Chapter Text
You despised going to the doctor's. If someone would ask you what your biggest fear was, they'd expect something like spiders, the dark or heights. But no, it was surgically clean, neon-white hospital rooms, white coats and medicine. It had started with the death of your parents, the visits in their hospital rooms as they were merely kept alive by machines, pronounced brain dead long ago. You just couldn't let them go. A year after, the doctors had found out about the advance directive that you kept hidden from them, forced to follow the will of your parents to not keep them attached to plastic tubes and infusions after they had died. The machines were turned off very shortly after.
Since then, the stench of death followed you as soon as you stepped onto the property of medical facilities. Shivers crept down your spine when you looked at people in white coats, pure monsters to you. Annoyed, cold, distanced. They had no mercy with you. They had even filed a lawsuit against you, leaving you to pay a high sum to the government. You knew what you did had been wrong but it had seemed no one had wanted to understand what you had went through.
Watching your parents going from the brightest and happiest people on earth to two miserable, mindless chunks of flesh was not for the weak. You had been in your last year of college, needing to take a break from your studies, not being able to continue in your state of distress. They had accepted, under the circumstances that you would be returning after no later than a year. Very generous, you had thought sarcastically when you had received the letter.
You wished to finish university, with good grades even, but grief and studying for finals mostly didn't go hand in hand. You were supposed to become a lawyer, the best one from your year. After your parents car accident, you had wanted to ensure justice all the more. The driver had been drunk, obscenely drunk, and had hit the car your parents had been in with full speed, crushing them and the vehicle in an instant. The doctors had told you that the best possible outcome would leave them both paralyzed for the rest of their lives, without batting an eye. Yet luck hadn't been on your side.
It was an experience your therapist would explain to you as trauma. The fear you would experience as soon as you had to set foot into a hospital was normal, even. Your brain tried protecting you from unnecessary harm, choosing primal safety over rationality. It almost seemed like it didn't want to think clear in such moments.
Your therapist had tried multiple strategies with you but up until now, nothing had helped. You avoided going to the doctor's office as much as you possibly could, postponing appointments to the point where they got cancelled, diagnosing yourself with the help of the internet and prescribing yourself your own pills. So far, nothing had killed you. Yet.
You knew what you were doing was risky, maybe even foolish. But here is the thing. Unlike your brain, you knew exactly what was wrong with you, what you should and shouldn't do. But there was this barrier in your way, an invisible wall building itself up anytime you tried to face your fears. It was hopeless.
Nothing could have prepared you for this day though. It all had started normally. The usual morning, trying to get yourself out of bed, almost shoving your alarm down your nightstand. A few minutes of contemplating what you were doing on this planet and what your name was again. Then, a small breakfast, a banana for energy and a coffee. You had put on your sports clothes, given yourself a pep talk in the mirror and then headed out the door to go for a run. You had started to force yourself to workout as soon as the rebuilding phase came up. Grief showed itself in its weirdest forms, after all.
You had taken your usual route, through the park close by, around the lake. It would take you approximately half an hour to forty-five minutes to complete the run, depending on your pace. Your earbuds were blasting music, a small smile on your lips. Even though running was hell, it made you feel at peace from time to time. It let you feel a regulated, calmer life than the one you were experiencing at the moment. The wind felt nice in your hair, letting you reach runner's high quicker than usual.
In your relaxed state, you hadn't looked out for obstacles in your way. You should have, it was a rocky road, after all. And so, inevitably, you had tripped over a huge root, emerging from the grass on the side of the path. You were now laying face down in the dirt, coughing and swearing. One of your earbuds had fallen out of your ear, disappearing somewhere between the blades of grass. You grunted as you tried to lift yourself up. Pain shot through your left arm, a louder curse slipping from your lips. Ungracefully, you flipped around whilst still on the ground, getting your face out of its misery at least.
As you finally got yourself into a sitting position, you inspected the damages on your body. Your shoulder and biceps hurt like hell, moving them the slightest caused you to hiss. There were multiple bruises and cuts on your arm and as you lifted your shirt, you noticed they also formed around your rib area. Luckily, your bones seemed intact at least. Your knee was badly scraped, blood pooling around the wound and dripping from your leg. As you looked closer, you winced. There was so much dirt inside the bloody mess, lots of mud and little rocks. You didn't even think of touching them and trying to remove them yourself.
