out of the ordinary [Alfred]

Alfred F. Jones immediately rubbed Arthur the wrong way. If that was even possible, one look at the man (and all the gossip from the nurses about how he acted within the waiting rooms) was enough to turn his already dark/hungover/angsting-over-intern mood even more sour. That stupid cowlick was probably the most annoying thing he'd ever seen and God was that smile... so smiley.

"Alright Alfred," he said turning to look at the boy sitting on his check-up table, "Now, tell me exactly what's been going on. I need to know everything that seems out of the ordinary. Like screaming in the middle of the waiting rooms. That would define out of the ordinary." Oh, he was already dripping with that snide tone. This was certainly going to be fun.

Sitting up from his little chair, Arthur slid the stethoscope off his neck, placing it in one ear while moving towards the American, "And this'll be a bit cold, but just keep talking."

Alfred glared at the ceiling, the old taunts coming back. Hospitals were filled with ghosts! Cannibals! He was thrown in the hospital, his family forcing him to get a check up. He knew that Lucy was okay, his family was going to take care of her. However, he didn't want to be far away from her. What if his headaches came back? He had some headaches, his body hurt a lot, but it was normal! Seriously normal! He pouted sulkily as he was pushed into a waiting room by a disgusted nurse. Sticking his tongue out as the door slammed shut, he whirled around to...holy crap.

His eyes widened comically behind his thinly framed glasses. His grin grew, watching the doctor's face. Those...those..eyebrows. Alfred started to giggle childishly, they were like those fuzzy caterpillars that he had to stop the cats and dogs from eating. The look on his face was so pissed off that it made Alfred laugh harder. He looked like a sour cat! He looked adorable! The blond heard he was being stuck with 'Doctor' Kirkland. "Hey Cranky~" Clambering up onto the check up table, the taller blond stared at the eyebrows, wanting to poke them.

"Out of the ordinary?" He paused. "Like the zombies and the ghosts that follow you people around? That's not really out of the ordinary for you." Alfred started to kick his feet back and forth, fidgeting with his American flag jacket. Secretly he was terrified of hospitals. Especially when he was being examined. He came here sometimes to let Lucy play with the children, but...he hated being looked at. "I screamed 'cause there was a guy walking around in white! He was probably the leader of the ghosts! You could be the leader of the ghosts! But there isn't anything wrong with me. You have my chart." Here, Alfred actually showed annoyance. "You know I was sick before. There is nothing wrong with me now."

Alfred stayed silent as the stethoscope came closer, glaring at it slightly. His heart beat faster as he tried to come up with a believable lie. This man believed that he was a complete idiot. Something stupid and in character for a fool. "I just stayed up drinkin' last night, and I got a little sick. I was partying a little too hard. My family just took it out of hand. Now that I told you I'm a delinquent, can I leave?" Perfect lie. He wasn't doing any of that, but the blond doctor would probably believe that. His family couldn't argue on that either. Alfred was in pain. Not dying.

His family was terrified when he collapsed on the ground, panting and screaming when someone touched him. The blond can't think of a way to explain it. He always had it though. It just had gotten worse. He was fine. It would probably just go away. Like always. Alfred had Chronic pneumonia. He was fine. Whatever was wrong with him now, was probably nowhere near as bad as some other patients. "Go on to your other patients~ I'm fine.~" He continued.

"If I had a nickle for every time someone said that to me and them promptly died within the week, I would be a much richer man than I am now." Arthur arched an eyebrow at up, pulling up the shirt, gently placing the small steel circle on the fit chest, "And I hardly think that a little drinking leads to hallucinations."

For a moment, he listened to the breathing. "There's something in your chest..." he moved back, walking around the table and pulling at the shoulders of the large and gaudy jacket, "I'll need you to take this off so I can have a better look at you."

This man only looked like an idiot, well-played God. "And I don't have any other patients at the moment, I made sure to clear my schedule for you, the symptoms your family mentioned when the dropped you off." Walking back over to the desk, he picked up his charts, looking them over slowly, "Headaches, cold fingers and feet... Dizziness no less..."

He fixed the American with a very hard stare. "Alfred, I only want to help you and the faster you start telling me what else is wrong with you, the faster I can get you out of this place since obviously you are very uncomfortable here."

