'In The Still of The Night Shift (part IV):
'Meeting the Parents'
Rating: PG. Good clean and wholesome. And if Dave suggests anything that isn't to your liking, he's talking about the myogenic cycle of the heart, capiche?
Archive: Go for it!
Spoilers: It's clean.
Disclaimers: I'm pathetic. I steal characters off of shows without permission and then parade them around for my own amusement. See, now *I* feel bad.
Author's Notes: I haven't finished with the little delusional world that I've created, someplace between the end of series five and the uttermost beginnings of series six. It never happened. Or will happen. Has mild angst themes, and if you'd like a recap...
*Lucy Knight's not too chuffed at being Dr Carter's one and only urine carrying med student extraordinaire [Hey Samantha, Amen to Microsoft Spellchecker, no?:)]
*Dr Luka Kovac and Abby Lockhart are on the ride of a lifetime.
*Dr Mark Greene's currently seeking *meaning* in his life. And no, they don't have an ice cream in that flavour. Yet.
*Dr Dave's treating a girl that gets to him. And not in the way that most girls do.
Feel free to critique, or even read, my story;) My ears and e-mailbox are always open...at...
[email protected].
And Samantha Caldwell, my beta and friend, thanks for all the lightning e-mails! In the words of some demi-rock god, that's most probably dead... you rock!;)
---------------------------------------------
Randy managed to find the phone beneath all the many layers of textbooks, patients' charts and old issues of Cosmopolitan.
"Hello, County General Hospital Emergency Department, what can I do for you?"
There was a slight pause. "Do you like scary movies?
Randy shrugged, popping her gum, "Not really."
Another muffled pause. "Oh...you don't? Sorry, wrong number *click*."
Randy shrugged again, putting the phone down. As she was tidying away the mess she caught a glimpse of an old memo that had been buried beneath the chaos of her work life.
Uh-oh, it was two weeks old and addressed to Dr Greene.
"Uh, Jerry, you want to give this to Mark for me?"
Jerry nodded, taking it from her quickly, and continuing with adding the final touches to a hollowed out pumpkin he had carved. Randy squinted at it momentarily. The beady eyes, pronounced forehead, and the fixed little pout. She succumbed to a smile. "Jerry that isn't who I think it is, is it?"
Jerry turned to face her, grinning proudly. "Is it too obvious?"
She nodded slowly. "Oh yeah." She paused, "Man, even as a vegetable he gives me the heebie-jeebies."
"Hey a little help over here!" A voice suddenly called out from the throng of dwellers hovering around chairs.
They, and the rest of the nursing staff jerked their heads up to see what was happening instinctively.
Two teenagers were holding up a guy who had a knife protruding from his chest, lots of red liquid covering his shirt, and his head hung limply across his shoulder.
"We were just...we were just..." The girl started, her voice becoming muffled by her whimpering.
Dr Maggie Doyle, who had been busy searching for no.7 across on the New York Times Crossword, hurried out to aid the pair. She skilfully managed to take him into her arms, and began on her way to an empty trauma room. "Clear Trauma One now!" She paused, several nurses scattering ahead of her, she eyed the body in her hands. "I want a surgeon paged, get me 200cc blood-type and cross matched, and-"
She stopped dead in her tracks, as the body in her hands began to shake. She released her arms from their hold, and the boy dropped, and proceeded to get up, seemingly unfazed by the fall, to remove the knife-which was plastic, his eyes watering from his laughter.
"That's not funny."
The kid followed along behind her, "Hey Doc loosen up will ya? We were just mucking about." He paused, catching his breath, "But you shoulda seen the look on your face. Oh man..." More laughing.
Maggie reclaimed her seat by the front desk, her eyes scanning back along the lines of newspaper print, her mouth seeking the solace of her cold coffee.
The kids were still laughing.
She took a few breaths to quell the rapid, adrenaline-induced beating of her heart.
"*Not* funny."
Still laughing.
She sighed. So...seven across...
--And this sure beat the hell out of sleeping.
-------------
Lucy Knight was not the most awake of med students. But even she could decipher the subtitle that accompanied being handed the urine samples from Carter. She was disposable.
And only as valuable as the data that could be extracted from it. And that was only occasionally.
"Whoa, watch it!" Lucy muttered, as a bunch of hyperactive, candy coated kids rushed past her into the lift. She re-gained her footing, sighing as she realized that they were going to be on her ride.
