Cain Abraham Callahan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fear_noevil) wrote2014-07-29 02:17 pm
fear_noevil) wrote2014-07-29 02:17 pm
Entry tags:
the lessons i taught weren't the lessons i learned...
"KIKI!"
"Oi, don't shout! I'm right fuckin' here, what d'you want?"
Cain Callahan glanced up from the kitchen counter, glaring at the athletic brunette with a head full of wild brown curls and bright green eyes that was trudging sleepily out of the living room, a cup of coffee in hand...still dressed in boy short panties and a sweatshirt.
"Could you maybe not wander around the fuckin' house in your goddamn underwear?" Cain groused.
Valkyrie Callahan merely flipped him off with a sleepy smile as she paused for a sip of her coffee. "Make me, big brother."
"Whatever...that shit got sugar in it?"
"Splenda."
"You check your sugar this morning?"
"75, fasting."
Cain raised an eyebrow. "You ok?"
"Had some orange juice before the coffee...stop fussing!" Valkyrie whined, voice still thick with the British accent that only came on hard and fast when she was pissed off or tired. "I feel fine, I'll recheck after I've had something to eat...what the bloody fuck are you doing, hmm? Shouldn't you be in the shower by now?"
Cain glared again, giving his attention back to the hand he had over the kitchen sink. "Splinter in my goddamn hand."
"Were you punching poor, defenseless trees again?"
"I was runnin' late on my jog, did some work while I was out--can you stop mocking my shit and come fucking help me already, you mouthy little bitch?"
Valkyrie just giggled, dancing up to kiss Cain's cheek before she plucked the tweezers out of his free hand. "Promise not to be a wuss?"
"No."
Valkyrie rolled her eyes. "Bloody doctors. Ah, well...here's to our new life in Siren Cove, yeah?"
Cain scowled at Valkyrie, watching her as she bent over his hand to try and pry the splinter from his heavily callused skin. Her hair was pushed aside, and on the back of her neck, peeking above the collar of her sweatshirt, he could see the first of her scars...lashes left on pale, freckled skin, crisscrossing her back and left to heal poorly on the body of an innocent little girl.
If her biological father wasn't already rotting in prison, Cain would have killed the fucker himself.
That was, however, one of the biggest reasons the two of them had moved to Siren Cove: change. Something away from Detroit, something that wasn't the dirty streets and the rank city air and constantly looking over their shoulders. Where Kiki could do some good with the department instead of watching kids end up behind bars because they didn't buy there was a better way. Someplace where he could stop sending those same kids back out to get shot again, or worse...someplace they could both save a few lives.
Maybe even keep Ma's work alive.
He was distracted by his thoughts by a sharp lance of pain, making him flinch and scowl as he yanked his hand away from her. "Fucking Jesus...shit, Keeks, you tryin' to kill me or something? Fucking goddamn cocksucking shit!"
Blandly, Valkyrie held up the tweezers...where a barely visible sliver of wood was clutched between the tips.
"Doctors," she informed him brightly, "make the absolute worst buggering patients."
Narrowing his eyes, Cain's lip curled in a sneer...right as he leaned over to kiss the top of her head in thanks.
"Bitch."
"Arsehole."
"Shaddup and drink your coffee." he groused, running the tap and sticking his hand underneath it to soothe the sting.
* * * * * * * * * *
A couple hours later, Cain was heading for the hospital. Technically, he wasn't on duty for an hour yet, but he wanted to check in on a couple of his patients. The previous day, he'd seen shadows in their auras, and wanted to get a jump on any complications that might be arising, and he damn sure wanted to wipe out any black spots before they could show up.
Black and white were always the most difficult. Black spots were critical issues. White was a danger zone: a last, brilliant ray of light before life ended and the light went out for good. He couldn't see when it went white, couldn't separate the colors into the feelings and ailments he needed to understand to do his fucking job.
It was the reason his whole goddamn room at home was being painted brown. Brown was a good color: earthy, nutty, brown. In the auras he'd seen, it was the color of honesty. He could trust someone with brown in their aura.
Hitting a local coffee shop for his morning fix of caffeine, Cain headed for the floor the same way he headed for everything: with a scowl on his face and a curse never far from his lips...albeit more sedate, and more thoughtful than cross as he started going over patient charts at the nurse's desk.
Just another day in Paradise: where not even superpowers could save enough lives for his taste.
"Oi, don't shout! I'm right fuckin' here, what d'you want?"
Cain Callahan glanced up from the kitchen counter, glaring at the athletic brunette with a head full of wild brown curls and bright green eyes that was trudging sleepily out of the living room, a cup of coffee in hand...still dressed in boy short panties and a sweatshirt.
"Could you maybe not wander around the fuckin' house in your goddamn underwear?" Cain groused.
Valkyrie Callahan merely flipped him off with a sleepy smile as she paused for a sip of her coffee. "Make me, big brother."
"Whatever...that shit got sugar in it?"
"Splenda."
"You check your sugar this morning?"
"75, fasting."
Cain raised an eyebrow. "You ok?"
"Had some orange juice before the coffee...stop fussing!" Valkyrie whined, voice still thick with the British accent that only came on hard and fast when she was pissed off or tired. "I feel fine, I'll recheck after I've had something to eat...what the bloody fuck are you doing, hmm? Shouldn't you be in the shower by now?"