The blond male was feeling more and more uncomfortable. He felt cornered. He didn't like feeling cornered. Alfred squirmed slightly, restless. The doctor might think something is wrong with him, but there was nothing wrong. There was never anything wrong. He was fine. So? He was sick. Everyone on the planet has felt sick at least a few times in their life! It wasn't anything bad. He liked feeling sick sometimes anyways, it gave him a chance to relax. Alfred reluctantly admitted that having Lucy there would make him feel better. He was twenty! He shouldn't need a security blanket! He pouted at the blond doctor hearing him speak. "It's life. Doesn't matter if you can save them or not. It's their choice." Alfred reached a hand to brush through his choppy hair.

Squirming slightly from the cold circle, the blond whined softly. "I bet I was drugged. I have been drugged before. Complete accident." He lied once more. This doctor wasn't going to solve anything because there wasn't anything to solve. Alfred was fine. "You read my chart Kirkland~ You know I get Pneumonia a lot. Other doctors tell me it's because I don't have any immunity towards it. I also have a compromised immune system. I'm perfectly fine. Now can I go?" Yelping as the older blond put his hands on his jacket, he squirmed away. Didn't caterpillar-brows ask before he touched? "Hey! I'm fine! There isn't any reason to get a better look at me!" Realizing that this might actually go faster and he wouldn't have to stay here. The idea in his head, he slipped off his jacket, wondering if he had to take off his black shirt as well. Fumbling with the edge of his shirt, Alfred continued to become more and more restless.

"Well go get some more patients." Alfred pouted. "My family was over reacting. I'm perfectly fine you know. Honestly, if I don't want to be treated, that's my fault right? I was going to play my new zombie loaded video game today. I don't want to spend it in a stinky hospital." Alfred wrinkled his nose like a child at liquid medicine. The blond frowned as the doctor started to list of his symptoms. "And each of those can be explained rationally." He lied once more. When did he become such a liar to avoid his own fears? He was over twenty. His dream couldn't come true, but never the less, the dream chilled him to the core. The fact that he knew it was real, made it even more terrifying.

He knew that the doctor was doing his job...but..but he could be the one to scare him. There was nothing wrong with him. He was in pain sometimes, and he wanted to jump off a building and stab himself to do anything to get the pain away. Far away. "Doc, I'm fine. Seriously. My family just jumped on the train of worrying about me. That's all." Which was true. If...someone touched him the wrong way, and pressed on his nerves, either his arms or legs, went numb, which turned painful, or it was painful from the start. The taller male bit on his lip slightly. "Always been uncomfortable in hospitals." He muttered lastly.

Shaking his head, Arthur walked to his back again, pulling up the shirt, placing the device on his back, holding his breath for a moment as he listened to the American's babbling only halfheartedly. Oh yeah, definitely pneumonia... But that still wasn't enough, something else was always wrong. And if this was a reoccurring thing, his family wouldn't have had a fit. Perhaps the fainting was a new symptom.

"Please stop lying," Arthur asked him quietly, walking up to face the boy, folding his arms over his chest. "I believe you're delusional to a certain extent Alfred. Your level of denial is almost frightening and it's making it rather hard to ascertain what's wrong. I'm only going to help you Alfred, if there is nothing truly wrong with you, telling me the truth will not hurt you."

He lifted the small earpiece out of his ear, wrapping the stethoscope around his neck again, running a hand through his hair, "And that's quite an impressive collection of tattoos you have on your back."

Alfred continued kicking his feet back and forth, feeling as if he was a child getting his shots. He wrinkled his nose again, hating it. There wasn't anything wrong with him. There couldn't be. He was good..he got good grades...he was good to animals and people...he wouldn't get sick. He knew that he pushed through each bout of sick little tantrums with a smile on his face. Well in front of people at least. He could remember the blood he coughed up that one time. The blond didn't want that again...but the doctor would have heard if he had pneumonia again.

He could fix that. With medicine. He could continue studying, and get better. That would make everyone happy. That way no one would worry about him anymore. The thought made the male perk up slightly. He would be just fine! Arching his back slightly, trying to get away from that evil heart listening device, he pouted. Hurry up and give him the meds so he could go home. Sighing softly, he let Kirkland manhandle his body some more. "You have no bedside manner." Alfred snorted.

