Flip the Boss [Flip Zimmerman]

Chapter 7: Loyalty

Flip stood in the exam room, studying the contents in all the glass jars placed in a neat row along the counter. He lifted his brows when he saw a diagram of the human nervous system on the wall.

"Hm. That's nuts," he squinted. "Looks like a goddamn maze. How the hell do they figure out which one is broken?" he asked, eyes dancing all over the picture.

You shrugged. "Modern medicine, honey. I'm sure they'll attach some kind of machine to me and light me up like a Christmas tree."

He nodded, moving over to the otoscope on the wall next to the diagram. He tinkered with it like it was a toy for a moment before you nudged him. "You break it, you buy it, mister" you teased.

He snickered. "I don't even know what the fuck it is..." he held the device up to one eye and peered through the lens. "...but I'm sure I could find a creepy use for it." He aimed it at your chest and leaned in close to examine your cleavage. You pulled away and pinched him.

There was a knock on the door before it started to open and Flip scurried to put the device back on the wall, pretending he wasn't up to anything.

The doctor walked in announced your name as a question as he peeked up from your chart and over his reading glasses.

"Yes, that's me, nice to meet you," you shook his hand and introduced Flip as your fiance.

"Dr. Pearson, good to meet you, Flip." They exchanged a firm handshake before sitting down.

Once the doctor went through his preliminary questions, and a physical exam, he felt confident that you had nerve damage but wanted to do a nerve conduction study to understand the severity of the injured nerve and whether or not to advise surgery.

You noticed that Flip's expression grew more and more concerned with every word Dr. Pearson spoke.

"So, if she doesn't get surgery, will it heal on its own?" Flip asked, leaning over in his chair to listen closely.

"As long as the nerve isn't severed, it should heal on its own with proper treatment. It may take some time, these things don't happen overnight. So it could take months or even years to heal completely."

Your stomach felt heavy. Years? It could take years to heal?

Flip also appeared to be in distress over the possibility.

You left the appointment feeling worse about you situation than before you arrived. You'd come back in a week to do the conduction study per his suggestion. Until then, he ordered you to begin treatment with physical therapy sessions.

Flip parked in the station lot and turned the ignition off, taking a minute to grab a cigarette and light it as you stared off into the distance in a daze wondering what the hell your future would be if you couldn't keep your job. He looked over at you as he cracked his window and exhaled the smoke from his first drag.

"Hey, now. Whatever is happening in the pretty little head, just take it down a notch," his hand found your thigh and squeezed. "One day at a time, sweet thing."

Somehow he was able to say encouraging words, even though he was feeling just as anxious about it all. But Flip was a master at hiding his anxiety so this was just another thing to push deep down and pretend it was no big deal.

Easy peasy.

Two hours later, you were elbow-deep in paperwork with your new assignment in... fraud. Ugh. You even hated the word. Fraud. You almost felt like a fraud at this point, having your new limitation holding you back from being the detective you wanted to be. You stood up and walked through the bullpen, frowning at your old cubicle that was now empty and awaiting its new homicide detective.