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clarionglass · 6 months ago

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here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

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sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine?

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait!

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him.

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs.

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look.

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace.

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign.

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm.

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity.

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor.

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief.

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling.

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!”

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him.

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage.

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps.

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break.

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope.

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still.

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall.

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed.

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw.

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

#game master #sam reich!master #doctor who #dw #dropout #game changer #you know what let's chuck some character tags in here #15th doctor #the master #sam reich #brennan lee mulligan #grant o'brien #kaylin mahoney #clari speaks #clari writes #ah darlings i'm putting my chat down here rather than in the post body for once #so i've thought of this whole saga as 'part three' but i will be a) titling them all and b) just keeping on numbering the parts sequentiall #rather than 'part three part one' etc #otherwise we're getting into homestuck act titling territory and that is ground i do not wish to tread #also fuck i hope i've got the time zones right #i'm planning to post this when an episode of game changer would ordinarily be released. to plug the gap. to tide us over.#(the finale trailer is so delightfully unhinged and i cannot wait til next week)#anyway gang this one was wild #the slight but significant genre shift from 'game changer with doctor who elements' to 'doctor who with game changer elements'#it was fun to write! and hopefully fun to read :)#also i MUST say that eugene northernfireart has a baller comic in the works that this entire thing is based on #this is thousands of words of setup and continuation because the sketch idea was so good it possessed me #and we decided that it had to be a proper dw episode #(hey rtd hire me pls)#anyway eugene is on hiatus bc of life so in the meantime go give him love and be Fuckin Hyped for the comic when it appears bc i know i am

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skyloftian-nutcase · 8 months ago

Note

Writing prompts! I'm sending them individually to make it easier to answer all or a few or none of them. They all turned out to be LU in Healthcare oops

When Hyrule is on a call and the patient is awake and alert enough to be scared, how does he help?

EMS calls had phases to them.

The first phase, of course, was getting dispatched, and responding to the scene. It was typical for emotions to run high immediately, for the adrenaline to spike, and everyone reacted differently. Hyrule usually ran scenarios through his head, easing his own anxiety by preparing himself based on the dispatch information. It wasn’t much, especially since dispatch could have faulty details, and he was more than happy to wing it… but it kept his mind preoccupied.

Mo’s usual response was to get aggravated. He would judge the dispatch information, would get irritated whenever a driver messed up and did something reckless. The man’s compassion was quiet and immense, but his stress came out in snappish quips directed at situations and nonexistent people.

The third phase began with their arrival. This was usually when they would figure out what they were actually dealing with.

A dispatch for chest pain meant Mo drove and Hyrule led. The secondary indicated a male in his 40s with severe chest pain and difficulty breathing. It couldn’t really get more cut and dry than that, Hyrule supposed. They had to drive to the central train station, which complicated matters. Hyrule had to agree as Mo grumbled about the situation - he hated crowded scenes.

As the pair walked inside with a stretcher loaded with supplies, they were directed to a secluded area, which surprised Hyrule. He was far more accustomed to people bunching up to stare, getting in his way and making his skin crawl. Instead, they were ferried into a small room, and Hyrule’s senses immediately went on alert at the sight of security guards.

He supposed one of the security members was the patient, then.

But no, because it was clear who the patient was, and his lack of security uniform was not the first thing Hyrule noticed. It was his grayish complexion, the sweat beading his forehead, the scrunched up expression of focus and agony fighting for control. It was the way the man was carefully rocking back and forth between leaning back and clutching his chest and leaning forward to open his airway because he couldn’t breathe. It was how silent he was, eyes piercing through the table in front of him as he fought with all his might with how he was feeling.

This man was sick.

Mo sensed it too, and immediately started to guide the stretcher in time with Hyrule as they reached the patient. Mo prepped the monitor to get the man’s vital signs and do an EKG to look at his heart while Hyrule assessed him and spoke to him.

“Hello, sir,” he greeted, eyes looking the man over. “What’s going on?”

“These gentlemen are being too dramatic,” the man wheezed, sharp eyes burning into the security guards. “I’m fine.”

The statement was so ludicrous even Mo stopped what he was doing to throw the patient a look.

“You sure don’t look fine,” Hyrule noted.

“That’s what we said,” one of the guards piped up. “His friend called us over because he nearly collapsed.”

Hyrule glanced around. “Where’s your friend?”

“I told him to get on the damn train,” the patient grumbled. “Which is where I should be.”

“Let’s make sure you’re okay first,” Hyrule advised him. “It won’t do you any good to board that train if you die before you reach your destination.”

Given the man’s attitude, Hyrule expected some kind of scoff or angry response, but instead, the man bit his lip, showing fear. A pang of sympathy went through the paramedic, and he put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Let’s just see what’s going on, okay?”

The man watched him a moment, saying nothing, eyes searching for something, and then he squeezed them shut, chin tilting down as he nodded.

“When did this start?”

The patient hesitated before answering. “It’s been going on for an hour or two. Just got much worse when were climbing the stairs.”

Alarm bells continued to ring in Hyrule’s mind as he listened. Time is heart tissue repeated over and over. He felt his own heart beat faster as the monitor collected information.

HR 118. BP 92/44 with a MAP of 60. RR 28, SpO2 89%, and the EKG…

ST elevation. Leads II and III, with reciprocal depression in V4. Shit.