Blinking, the blond watched the shorter one walk in front of him. "I'm not lying.~" He lied. Seriously. Lie. Lie. Lie. Maybe he should make it like a theme song or something. "I'm not delusional. I'm not sick." Alfred rolled his eyes. "I'm denying it because it's true. You're only after a check anyways." He said slightly cynically. That's what doctors want. Money to treat little sick runts to get their quota in. Doctors were the one of the few people that he was cynical towards. After all, he couldn't help but remember what they did to his mother.

"There is nothing wrong with me, Eyebrows." He laughed. "I'm a little sick, everyone is. I'm telling you the truth. My family has always been worried about my health. They just thought something was wrong. That's all." Tucking his legs under to sit cross legged, Alfred stared at the the ceiling for a moment. His throat was getting bad...was he going to cough up stuff again? Covering his mouth, the blond let a few dry coughs, that sounded partly like he was going to hack up his lungs. Alfred shuddered once it was over, giving a small smile to the doctor. "I'm fine. Always have been. My pneumonia might be coming back again, but...there isn't anything else wrong with me."

Wiping his mouth with his hand he swallowed, his throat feeling dry and sandpaper-y. "Oh yeah." The blond brightened at the mention of his tattoos. "I love my tattoos. They look awesome don't they?" Alfred smiled. "Now, you think there is something wrong with me...when there isn't. I have a few small things that everyone does. I'm fine." He sighed, wishing the doctor didn't keep trying to convince him something was wrong. Deep down Alfred knew there was. He was scared to admit it though.

Arthur flinched a little at the cough, turning his head to the side before looking back at the American. "It doesn't matter what you think of my bedside manner, your mother issued us very clear orders. We're not to let you leave the hospital until the assigned doctor, me, deems you healthy." he took a few steps back, leaning against his desk, folding his arms over his chest.

"And I was born on the NHS system Alfred. Doctor's weren't paid to keep patients in hospitals. They were paid for making their patients better so screw you and your assumptions. I do pro-bono work if someone can't afford it and take their damned treatments out of my own paychecks." he took a deep breath, raising one hand to rub at him temples, "We do not need to discuss this though."

His leather shoe tapped against the ground. "You and I will need to work together if I'm going to let you out of this hospital. Either you can fight me and continue to not to get treatment or you can talked to me," he said, "I hardly think any of these 'little things' are really that little. You don't just have one problem, all these little symptoms mean that one very big thing is wrong."

He tried to smile. "And just think... Spending time here means that you get to tell me about those tattoos. I'm sure they have quite the story behind them." Only someone who was either very stupid or had something to remember would even subject themselves to have ink directly shot into their skin. It made Alfred a mite more interesting.

Alfred swore that the puppy dog pout would work...with his mother. This man didn't even seem to get that he was perfectly fine! He had a little cough here and there, and a headache..sometimes, and he was in pain..more often, but it might get better. Usually it did. Like when he fell off the top story of the barn. He was in pain for a long time, but it went away. This would go away too. Giving a childish pout, Alfred crossed his arms. "In the normal world, doctors give children hugs and candy, and there are rainbows and the syringes are actually superheroes. I think that's a cover for feeding the dead in the morgue into your...your...well crocodile or alligator pit. It depends on how evil you are." The blond's thoughts took a straight derail and jumping off a building, as he started to debate mentally whether the doctors here had a alligator or crocodile pit. "I must uncover that secret." He muttered, bringing up a hand to bite on his thumb out of thought.

Snapping back out of it, he gave a whine. "Oh come on! I'm twenty-three. I love my mother, but come on-" He dragged the 'on' out for a few seconds. "I'm perfectly old enough to take care of myself! I have a cough, which I had my whole life!" His cheeks puffed out in a huff, as he laid down. Since he was sitting on the table sideways, half his back and his head hung upside down. Alfred didn't care how ridiculous he looked, he hated being babied by his mother. Twenty. Three. Not seventeen. Not sixteen. Twenty-three. What did he need to do to prove that he was fine. Sitting back up, he stared at the doctor. "What do I have to do to get you to deem me healthy. Breakdance? Cook some fancy froofy food? Pluck your eyebrows? Seriously!" He whined. "Just call me healthy and if I drop dead I drop dead." Alfred said carelessly.