When you realized how serious the situation was, tears started to well in your eyes. ''Shit..'', you mumbled under your breath. Those were serious injuries, the pain in your arm was already getting worse. Why had you been so stupid to try and catch yourself like that?! With the help of your front camera, you discovered that even your face was injured, a small cut through your eyebrow resulted in more blood streaming over your skin and a headache forming behind your skull. You groaned in pain as you tried to find your missing earbud, scrambling to your feet.
You didn't want to think of the obvious, even though your inner voice was screaming at you already. There was no way you could handle this on your own. You had to go to the hospital or to a doctor. The thought alone made you shiver and let the tears flow freely. You didn't want to go there, you just couldn't. You'd rather bleed to death on this sunny morning. When you had collected all your belongings, you stood restless on the side of the path. What the hell were you supposed to do now?
In this moment, you wanted nothing more than to run into your mother's arms, her guiding and protecting you. But she wasn't here anymore and you were an adult. You had to fix your own problems, if you liked it or not. So you took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the stinging pain in your limbs and taking out your phone which luckily survived the fall.
You looked up 'nearest Doctor's office'. This was a compromise, you told yourself. You knew you should probably go to a hospital to get you checked up but hospitals were twice as bad as regular doctors. So you would try to go there first, if they wouldn't help you, you'd make a new strategy.
As you limped through the busy city, filled with commuters and students, you tried to keep your head from racing 100 miles per hour but it was no use. Every step felt like you were glued to the concrete, having to use all your energy resources to lift your feet. Your chest became uncomfortably tight, you felt every single nerve in your body, lighting itself on fire.
After what felt like an eternity, you finally reached your destination. The pain in your left side was getting worse, and the blood was still running down your body, sticking onto your dirty runner's shorts. Pull yourself together, you cursed at yourself in your mind. Yet you needed another five minutes to ring the bell and enter the building.
You stepped into a large corridor, leading directly to an elevator. There were several doors on the ground floor, leading to other companies or offices. The sign next to the door told you that 'Dr. Gideon - Board-certified physician in general medicine' was on the third floor. Not wanting to strain your bruised body any further, you walked over to the elevator. Inside, you checked your reflection in the mirror. You truly looked awful. Your hair was a mess, there were several leaves and blades of grass stuck between the strands. Your face was a weird combination of looking pale and reddish at the same time. But you couldn't even stand to look into your own eyes, small portraits of a woman bathed in terror.
The soft ding of the elevator pulled you out of your thoughts before you could talk down on yourself any further, forcing you out of the small cabinet. Now you were face to face with a frosted glass door, the doctor's name written all over it. You wanted to cry. Why couldn't your body tell the difference between a harmless visit at the doctor's and a life-or-death situation?
You practically shoved yourself into the reception room, stuttering about how you were an emergency and that you needed medical treatment as soon as possible. She asked you for your name and insurance, filling out a small form.
''Take a seat in the waiting room. Dr. Gideon will be available soon.'', the woman at the reception said without looking up, swatting you away with her right hand like you were nothing but a stupid insect to her. With a pounding heart, and a defeated look on your face, you followed her instructions and let yourself fall onto one of the chair in the waiting room. Your fingers picked at your nail beds mindlessly while you stared at the white blank wall in front of you. You counted the seconds in your head until your name was called. It had been 394 seconds, to be precise.
As you stood, your knees were trembling and you tasted bile on your tongue. You watched the patient who appeared to be the one who had been treated beforehand pass you by, leaving the office. You wished that you could follow him, out into the sun again, to be able to breathe clearly again.
Instead, you slowly made your way to the separate part of the office where your doctor would be waiting for you. Your fingers shook harshly as you reached for the door handle, pushing it down and opening the door. Your eyes widened the second you laid eyes on the man in front of you.
He was approximately seven feet tall, his skin a grayish tone and scarred. There was a huge scar running down his lips to his collarbones, disappearing beneath the hem of his shirt. His eyes were yellow, a soft glow radiating from them. His thin hair curled slightly around his neck. You were amazed by his appearance, not being able to feel more dread than you already did. You wondered if you were already unconscious and only dreaming at this point.
