Petrelli Vs Carlisle...the Musical

[chimeramimicry]

"Petrelli VS Carlisle -- The Musical"
Who:  Peter Petrelli & Peter Carlisle (Blackpool)
When: Six months before Season 1


"He's making a mess."

Peter glanced up at the head nurse and arched an eyebrow.  "Oh yeah?"

"Yes.  And he keeps singing.  Take him down to X-Ray."

Peter didn't exactly care for the tone of voice his superior was using, but with two months left of his internship, he couldn't stand being a smart ass.  Shaking the hair out of his face, he took the chart under his arm and headed down to the waiting room.  "Mister Peter Carlisle?" he asked, smiling as he always did.  Patients in pain preferred to have a happy face to greet them.

Comments

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Oh, sometimes patients were so bad! Peter laughed at the innuendo and winked at the Scotsman before he folded his things on the chair for him and snaked his belt across it. "Not checking up on you. I'm just genuinely curious."

He found the badge case easily enough as the technician finally came out from behind her screen. She laid a lead pad across Peter's lap to protect his ability to produce children and then she, and the nurse, ducked behind their screen.

"Just stay still," the redhead commanded.

Peter was much too preoccupied with the coolness of the badge to do much more than wait for the r-rays to be finished.

"This is really awesome," Peter gushed when it was all over. He bounced towards the DI with a big, goofy grin on his face. "How's the foot? It looks a little swollen, but there's no fracture lines."

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

X-Rays were odd, he had to admit, as he slowly left the machine, he pulled himself upright and peered down at the swollen foot. It hurt like hell but he didn't feel like complaining, he merely wriggled his toes before shrugging.

"Just fine! And thank you, but I do rather need that back," Carlisle explained, plucking the badge free from Peters fingers and tugging it into his trouser pocket.

Carefully pulling himself upright, he grabbed his items and slowly started to put them back on, leaving the shoe on his bad foot off. For now anyway.

"So I can just go or what?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Peter tucked his head to the side and blinked, eyes filling with wonder. "Well, we wait for the pictures to get developed first. Takes about half an hour. A doctor will come in to check it and confirm it's not broken. I'll wrap it for you, get you a boot, some crutches and a prescription for some pain meds."

He helped Carlisle with his belt, arms around the other man's slim waist.

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me for a little while still."

He wheeled the cop out of the room and down the hall to another room, flicking on the television.

"Can I get you something? Coffee? Do Scottish people prefer tea instead? Donuts since you're a cop?" Peter was a charming kid, twenty-six years old, and obviously an idealist.

[carlislestyle.livejournal.com]

Another half an hour? Great. That was all he needed. Pulling a face of dismay, he dropped down into the wheelchair. He didn't exactly want crutches on his first day in America. What would the other coppers think? Probably that he was a right dork.

Adjusting his jacket and making sure his shirt was find, he leaned his head back to glance up at Peter.

"I drink coffee, you know. Anything with caffeine in it really. But if you want to get me a donut, that works!" Peter declared with a cheerful grin, unable to turn down free food. He was starving, even if he'd recently had a ton of snacks from the vending machine.

He just got hungry fast these days.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"Coming right up."

Peter had a tendency to idolize people. Cops, doctors, paramedics, firefighters... He loved heroes. He loved the potential of being a hero. Sure, he was just a nurse, two months from getting an RN attached to the back of his name for a title, and that was relatively a heroic thing! He just put himself in the line of fire. He wasn't where the action was.

He didn't safe people. He simply tried to nurture them.

Peter returned ten minutes later with a coffee and two donuts. "You could always call the precinct you're assigned to. Bet they'd hook you up."