It took a minute to realize that Eyebrows could do something nice, but the idea seemed foreign. Doctors always either dismissed him, or tried to uncover some secret about him. He was so tired of it. Alfred, opened his mouth at the comment, but realized that he might had stepped over the line with the 'doctors only want money' thing. Doctors and Politicians. There were only a few good ones. He kept his mouth shut during that little area of time, watching the shorter blond rub his head. "See! You have a headache and you're not sick." He debated horridly. He was running out of ideas to get the Eyebrow-Pipe-smoking-British-Englishman to let him go home.

"I know if I stay here, all we're going to do is argue about me obviously not sick. Seriously. I'll work with you to get me home faster." He sighed. "Lucy and the others need their daddy back. Cats and boredom never make a good mix. But you look like a old man, so cats should like you. Don't they like old ladies? Old men can't be that far of a stretch." He muttered under his breath. Kirkland couldn't be hardly older than him. Especially with his height. Hopefully. He really didn't want to be visited by a fifty year old British midget doctor. That would be creepy. He probably called one of the alligators and or crocodiles Betty or something.

"If I am sick, what am I sick with? If these symptoms lead up to something bigger, and something more deadly, why hasn't anyone seen it before now? I go to doctors a lot, and every single one of them says I'm fine. If not, they stick me in a hospital for months, draw blood from me every four hours, and then I wake up to find myself on a operating table, with doctors and ghosts sacrificing me to the ghost god or whatever. If you promise to not sacrifice me to any ghost gods, or anything like it, and I get to be active in what you find or don't find, then I might consider staying. If you're going to be like every other doctor and keep me out of my own patient file, then I won't consider it." He finally gave a compromise. Since 'brow-mister', insisted he was sick, maybe showing him nothing was wrong would get it over quicker.

Alfred cocked his head to the side like a curious animal. His tattoos were interesting? Yeah...they had a story, but...were they really that interesting to other people? Usually it was, 'did it hurt?', 'it covers your whole back!', 'why did you get it?', 'where did you get it' and the like. Never did someone ask did they have a story behind it. It made him grin happily. "Sure!" He chirped. "I'll tell you about the Tattoos, if you tell me a story about you too! And it has to be the truth or it isn't fair.~" That was good right? Kirk-y couldn't deny him that one.

letting out a long sigh, Arthur nodded in acceptance. "One," he held up a finger, "I will deem you healthy when my Oxford medical degree mind believes that you are fit to function on your own. two,"Another popped up, "I do not have a headache, I'm merely frustrated. Thirdly, I took you in as a patient because a) you were sick and b) yes, you did have very interesting records. Fourth, no, I am not going to sacrifice you to any ghosts, gods or other such wish-wash you come up with."

The four fingers wiggled in front of Alfred's blue eyes. "Alfred, I only want to help." he said, looking at him with nothing but pure honesty and not a trace of deceit in his voice, "Truly, that's all a doctor should desire..."

His hand fell back to his side, smoothing the side of his jacket slowly. "And it's a deal. We will trade stories. And all will be 100% truthful." It was a compromise really, but one Arthur could afford to make. What was Alfred going to ask him? nothing too earth-shattering, he doubted Alfred could even think of any in-depth questions besides "What's your favourite colour?"

The blue eyed man, was slightly irked that if 'doctor eyebrows' got his way, he might have to stay in the hospital for longer than he would like. Of course after he made his compromise, did he ever think of such a thing, but the notion was still the same. But somehow, it melted away slightly. He...didn't want to just sit here again. What would happen his mother and father? What would happen to his big sister if she tripped and fell, and hurt her leg somehow again? What about his little brother trying to be a pilot, and his little sister working up to be a lawyer. He didn't want to miss anything. Scanning over the doctor, he wondered if the shorter blond had any family. Would he feel like him?

Impossible to know, his mind snapped at him. The doctor was doing his job, and while Alfred was upset about staying, he reluctantly admitted that he was just doing his job. If his job included sacrificing to ghosts, he didn't care if he was a sissy, he would bolt out of this hospital screaming. Yawning softly, Alfred felt his throat still so scratchy. He was tired too. If he continued being this 'stressed' he was going to get a migraine, and Lucy wouldn't be there with him. He knew that most men would call it wimpy to want a cat there to take care of them, and he admitted it was, but animals did really help him focus on something else. Something besides him.

