Say My Name [ Teacher-Student Romance -- Robert Downey Jr ]

Ch.73 - Visceral Pain

She drifts off again, lost to her unbearable desire to rest her perturbed brain. Huffing out a tempered exhale, losing her contact in the present world when she catches a few more pained exchanges.

"I've known my friend, who's sick and in pain right there, for a good chunk of time now, and known you for about as long. Now I see this new news between her and my professor. You know how grossed out I feel seeing you touching her like that?"

George scolds Izzie, saying it doesn't bother him, but quietly Robert drops his caring caress. His submissive words, provoking only the smallest of a rebelling tone, overwhelmed by embarrassment. "It's more than what it looks like."

"It looks like a man of power, a grown man, and a nineteen year old girl who's been traumatized since before I befriended her. Who shutters when I bump my elbow into hers, or the slightest graze.... Have you--Are you the reason she fears being touched?"

Lost in her confused state of fatigue, she heaves a dry sound, trying to empty her lungs but nothing comes of it. Time goes by, more muttering but she's beyond it. Can barely prick it with a pin when it passes her comprehension. She feels bruised, everywhere, and with all her strength she still can't quite manage to roll into Robert's body situated by her side. Trying to speak and enunciate her comments, but she can hardly articulate the modulated words past her semi-conscious state.

"As much as I want to agree with you Iz, I honestly think it should be Mr.Downey who helps her." George, off somewhere out of sight, but close. Close and worried. "Patient comes first, and Mr.Downey is the only one Charlotte seems able to stand touching her."

Vibration on an oak table, thrums a callers melody, too loud in the purposefully quietened room. "Shut that thing off before it wakes her." And that's Izzie's voice.

"No, no, it might be Terry--" Roberts shifts beside her, so hushly quiet as he speaks. "She might have news of some kind, maybe. Or an apology, an invite, something. George, take it out in the hall." There's shuffling, then a distant click and the mumbled hello behind a closer door.

Charlottes just, she's just so tired and done with it all. She's hurt and in pain, cold and shivering and numb because Molly might be dead. Dead and gone, and here she's lying down unable to get her wits back about her. She just, it all hurts. Everywhere. Her leg, her head, and her heart.

"...had a bad day, I understand. From what little you've said, it sounds like it's been horrible and I know I'm not making it easier. I know you're a good guy, you care about us students, but I'm her friend first and this is my job to worry about her, okay?" Theres silence, and then she continues. "She can sleep for a few hours but then we need to get her eating and medicated. Check her out some more. I set out a change of clothes for her on the chair there. They might be a bit big but they're comfy and clean."

"Okay, yeah." Pulling strenuously from her consuming fatigue, willing herself into awakening. "I can take her back to my place too if this is too weird or whichever."

The blonde doctor-to-be stands behind Charlottes gaze. The opposite of where she had been before. "It's fine, it's what we do--care for people. Stay as long as you want. I'll give you guys some... privacy." There's an on-suit bathroom just off beside a bunch of colourful clothes slumped in a pile in the corner. Just off from there is a vertical mirror leaning diligently against the wall, suddenly transfixed with the half shadowed tortured gaze staring back at her through the reflection--and it's not her own. "If you need either George, Alex, or myself, we'll be a holler away."

Robert's eyes seem to deepen, staring at her with a damaged love. "Thanks Izzie." Twisting to face Izzie behind them, moving tightly, firm and taut. A hand comes back to resting along her side, fiddling a tender swirl across her stomach. Maybe an absentminded act, but it brings comfort to Charlottes perspired form.