The metallic doors began to close. And then, she could hear panting, and was greeted to the sight of Carter pulling the door open and stepping beside her.
He smiled. "Hey, Luce." He quickly composed himself before frowning at her. "Didn't I tell you to take those down fifteen minutes ago?"
Lucy sighed.
--And this was going to be some ride.
----------------
Dr Mark Greene was not a doctor that surrendered easily. He fought until it was a completely one-sided battle. He fought with a passion. A vengeance. All good doctors did.
But this time the battle was not his.
"I'm calling it. Eleven minutes past three in the morning." Mark looked back down at the small frame, covered in what he assumed was a cowboy costume, the boots, caked in the drying red liquid, joined the oversized hat and plastic goody bag at the corner of the room.
The nurses were all quiet as they went about with clearing things up, only so that the process could be continued again later, with some other person's kid.
One of the surgeons who had attempted to save her was just as transfixed. "This sucks," the lady, Dr Corday, muttered, as she snapped off her gloves roughly, turning to leave the haunting image behind.
Mark watched her go without saying a word. He knew how she felt. Picking up her boots, he placed them at the end of the bed. And then tucking the little girl's shirt into her jeans, he too stepped outside.
Elizabeth had been standing against the door. Well, at least that was the way he had found her on leaving. She turned to smile at him politely and motioned for a middle-aged couple sitting along some seats several feet away.
She looked back at him with a slight nod. And then quietly, they both approached the couple.
This immediately warranted a response from them both, and they stood up, their faces tense with the only question that they wished answered.
Dr Greene and Dr Corday couldn't bring a polite smile to their faces, both only too aware of how misleading that could appear. Dr Greene motioned for them to sit, but they refused with a firm shake of the head.
Sighing Dr Corday eyed them both, holding steady eye contact with the first part of what was said, but quickly letting it slide, as the raw, intense emotions registered on their faces.
The woman clutched at her mouth, shaking as the finality of it hit her. Her husband had to hold her up, soothingly rocking her in his arms, saving his own tears for some more private place, where he could cry uninhibited and undisturbed.
Both doctors refrained from breaking down with them. Their cool disposition not faltering once, not even as they watched the pair being led to their child's motionless body, the ladies head on her husband's shoulder.
Mark closed his eyes as the door shut behind them, feeling both overwhelmingly exhausted and overwhelmingly disheartened. The young surgeon was still standing by his side when he opened his eyes. "This sucks," he mouthed, before finding the strength needed to walk away.
He turned to look back once, "Coffee?" he asked simply.
She glanced back across at the trauma room. Complete stillness. Just the constant hollow hum of hospital life. Or death as it were. Not that she was expecting any different.
She sighed, and finding her own inner strength, followed behind him.
--And this was some way to live.
----------------------------------
Dr David Malucci was not the least merry of all fresh-faced residents. Not at the best of times. And especially not when a breathy voice, and perky-ness of any kind was involved.
Winking, Dave turned to face her one last time. "You gonna be good whilst I'm gone?"
The blonde, well almost blonde, nurse nodded, doing up the final buttons on her blouse, "You betcha."
Dave gave another lazy smile. "How disappointing."
The nurse's lips curled up at him, and she pulled him in for a final farewell kiss, "Only until you come back."
Dave continued to smile as the shut the exam door behind him. He quickly scanned his surroundings, and then proceeded to whistle as he walked through the halls of the emergency department, a dopey, satisfied grin plastered across his face.
"Malucci?"
Dave stroked down his tousled hair, and turned to dazzle Weaver with one of his Oscar winning smiles. "Yes Dr Weaver, what can I do for you?"
He had only just managed to sneak out from the dark exam room without anyone noticing his brief disappearing act. He really had to work on his libido, and just how darn cute he seemed to be in a pair of scrubs.
"Dave, the mother of Katie Stevenson is waiting for you at admin. Do you want me to keep security on stand-by in case this gets tricky?"
Dave nodded, his proficient manner kicking in. "Yeah, good idea Weaver." He said, before turning to continue on his merry way.
"Oh and Dave," Weaver said, stopping him again in his tracks.
He turned to smile at her. "Yeah chief?"
"You have lipstick on your collar."