Alfred eyes shot up to look at the doctor, realizing his glasses were halfway down his nose. Pushing them up with two fingers, he looked back at the green-eyed man. The Southern male stared blankly at the doctor at the first. "I don't see what's so different with a 'Oxford mind'." He put it in air quotes, too look a little more serious, but only came out looking like he was amused. "Is it different than a normal mind? Like is it neon blue or something?...If you have a neon blue brain, can I see it?" His thought train again derailed and was eaten by a lizard creature.

"If you're frustrated now, I'm scared what you're going to be like when you find out nothing is wrong with me." He commented dryly. "I'm not sick, and my records are on paper and on the computer like everyone else's. You could probably go out into the waiting room, and pick up someone who is 'sicker' than me, and give them medicine to help them get better. If I'm sick, it's a puzzle you might never solve. Kinda like those three dimensional puzzles. You know the ones that go reallllly high? It's really cool when they are all put together, but it's really hard to put them together for your first time, cause you have no idea how it's supposed to work. It's fun though." Alfred babbled. "Wish-wash?" He asked questioningly. "My god, I've actually met someone who uses it in a British-whatever-English sentence." He knew that was a word! He knew it!

His attention was immediately diverted to the fingers, distracted with his little attention span. "I know you want to help, doc' but I don't think anything is wrong with me. But as long as you stick to our promise, I promise you can do tests, but I still get to embarrass you whenever possible, since you seem like a fun person normally to be around."

Alfred felt amused as Eyebrows agreed to his promise. He had the feeling that he was going to enjoy the look on his face when he started to tell his story and ask questions about his.

Dear Lord this boy was so strange at times. A neon blue brain? Hell, Arthur wouldn't have been shock if this man believed in aliens... but he was still just a boy, and probably a scared one at that, with all these hallucinations, symptoms and illnesses, he was probably delusional out of the mind's need to protect itself from the reality that if things got worse, the American would die.

Having to shake such depressing thoughts from his mind, Arthur smiled a little. "No, my brain is pink, just like yours. An Oxford mind is just a sharp one." Sharp indeed, but Alfred had a different kind of a smart and it intrigued him, almost as if his intelligence in itself was an entire new problem for the Brit to solve.

"And my God, a British person using his own slang? it's bloody unheard of!" Arthur drawled, rolling his eyes a little. Scratch that, Alfred had a very, very, special type of intelligence "And yes, you are a puzzle, one I plan to solve promptly and efficiently so that I may let you go home Alfred because if you are sick, I want to cure you, and if you are not sick, which you probably are not, I want to make sure you do not get sick."

Alright, time to start the diagnosis. "Question for a question then. I'll go first." Arthur sat down, "What were you doing before you collapsed? Any drugs, fumes, anything like that, that could effect your mind."

Alfred twitched softly, glancing back and forth. He hardly knew this man, and yet he was putting his trust in him. The older blond probably had a bunch of patients, and he was nothing special, so why would he be treated as such? The blue eyed man brought up a hand to bite his finger slightly. He hated this. How did he know he would be a valued patient? Alfred gave a small frown at the thought.

How would this doctor honestly take care of him, when he was just a patient. He couldn't dig into Alfred's personal life, at least the parts he remembered from his childhood, that would be somewhat unethical right? To force someone to give answers about their personal health or personal life, either or, Alfred could keep it to his chest, and Arthur would never figure it out. The taller blond nodded to himself, knowing that if he needed to keep a secret, he could, and if it killed him...oh well it was his time.

"I have a sharp mind too~ But your brain better be normal. Cause then I would freak out." Alfred said honestly. "I really don't want to be drugged, put in a wheel chair, pushed up to a dining room table, have my skull sawed open, then you take out a piece of my brain and cook it and eat it in front of me! That would be creepy!" Yes, he watched that movie one too many times. "Hey! My teacher said 'wish-wash' wasn't used any more! Blame her!" The 'patient' sulked slightly, blushing softly at his mistake.