Cain glared again, giving his attention back to the hand he had over the kitchen sink. "Splinter in my goddamn hand."
"Were you punching poor, defenseless trees again?"
"I was runnin' late on my jog, did some work while I was out--can you stop mocking my shit and come fucking help me already, you mouthy little bitch?"
Valkyrie just giggled, dancing up to kiss Cain's cheek before she plucked the tweezers out of his free hand. "Promise not to be a wuss?"
"No."
Valkyrie rolled her eyes. "Bloody doctors. Ah, well...here's to our new life in Siren Cove, yeah?"
Cain scowled at Valkyrie, watching her as she bent over his hand to try and pry the splinter from his heavily callused skin. Her hair was pushed aside, and on the back of her neck, peeking above the collar of her sweatshirt, he could see the first of her scars...lashes left on pale, freckled skin, crisscrossing her back and left to heal poorly on the body of an innocent little girl.
If her biological father wasn't already rotting in prison, Cain would have killed the fucker himself.
That was, however, one of the biggest reasons the two of them had moved to Siren Cove: change. Something away from Detroit, something that wasn't the dirty streets and the rank city air and constantly looking over their shoulders. Where Kiki could do some good with the department instead of watching kids end up behind bars because they didn't buy there was a better way. Someplace where he could stop sending those same kids back out to get shot again, or worse...someplace they could both save a few lives.
Maybe even keep Ma's work alive.
He was distracted by his thoughts by a sharp lance of pain, making him flinch and scowl as he yanked his hand away from her. "Fucking Jesus...shit, Keeks, you tryin' to kill me or something? Fucking goddamn cocksucking shit!"
Blandly, Valkyrie held up the tweezers...where a barely visible sliver of wood was clutched between the tips.
"Doctors," she informed him brightly, "make the absolute worst buggering patients."
Narrowing his eyes, Cain's lip curled in a sneer...right as he leaned over to kiss the top of her head in thanks.
"Bitch."
"Arsehole."
"Shaddup and drink your coffee." he groused, running the tap and sticking his hand underneath it to soothe the sting.
A couple hours later, Cain was heading for the hospital. Technically, he wasn't on duty for an hour yet, but he wanted to check in on a couple of his patients. The previous day, he'd seen shadows in their auras, and wanted to get a jump on any complications that might be arising, and he damn sure wanted to wipe out any black spots before they could show up.
Black and white were always the most difficult. Black spots were critical issues. White was a danger zone: a last, brilliant ray of light before life ended and the light went out for good. He couldn't see when it went white, couldn't separate the colors into the feelings and ailments he needed to understand to do his fucking job.
It was the reason his whole goddamn room at home was being painted brown. Brown was a good color: earthy, nutty, brown. In the auras he'd seen, it was the color of honesty. He could trust someone with brown in their aura.
Hitting a local coffee shop for his morning fix of caffeine, Cain headed for the floor the same way he headed for everything: with a scowl on his face and a curse never far from his lips...albeit more sedate, and more thoughtful than cross as he started going over patient charts at the nurse's desk.
Just another day in Paradise: where not even superpowers could save enough lives for his taste.
no subject
As Cain asked, beckoning the other man forward, he pulled a penlight out of the pocket on his lab coat. He didn't actively reach for him again, noting another sliver of white entering his aura around the head, obscuring Cain's ability to discern the colors.
He had, however, seen the blotch of pain: red so vivid and thick he couldn't see through it. The shards of white were the same translucency as the rest of his aura, but the one that had entered over his headache was still damn near opaque in his line of sight.
The guy was a problem. Cain solved problems.
"C'mere." he grunted again when the guy didn't move fast enough for him, his tone firm but lacking aggression. "I'm a doctor, I just wanna have a quick look for any signs of trauma, ai'ight? If you're not critical, I'll have a look at you myself. If you are, we'll get you over for an MRI and I'll refer your case to a head guy."
And if he could at least get a second to lay hands on the son of a bitch, maybe he could take enough pain to let him relax, flush out his aura, and let Cain get a fucking look to figure out what the fuck was wrong.
no subject
"I don't like to be touched by-- Well, I don't often like to be touched," he says by way of explanation that hadn't been asked of him. He bounces on his heels for a moment before letting out a deep exhale and stepping closer to the doctor, rolling his shoulders back in an effort to relax. The man is gruff, to be sure, but Spencer manages to convince himself that he means no harm. He's a doctor, after all, and regardless of why he seems to be taking a peculiar interest in Spencer's case, doctors are meant to help people and that's what Spencer is here for--help.
He lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, still a little jittery but calmer than he'd been a moment ago. "I-- I suffered a concussion a little over a month ago. Thirteenth of June," he offers, unsure of whether that information will be useful but he figures that without his chart in hand, the doctor might get something out of it. "I was struck in the head with a glass, I was unconscious for... well, to be entirely honest, I'm still not sure how long. Close to an hour, I suspect."
He leaves out the part about the torture--the black eye, the broken fingers, the finger-shaped bruises that littered his neck--because talking about it will only make him play it out beat-for-beat in his mind, the curse of an eidetic memory. "I've had migraines on and off since then, sometimes random and sometimes triggered by-- by something that reminds me of that time. I just thought I'd get a medical opinion on whether the headaches and the concussion are directly related."