Dave eyed the corner of his shirt quickly, his smile almost wilting. "Uh...I think you'll find that's type 0 negative blood," he paused, and slyly eyed the halls around him. "Hey, hold up a sec, is that patient making off with hospital supplies...?
Weaver's eyes quickly reverted to the innocent enough patient, and as she marched into his direction Dave could already hear the lecture the poor guy had never seen coming.
Dave grinned, heading onwards.
Miss Stevenson was a gaunt looking woman, who looked like a roughened version of her daughter. Dave could feel the tense aura that settled around her from several meters away. She was leaning against the admin desk, sighing as if to demonstrate her impatience.
"Miss Stevenson, I'm Dr David Malucci, I've been treating your daughter." He said, offering a hand.
She looked down at it, and then up at him. "Can I take her home now?"
Dave smiled thinly taking back his hand, "We need to talk-"
"I thought we were."
Another thin smile. "Look there are some things I need to talk with you about." He paused, attempting to read her stone cold face. Attempting to find some hint of concern. "Katie's severely underweight, and malnourished, and I need to know why Katie has cigarette burns on her shoulders, and bruises on her back."
Miss Stevenson continued to avoid his gaze, wearing a studied and perfected face of boredom. "I don't know."
He sighed, agitatedly thwacking his stethoscope against his thigh rhythmically. "Well, what exactly are you feeding her on?"
Another uninterested shrug. "I don't remember."
"So you don't remember what you feed her." He muttered, almost too sardonically, mildly noticing the attention they were receiving from the nosy nursing staff. "And you don't remember how these bruises appeared on her upper arms, or why her blood sugar level is so low it almost doesn't read." He could feel his voice raise a notch.
The lady, who was probably only a few years younger than he was, returned the glare, her lips pursed together tightly. "She eats whenever she wants."
"And she didn't *want* to eat today?"
Miss Stevenson gave another withering, 'my time is precious, appreciate my being here' look. "Maybe she forgot."
Dave nodded, smiling wryly. This was too much. "Right, six year old girls have a tendency to do that: forget they're hungry. I think there's actually a medical term for that; bad mothers."
This comment snapped Miss Stevenson into action, and she pushed past Dave into the exam area. "Hey Katie, Katie where are you? We're going home now sweetie."
Her eyes scattered across the windows of each exam room she passed, Dave hot on her heels. She quickly stormed into one, and Dave managed to reach hold of her arm in time, pulling her back.
"Katie! Katie!"
Katie watched on silently from the bed as Dave, and several security men held back her now screaming mother. She didn't say a word as her mother called out her name repeatedly, amidst a flurry of arms and security badges.
"Katie! Katie!"
Didn't tear her eyes away as Dave collapsed onto the floor, Miss Stevenson's nails cutting into his skin, her fists banging desperately against his chest.
"Katie! Katie!"
The security guards managed to lift her up off him, virtually having to drag her through the halls into some safe vantage point, that Dave couldn't care less about, just as long as it was far away from her daughter.
He picked himself up off the floor, ignoring the Jerry Springer style audience that had gathered around the scene, dragged a hand through his hair and sighed.
He turned to look back into the exam room. Katie still had that empty, lost look on her face, and was now watching him watch her.
--And there's always an exception.
----------
Abby Lockhart was not the most grounded of med students at the best of times. But now, almost fifteen thousand feet above the rest of the world, she could barely contain herself.
She watched silently as the city below her, framed by the peeling metallic paint of her window seat, became more, and more 2D. Her eyes strained to probe out the thick, morning darkness that hung like a fog over the city.
And yet there wasn't total and obsolete darkness, it was marred by hundreds of thousands of little lights that flickered a sign of life. Lights from people who were working up late to finish crucial business reports, students staying up to memorize all the differential theories of calculus, people taking the much dreaded night shift, and all those naturally nocturnal people returning home from another night's adventure.
Tourists, waking babies, worried girlfriends, drinking boyfriends, naughty children, thieves, firemen on standby, police cars in action, and all those content, candy filled people returning home from a masked Halloween do.
And all of them unaware of her curious eyes straining to catch them in action.
Had it not been for the safety belt fastened around her waist, her face would have been pressed right up against the glass.
Being up there, at such an objective angle over the world gave her a feeling...nothing; well...almost nothing was remotely comparable.
"--And oh wow, I think that's the Sear's tower."
"--And oh my god, I think that's Michigan Avenue!"
"--And oh look, you can even make out my apartment block from here. Hello apartment!"
