FIC: Ride or Die (Paul & Marjan)
Later, Paul would wonder if he would have reacted the same way if he hadn't been talking. If he would have swerved more gently or slammed on the brakes, or if he would have swerved in the opposite direction, knowing that the lane was clear of oncoming traffic and that the other side of the road was flat.
Instead, Paul jerked the steering wheel to the right, barely missing the deer but sending the vehicle off the side of the road, where it skidded down a steep embankment and slammed into a large oak tree.
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Paul and Marjan have a heart-to-heart while they’re stuck in a vehicle after a major car accident.
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2.4k words / AO3 / For @badthingshappenbingo
Content: Blood, semi-graphic injury; mentions of transphobia in healthcare; spoilers for 3x09 and 3x10
A/N: This fic addresses trans body autonomy and healthcare issues. I am cis. I originally felt uncomfortable putting words in Paul's mouth about trans-specific opinions and experiences, but I feel strongly that his POV should have been shown at some point during his medical emergency arc, so I wanted to incorporate it in this story. I am basing this entirely on things I have heard from trans people, both in person and online, although I know that my interpretation/portrayal may not get it right. If anyone has any criticism about how I've written Paul in this story I will listen.
Thank you to longhornletters, thekristen999, and neojana for all of their help!
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"I mean, Rudy's isn't bad, okay? It gets the job done. But the sausage…" Paul shook his head. "I'm from Chicago. I have high expectations, okay?"
"As you've been saying," Marjan said, glancing down at her watch, "for the last half hour."
"Judd said I gotta try Sam's Barbeque on 12th street," Paul said, turning onto Loop 360. "Just some old-school, no nonsense Texas barbeque. I'll ask him if it's halal so you can go with."
"Joy," Marjan said, plastering a sarcastic smile on her face.
"What, you don't like me talking about food?" he asked, glancing over at her briefly.
"I mean, I like when you make food. But you have strong opinions about food that–"
"Oh, and you don't have strong opinions about things?" he said, flipping on his turn signal before moving into the right hand lane.
"I mean, sure. Tacos? Yes. Barbeque? Not so much."
Paul shook his head. "Whatever, I'll just go with Judd then. At least he–"
Something large and pale darted out onto the road in front of them. Later, Paul would wonder if he would have reacted the same way if he hadn't been talking. If he would have swerved more gently or slammed on the brakes, or if he would have swerved in the opposite direction, knowing that the lane was clear of oncoming traffic and that the other side of the road was flat.
Instead, Paul jerked the steering wheel to the right, barely missing the deer but sending the vehicle off the side of the road, where it skidded down a steep embankment and into a large oak tree. Paul's torso was propelled into the steering wheel on the way down, right before the airbag deployed, and Marjan screamed as the car hit the tree. Metal crunching, glass breaking, and then nothing but the sound of Marjan's breathing and the blood pounding in his ears.
Paul was too shocked to do anything but blink slowly and look at the leaves on a tree branch draped across the dashboard in front of him.
"Paul."
Paul looked up at Marjan, who was watching him with wide, worried eyes. "Okay?" she asked.
It took him a moment to take stock of what he was feeling, but then the tight, throbbing pain in his chest came swiftly into focus. His lungs burned with every shallow breath. He looked out the driver's side window and saw that they were not on flat ground. The car was tipped forward at an incline, suspended between the embankment and the tree. He tried to look at the hood crunched up against the tree trunk but could barely see through the shattered windshield.
He took another shallow breath, wincing at the deep pain in his chest. "Yeah, I think so." He swallowed and looked around him, at the pieces of glass on the console. "Are you–are you okay?"
"Um…"
Paul looked up at her. "Marj?" Then he looked down.
He wasn't sure how he hadn't seen it before. One of the branches that had gone through the windshield – thick and gnarled, with smaller branches growing out – was impaled in Marjan's chest.
For a moment he couldn't even process what he was seeing, but then his heart rate picked up and it felt like the entire scene came into focus all at once. The deer, the crash, the precarious position of his car, and… Marjan.
"Need to call 9-1-1," he told her, and she nodded. "Do you have your phone?"
She looked at the floor by her feet. "It fell. I don't know where."
Paul's phone was in his backpack in the back seat. He was afraid to unbuckle his seatbelt due to the angle the car was at, but he reached one arm behind him, feeling blindly for the bag. The sharp stab of pain in his ribs hit him so suddenly that he jerked back into position.