It appeared he could smell the fear radiating from you. He tilted his head, watching you closely as he said your name. ''Come in. I won't harm you.'' His voice was smooth as silk, soft but slightly raspy to certain words. You shivered, though this time not in panic. You felt like he lured you in by speaking only.
Slowly, you inched into the office of that… man? You weren't sure who or what he was. But as you came closer to him, he kept a good amount of distance to you which you appreciated. Some of the doctors you had encountered before always had invaded your personal space, getting touchy in hope of calming you down but in reality, they only made things worse. But this Dr. Gideon stood about two meters away from you, presenting himself openly to you. No crossed arms, no hands in pockets, hiding medical instruments from you.
Just a very large man with a warm look in his eyes. The first thing you thought was that you couldn't have been the first anxious patient he ever had. He must have noticed by now how you were trembling and trying to hide yourself away from anyone and anything in this room. Trying not to be rude, you introduced yourself quietly, staring at the ground. No matter how kind he appeared, you wouldn't trust him that easily.
''Oh, forgive me. Dr. Victor Gideon.'', he answered with a self-deprecating smile. ''I will take care of you today. If you feel safe enough, you can sit down on the couch over there.'' Dr. Gideon pointed to the piece of leather furniture, coated in a white cloth, to prevent getting any fluids on the fabric. You gave him a simple nod, shuffling over to the couch and sitting down on the edge, always ready to flee if necessary.
''My, you pulled quite the stunt, didn't you? You must have fell hard.'', he murmured as he regarded you with an appropriate distance. ''Am I allowed to touch you? I will need to inspect the wounds further.'' Your cheeks warmed at his question. Never before had someone, especially not a doctor, asked for permission to touch you. Softly, you nodded your head, avoiding eye contact. You were suddenly very shy as he stepped closer, in range to reach you.
Carefully, he took your left arm into his large hands, his touch delicate and gentle. His skin was cool, pleasant to feel on your heated limbs. You almost sighed in relief. Dr. Gideon let his fingers run over your biceps, pressing down softly. He felt every inch of your arm before getting to your shoulder. Slowly, not wanting to rip any layers of skin, he peeled the hem of your sleeve upwards, exposing your bruised shoulder joint.
You hissed quietly as his fingertips prodded at the muscles. ''Shh, I'm almost done. You're doing so well.'' This sentence sent a shot of heat straight to your core. Your blush intensified; you didn't know you liked hearing things like this. But you wanted him to praise him again, you decided. So you tried to keep calm, to keep a straight and tough face despite the dull pain.
''You're lucky. It doesn't seem like you have broken any bones. But a few tendons feel torn in your upper arm, and your shoulder is heavily sprained. The hematomas will heal on their own, nothing dangerous.'', he concluded, then kneeling down to inspect your leg.
Even though you were sitting up and he was on the ground, his head still reached the height of your shoulders. Your mind drifted off, thinking about other body parts of him that might be as large as his hands… You quickly snapped out of your dirty thoughts as you felt his fingers around your calf, feeling your knee. He hummed softly as he observed that you hadn't broken any bones in your legs either. Yet he knew he had to be careful with what he had to say next.
''So. Good news, nothing broken. Bad news, the wound on your knee can get infected due to the dirt inside. I will have to clean the cuts before I take proper care of them.'' Dr. Gideon looked up to you.
Your heart was racing in your chest, both from the way he was staring at you and the fear of pain. He was going to poke around in your wound, putting his tools where you didn't want them. Panic settled in, making it hard to breathe. You desperately tried to calm yourself, you didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of him. But it was no use. The panic attack had already taken over, and a thin film of sweat started to form on your palms.
Although Victor was no psychologist, he was a well-studied doctor after all. He knew symptoms of panic and mental pain all too well. Seeing you like this made him feel pity. Standing up and bending down, he carefully took your face in both his huge hands, making your head look so small between them.
