Something's Wrong. [Open]

He figured that perhaps driving himself to the nearest hospital or clinic was a terrible idea, but he also hated city transportation -Those damn buses were too crowded and loud and everyone often smelled really bad. So instead, he called a taxi, not wanting to bother his parents whom were at work. The taxi picked him about fifteen minutes after he called, but didn't arrive to his destination for another thirty. It was ridiculous.

Since when did traffic get so bad?

Anyway, after several long attempts to get his legs to move and get inside and walk up to the desk and sign the papers for his check-up, he moved to sit down and wait. He really hated to wait, so he hoped this wouldn't take too long. With a soft groan, he rolled his head back, nose crinkling at the office smell and the people around him. Staring up at the ceiling he began to sees spots again, so he shut his eyes real quick to lose sight of it, but he also saw them behind his closed eyes.

Dammit.. how annoying.

"Mr. Jordahl?" Francis called out, clipboard in hand as he leaned out the door to the waiting room. "If you'll come with me please!"

He wasn't really in the mood for anymore patients, but at least the group in the waiting room seemed to just be minor aches and pains- nothing like that bloody ER visit he had to make the other day. It had been a rather quiet morning actually, a few people with high fevers (he made a point to wash his hands well) and a few sprained ankles. Maybe it was karma for the other day- forced to dwell on it...

But he had a check-up to do now- headaches... weakness- blindness. It sounded like migraines to him, unpleasent enough to deal with when they were just pain but crippling when they got to severe. Francis had to feel a little proud of himself though, he hadn't even seen the patient and he already knew what was wrong!

Maybe he could just give him some pain medication and have him go home.

Arthur could always just write a prescription.

If he would even talk to me...

Upon hearing his name, he could hardly articulate a response or movement right away. He groaned in his mind though, annoyed that he had to get up. Again. It was already so difficult to move around lately. He remained quiet for awhile more though, hoping that the doctor, nurse, or whoever called his name wouldn't pass him up too quickly. He had energy to build here, or some motivation to get his mind to work his body right. Maybe he was just being silly and just didn't want to get up like e should be, but his legs just felt too weird for awhile that he didn't want to walk on them...

"Here~"

He finally answered to his name, and opening his eyes, the spots just seemed to have gotten worse. Or bigger. Aghh... this was driving him nuts! All that flickering in his eyesight... he wanted to snap something. Slowly leaning up (finally) he got himself up onto his feet, got a little nauseated for a moment as he held his head, and dragged himself to the guy holding the clipboard.

"Take me there quick, I need to sit."

Saying that made him feel like some sort of fatass or something, but despite that, he really did need to. Everything also was just too bright, and along with the white spots in his vision, it was bothering him to no end. No doubt about it, he hated these sorts of places with unnatural lighting.

Francis frowned slightly at the patient's condition, quickly grabbing a wheelchair from inside the clinic hall and pulling it out. He put down the breaks and gently held Terge's arm, lowering him into it and putting down the footpads. "You are a little worse off than I assumed reading your chart-" he said quietly- looking at the man's eyes gave away that he most likely had a migraine right now.

"Let me just take you to a room. I can dim the lights," he offered, quickly snapping up the breaks and backing into a long white hall, pushing him down towards a door and opening it. He reached over to the side of the wall, twisting down the intensity of the lights before wheeling his patient into the room and closing the door behind him.

The intern put down the breaks again once they were near the paper-covered bed. "If you could sit on the edge of the bed- do you need help?" he questioned, setting down his clipboard.

Maybe... this wasn't just mirgraines.

He really has an issue with taking other people's advice and help, so he shook his head, deeming he was fit enough to get up onto the table without aid. Besides, he had eventually got himself to get up in the waiting room and approach this other guy, this... doctor. Somehow though, while he looked at the other blonde, he didn't really get that air, that vibe, that he was a fully certified one.

Whatever, right? It was just a check-up, afterall.

So forcing his mind to work his legs, he stood up from the wheelchair and moved towards the bed infront of him. He didn't quite make it though when a searing streak of pain ripped through his head. His head ringed, it throbbed painfully, and he gripped the sides of his head to try and ease the pain away. Of course, that never really did work, but it was always worth a try.

"F-Faen..."

He squeezed his eyes shut again, the spots worsening even more when this headache struck.

Thanks to quick reflexes, Francis supported Terje and helped him up onto the bed, lightly pressing against his chest to have him lay down. He was definately worried now- he didn't trust his own medical training at this point. The most he could really do was a basic exam and ask questions-

"What exactly is happening?" he asked quickly, feeling a bit helpless as the patient held his head. "Headache? Are you having vision problems again? How's your hearing? Mr. Jordahl- you need to tell me everything..."

The spots were unyielding as he willingly allowed himself to be pushed back onto the bed. It was probably a good idea, anyway, to lay down. As his migraine intensified, he began to stress out, and as he looked over to the other man, all he saw through the spots was a moving mouth. No sound was coming out.