This man was having a heart attack. He’d been having one, and he was going into shock.

“Sir, it looks like you’re having a heart attack,” Hyrule informed him as he and Mo moved into action, getting him oxygen through a nasal cannula that could also read capnogrpahy, moving bags off the stretcher so they could quickly get him on it. “Have you had one before? What kind of medical history do you have?”

The patient watched him a moment, growing paler, and then he squeezed his eyes closed yet again, trying to calm himself. “I smoke. Nothing else. Doc mentioned high blood pressure during the last exam, but he said cut the cigarettes and the stress. Didn’t need meds yet. I don’t take anything.”

“Any medical allergies?”

“No.”

“Have you taken anything for this pain?”

“Aspirin,” the man answered with a huff. “I started carrying it just in case.”

“Good thing,” Hyrule commented, patting him on the shoulder lightly. “We’re going to take good care of you, okay?”

Mo had the stretcher ready and in front of them, with the monitor behind the back of the cot. Hyrule shoulder the go bag and oxygen tank while assisting the patient to stand, pivot, and sit. The less strain on his struggling heart, the better.

Security helped clear a path for them as they moved quickly. Hyrule already had his phone in hand, telling the ER to call a STEMI alert. Once they were inside the ambulance, Mo helped Hyrule secure everything and then quickly went up front to drive them out of there. Hyrule grabbed defibrillator pads, placing them on the man’s chest.

“Are those necessary?” The man asked, far more out of fear and dread than anything else.

Hyrule tried to find a balance, tried to reassure the poor man as he moved. “They’re just a precaution. Right now I don’t see a big indication for them, but I like to be ready.”

As he moved on to start an IV, he worked on trying to distract the man. His oxygen saturation had improved with the oxygen, but his blood pressure was still low. Too low for nitroglycerin, which was contraindicated in an inferior MI anyway. Hyrule didn’t have many treatment options, and he hated that. He’d tentatively give fluids. The MAP was still survivable, but barely.

“You from Castle Town?” He asked with a small smile as he put the tourniquet on the man’s arm.

“No. Well. I was.” The man answered, watching him work before swearing under his breath and staring at the ceiling. “I’m supposed to be going home. This was my break from work.”

Hyrule struggled a bit to comment on that. He tried, “Well, once the hospital patches you up, you’ll be able to go home in better condition than you would’ve.”

“You mean alive,” the man remarked bitterly, huffing, “God certainly does like to fucking test me. But if he doesn’t kill me, my wife and daughter will.”

Hyrule was about to ask about them, but the patient picked up on his attempt and waved him off. “Please, just do what you need to do.”

Hyrule obliged him, thankful for the silence to focus. He got the 18G IV in the man’s forearm—for being a smoker he had very good veins and toned arms. He at least kept in shape in that regard.

As Hyrule ran out of things to do aside from observe, he grabbed his computer to collect information. He got the man’s name and date of birth, home address, basic medical information. He called the hospital and updated them.

Mo got them to the ED in record time. The pair quickly unloaded the stretcher and went inside, where charge told them to go to one of the major rooms. A group of three or four people was waiting for them, including Warriors and Legend and Twilight and an emergency physician, as well as a cardiologist. Hyrule gave his report quickly as they moved the patient and wished the man luck.

As he exited, he sighed, feeling the tension drain out of his body. They got him there alive. That was a victory. He hoped the hospital could help him.

“Hey Rulie!”

Hyrule turned and smiled as he saw Wild. “Hey! I thought you weren’t released to go back to work until next week?”

“Eh, I passed the last exam with flying colors,” Wild shrugged with a satisfied smirk. “I heal pretty well, you know.”

The crash flashed in his mind again. The blood. Wild’s broken body. Hyrule’s smile grew a little strained. “Please don’t strain yourself.”

“I won’t,” his friend replied sincerely. “I promise.”

Movement caught his eye, and Hyrule looked beyond to see Warriors and Twilight pushing the stretcher with his patient into the hall, likely heading for the cath lab. He was honestly surprised he himself hadn’t been directed to take the patient there directly.

Wild turned as well to look. “You brought him in?”

“Yeah,” Hyrule answered quietly as the man caught sight of him, pained, tired eyes scanning him before stopping at his companion.

The man jolted up, nearly ripping out an IV in the process. Hyrule jumped, startled, and watched Twilight fight the man to lie back down. He stepped forward, eager to help and soothe the man, who had mostly been reasonable for him. Wild stayed frozen in place.

“Abel, it’s okay,” Hyrule assured him. “They’re gonna help you.”

“L—Link—” the man said, arm reaching beyond Hyrule.

How did he know his…?

He wasn’t talking to Hyrule, was he?

Hyrule turned hesitantly, and saw that Wild was nearly paler than the patient. His eyes were glazed over in that familiar look, that look that the medic knew now to recognize.

Hyrule quickly went to his friend while Warriors and Twilight both held down the patient, who was hurried out of the ED while breathlessly saying all their names over and over and over, his voice growing steadily weaker.

#you ask skye answers #lovely bluevaractyl #lu in healthcare #lu hyrule #do I have a tag for Mo??#lu mo #🤷🏻‍♀️👍🏻#lu wild #abel #writing #guess who’s making a guest appearance?? :D :D :D #Skye time travels through the queue

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