''Shhhh… It's okay. Breathe, you need to breathe. One breath in at a time, in through your nose, out through your mouth.'', he guided you, holding you steady. Unintentionally, your hands reached up to grasp his. At this point, the memories came back, like they always did as soon as you started to panic. You squeezed your eyes shut, gasping uncontrollably. You felt like your heart would burst through your rib cage, destroying your other organs in the process. ''No, no, no…'', you muttered under your breath, sounding like a mantra to Gideon. You were deeply trapped in your thoughts; he felt the uneasiness in your blood.
He knew this was an inappropriate thing for him to do but he couldn't have you hyperventilating and then collapsing in his office. Continuing to hold your face with his left hand, his right lowered onto the space between your shoulder blades, pressing down firmly and practically shoving you against his chest. Pressure did relief panic, at least he hoped it would work for you, too. Your face rested against his coat, tears soaking the fabric. His musk gathered into your nose, a pleasant smell reminding you of earthy tones and petrichor.
He continued to tell you to breathe, working alongside of you. You felt his chest rising and falling calmly, rhythmic even. You tried your best to focus on this, and this only, matching your breathing to his. Remembering what your therapist had told you, you reminded yourself that you were in the present, you didn't have to live through the horror of your parent's death again.
Finally, you calmed down, tears running dry and your chest feeling lighter. After a few deep breaths, you could open your eyes again. Only then you realized how close Dr. Gideon held you, you were practically snuggling against his chest. You had also ruined his coat and his black shirt underneath. Embarrassment seeped through you. ''Oh God, I am incredibly sorry. I… I totally smeared my tears and mascara on your clothes, I… I will pay for the cleaning fee, I'm-'', you rambled before the man in front of you cut you off.
''Don't you worry about my work clothes. I have plenty of those coats, you know?'' With an ironic smile, he let go off you and opened a tall drawer on the side. At least five white jackets hung inside, making you laugh. ''That almost looks like Charlie Brown's wardrobe.'', you chuckled. He had to grin at that, nodding his head. ''See? Nothing happened. The only thing that matters is that you feel better again.'' His voice was filled with such a warmth that made your heart throb.
The tall man had quite the effect on you. Sometimes, you could barely calm yourself. And he had worked a miracle in just five minutes. You felt oddly safe with him, despite his looks and his odd demeanor. ''We will get over with it in no time, I promise. If I'm too rough, you are going to tell me, alright?'', Dr. Gideon spoke quietly, searching for the tools and supplies he needed. As he turned around with tweezers, disinfectant and gauze, your stomach turned. But you trusted him, and you could speak up anytime it would become too much for you.
He also took out a bowl of clean water and some wipes before settling down next to you. The doctor prepared all the supplies on a small side table. ''This might come across unnatural but I assure you that I can work and see way better with it.'' You were about to ask what he was talking about as Gideon pulled out some sort of headgear, something you had never seen before. It contained three small lenses on the right side and a big one on the left, attached to two rough pieces of metal. There were small wires emerging from the sides, connecting tiny electric boxes with each other.
You looked at him in confusion as he pulled the visor over his head, his eyes disappearing behind it. You should think of him as weird, you thought to yourself. You should have went to a different doctor. Yet you felt so drawn to him. You had never met someone like him before. You realized that your interest in him had sparked the second you had entered his office, laying eyes on him. Everything in your mind pushed against it but you could only think about the fact that you wanted him to continue with whatever he was doing to you. You didn't want this encounter to end.
Gently, Victor lifted your leg onto his larger ones, changing the small lenses with a soft click. Behind his mask, he zoomed in on the bloody cuts. He inspected them closely, thinking a few steps ahead already. ''So, why don't you tell me something about yourself? Something you want people to know about you, something that is important to you.'' You startled, smiling nervously. ''Something about myself? Uh, I'm not that interesting…'', you mumbled, looking away.
''I'm sure there is more behind the woman who hurt herself while jogging.'', he said amused, showing his teeth. They were golden; crooked and chipped. But you liked that he was not perfect. It eased your restless mind of trying to be an overachiever in anything. And besides that, you took a liking to the way the light reflected on the surface of his teeth. ''I… I want to become a lawyer. I really want to show people there is more to it than codes of law. That there is passion, justice and equality. So much to fight for. And I want to be someone people in need can rely on. I think everyone deserve the same chance, no matter what they might have done in their past.''