But then noise cut in, and he heard the word 'hearing' before sound was hindered again. With that, he immediately spoke to the other, but he couldn't hear himself except for a low grumbles that echoed within his ears as he spoke. This was then causing him to feel a little disoriented to speak, and he hoped he wasn't being too loud.

"Can't hear you right now... and spots... in my eyes... horrible migraine... "

This was stupid, he thought. Honestly. He never did anything reckless or rebellious (except ditching school) in his entire life. So why was he feeling like this? What the hell.

"Faen... what the hell... is wrong..."

A bolt of panic went through Francis and he definately knew that this was no job for him- if Terje couldn't even hear him... This was very serious indeed. He swallowed hard and hushed the man, starting to exam him quickly as he pulled out his pager, immediately requesting Arthur to come down to the clinic room.

"Just calm down-" he said quickly. "A-Ah... A doctor is coming right down. We'll find out what's wrong with you- I promise."

It took a few minutes longer than usual for Arthur to answer because every part of him did NOT want to see Francis at all. But a sick patient was a sick patient and he arrived at the check-up room, taking a deep breath before opening the door. "Mr. Bonnefoy?" he asked, taking a few steps in, eyes flicking to the blond on the bed. "What's wrong?"

Walking over, he ignored the Frenchman's eye, standing on the other side of the bed. "What's wrong with him?"

Was he going deaf? Oh by Odin he hoped not. He needed to hear. What would he do if he couldn't hear the sounds of nature? The roll of the wind, the song birds, and night owls, the rustle of leaves... all these things calmed him. If he didn't have that soothing natural music, he would... "Helvete" he suddenly uttered. Dammit, what had he done to deserve this horrible ordeal he was having right now?

He also didn't even noticed the appearance of another entering the room, nor heard it either, as the flashing spots seemed to just block the third person out. Rubbing his temples and then applying pressure to various areas on his head, he tried to relieve some of the headache he had. It was killing him. It was hurting too much.

Francis quickly stopped the exam, looking up at Arthur with a panicked look. "Terje Jordahl- he came in complaining of headaches and vision problems-" he said quickly, looking back down at the person in question.

"I thought it would just be migraines but... It seems much worse- His hearing is failing and his vision is spotty-" he swallowed, shaking his head. "It... seems really bad-"

Sighing and slipping out his trusty flashlight, Arthur reached forward a hand, lifting one of the blond's eyelids, running the flashlight over his irises and cursing a little under his breath at the lack of response. He snapped his fingers next to Terje's ear. "Mr. Jordahl? Mr. Jordahl, it's Arthur Kirkland, I'm a doctor here at the hospital, can you hear me at all?"

While he did this, he lightly tapped the boy's cheek, sighing a little. "Mr. Bonnefoy, we'll need to sedate the poor boy if things get out of hand, for now something for the headache and pain please. And be quick about it."

Just then, noise came rolling back, as he heard snapping beside his hear... Finger snapping? Then he just caught his name being called in what seemed to be a worried sort of tone. Ja right, he thought, doctors being seriously worried for clients and patients -that was all crap, but, he did come here to see what was wrong. So he might as well react back as the sight of two blondes came into view as the spotting disappeared again. For now. It always came back. It frustrated him.

"Sedate me?!" He all but whispered this, perhaps to low to have been heard.

He made to lean up, supporting himself with one arm, while the other was busy trying to rub out his headache. Wait.. was he just called a poor boy? What the hell. He was not a boy. He was 19 and pretty sure that qualified to be referred to as an adult. Damn doctors speaking in such repulsive wa-- Oh. Those faeries again? His eyes had drawn away towards the window as he noticed them there. He moved off the bedding, slowly, as he walked a bit unsteadily towards the window, wanting to open it and let them in.

The intern had already started picking through the cupboards for pain medication when Terje decided it would be a good idea to get out of bed and start walking. Francis hurried over, grabbing him and helping to support him at least, worrying a bit. "Ah- Mr. Jordahl- Please just stay in bed, you shouldn't be getting up in your condition-" he said quickly, trying to lead him back towards the bed.

He glanced over at Arthur, still a little unsure of the next step to take. Pausing for a moment and thinking, Francis frowned. Why was the boy heading for the window? Did he want it open? "If- you want the window open I can open it for you- please... Just go back to bed-"

"I'll get the window, keep him on the bed Francis." Arthur walked over quickly, fumbling with the lock for a moment before pulling the the window open with a small grunt. He looked back at the Nord, helping him back to the bed sitting him down, cautiously waving a hand in front of his slightly dazed pupils.

He sighed a little. "Mr. Jordahl? Is there something wrong? Anything out there?" he placed his hand to the pale forehead, frowning. No fever and he certainly didn't look like he was sweating. So if he didn't want to open the window because of temperature...