He gave a small wince at the 'promptly and efficiently' comment. That made him feel like they would jump to the quickest probable diagnosis, treat him, and shove him out the door. Great, more useless tests. Dropping his hands into his lap, as he sighed slightly. "Nothing. It was a small family reunion, since I did well on one of my important tests," He passed the last test to get his degree, and would be on his next few years to get his Masters in Computer Graphics. Not like the doctor needed to know that. He was the dumb blond, and would stay that way in his eyes. Alfred didn't want to be treated differently. "I played with Lucy and took her for a walk earlier, so she was sitting on the patio, Dad was about to start up the grill, Mom, Baby Sis, and Baby Bro were talking about their classes outside..." His eyes went blank for a moment. He didn't want his doctor to know anything.

What was he supposed to do? He would have to figure it out as he went.

"I remember nothing about any smells. If anything, it smelled normal." He answered truthfully, before tilting his head. "My turn for a question. When you became a doctor, when you were finished with your tests, did you choose to work before your life, or did your life become your work?" A small smile flitted over his face. He wanted to know was this doctor, a doctor, or a man. He was curious that would he be treated as a patient, or treated as a disease.

Arthur had to laugh after hearing the American talk. He said such ridiculous things and yet at the same time seemed completely devoid of all the usual symptoms of delusions but rather seemed quite aware of this particular reality but some of just seemed.. to be filled in. Like Alfred missed the small pieces of something which he filled in himself with own clippings of his imagination while actually getting the bigger picture.

Very strange he had concluded. "Alfred, I can say with complete confidence that I will not be sawing your brain open and eating it. Truth be told I'm a rather terrible cook as is and I'm sure such a delicacy as brain would escape me since I can't even cook scrambled eggs." he sighed, "And I'll just stay over here with my jolly 'goods' and 'bloody hells'."

Listening intently to the young man's recollection of the story, Arthur nodded slowly along. Nothing that would induce such a violent response from a body. Clearly a usual set of activities, but perhaps the excitement had gotten to be too much more Alfred. More probing would be needed but at least that ruled out any immediate environmental factors.

He had to clear his throat because answering. "I... Well, I became a doctor when I have about six truth be told. My younger baby brother had gotten sick and I felt it was my fault... I started to read medical book after medical book, trying to figure out what was wrong with him since the doctors my family had hired were doing nothing... I suppose I managed to cure him in the end and I couldn't stop after that, I wanted to keep helping."Swallowing a little, he shook his head. "Because of James, I became a doctor, so I suppose it wasn't a choice, more of a necessity."

"And now you Alfred," he said, quirking his head, "What exactly were the important tests for?" He had to know if these tests were cause for Alfred's body to undergo some deep stress.

"Brain isn't a delicacy! Specially mine! Mine should be in my skull! Not eaten by people!" He whined pathetically, throwing his arms over his head, in some odd way of defending himself from a harmless amused doctor. "You can't cook scrambled eggs?" The taller blond asked curiously. "Have you even had a good homemade Southern breakfast!" Alfred looked slightly disturbed at the notion. How could one not have the awesome greasy bacon, the eggs, toast...his stomach growled faintly, and he laughed to himself softly.

"Then I'll stay over here with my accent you will never hear!" He cheered obliviously to the probably sarcastic statement. Tilting his head, his blue eyes didn't stray from the green eyes that was telling his story. His brother...so the blond understood family. Good. So the doctor wasn't all evil inside. "James..." Alfred repeated before smiling. "So you aren't a evil British man! You're really just some cuddly evil British man.~" He explained happily.

"My important tests were for school." He answered easily. "Normal stuff, I was completely stressed out for two weeks, and got some headaches, but I got better~ That and my hair didn't catch on fire this time!" Alfred laughed. "It's like really odd when my hair doesn't catch on fire, but I blame my older sister for that. I didn't burn myself either, which is good, I ate a lot of good food, and I ate a lot of apples, which reminds me, that saying is complete false. I ate like seventeen apples the other day! It doesn't keep the doctor away!" He pointed accusingly at the doctor.

His turn. "Do you like your job, or do people like you for your job?" He asked once more, his brain turning quickly. He was seriously running out of good questions. Was that normal or something? Shaking his head, Alfred continued to be as 'obedient' as possible.