She turned to grin at Dr Kovac.
His eyes were glazed over, focused onto some marking on the metal flooring in front of him.
"Dr Kovac?"
He didn't glance up.
"That's great Abby." He shouted back after some silence.
She raised an enquiring eyebrow.
"Oh and gee, isn't that the giant man eating bunny rabbit of New Mexico, Dr Kovac?"
"Yeah, great Abby."
"He's even got a little pocket watch, and a waistcoat..."
"Great, Abby."
She smiled, one eye still trained onto his reaction. "I think he's about to take over the world. You think we should call in the giant-bunny-eating-turkey-of-Atlantis or something? I think it might be giant bunny season."
"Yeah, great Abby."
She sighed, moving her face into his line of vision. His head remained fixed, but his eyes turned to look into hers.
"Is everything OK Dr Kovac?"
He gave a weak smile. "Sorry Abby, what was it you were saying?"
She shook her head, slightly concerned by his green complexion. "Uh, nothing important." She paused. "You do realize that there's like a trillion to one chance that we're going to crash don't you?"
His eyes returned to that single imperfection of metal within the flooring. "A trillion to one?" He repeated, with a slight smile.
Abby grinned. "And that would be on a really bad day." She paused, "Well I'm feeling pretty lucky today, how about you?"
His eyes had glazed over again. "Lucky. Yeah, great Abby."
She sighed, and turned to face one of the helicopter technicians, who had said something.
"Sorry?"
"Your first time?" He repeated, having to shout to be heard over the noise of the choppers and the engine.
She grinned, "Yeah," she glanced back at the pale Dr Kovac, "Both of our first times."
"Good view, huh?"
She nodded furiously, tired of having to shout to be heard.
"He not a fan?"
She frowned, her gaze returning to the doctor. "Uh...he just ate." She shouted back quickly. She had a feeling pride was a contributing factor in his silence.
He nodded in understanding, before turning to speak to the captain, or the driver, or whatever the head honcho who had control over this thing was called, and then after several nods at him, returned his focus to both of them.
"Prepare for landing!"
It wasn't an order.
She braced herself against the back of the machine, the movement from the choppers on top echoing throughout the whole metal framework.
The chopper shuddered as it drew into the ground.
And then she could feel Dr Kovac's body shudder, releasing all its fragmented nutrients into a mess of stomach acids onto the *almost* perfect flooring below them.
--And it was a hell of a ride.
-----------------
Lucy Knight was not the most patient of medical students at the best of times. And yet, the high tolerance levels that she had developed as a med student almost always managed to contain her self-control.
"That's *my* pokeman sucker!" one of the kids suddenly cried out, grabbing at what Lucy figured must have been at least a hundred or so pokeman suckers.
Self-control that came quite in handy, being the 'struck-off-as-dumb/valueless/unworthy' student of Dr Carter that she happened to be.
She sighed, only two floors with them, just *two* floors.
That self-control was presently being tested. To all unhealthy limits.
"No, it's mine!" The other kid sneered, refusing his vice-like grip on the bag of sweeties.
She glanced around to face Carter, who seemed to be completely oblivious to them. Attempting to keep her cool in front of her superior, she looked straight a head and dragged a palm across her face.
"Mine!"
"Uh-uh, MINE!"
"No, MINE!"
"UH, UH. *MINE*!"
Lucy cringed. Just chill Luce, just count to ten, and keep your cool...
"MINE! MINE! MINE! MINE! *MI-NE*!"
"Nu-uhhhhhhh!!!"
Deep breath, one-a-thousand, two-a-thousand, three-a-thousand...
She usually liked kids. Enjoyed all that wanton, destructive energy they seemed to yield, but today, well, today she wondered if she herself had ever been a kid. Questioned if she hadn't just been born twenty-four. And the fact that she hadn't had any sleep the past few years in medical school, had *just* missed the last burrito in the cafe, and that she was presently carrying an assorted variety of human waste fuelled that bitter angst.
No, today, kids truly did bite.
It was several seconds before she realized that the sound of the kids squabbling had ceased. Wondering if she really did have psychic abilities after all she turned to face them. Her eyes widened, and for the first time that day she found herself at a loss for words.
--And this was getting interesting.
