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[October. For some people it means horrendous curses and nightmares keeping them awake. For Chase it means a horrendous work schedule and not enough sleep for nightmares to invade. At least in the ICU most of his patients are too out of it to talk about the trauma, and Chase himself gets by by treating the symptom and not dwelling on the cause, in most cases.

There are some patients, though, who make clinical distance that much harder.

He's escaped the wards for now, having allowed himself the reward of non-hospital coffee, and he's drinking it in the reception, flicking through one of the magazines left out for relatives playing the waiting game, and generally trying to look as little like a doctor as possible.]

[Some patients are more troublesome than others. Penny tries not to be--she really does--and, up until about two hours ago, she had been an exceptionally well-behaved patient. But the psych ward made the mistake of allowing certain patients to keep their network devices, and Jimmy's reanimation prompted Penny to sneak out. She had to make sure he was really okay. It's the least she could do after getting the poor guy killed.

The sneaking out had been pretty easy. Now that she's been compromised by guilt for leaving the hospital and unexpected panic-sex with Jimmy--that really been a part of the plan, and neither had post-sex sobbing--her re-entrance is slightly less ninja-like.

And Chase is right there at the reception desk.

Penny considers running away crying--it seems like a reasonable option to her, which doesn't say anything good about her state of mind--but, instead, she straightens her cardigan (she was spared the indignity of a hospital gown and allowed to have some of her own clothes delivered) and keeps on walking. Maybe if she acts like this is what she's supposed to be doing, Chase won't notice her.]

[He's always noticed her.

She gets a little way before the flash of red and colourful patchwork of clothes she wears catch his eye, though. And he pauses and glances in the direction she's come from, taking a second to catch up. It's not that she couldn't check herself out if she wanted - though there are a number of them who'd be loath to let her go home alone. Just that, from what he'd heard, she hasn't exactly been ready.

And he hasn't seen enough of her to be sure. He's been busy, yes, but he's also kept away for reasons he doesn't even admit to himself. Something happened and he wasn't there. And if he had been, there's no guarantee she'd have come out of it so (relatively) unscathed.

But she's not unscathed, not when that relative aspect is taken from the equation. And he wasn't there.

He swallows his coffee, drops the magazine, and catches up with her, quietly assessing her without making it clear that's what this is.]

Needed to clear your head?

[At least she's not detached--emotionally and mentally--like she was the previous night. That had morphed into panic bordering on hysteria by the time Wilson had escorted her to the hospital and convinced her to check herself in. Honestly, she hadn't thought about Chase; fear and anxiety and guilt and sedatives did a fine job of keeping her from thinking about much of anything for several hours.

The sedatives, at least, have worked themselves out of her system. The rest, not so much. Her reaction to the noise of Chase's magazine hitting the desk makes her turn around and freeze, clearly frightened.

And even though she relaxes incrementally and gives Chase a sheepish smile, her palms are sweating, her heart is racing, and she feels awful for leaving without telling anyone. What if Chase had been worried?

Occupied by this thought, she stumbles over an answer.]

Ne--yeah, I guess so. Head clearing. I haven't--you haven't been looking for me, right?

I didn't know I had reason to. [Though now he's worried. She can't hold a sentence together and looks like she's facing the headlights of an oncoming eight wheeler. He doesn't even need to check her pulse, he can see it, too quick at the base of her throat.]

You should probably take it easy for a while. [No comment on the fact she's sweating through pallid skin.] The stuff you've been taking can leave you unsteady on your feet.

[And he holds out an elbow, though she might need more than that to steady her.]

Edited 2013-10-20 01:41 (UTC)

[She's all too eager to take his arm. See, this is one of the reasons she adores Chase so much: he makes her feel safe. Safer, anyway. The whole month has been nothing but tension and mirror monsters and understaffing at the centers and Jimmy being an idiot and dying when a maniac went after her. Even though she saw Jimmy, confirmed that he was alive and well--intimately--she can still see him with his throat ripped out, covered in blood. And to think that she had just had sex him, with these kinds of images running around her head... how sick is that?

Penny has, while thinking, tightened her grip on Chase's arm considerably, and it occurs to her rather belatedly that he's probably expecting her to reply.]

I'm okay. There's just--there's this, you know, [she gestures to her neck where a ring of bruises that form a bite shape stand out starkly] and this whole month has just been...

[She can't think of an adjective. Best move along.]

Sorry--for leaving, that is. I was going back to my room. Really.

[He doesn't object to the vice she's got his arm in, only concerned that she wouldn't normally cling so tight. but she's right, nothing this month is normal, and the circle of purple and blue round her neck is only a reminder. One that makes him set his jaw hard even while he keeps his voice soft.]

Hey, no one's trapping you here. We'd just like to keep you company for a while. Kind of sucks to deal with months like this on your own.

[And there are lights on and people in the corridor all night. No mirrors in the rooms.]

Let me walk you back?

[It's not really a request. He can feel how wobbly she is.]

I know. I still should've... I don't know. I don't want to leave here yet.

[The hospital is a good place to go to escape nightmares. All of the lights and people in the world wouldn't be able to chase away the sight of Jimmy with his throat torn out and the knowledge that he died for her. And even though she knows that she needs to get back to the Centers--they are shortstaffed--she's afraid to go. To be alone, or in the dark, or out where something like this could happen again.]

Thanks, Chase. [Her grip doesn't let up much. Chase is a solid anchor that she needs to stay attached to.] I'm sorry. You should be doing your... whatever you were doing. I'm so sorry.

I was drinking coffee. I'm done now.

[There's no telling her not to apologise. She's been turned on her head by the last few days but nothing could change her that much. No need to argue about who's imposing now. Not when his first priority is checking just how steady on her feet she is on their slow path to the elevators.]

And later I figured I'd stop by the Welcome Centre and check your various animals and other strays are being fed properly. Unless that's what you were doing?

Oh... okay.

[As long as she's not interrupting. Penny is shaky, but her legs are doing a relatively acceptable job of keeping her upright (at least with Chase to lean on) and her panic is subsiding--

--right until Chase mentions the Welcome Center. She hadn't even thought about feeding her various strays, just about the state of the centers in general. That's not like her; she doesn't like how easily it was for her to forget about what's supposed to be her primary focus.]

I wasn't! I forget to--oh, geez. I was so worried about Jimmy that I just... but would you? Stop by? If it's not a huge deal. Please?

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