Feeling Drained

With all things considered, today had been a fairly quiet shift, especially for the night shift. There had been a simple traffic accident (some silly kids on motorcycle) without anything serious (a few broken bones, suspected concussion) or any mortalities, and there had been a issue with Wolfsbane exposure that was quickly resolved without much in ways of complications. Bastian has been lucky.

Don’t jinx it, he thought, as he went to retrieve his things from the locker for the walk home. If everything continues the way they do he’d be able to go home, eat, study for that Biochem lab, and maybe even call up Cazimir. After all, his first class tomorrow was only in the afternoon, so he had plenty of time.

He was just about to unbutton his shirt when one of the emergency nurses - Jen? Something like that? - barged in.

Great. You jinxed it.

“Schwarz? We could use a little help here.” She said. Sighing, Bastian followed her into the emergency ward, where most of the staff were preoccupied with the victims of some sort of power accident. “Man in his 30s. Vampire feeding accident. No more blood’s being lost right now - he’s a healer. Hypovolemia. Shock suspected. 87/55 BP, 150 heart rate.”

The patient already had a IV (Hartmann’s?) running into the arm when Bastian got there, pulling on a new set of gloves. Jinwoo was setting up a warm line. “Schwarz. Good to have you. Do a consciousness test for me, will you? Jen, can you get me a unit of A negative RBCs?”

Bastian walked over to get a better look at the patient. With a blood pressure like that, he was surprised that he was still alive, and he wasn’t going to place much bets on the guy being conscious, either.

At first, he was confident he was hallucinating. He shook his head hard and looked again. No. He wasn’t hallucinating, and he wasn’t dreaming. This was Cazimir on the gurney, in late hypovolemic shock. Something twisted hard in his gut and his vision swam violently, making him stumble a little and causing Jinwoo to raise an eyebrow at him. Right. He was at work. He wasn’t going to let this impact him, wasn’t supposed to. It was something he was good at doing - tuning out emotions to focus on his job.

“Hi. My name is Bastian.” he said, following the standard protocol. It was easier that way. “I’m going to ask you a few simple questions. Is that okay?”

The relief that washed over Bastian when Cazimir spoke was as surprising as it was quick, and he frowned at that. This wasn’t how he was supposed to be feeling for a normal patient. He wasn’t a field medic anymore, couldn’t have personal attachment to his patients. It clouded judgement.

So he focused instead on his questions. Patient was definitely conscious, obeying commands, though it’s taking him some effort to do so. Good sign. Means that the blood loss wasn’t as major as it could’ve be.

Or maybe he’s just tough.

“He’s conscious and responding,” he said, addressing Jinwoo

“That’s good. Thank you,” he turned to address Cazimir. “Can you tell me your name please? And if you can, do you mind telling me the last thing you remember?”

Without thinking, he reached out to touch Cazimir’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Christ. What was he thinking? He turned and was relieved that Jinwoo was still wrapped up in the blood transfusion. He had to be more cautious.

The state that Cazimir was in only served to concern Bastian even more. The sluggishness of his responses, the cough... this wasn’t particularly good news. At least there wasn’t active bleeding anymore- thank god for healing powers.

He almost jolted when he felt the response from Cazimir. It wasnt much, but it was something. He had to stop thinking like this- he was working, and he couldn’t let himself get distracted- but something warm settled in his heart.

Jen returned with the blood and gave a bit of an odd look. Ah. Right. He pressed down on the pad of Cazimir’s finger, counting the seconds it took for the whiteness to disappear.

“Capillary refill 7 seconds,” he called out to Jinwoo, who was watching the transfusion.

“Right. Not much we can do but wait. I’ll run this to the lab. You can leave when I’m back, we’ll be fine,” Jinwoo told him, holding up a blood sample.

Did he really want to leave? Of course he didn’t. The closest thing he had to a friend right now was in hypovolemic shock. He couldn’t just leave Cazimir here. Taking advantage of being left (mostly) closer, he moved closer to Cazimir, itching for contact but not wanting to risk it.

“You’ll be okay. We’ll take good care of you,” he said. For the first time, it came to him as a bit of a question how an accountant would get injured so often. It couldn’t just be misfortune, could it? But now is not the time.

The movement from the the bed woke him up, as light sleeping was a habit Bastian never quite managed to get rid of. Instantly, he regretted sleeping in the chair, the cramp in his back returning with a vengenance. He shook his head to get rid of the bleariness, and then realised why he woke up.

Cazimir was awake.

The other man had slipped into unconsciousness last night and caused quite a lot of concern. Jinwoo and him had managed to stabilise him, and he managed to charm his way into staying in Cazimir’s room.

Honestly, he wasn’t very sure what compelled him to stay. But now that’s he was here, the relief was worth it.

“Morning. I’m glad you’re still with us,” Bastian said, eyeing the bottle of Ringer’s that was still running into Cazimir’s arm for fluid supply. “You gave us quite a scare last night.”

He stood up, wincing at the ache in his back (it was never quite the same since he got hurt), and poured a glass of water, offering it to Cazimir.

“I’ll get the nurse when you’re ready. You should be fine to go today. You know, now that you aren’t down four litres of blood.”

“I don’t think the nurses’ll be that
happy with me if we did that,” Bastian responded to Cazimir’s quip, giving a smile. After all, if it included making sure Cazimir was okay, a littlenpain didn’t matter that much. “I’ll be okay. I’m used to it.”

He stretched, wincing again but making a conscious effort to conceal it a little so that Cazimir didn’t worry.

“More than enough to kill you. No need to thank me. It’s my job,” he replied. Now the initial shock had finally worn off, he was able to ask the question that had been bothering him all through last night. “What happened to you?”