As you kept talking about your dreams and desires, you didn't notice how Victor extracted each small splinter and pebble from the wound, wiping the pus and dirt away, cleaning your cuts with the water. Only as he dabbed a wipe drenched in disinfectant on the open gash, you yelped, hands immediately finding their way to his arm. With a painful expression, you hissed, trying to detach your fingers from his coat. ''S-Sorry…'', you muttered embarrassed. He just smiled at you, signalizing to keep your hands where they were. You kept your mouth closed this time, watching him do his work. You were truly amazed by how gentle his large fingers were, knowing exactly where to touch.
You two were close, you realized. You could hear him breathing, see the twirl of his lenses. But you could only focus on his hands, staring at the scarred skin, wondering how your fingers would feel on his. You kept still as he put a bandage on your knee, not daring to move. ''Yes, just like that. I am almost done.'' His praise caught you off guard. You bit your lip, trying to remain unbothered.
What you didn't know was how similar Victor was feeling. He had never seen such a stunning, intelligent woman like you, drawn in by your fear and your way of dealing with it. You were interesting but beyond scientific reasons. He liked feeling your soft skin under his rough palms, easing your pain. He would never touch you if you didn't want it, he was a gentleman, after all.
When he was done, he stood and put away his supplies, coming back with a tube of cream and a fresh gauze bandage. Silently, he pushed up your sleeve again, squeezing some of the herbal cream into his open palm. ''Might be a bit cold…'', he murmured before spreading the paste onto your shoulder, running his hand over the sprained joint. You shivered at the touch, his fingertips pressing softly into your skin. He was quiet as he rubbed the ointment in circles into your shoulder, massaging the pain away. You couldn't suppress the faint hum escaping your lips, and the soft sigh following it. You didn't see the way he clenched his jaw at the sounds you made, his touch becoming partly rougher.
But you could finally relax for the first time in months, the fear slowly subsiding in your mind and body. You wished he would never stop, his touch easing all your worries. If the last bit of dignity didn't stop you, you would have begged him to cure your fear, to relieve the heavy burden on your mind.
You swallowed the fresh wave of dread as soon as his hands left you. Stay professional, you creep, you cursed yourself. You didn't want the poor man to think you were assaulting him. Thankfully, you smiled at him as he wrapped your shoulder in the fresh gauze, stabilizing the muscles. ''This should help.'', his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke. ''If you experience any other symptoms or if the pain gets worse, you should come back for a quick check up. I'll prescribe you some pain killers, take two per day, one in the morning and one in the evening.''
In a few more minutes, he had your face cleaned and the small cut on your eyebrow disinfected. He put a small plaster on the wound, assuring you that your eyebrow would look normal again in a few weeks, making you laugh again. That was truly one of the smallest worries you were dealing with at the moment.
Then he walked over to his desk, taking out a note pad and scribbling something on it before handing it over to you. ''Do you need a ride home? I can call you a taxi if you want.''
You blushed, standing up and packing away the prescription, shaking your head. ''No, don't worry about me. I'll make my way home by foot.'' You didn't exactly want to tell the man how short you actually were on money at the end of the month. Cabs were expensive in this area of town.
He was able to interpret the polite but sad smile on your lips too easily. With a swipe of his hand, he took out his phone and dialed the number of the taxi service before you could interrupt him. ''I won't let you walk home like that. You need to rest. And don't worry about the bill, see this as an extra prescription.'', he grinned, having outplayed you.
You just stared at him flabbergasted. This was the nicest thing that anyone had done for you in a long time. ''T-Thank you… that really wasn't necessary.'' Internally, you were more than glad that you didn't have to walk home with the agonizing pain in your left leg.
Your gaze lingered a tick too long on the man's handsome face (you had decided you found him quite attractive, especially, after all he'd done for you) before you said your goodbyes and limped out of the office to wait for your cab.
You couldn't see how long Dr. Gideon stood in the door frame, watching you leave, even after you've been long gone. His forked, snake-like tongue flicked out against his lips as he tasted the smell of you in the air. He found himself intoxicated with you, craving more.
Oh, how he prayed to see you again some sunny day.