lovesguinness: (Bad day hands)
Detective Euan Fitzpatrick ([personal profile] lovesguinness) wrote2010-04-30 11:31 pm

[ profile] musesandlyrics | 6.18. Ace Ventura quote

6.18. "If I'm not back in five minutes... wait longer!"
Ace Ventura

With [ profile] mattdevlin
[Follows THIS]

Euan really shouldn't have gotten out of bed that day. That realisation because more and more clear to him as the day progressed and he began to feel increasingly more crap as the hours passed. Lunch was a huge mistake. Knowing he had a long haul interrogation ahead of him, he should have taken the signals and realised that he wasn't just exhausted, he was just feeling plain sick. The pnuemonia had been one thing and contracted because of the plane journey, but in general, he rarely got sick. He had always had a tough constitution and most things apparently passed him by while they struck others down around him. He didn't take notice of the signs and figured it would all just pass anyway. Maybe overdoing it in Amsterdam after already knackered from trying to find his feet in London. Whatever it was, Euan found himself in the hours following lunch with Vee feeling unnervingly like he was going to throw up. Or maybe worse. Right then, his gut could completely rebel and throwing up might be the least of worries.

Still, he was good at masks and good at concealing what he was really feeling. Perfect at it, even. He managed to completely elude Gee that he was feeling crap and they headed into the interview room as planned. The suspect was Irish, and it wasn't a hard call to automatically let Euan fall into the good cop roll, buddying up to the bloke to squeeze answers out of him, while Gee slotted into the bad cop pants, roughing the guy up a little. It got to a point, though, that all Euan could think about was how painful his had become. While he was sitting on the edge of the interview table facing the suspect, but with his back to Gee in an effort for his body language to be more mate-like than copper versus perp, he was hit with a distinct wave of warning pain slicing through his gut and he clutching at it before he could stop himself. An uncomfortable heat swept over him and he broke out into a sweat, causing him to push up off the table and start heading for the door. All he offered was an abrupt, "I need a recess," as he quickly pulled open the door and was already making a bolt for the men's room when it swung back closed behind him. Gee would have her hands tied. Inevitably, she would reflexively want to follow him, but she couldn't just up and leave a perp alone in the room, even if it was being video taped, and ending the interview abruptly would compromise any progress they had made. She would need to stick it out in Euan's absence, no matter how distracted she was.

Slamming the door of the first stall open so roughly is banged against the wall of the cubicle, Euan barely got bent over the toilet before he started to throw up forcefully, which only caused the pain in his stomach to increase. He was leant awkward over the bowl holding his stomach, but not the flood gates had opened, it felt like it would never stop. In fact, it felt like he was puking more now than he ever had done in his life but it could just be because it was taking so much effort to pull it off. By the time it seemed over - for the moment - Euan was sweating heavily and tears of pain and exertion were streaking silently down his cheeks. He didn't even realise they had started until he had a moment to try and get a breather, panting as he slumped down on the floor of the cubicle and swiped a hand over his damp face. But the pain wasn't easing; it wasn't coming and going like it had done over the day and with a hiss that was swallowed by an agonised groan, Euan dropped his head back against the wall and gripped his abdomen, trying to will it to stop hurting. There had been only one other time in his life he had this much pain in his stomach, and that wasn't something he wanted to think about.

He was probably only in there for about ten minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. When he managed to get a small hold on the pain and recovered from the bout of vomiting, he flushed the toilet and weakly got up off the floor to wash his face with some cold water and rinse his mouth out. His legs were shaky and feeling like jelly, forcing him to take a moment standing with his hands braced on the edge of the basin as he tried to contemplate whether he was going to vomit again. It felt like he wanted to, but he wasn't sure he had the energy to pull it off. This was some really fucking full-on food poisoning. He had to go home, he felt too sick and in pain to even be able to think straight, let alone try and return to the questioning. It probably wouldn't go down well if he barfed all over a suspect. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, seeing now that he actually looked really terrible. His face was white and he looked exhausted, sweat trickling down his temples despite the cold water. It couldn't be a relapse of the pnuemonia, his chest felt fine, he wasn't coughing. It also couldn't have been a dodgy pie for lunch because no way would he be feverish from that and pressing the backs of his fingers to his cheeks, he felt that he was actually burning up. "Fuck," he cursed hoarsely, trying to swallow back another nauseated urge to be sick. Bed. He just wanted to be in bed.

