Doctor Who? [Gilbert]

Arthur liked clinic hours. He liked being able to have a patient for an allotted time, fix them and then send them away. It was like speed-dating except with less liquor and more cougars. Way more cougars, sometimes Arthur believed that they simply got their children sick to come visit the hospital and it's apparently-good-looking staff.

What Arthur didn't like were those few odd people that ruined his carefully scheduled time slots by having problems that actually required him to think and ponder and diagnose the poor sap. Which meant that said patient, while seeing a very intelligent side of the man, also got to his his utter ass-ish side.

Upon arriving in the room, Arthur looked the man there up and down. Twice. He wouldn't have guessed it from the shocking white hair thin body or red eyes, but this man was about to send his entire scheudle in a small ball of Timey-Wimy mess.

He frowned harder at the man, scrutinising him. Albino? Not pale enough but damned close. "Gilbert?" he asked, looking down at the charts, closing the door behind him, "Complaining about your chest eh? And you collapsed at work, correct?"

Gilbert did not like being in a hospital. Everything was so white, so clean. He felt like he was suffocating in it...no wait scratch that, he just couldn't breathe. Well damn, that wasn't good. He gripped the edges of his seat and panted, unable to get in enough air. 'Where the hell is that doctor anyways?' he thought as the sound of footsteps once again made themselves audible outside the door.

Fortunately, these approaching footsteps belonged to said doctor. The doctor was a short man with an irritated expression and.....eyebrows. Big eyebrows. 'No...no those couldn't be eyebrows, they must be a joke, right? Those must be caterpillars and he glued them to his face. But why would he glu--Scheiße! They moved!' Gilbert felt a chill run down his spine, so he attempted to relocate his gaze to the rest of the man's face, but even the smallest twitch made them dart right back up. Why must doctors have such distracting features? He tuned back into reality upon hearing his name, answering what he hoped wasn't a rhetorical question, "Yeah, but I don't exactly--" here he struggled with another breath, "...remember what happened."

Well that laboured breathing certainly wasn't a good sign... At all. He put down his charts, walking over to the man quickly, a hand placed at his chest, feeling the shuddering breathes. "Ah- Gilbert, I'm going to give you an oxygen mask okay?" he said, starting to move around the checkup-room, grabbing a small tank and the mask. "Just- use this to help you breath and you should be alright while I run some tests."

And then he noticed the crimson eyes on his eyebrows and immediately his expression twitched a little. This is why he loathed new patients (and children), because all they did was star at his eyebrows, as if they were some aliens that had attached themselves to his brow. Forcing himself to remain calm, Arthur held out the mask to the man.

"Put the damned mask on."

'Why is Eyebrows so angry all of the sudden?' thought Gilbert as he took the mask and slipped it over his face. He didn't see the point in wearing the thing until he realized that breathing was a lot easier to accomplish. He let his shoulders relax and watched the doctor--who's name he just realized he didn't know--bustle around the room. "Tests? Wh-" Okay, he couldn't talk with this thing on.

He lifted the mask off of his face and tried again, "What kind of tests?" He wasn't fond of tests, especially medical tests. Those tests were expensive and the results were never usually good.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland and you are to call me Dr. Kirkland. I'm going to put you through our spirometer," Arthur explained, face softening slightly at the idea of using one of the hundred of little fancy machines around the hospital. It also meant that he'd get to be alone and not bothered while doing what he loved most, reading charts and deducing. A perfect few hours. "It's just a machine you'll breath into so we can assess what's wrong with your lungs."

Flopping down at his desk, Arthur pulled some forms towards him, scribbling on them, humming. "I'll need you to sign a few of these and we're going to need payment for our time together, credit card, cheque or insurance will all be viable." he held out the forms with a pen.

Crap, insurance? He didn't have insurance. Screw his lungs, he would be better in a few days anyway, or so he hoped. He reached out and took the forms from the doctor and looked them over carefully, taking off the mask to see better. Hospitals were confusing, he might end up signing over his liver or something on accident if he wasn't paying attention.

Confusing forms aside, there was no way he would be able to afford medical bills right now, he was having enough trouble just paying his rent. Gilbert looked up and attempted to clear his throat, "Hey listen, I don't think I'll do this test thing. I'll be fine, so ....I'll just pay for today and leave." He stood up and started walking towards the door.