--------------------
is it... onwards and upwards? Or is this the part where I surrender to all things wholly and decent?:)
'Meeting the Parents'
Rating: PG. Good clean and wholesome. And if Dave suggests anything that isn't to your liking, he's talking about the myogenic cycle of the heart, capiche?
Archive: Go for it!
Spoilers: It's clean.
Disclaimers: I'm pathetic. I steal characters off of shows without permission and then parade them around for my own amusement. See, now *I* feel bad.
Author's Notes: I haven't finished with the little delusional world that I've created, someplace between the end of series five and the uttermost beginnings of series six. It never happened. Or will happen. Has mild angst themes, and if you'd like a recap...
*Lucy Knight's not too chuffed at being Dr Carter's one and only urine carrying med student extraordinaire [Hey Samantha, Amen to Microsoft Spellchecker, no?:)]
*Dr Luka Kovac and Abby Lockhart are on the ride of a lifetime.
*Dr Mark Greene's currently seeking *meaning* in his life. And no, they don't have an ice cream in that flavour. Yet.
*Dr Dave's treating a girl that gets to him. And not in the way that most girls do.
Feel free to critique, or even read, my story;) My ears and e-mailbox are always open...at...
[email protected].
And Samantha Caldwell, my beta and friend, thanks for all the lightning e-mails! In the words of some demi-rock god, that's most probably dead... you rock!;)
---------------------------------------------
Randy managed to find the phone beneath all the many layers of textbooks, patients' charts and old issues of Cosmopolitan.
"Hello, County General Hospital Emergency Department, what can I do for you?"
There was a slight pause. "Do you like scary movies?
Randy shrugged, popping her gum, "Not really."
Another muffled pause. "Oh...you don't? Sorry, wrong number *click*."
Randy shrugged again, putting the phone down. As she was tidying away the mess she caught a glimpse of an old memo that had been buried beneath the chaos of her work life.
Uh-oh, it was two weeks old and addressed to Dr Greene.
"Uh, Jerry, you want to give this to Mark for me?"
Jerry nodded, taking it from her quickly, and continuing with adding the final touches to a hollowed out pumpkin he had carved. Randy squinted at it momentarily. The beady eyes, pronounced forehead, and the fixed little pout. She succumbed to a smile. "Jerry that isn't who I think it is, is it?"
Jerry turned to face her, grinning proudly. "Is it too obvious?"
She nodded slowly. "Oh yeah." She paused, "Man, even as a vegetable he gives me the heebie-jeebies."
"Hey a little help over here!" A voice suddenly called out from the throng of dwellers hovering around chairs.
They, and the rest of the nursing staff jerked their heads up to see what was happening instinctively.
Two teenagers were holding up a guy who had a knife protruding from his chest, lots of red liquid covering his shirt, and his head hung limply across his shoulder.
"We were just...we were just..." The girl started, her voice becoming muffled by her whimpering.
Dr Maggie Doyle, who had been busy searching for no.7 across on the New York Times Crossword, hurried out to aid the pair. She skilfully managed to take him into her arms, and began on her way to an empty trauma room. "Clear Trauma One now!" She paused, several nurses scattering ahead of her, she eyed the body in her hands. "I want a surgeon paged, get me 200cc blood-type and cross matched, and-"
She stopped dead in her tracks, as the body in her hands began to shake. She released her arms from their hold, and the boy dropped, and proceeded to get up, seemingly unfazed by the fall, to remove the knife-which was plastic, his eyes watering from his laughter.
"That's not funny."
The kid followed along behind her, "Hey Doc loosen up will ya? We were just mucking about." He paused, catching his breath, "But you shoulda seen the look on your face. Oh man..." More laughing.
Maggie reclaimed her seat by the front desk, her eyes scanning back along the lines of newspaper print, her mouth seeking the solace of her cold coffee.
The kids were still laughing.
She took a few breaths to quell the rapid, adrenaline-induced beating of her heart.
"*Not* funny."
Still laughing.
She sighed. So...seven across...
--And this sure beat the hell out of sleeping.
-------------
Lucy Knight was not the most awake of med students. But even she could decipher the subtitle that accompanied being handed the urine samples from Carter. She was disposable.
And only as valuable as the data that could be extracted from it. And that was only occasionally.
"Whoa, watch it!" Lucy muttered, as a bunch of hyperactive, candy coated kids rushed past her into the lift. She re-gained her footing, sighing as she realized that they were going to be on her ride.