The car barely shook from the motion but Marjan cried out.
"Oh god." Paul froze where he was and looked at Marjan's wound. Her shirt and the bottom of her scarf were stained with blood. The branch had entered slightly above where her heart would be, although they wouldn't know what kind of damage had been done until someone could get them out of this car. Which needed to happen fast.
"No moving," Paul said breathlessly.
"Not going anywhere," she said with a wry smile, and he released a breath that might have been a laugh if he wasn't so terrified.
Paul couldn’t tell where his bag was, but he hoped he could use his phone anyway. "Siri," he said as loudly and clearly as possible, "call 9-1-1."
There was a long pause, like maybe Siri was considering whether or not she wanted to help them out, but finally the electronic voice said, "Calling emergency services in five seconds…"
"Thank god," Paul breathed.
"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"
"Yeah," said Paul. "Yeah, our car crashed and we can't get out. My friend is impaled on a branch."
"What is your location, sir?"
"We're off Loop 360," he said. He paused to take another breath, careful not to inhale too deeply. "We were going south from Lake Travis."
"Do you remember which exit, sir?"
"We were eating at Rudy's. Maybe a mile south of there? We were almost to Mopac."
"We're dispatching fire and rescue to your location. Sir, did you say a passenger was impaled?"
"By a tree branch," Paul told her.
"Is the passenger responsive?"
"Yes, she's awake."
"Okay, it's very important that you don't try to remove the branch. Please wait for first responders."
"We know," said Paul. "We're firefighters."
The dispatcher asked them a few other questions, which they both answered to the best of their ability, and then she told them that she would stay on the line until help arrived.
Paul looked over at Marjan, who was looking straight ahead at the tree in front of them. He reached over very slowly and pressed his fingers to her carotid artery to take her pulse, and she let him. It was elevated, although not alarmingly so, which meant she was probably edging towards the second stage of hypovolemic shock. Unfortunately there wasn't much he could do for her. He couldn't remove the branch, and he didn't have any fluids to administer. All they could do was wait.
"Your ribs?" she asked him.
He nodded and leaned his head back. "One of 'em's probably cracked." Both of them knew that a cracked rib was the least of his concerns with this kind of chest trauma. He could only pray that he didn't have a cardiac tamponade or a pierced lung, both of which could kill him before he made it to the hospital.
"How is your heart?" she asked him, reaching out to take his pulse, but he brushed her hand away and made a show of doing it himself so she wouldn't try again.
"Well, it hasn't zapped me yet, so it must be fine," he muttered. He hoped that was true anyway.
Marjan watched him for a long time, breathing shallowly, before she said, "You're still mad at me."
"About…" Paul looked at her, confused, before he realized what she was saying. He sighed. "Marj, I told you, we're good."
She licked her lips. Her brow and upper lip were dotted with sweat, but her eyes were zeroed in on him. Her pupils were huge. "You think I don't know you by now?"
"What do you think you know?"
"That you're frustrated. Every time you mention the defibrillator."
"Of course I'm frustrated. Wouldn't you be?"
Marjan sighed irritably. "This is different."
"Why are you bringing this up now?" said Paul.
"Well, it may be now or never," she said, raising her eyebrows in a smirk.
Paul gritted his teeth. "Don't say that."
She shrugged, then grimaced. "Just answer me."
"Marj, seriously–"
"Don't lie to me. We don't lie to each other."
"Fine. Yes!" Paul closed his eyes against the wave of pain in his chest. "Yes," he whispered.
It took him a moment before he didn't feel like he was going to throw up, but finally he opened his eyes to look at her. Her nostrils flared as she took several shallow breaths.
Paul tried to think of how he could say this, how he could explain, but he was so tired of explaining. "You don't understand," he said finally.
"Maybe I would if you told me." Her breathing was growing more rapid.
Paul had to fight with his body not to take the deep breath he so desperately needed. "Someone made decisions about my body that I didn't consent to," he said finally, breathing out of his nostrils. "I wasn't awake, but you were. You knew I didn't want it. You could have told them."
"They weren't exactly asking me for my medical opinion, Paul."
"I know, okay?" he gritted out. "I know."
Marjan was silent for a long time. Paul leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. He was so tired. Physically, mentally. Tired of everything.
"You know how many times I've been put under for surgery?" he said finally. "I'd need more than one hand to count 'em out for you. You know how many times I've woken up, scared as hell that someone did something to my body that I didn't want? Something they couldn't fix? Something they wouldn't even be held accountable for, because the healthcare system is just that f*cked for people like me?"