Arthur watched him hesitate and nodded slowly. "You... grew up on the German health system, yes?" he said carefully, taking the papers back, placing them back on the desk. "Beilschmidt, and that accent is quite distinct."

He smiled a little at the Prussian's back. "Listen, I was born and raised on the NHS... I don't like this insurance bullshit- I mean... Codswallop. So I'll treat you for free, but on the condition that you have to sign one form saying you won't sue me if I screw-up. Does that sound like a fair trade?"

Instead of offering a hand, the Brit instead offered the oxygen mask.

Gilbert froze, hand resting gently on the doorknob as he listened to Arthur's proposition. Free treatment? That was more than he could ever hope to hear. Not that he needed any fancy treatment for what was probably just a bad cold or something. This doctor was up to something...but what? "Why would you do that for me?" He asked, turning around to face the man.

He stared directly into the the other man's eyes, searching for any sign of trickery. This was a hospital, they all just wanted their money in the end, didn't they? He looked at the proffered oxygen mask, not taking it just yet.

"What's the catch?"

"The catch is you can't sue me if I screw up," Arthur said simply, waving the mask a little more insistently. What was this guy on? Here he was offering to do his job for free and all he was getting was a suspicious look and accusations? Was he an idiot?

He looked right back at the crimson eyes, nothing but honesty and stubbornness in his own. "Take the mask, take the test, and let me figure out what's wrong with you Gilbert."

'That doesn't explain anything about why he was going out of his way to do this,' thought Gilbert with a frown, but free fit perfectly in his price range, so who was he to complain. It's not like he had anything to lose. He sighed, deciding that he could afford to just play along for now. "Ja, fine, if it's that important to you, I've got nothing better to do anyway," he rolled his eyes and took the mask, grumbling the next part to himself. "Even though it's probably nothing serious."

Arthur smiled, standing up and shaking his head. "Yes, it's alllllways nothing." he picked up Gilbert's charts, rolling out the small oxygen tank. "Come along, the testing rooms are just down the hall." Hand on the door, he opened it for the ashen-haired man. "And tell me a bit about yourself, what do you do for a living? Where are you from? What were you doing before your collapse? Any family history of chest or lung problems?"

This was his favourite part, the patient grilling. Where he got to know every single detail of the person's life.

He rolled his eyes and followed Arthur out the door. Doctors always thought they knew everything. However, with all these questions he was being asked, Gilbert was starting to think that maybe they did. "Whoa Artie, one at a time. What is this, twenty questions? Gosh, doctors are so nosy," he teased, but still he slowed down to think about what was asked.

"Let's see... I work in a garage down closer to the middle of the city, as a mechanic. I'm from Germany as you guessed earlier, Ostheim if you really want to know. The most I could tell you about my family is that my uncle had really bad health problems before he died." He paused and rubbed his eyes with one hand, trying to think. "Ah man, what was I doing? ...I think I was welding someone's muffler or something like that. Yeah, it was a muffler. That damn thing gave me so much trouble."

Arthur had a clipboard out, scribbling down all the information about the Prussian. "Inner city, smog, and a mechanic no wonder the gases, oils and other such nasty things you must deal with in there..." he tutted quietly to himself, tapping the pen against the papers. "And an uncle, close enough relation, blood at least... generation skipper? Is this uncle on your mother or father's side?"

He stopped outside the room, hitting the doorknob with his palm, leaning on the door to open it. "Come inside and don't wait about."

Gilbert walked down the hallway, staring blankly at the floor, not really paying attention to Arthur. Thinking about Fritz always seemed to make him upset and caused a pain in his chest he knew was not at all connected to the reason why he was here in the first place. Mother or father's side? It was hard to believe that such an awesome person could have been related to his horrible parents in any way.

He became so lost in his thoughts that he nearly walked right past the room when Arthur finally stopped. Snapping back to reality, he mumbled a quick "I think it was my mother's side," before stepping into the room.

"Good, potential genetic disease related to gender then..." Arthur said, leading Gilbert into the room with the large machine tucked into a corner. It rather looked like a showerstall with walls made of glass. "It's a starting point, that's for sure."

Putting his clipboard down on the desk, Arthur started to flick switches, the machine whirling into life. "now, were you close to this uncle of yours Gilbert? Any information you can give me about his illness?" He opened the glass door, pointing at a machine on the inside, "And I'm going to need you to sit in here and breath so we can test lung capacity alright?"