The metallic doors began to close. And then, she could hear panting, and was greeted to the sight of Carter pulling the door open and stepping beside her.
He smiled. "Hey, Luce." He quickly composed himself before frowning at her. "Didn't I tell you to take those down fifteen minutes ago?"
Lucy sighed.
--And this was going to be some ride.
----------------
Dr Mark Greene was not a doctor that surrendered easily. He fought until it was a completely one-sided battle. He fought with a passion. A vengeance. All good doctors did.
But this time the battle was not his.
"I'm calling it. Eleven minutes past three in the morning." Mark looked back down at the small frame, covered in what he assumed was a cowboy costume, the boots, caked in the drying red liquid, joined the oversized hat and plastic goody bag at the corner of the room.
The nurses were all quiet as they went about with clearing things up, only so that the process could be continued again later, with some other person's kid.
One of the surgeons who had attempted to save her was just as transfixed. "This sucks," the lady, Dr Corday, muttered, as she snapped off her gloves roughly, turning to leave the haunting image behind.
Mark watched her go without saying a word. He knew how she felt. Picking up her boots, he placed them at the end of the bed. And then tucking the little girl's shirt into her jeans, he too stepped outside.
Elizabeth had been standing against the door. Well, at least that was the way he had found her on leaving. She turned to smile at him politely and motioned for a middle-aged couple sitting along some seats several feet away.
She looked back at him with a slight nod. And then quietly, they both approached the couple.
This immediately warranted a response from them both, and they stood up, their faces tense with the only question that they wished answered.
Dr Greene and Dr Corday couldn't bring a polite smile to their faces, both only too aware of how misleading that could appear. Dr Greene motioned for them to sit, but they refused with a firm shake of the head.
Sighing Dr Corday eyed them both, holding steady eye contact with the first part of what was said, but quickly letting it slide, as the raw, intense emotions registered on their faces.
The woman clutched at her mouth, shaking as the finality of it hit her. Her husband had to hold her up, soothingly rocking her in his arms, saving his own tears for some more private place, where he could cry uninhibited and undisturbed.
Both doctors refrained from breaking down with them. Their cool disposition not faltering once, not even as they watched the pair being led to their child's motionless body, the ladies head on her husband's shoulder.
Mark closed his eyes as the door shut behind them, feeling both overwhelmingly exhausted and overwhelmingly disheartened. The young surgeon was still standing by his side when he opened his eyes. "This sucks," he mouthed, before finding the strength needed to walk away.
He turned to look back once, "Coffee?" he asked simply.
She glanced back across at the trauma room. Complete stillness. Just the constant hollow hum of hospital life. Or death as it were. Not that she was expecting any different.
She sighed, and finding her own inner strength, followed behind him.
--And this was some way to live.
----------------------------------
Dr David Malucci was not the least merry of all fresh-faced residents. Not at the best of times. And especially not when a breathy voice, and perky-ness of any kind was involved.
Winking, Dave turned to face her one last time. "You gonna be good whilst I'm gone?"
The blonde, well almost blonde, nurse nodded, doing up the final buttons on her blouse, "You betcha."
Dave gave another lazy smile. "How disappointing."
The nurse's lips curled up at him, and she pulled him in for a final farewell kiss, "Only until you come back."
Dave continued to smile as the shut the exam door behind him. He quickly scanned his surroundings, and then proceeded to whistle as he walked through the halls of the emergency department, a dopey, satisfied grin plastered across his face.
"Malucci?"
Dave stroked down his tousled hair, and turned to dazzle Weaver with one of his Oscar winning smiles. "Yes Dr Weaver, what can I do for you?"
He had only just managed to sneak out from the dark exam room without anyone noticing his brief disappearing act. He really had to work on his libido, and just how darn cute he seemed to be in a pair of scrubs.
"Dave, the mother of Katie Stevenson is waiting for you at admin. Do you want me to keep security on stand-by in case this gets tricky?"
Dave nodded, his proficient manner kicking in. "Yeah, good idea Weaver." He said, before turning to continue on his merry way.
"Oh and Dave," Weaver said, stopping him again in his tracks.
He turned to smile at her. "Yeah chief?"
"You have lipstick on your collar."
Dave eyed the corner of his shirt quickly, his smile almost wilting. "Uh...I think you'll find that's type 0 negative blood," he paused, and slyly eyed the halls around him. "Hey, hold up a sec, is that patient making off with hospital supplies...?