Swatting away the waving hands before his eyes, he answered to the other man,"I was... just... wanting to let them in, is all" He stumbled his words out, wondering just why exactly he had admitted to that. Although, he didn't truly really care too much -The faeries were inside now and this time, unlike that morning, he got to see them close up. Ah... so pretty they were. Raising a hand out to touch one, he broke out a sliver of a smile, before he suddenly got too tired for anything more. Dropping his arm back down to his side, he closed his eyes, the spots more obvious in the dark behind his lids than having them open.

"So damn annoying... these spots..."

He didn't understand why these so-called doctors weren't doing anything for him, yet. Maybe that was just him? He never really went to clinics and what-not all that much in his life, so he didn't totally comprehend how their pace worked.

Spots? Them? Was this boy a mental case?

Francis worried his lip and stared at Terje, watching him reach up and then the small smile in reaction to... something. "Mr Jordahl... Let who in? What do you see?" he questioned quietly, glancing back towards the window again. "Is it... just the spots? I do not understand..."

He glanced up at Arthur helplessly, hoping for some kind of answer from him because Francis didn't have the slightest clue in hell.

Alright, he thought, perhaps that was the worst thing he could have ever said within a doctors office. Therefore, no... he was definitely not seeing faeries, even though he was, but he wouldn't admit that accidentally again. "I just see spots... nothing else..." The white flashing was really bothersome in his eyes. Extremely so, and he wanted them gone immediately. Whatever was causing this, he figured it was due to too much gardening, for whatever reason.

"Just make it stop, ugh..." He groaned, bringing his hands up to slide them over his face, blocking out any sort of light this way, but it wasn't not helping, and his hearing was becoming hollow again. "Everything sounds like I'm hearing it through water... I don't even..." He couldn't even describe to himself how much this was bugging him.

"Mr. Bonnefoy, Get me some Clotiapine or Sulpiride if they even have the bloody stuff in this hospital." Arthur murmured, reaching forward, taking the hand away, passing the light in front of his eyes again, frowning. "Keep talking Terje, I need you to stay awake while he gives you this drug." This wasn't just spots, not possible. One didn't let spots in... And the tightness in Arthur's chest was making him even more nervous.

He swallowed, shaking his head. "Describe the dots, even if you can't hear me." he said, putting the hand back over the man's eyes, "just keep talking."

He was hardly noticing the light coming from the flashflight, because the spots, as intense as they currently were right now, just seemed to be blocking it out. Also, what the hell were those scientific, bloody hospital words used just now? That was soon answered for him though once he caught that he was about to be drugged. Like hell-- "Faen, don't put me under or give me anything" He leaned back up, forgetting about having to describe what the spots looked like -Besides, that seemed like a dumb question to him! Spots were spots. What else could they look like? Was this doctor perhaps tying to be clever and get him to admit to something else? Like who he meant by 'them'?

Well, fuck them. he wasn't falling for any tricks. Although, he still partially was, since he was talking, like he was asked to to.

"Whatever ya got in this place and are about to get me to take, I'm not, you hear?"

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "You came to a hospital to get fixed, not to complain to the bloody doctor." he straightened, folding his arms over his chest, "Take the drug and it'll stop the receptors in your brain from seeing things they shouldn't as well as put a stop that ringing in your ears." an eyebrow arched.

"Or you can sit here on that bed and squirm and moan and groan in pain. So, free of the spots or you get out of this hospital right now. Which won't really happen as I'll have my intern tackle you with a tranquilizer before you actually leave..." This last part was added on as an after thought, as it was, and a damned good one in Arthur's opinion.

Yes... that was a tough decision, indeed, but he knew what he wanted to do -Or preferred to, anyway. So throwing his legs over the side of the bedding, he stared in front of him, just making out the profile of the British-accented doctor through the spots, before proclaiming his choice, "Screw it, then." The other was wrong, anyway -He came here to see what was the issue with him, not to be fixed. So sliding off the paper-covered clinic bed he sought out the door and decided he was going to make a run for it.

"Farvel."

Why would they sedate him like that anyway?! He never even said he was in pain, just that it was really damn annoying to have impaired vision and hearing like he was currently having, and to maybe get some advice to fix it. That, however, didn't seem to be the case and like hell he'd want to be admitted to a hospital for this. So once he started moving to run towards the exit, a headache erupted through his cloudy mind and the spots suddenly grew intense, completely taking over his vision. This, however, didn't give him enough time to stop himself from running before he slammed into the wall just beside the doorway. The contact threw him back, and since he couldn't see, the collision got him completely disoriented before he felt himself falling backwards.

Dammit.

Head snapping up, Arthur was there in seconds, catching the boy, 'oofing' quietly as the boy collapsed against his chest. Hold him up weakly, he gave up, knowing he wasn't strong enough, slowly resting him on the ground, sliding off his jacket, using it as a pillow for the young man. "Terje?" he asked worriedly, "Terje can you hear me?"