure. You have no idea how much people like to open up while they’re getting stitched up or prepped for a surgery. It must be the nerves.” Or people just liked to open up to him because despite of what it may seem at first, Eric didn’t judge whatever was told to him. “Wow wow wow, you did not just disrespect Halle Berry like that, how dare you?” Eric shook his head at her, letting out a scoff. “Someone else,” he responded. “I’ve seen my fair share of bruises and cuts, these are not work related. They were done by someone else.”
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beckett-harris:
“That’s for my work,” she lied quickly and easily, not batting an eye about it. Fighting was the only good thing she had going on in her life right now, she’d do what she needed to get back to it. “They don’t want me brain damaged and on the job. A reasonable request, I think.” She rolled her eyes when he said she’d need to stay for a few hours. “Look, I’m no idiot. I know a concussion won’t clear up that quickly just like I know it won’t take a few hours to clean a busted lip. You’re not trying to be my friend, you’re trying to stall me.” She antiseptic on the wound stung like he said, but Beckett didn’t flinch. She’d been through worse pain, both in the ring and in the line of fire. “How many of those lives have you been through? I know this can’t be your first. You’re too at east about it,” she rose a questioning brow, going along with his metaphor. “I don’t need to talk to anyone. I know what this looks like, but no one’s hurting me.”
“What do you do for work?” He asked, a simple question he asked almost every patient he saw so this was nothing unusual to ask. “We don’t want you to be brain damaged here either. Which reminds me, I’m going to have to take you up to get a scan of your brain to make sure there aren’t any hemorrhages.” Beckett was like any other patient he had before so whatever she threw at him, the attitudes or whatever she was trying to do, he remained unfazed. “Well you see,” he started, grabbing a new cotton swab to keep going with the area. “I’m very thorough with my job, one of the many reasons why people like me so much really, so I take time with my patients. After all, you do end up spending more time with nurses than doctors so.” He shrugged, flashing her a smile. “Maybe my third? I can’t remember. I’m basically like that one Halle Barry movie, Catwoman.” He wanted to believe her, but part of him just wasn’t there yet. “So what is hurting you? Because I don’t believe you’re doing this to yourself and you don’t seem like the clumsy type at all.”
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beckett-harris:
“It’s me. I’m the one who wants the signed document. Is that so hard to believe?” She stared him down, daring him to challenge her again. She knew how it looked, but that didn’t mean he deserved to know what happened. She knew the kind of trouble she could get in for underground fighting. The second she got her diagnosis, she let out an annoyed groan. “So what does that mean for me? What do I have to do to get out of here?” She was tempted to ask what she’d have to do to get assigned a new nurse. “Yeah well people were right.” Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the little smile. “You are too curious for your own good. You ever hear that curiosity killed the cat? You’re wrong if you think you’re going to bully me into giving you an answer.”
“Is it? Because I have someone else’s name of this document here,” he pointed at the chart that he was holding with his other hand. People could try and try to fool him, but Eric wasn’t stupid and he had been a nurse for too long to know every lie and trick people tried to tell him. Even if they seemed convincing. “We need to keep you for a couple of hours for observation and in the meantime, I’ll patch you up. We’ll be best friends at the end of this, you’ll see.” Eric grinned at her, putting on his gloves before beginning with cleaning the area of her busted lip. “It’s going to sting,” he warned her, dabbing the cotton swab on her bottom lip. “Did you know that cats have nine lives? I’ll take my chances. You don’t have to tell me but I can get someone else in here that you can talk to if you want. I’m just trying to do my job.”
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beckett-harris:
Beckett sized him up, taking in the scrubs and lack of a white coat before frowning. “So get him in here. I want to get out of here, I’ve got shit to do.” It was a lie. Since returning to civilian life, she hadn’t managed to find a job. She was honestly barely getting by. Fighting was the only thing keeping her sane. “Doesn’t matter how I got them. I just need to know I’m not concussed.”
“We all have something we have to do and if what you need to do is go back to whoever wants a signed document from the doctor, you’re really going to have to wait.” It wasn’t the first time Eric encountered a patient like this, luckily for the two of them, his patience wasn’t wearing thin just yet. “I’ll go get the doctor,” Eric excused himself to get the doctor. Returning back, the doctor checked her out and declared she had a concussion and leaving the two alone again for him to patch up her wounds. “Looks like you’re stuck a little longer with me here,” his lips turned up a bit, slightly amusing himself. “You know, I was always told I was too curious for my own good but I never listened to people and I’m very curious about all this.”
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beckett-harris:
She’d come to only moments before the nurse entered. Rather than letting herself stay in a daze, she became immediately alert, her eyes shifting around the room to take it in. It was obvious that she’d wound up in the emergency room. It was no surprise she’d landed there after the beating she’d gotten in the ring. Her head was still pounding from it. “That’s me,” she grimaced, pushing herself up on the the bed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. Just tell me my head’s ok and sign me off so I can get outta here.”
Eric shook his head at her comment, “no, can’t do. The doctor has to check you out and say whether or not you’re fine. But before that can happen I have to ask you a couple of questions.” Eric grabbed the chart again and took a glance over before looking up at her. “How did you get these bruises and the busted lip?”
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“Beckett Harris,” he says, more or less of an announcement than asking for confirmation as he walked inside the room. Looking up from the chart, Eric was taken aback by the bruises on her face and how rough she looked. “I’m Eric, I’ll be taking your vitals before the doctor comes and checks you out. How did you get all these?” He asked, referring to the bruises and busted lip, beginning to take her blood pressure.
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