Date: 2007-09-04 05:06 am (UTC)
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For all that she's concentrating on her work, Kim's well aware of how the pain's affecting her patient (for he is that, now, no matter how she came to be involved in the first place) and there's worry in the clear gray eyes now.

Five more stitches.

Then three.

One, and Kim ties it, snips the silk, and sets the instruments down with a small metallic clatter.

"There." She winces at the gray hue to his skin, at the sight of his hands and the spreading ice, and reaches for his wrist to check his pulse.

"Stay with me, okay? Can you hear me? Come on, look at me--"
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Gabriel Gray

November 2010

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