Marjan held his gaze, eyes watery, waiting for him to continue.
"And for the first time," he said, swallowing, "I woke up and that's exactly what had happened."
The car was silent except for the wind blowing through the trees. Paul wished for a moment that he could call his mother. His mother who had sat in so many waiting rooms for him, had confronted doctors and nurses and receptionists on his behalf, had been by his bedside when he woke up scared, his hand in hers, telling him everything was going to be okay.
"I'm sorry," Marjan said softly.
Paul wiped at his eyes. Suddenly he remembered that they had an audience. "Dispatch?" he called out, but no one answered. "Dispatch?"
"Bad connection out here," Marjan murmured tiredly.
Paul pressed his finger to her throat again, and she let him. Her pulse was getting weaker.
"Not good, huh?" she asked, looking up at him. For the first time, he could see the fear in her eyes.
"You're going to be just fine," he told her. Her skin was a sickening shade of gray. He'd never felt so helpless in his life.
Marjan took a shallow breath and made eye contact with him, although it appeared to be a struggle. "You're my best friend," she said between rapid breaths. "I'd never want to hurt you."
"I know." He reached over and took her hand, which was cool to the touch. Why had he chosen now of all times to talk to her about this? What if this was the last conversation they ever had?
Paul took another series of shallow breaths, and when he paused he thought he heard sirens. "Hear that?" he asked her.
"What?"
The sirens were growing louder now. Paul's heart rate picked up. "Sirens. They're coming."
"Okay," Marjan said, closing her eyes.
"Marj," he said insistently, squeezing her hand. Her eyelids fluttered like she was trying to open them, then closed again. "Marjan."
The sirens grew louder and finally stopped somewhere behind them. He heard doors slamming, voices shouting out orders.
He might have been imagining it, but he thought he felt Marjan squeeze his hand.
—
Paul was in the hospital for two days.
He had a bruised lung and two cracked ribs. They put him on a ventilator and gave him some diuretics and antibiotics.
Marjan didn’t fare quite as well. She had a lacerated aorta, which could have killed her instantly if that tree branch had hit a few millimeters to the left and torn it open entirely. Paul thought of all the ways it could have gone wrong: if he'd swerved even a tiny bit harder; the deer hadn't walked out at exactly that spot on the road; if that tree hadn't grown in exactly that spot, with the branch at exactly that angle. But by some turn of events, all of those things had happened exactly the way they did. And she was going to be okay.
"They're letting you out of here?"
“I think the nurses here are sick of me,” Paul said, not looking back at Yolanda, the young nurse pushing his wheelchair. He could almost hear her rolling her eyes.
“Pretty natural response to being around you for any length of time,” Marjan quipped from her hospital bed.
“Back in five,” Yolanda told him, setting the locking brake.
"Thank you," he told her. He turned back to Marjan, who was swaddled in blankets. "What is all this nonsense?” he said, gesturing to the cards and flowers on the table next to her bed. A stuffed Bernese dog was in bed next to her. "I didn't get any flowers or stuffed animals."
“The flowers were from Tommy, and this is from Cap and Buttercup,” she said, petting the dog’s head.
“Man, Cap just brought me some sudoku books.”
Marjan frowned. “But your hatred of sudoku is well-known.”
“Right?” Paul exclaimed. “Come on, at least give me some crossword puzzles.”
Marjan shook her head sadly. “It’s like he doesn’t even know you.”
Paul leaned his elbow against the arm of the wheelchair. “So when do I get to come back and spring you out of here?”
“Ugh, who knows,” Marjan said, pulling the stuffed dog into her lap. “They want to make sure that infection is cleared up first.”
“Ah.”
“But when they do let me out, we’re going out for some decent food, because this cafeteria food is disgusting.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. "Barbeque?"
"No, I'll leave you to go on your little barbeque date with Judd," she said with a dismissive hand motion.
“Shoulda told Cap to bring you one of his smoothies,” said Paul. “I’m sure he would have agreed.”
Marjan rolled her eyes. “Anyway,” she said, “once I get out, maybe we can have a conversation about some things while I’m not about to pass out from blood loss.”
Paul laughed, and Marjan smiled at him. “Okay," he said, holding out his hand for her to shake. "Deal.”
“And," Marjan said, pulling him in for a hug, "if you let Cap get within 50 feet of this hospital room with a smoothie, ride-or-die privileges are revoked."
