A New Perspective on an Old Theme
folder
M through R › Psych
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
27
Views:
4,676
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Psych
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
27
Views:
4,676
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Psych, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 3 -- D&D: Dead and Drifting
“Shock him!” The surgeon said, and clenched his hands as the nurse and assisting surgeon looked at him as if he was crazy.
“But he’s open!” The assisting surgeon said, and the operating surgeon scowled at him.
“Then pump him with your hand! I don’t care how you do it, but I’m not going to lose this guy!”
“Huh. This is weird,” Shawn suddenly blinked as he found himself gazing down at his body as it lay on the operating table, and grimaced as a nurse reached into his open chest, and started manipulating his heart as if it were some sort of stress ball, while the doctor picked a metallic object from his chest and dropped it into a bowl.
“Eew. That is gross,” he shivered and shook his head. “Definitely don’t want to see that. Not really sure what I want to see, or even what it is I’m doing, but I definitely don‘t want to be in here while they‘re doing . . . whatever it is they‘re doing . . .” he drifted out of the operating room, and gazed around the hallway.
“Not sure I want to see this either,” he grimaced as he watched slightly less than a dozen people as they walked around the corridors of the hospital. They walked, not paying any attention to him, or the people who actually walked through them as they went . . . well, wherever it was they were going. “This is all way too freaky, even for me.”
And yet, morbidly fascinated, and not having much else to do at that point still not wanting to go back into the operating room, Shawn watched as the people, for want of a better word, walked as if they were in some kind of trance, up to and including a nurse in a rather old fashioned uniform who pushed some kind of metallic cart in, but never out of, the operating room he had just vacated.
He tilted his head and saw the people were in different and varied forms of clothing from different decades, many modern, but some slightly older, and he shook his head, his mind making the connection before he was really ready for it -- but then with his well-trained mind, that was his curse to bear -- as always.
“Okay. I get it,“ he finally said aloud. “I’m dead,” he glanced around the hall and shrugged. “Hmm. Thought there’d be some kind of light or something . . .” He said, and drifted out to the hall, and then into the private, VIP waiting room.
“But he’s open!” The assisting surgeon said, and the operating surgeon scowled at him.
“Then pump him with your hand! I don’t care how you do it, but I’m not going to lose this guy!”
“Huh. This is weird,” Shawn suddenly blinked as he found himself gazing down at his body as it lay on the operating table, and grimaced as a nurse reached into his open chest, and started manipulating his heart as if it were some sort of stress ball, while the doctor picked a metallic object from his chest and dropped it into a bowl.
“Eew. That is gross,” he shivered and shook his head. “Definitely don’t want to see that. Not really sure what I want to see, or even what it is I’m doing, but I definitely don‘t want to be in here while they‘re doing . . . whatever it is they‘re doing . . .” he drifted out of the operating room, and gazed around the hallway.
“Not sure I want to see this either,” he grimaced as he watched slightly less than a dozen people as they walked around the corridors of the hospital. They walked, not paying any attention to him, or the people who actually walked through them as they went . . . well, wherever it was they were going. “This is all way too freaky, even for me.”
And yet, morbidly fascinated, and not having much else to do at that point still not wanting to go back into the operating room, Shawn watched as the people, for want of a better word, walked as if they were in some kind of trance, up to and including a nurse in a rather old fashioned uniform who pushed some kind of metallic cart in, but never out of, the operating room he had just vacated.
He tilted his head and saw the people were in different and varied forms of clothing from different decades, many modern, but some slightly older, and he shook his head, his mind making the connection before he was really ready for it -- but then with his well-trained mind, that was his curse to bear -- as always.
“Okay. I get it,“ he finally said aloud. “I’m dead,” he glanced around the hall and shrugged. “Hmm. Thought there’d be some kind of light or something . . .” He said, and drifted out to the hall, and then into the private, VIP waiting room.