"My uncle and I were really close...I lived with him for a good part of my childhood. He tried to keep me from noticing his illness, so I'm not really sure what the symptoms were..." he said, looking around the testing area.

The room had what looked like a shower in the corner. He hoped he didn't have to get naked in there, doctors always seemed to want everyone naked. If he had to take off his clothes, he was going to leave, that was basically it. He really didn't feel like exposing himself to-- Oh. Just sitting and breathing was easy enough. He followed Arthur over to the not-shower and watched as his fiddled with the machinery. "How does it work?" he asked, staring curiously at the machine.

The Brit's pencil's skittered across the page for a moment before pulling open a drawer, holding out a nose clip. "I'm just going to have you do some breathing tests, don't worry, it's not too complicated. It's just going to measure your breathing capacity to see what's wrong with your lungs. " he opened the door. Alright, so he had a lung disease that might be inherited but his uncle didn't say anything about symptoms... fun.

"Just breath into the little mouthpiece for a minute, and then you're going to take the biggest breath you can and exhale as hard and long as you can." he quirked his head, "Think you can handle that Gilbert?"

With a scoff, Gilbert plucked the bulky nose clip from Arthur's hand and fiddled with it as he walked into the glass box. He sat on the chair provided and leaned forward to examine the machine better, then turned back to the Brit with a smirk.

"So let me get this straight. You want me to blow this long and hard while you watch? Sounds kinky Artie," he cackled and put on the nose clip, wiggling it so it was comfortable. With a deep breath, he placed his mouth over the mouthpiece and did as instructed. Once he was out of air, he pulled back and removed the nose clip with a gasp. Was that seriously all the air he had? It hadn't seemed like much.

Arthur arched an eyebrow at the comment before looking at the screen, tutting quietly. "This doesn't look very good Gilbert," he said, opening the door, hurriedly offering the oxygen tank again.

His pencil tapped against the graphs showing on the screen connected to the machine. "A high number means it relatively mild and won't be that serious, but a low number is bad. Typically, a 70% is good but... You're at about a forty five." he shook his head, "We need to get you on some medications right now."

Arthur's pencil started to scribble. "I'm going to put you on Theophylline and we're also going to try and restore your lung capacity through diet changes and general exercise." he smiled slightly at the Prussian, "Think of it has a resort holiday. I'll be keeping you in the adult ward since you won't need any intensive care, just keep that oxygen tank with you for the time being alright?"

Gilbert's eye twitched as the oxygen was once again thrust upon him. "I'm really starting to hate this thing," he grumbled as he stared down at it. He didn't like depending on anything and this stupid thing made him feel ridiculous.

He fiddled with the strap on the mask, half listening to Arthur talk. It was always the same things with doctors, that's why he gave up going to them as soon as possible. They always tried to convince him that he was living his life the wrong way and that he needed to eat more blah, blah, blah.

Whoa, wait. That part was different. "What? Wait, wait...you want me to what? You mean I have to stay here?"

Arthur blinked at him, slowly finding himself nodding, putting the clipboard down on a table. "Gilbert... I have to make you stay," he said, trying to sound understanding, "If ou follow the directions and steps I lay out you'll be here for a month tops."

Thinking for a moment, knowing he was probably going to lose this argument, he tried to look for some upsides. "And it's all paid for, so no need to worry yourself over that and I believe your brother is working here as well which is an upside."

"Due to your condition I'll be having you stay in the adult ward which means you'll get partnered with another roommate." Okay, maybe that wasn't so great, Arthur would've loathed being sick and stuck with some other person in the same room.

Crimson eyes widened when Arthur revealed that his brother worked here. This was too good to be true! There was no way that the Brit was telling the truth. How had he even known that Gilbert had a brother in the first place? "...Ludwig works here?" he asked hopefully.

He decided that if Ludwig really did work here, he would stay, if only to see his brother again. He wondered if he would be able to recognize him, all grown up. He couldn't help the small smile that made it's way across his face. His little brother was doing well for himself, working in a hospital already! "Is he working right now?"

Arthur glanced at his watch, thinking for a moment. "I do believe he's an duty tonight, you might catch him then..." he put his clipboard down again, once again staring at the screen, his brow furrowing. "I'll be sure to send him by your room, how does that sound?"

He glanced at the Prussian, seeing the small smile, quirking his head. "You didn't know he was working here?"