Author's Notes:
I hope everyone had a happy Turkey Day. I want to thank you all for replying to this story-- you're so sweet to bother.Special Thanks to: lili brink, Becky, remnants-2011, gollum4ever, A. Windsor (always a pleasure to hear from you!), Princess Organa Skywalker, Brigantia (you left me such a sweet message it really brightened my day), Mei-Mei, Uche (whisper; thanks!), Nadra, and the every lovely pokey. ^_^
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This is Not an Exit 1b/?
By Meredith Bronwen Mallory
http://www.demando.net
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It was the slam of the staff-room door that woke Tomode Solo from a shallow, blighted sleep. With a hiss, she raised her head like a lioness and the apprentice maid at fault shot her a terrified look.
"You got something against closing doors quietly?" Tommy asked rubbing her forehead.
"I *am* sorry," the maid wrung her hands, then minced over to the counter and poured herself a thick glass of brown caff. "It's just Doctor Farr-- he's on the rampage. We have about sixteen civilians come in who were caught in crossfire with the troopers downtown. You know how he gets. He makes me so... gah!"
"My condolences," Tommy said with sincerity. She pushed her body away from the table she'd been slouched over on and tried in vain to organize the flimsies she'd been using as a pillow. Absently, she rubbed at the backwards smear of 'increase dosage' that had transfered to her skin.
"Speak of the devil--" the maid hissed into her caff as the door swung open again. Doctor Farr strode in, ignoring the apprentice maid and staring down his nose at Tommy.
"You sleep in here again, Solo?" he sniffed, "Don't you ever go home?"
Tommy uncorked her now-warm bottle of brandy and took a rebellious slug, "Don't have a home." She handed the bottle off to the maid, who put it in the fridge with the caff. "I've a two room apartment and an empty bed. No one to go home to."
"Come, come, Doctor Solo," Farr straightened his robes in the cracked and lopsided mirror, "bitterness doesn't--"
"Suits me just fine, thanks," Tommy pushed her chair away and lifted a wad-like stack of paper-work towards the other doctor, "Here's the Ward C reports. We're out of three different types of pills-- same as last month and the month before that."
"I've put into the Imperial Governor for more funding," Doctor Farr said, taking the sheets.
"And I'll faint if we actually get it," rolling her eyes, Tommy felt a slight buzz on her headset. Flipping a switch on her pager, she took a breath and said, "Yes?"
"Doctor Solo? You asked to be notified when the girl in Ward E woke up?" the voice was distant.
"Yes, yes, I'll be right there," Tommy tugged at her sash and pushed through the doors purposefully.
"I took a sample of her blood for Central," the orderly said when Tommy arrived, carefully hiding the words behind her slim comp-board. "We'll see if we can't pull anything up on her."
"Good, thanks," Tommy waved her hand dismissively, eyes focused on the woman sitting in bed number eight. She was sitting up, the thin sheet pooled around her like murky water. Her breasts were bare and sagging with milk-- she was holding her palms under her nipples to collect the tiny flow, but on the whole was unashamed of her nakedness. Hiking up her robes, Tommy perched on the empty bed to the right watching the other woman with wide, violet-brown eyes. At last, she managed, "How are you feeling?"
Engel stared at her for a moment, and Tommy could see that *her* eyes were any and all colors, a precious chamileon opal, and she was frightened by the deadness in them. "Tired. Sore," she said softly, then softer still, "Scared. Where am I?"
"Corella General," the doctor said easily. "They found you in the sewer."
"I can't move my legs." Tommy had never seen anyone so terrified act quite so calm.
She momentarily wished she had glasses, if only something to stare through, "They said you fought back against the trank. You probably got something pressing on the lower spinal cord. Don't worry, I'll put your name in for surgery ASAP." Delicately, she took up an edge of the sheet as wiped away a drop of milk making its way along Engel's ribs. "Say-- there are a bunch of babies down in the orphans ward who could really use that stuff. Would you mind a pump?"
"Oh," Engel said with a careful look on her face. Her pain was earnest, and still she wore a mask. "Yes-- yes, I'd like to help."
"Right," Tommy snapped at an orderly, "Get a breast pump over here pronto."
"Can I..." Engel wipped her hands on the sheet, "ah, can I feed the babies myself? Later? Like a wet nurse?"
"It's highly irregular," Tommy said without thinking, and watched Engel's face become a broken mirror. "But, yeah, I guess so." She reached down to the footlocker at the end of the bed, "Say, if you're going anyplace, you better put some clothes on." She handed over a thick, gray cotton standard regulation dress.