He felt around in the breast pocket of his jacket to try and get his cell phone out as he exited the bathroom. Even walking was hurting. Seriously, the last thing he needed was to cross paths with Vee's human-sized vibrator, but before Euan had a chance to back track and make himself scarce, his eyes landed on Devlin coming up the hallway and Euan sighed, still attempting to dig his phone out of his pocket. "Devlin," he greeted him politely as he approached, stepping to the side so he could pass.

"Fitzpatrick," Matt returned calmly. It wasn't a secret that neither of them had really hit it off together, even if they had Vee in common. Euan hadn't stayed long at Matt's over Christmas before he landed in hospital and then he went on to stay with Gee, much to Matt's irritation at the time. Since then, things had just been stoic between them. Euan stepped into Evans' shoe and even though he came with a reputation as an excellent detective, the two still didn't make much effort with each other and hadn't needed to be in each others presence very often. This was an unusual event, with Matt and Ronnie just finishing their own interrogation in a nearby interview room. Matt needed a slash before he went back to the department, so inevitably, paths were now crossing.

Euan barely heard the returned greeting, though. He had to pull his hand from his pocket without the phone when a strange wave of dizziness engulfed him and he had to drop heavily against the wall when the floor started to feel like it was tipping under him. Uh oh, this really wasn't good. If this was vertigo, why did it suddenly have to kick in right in front of Supercop? That was the least of his worries for the moment, though, when that disturbing nausea came back full force and next thing he knew, he was throwing up all over the tiles of the hall and both their feet. Hadn't he already been empty? He was sure he had thrown up everything he had ever eaten back in the bathroom. Obviously not. It was the last thought he had before the room lurched around him again and the dizziness increased ten-fold, causing him to, just a couple of beats later, pass out cold.

Matt was just stunned. There wasn't really any other word for it. He didn't even have time to process the fact that Euan had just barfed all over his shoe before the fellow Irishman was crumpling forward. Matt automatically made a grab for him, catching him before he hit the floor and face-planted into the mess of vomit. A few colourful expletives fell from his lips in surprise and he pulled Euan backwards to ease him down to the floor. He quickly looked both ways up the hall before calling out, "Someone call triple nine, we need an ambulance here!" The alert immediately had people running from all directions and by the time anyone even reached their side, Euan was coming-to, though he looked far from well. Matt crouched over him, squeezing his shoulder and giving him a small shake to try and further rouse him. "Euan, mate... can you hear me? It's Matt."

"I needa go'ome..." Euan mumbled woozily until that terrible agony was back and he groaned, trying to curl onto his side as he clutched his stomach, fingers digging into the flesh through his shirt. There was no saving face now, and he didn't want to, either. All he wanted was the pain to stop and his own string of cursing escaped without stopping it. He had no idea he had an audience. In fact, he couldn't even remember where the fuck he was. He just wanted to sleep... or die. Both might be nice. It was the last clear thought he managed before he blacked out again, his head slumping to the side and hitting the tiles.

"Shit!" Matt hissed and looked up at a uniform copper standing over them. "Help me turn him in case he spews again. Has someone called a fucking ambulance?" he demanded, hooking his hands under Euan's back to ease him onto his side with the help of the WPC.

"About six minutes out, Matty," came Ronnie's voice from just up the hall, indicating the ambulance was on it's way. "Looks like he might need a good surgeon, don't you think?"

Matt frowned, head shooting up so he could look at Ronnie and was met with a knowing raise of his eyebrows over the top of his glasses. Euan had been gripping his stomach and it was only a couple of moments later that Matt was felt a tickle of dejavu creep up his spine and a distinct surge of empathy. "Oh bloody bollocks..." he muttered in realisation.

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