Engel slipped it over her head, and buttoned it up after cleaning off the rest of her chest. The orderly arrived with the pump and Engel promptly undid the buttons again.
"You tell me when this hurts, 'kay sweet-pea?" Tommy asked, securing the machine and making sure the settings were proper.
Engel nodded, "Alright."
Nervously, Tommy's fingers twined around her locket, "Where are *your* babies, Miss?"
"First I'm "sweet pea", now I'm 'miss'," Engel blushed but did not lower her eyes. The words about children seemed to pass right through her-- as though she or they were phantoms and she just couldn't bare it.
"Well, we don't have a name for you," Doctor Solo spread her hands helplessly, "Unless you wanna help us out with that. What's your name?"
Engel tilted her chin every-so-slightly, "I don't remember." Her lips formed a candy-heart shape as she pursed them in thought.
"You're bull-shitting me," Tommy said with her best poker face.
"You put a name down on the sheet," Engel pointed out, "I caught just a glimpse when the nurse came around."
"Right," Tommy drawled, "I just put down Engel. Better than nothin'."
"Angel?" there was the slightest bit of vibrato in her voice, and she pronounced it correctly. Though her breaths were deep and slow, it seemed as though she might hyperventilate. "Where'd you get that?"
Tommy's almond-shaped eyes narrowed to the size of dried flower petals, "A nurse, barely more than a kid, said you looked like one. Some pilot's fairy story, they..."
"--they live on the moons of Iego, I think," said Engel, who seemed to be speaking for someone else, "They're the most beautiful creatures in the universe. Kind and wonderful."
"Yeah," Tommy frowned, which was only slightly more pinched than her normal expression, "How'd you--"
"I'm not an angel," Engel's voice was intense. "I'm not." She was gripping the bed rail with knuckles fading to white.
"Alright, you're not," the doctor put in shrewdly, "But unless you give me something else, Engel it is."
"I guess it is then," the other seemed to draw into herself, "The pump hurts now." Gently, Tommy eased the equipement away. The tank was full to the brim with the ivory liquid, and she genuinely smiled at her patient.
"You've been a big help," her smile only widened, "feeding the babies that ration formula is like signing their death certificate. Breast milk is what they really need."
"Next time I get to feed them myself, right?" it came out all in one breath.
Tommy just nodded, "Probably tomorrow morning." She flicked a glance down at her watch, "Doctor Interp should finish up in the OR in about ten minutes. I'll send a nurse down to prep you and we'll fix that spine of yours right away."
Laying back, Engel's eyes spoke her thanks, and she seemed to drift away to a place between sleep and waking-- a veil of forgetfullness fell over her eyes. Grabbing a fresh sheet, Tommy tucked Engel in and moved towards the door before flipping on the beeper to the general band.
"Thalia--" at a loss for a last name, she shrugged, "Thalia, report to Ward E. Our mystery girl is awake and needs to be prepped for surgery."
"Be right there," came the response through the static. Tommy muttered an affirmative and glanced through the ward-window. Engel lay on the thorn-bed of her matted hair, arms loosely cradling air.
Tommy knew that, in her mind, the other woman was really holding a baby.
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
"Koo! Tommy put your name down as Engel!" Thalia enthused as she lifted Engel's clip-board, "How romantic."
Engel, floating on a river of half-dreaming, smiled a sad and kind smile, "If you really want to think so."
"You must have someone looking for you, I'm sure," the nurse went on unabated, "All this will seem like a dream when he comes for you."
"He?" softly, firmly, dangerously spoken. Engel glanced up at the other woman through her thick lashes.
"Well, surely there's someone out there who loves you," Thalia almost sang, "You'll see."
Engel rolled over on her side and drew her knees up to her empty breasts, "You must think love is wonderful."
Thalia's face paused inbetween emotions, "Isn't it?"
"Isn't it," Engel murmured, almost frightened, as Thalia undressed her like a doll and applied the pre-surgery fluids, "Isn't it."
Somebody loves me, thought Engel-- who was also called Padme. It was like a funeral dirge or the words on an execution warrant; there's somebody who loves me.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
(to the tune of "Jingle Bell Rock")
Feedback yeah, feedback yeah, feedback's my thing,
It makes me dance,
And it makes me sing,
A few words, a thousand, or a bunch in a row,
I just like to know,
'Cause it makes me glow,
Oh, yeah, feedback's my thing.