Weaver's eyes quickly reverted to the innocent enough patient, and as she marched into his direction Dave could already hear the lecture the poor guy had never seen coming.
Dave grinned, heading onwards.
Miss Stevenson was a gaunt looking woman, who looked like a roughened version of her daughter. Dave could feel the tense aura that settled around her from several meters away. She was leaning against the admin desk, sighing as if to demonstrate her impatience.
"Miss Stevenson, I'm Dr David Malucci, I've been treating your daughter." He said, offering a hand.
She looked down at it, and then up at him. "Can I take her home now?"
Dave smiled thinly taking back his hand, "We need to talk-"
"I thought we were."
Another thin smile. "Look there are some things I need to talk with you about." He paused, attempting to read her stone cold face. Attempting to find some hint of concern. "Katie's severely underweight, and malnourished, and I need to know why Katie has cigarette burns on her shoulders, and bruises on her back."
Miss Stevenson continued to avoid his gaze, wearing a studied and perfected face of boredom. "I don't know."
He sighed, agitatedly thwacking his stethoscope against his thigh rhythmically. "Well, what exactly are you feeding her on?"
Another uninterested shrug. "I don't remember."
"So you don't remember what you feed her." He muttered, almost too sardonically, mildly noticing the attention they were receiving from the nosy nursing staff. "And you don't remember how these bruises appeared on her upper arms, or why her blood sugar level is so low it almost doesn't read." He could feel his voice raise a notch.
The lady, who was probably only a few years younger than he was, returned the glare, her lips pursed together tightly. "She eats whenever she wants."
"And she didn't *want* to eat today?"
Miss Stevenson gave another withering, 'my time is precious, appreciate my being here' look. "Maybe she forgot."
Dave nodded, smiling wryly. This was too much. "Right, six year old girls have a tendency to do that: forget they're hungry. I think there's actually a medical term for that; bad mothers."
This comment snapped Miss Stevenson into action, and she pushed past Dave into the exam area. "Hey Katie, Katie where are you? We're going home now sweetie."
Her eyes scattered across the windows of each exam room she passed, Dave hot on her heels. She quickly stormed into one, and Dave managed to reach hold of her arm in time, pulling her back.
"Katie! Katie!"
Katie watched on silently from the bed as Dave, and several security men held back her now screaming mother. She didn't say a word as her mother called out her name repeatedly, amidst a flurry of arms and security badges.
"Katie! Katie!"
Didn't tear her eyes away as Dave collapsed onto the floor, Miss Stevenson's nails cutting into his skin, her fists banging desperately against his chest.
"Katie! Katie!"
The security guards managed to lift her up off him, virtually having to drag her through the halls into some safe vantage point, that Dave couldn't care less about, just as long as it was far away from her daughter.
He picked himself up off the floor, ignoring the Jerry Springer style audience that had gathered around the scene, dragged a hand through his hair and sighed.
He turned to look back into the exam room. Katie still had that empty, lost look on her face, and was now watching him watch her.
--And there's always an exception.
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Abby Lockhart was not the most grounded of med students at the best of times. But now, almost fifteen thousand feet above the rest of the world, she could barely contain herself.
She watched silently as the city below her, framed by the peeling metallic paint of her window seat, became more, and more 2D. Her eyes strained to probe out the thick, morning darkness that hung like a fog over the city.
And yet there wasn't total and obsolete darkness, it was marred by hundreds of thousands of little lights that flickered a sign of life. Lights from people who were working up late to finish crucial business reports, students staying up to memorize all the differential theories of calculus, people taking the much dreaded night shift, and all those naturally nocturnal people returning home from another night's adventure.
Tourists, waking babies, worried girlfriends, drinking boyfriends, naughty children, thieves, firemen on standby, police cars in action, and all those content, candy filled people returning home from a masked Halloween do.
And all of them unaware of her curious eyes straining to catch them in action.
Had it not been for the safety belt fastened around her waist, her face would have been pressed right up against the glass.
Being up there, at such an objective angle over the world gave her a feeling...nothing; well...almost nothing was remotely comparable.
"--And oh wow, I think that's the Sear's tower."
"--And oh my god, I think that's Michigan Avenue!"
"--And oh look, you can even make out my apartment block from here. Hello apartment!"
She turned to grin at Dr Kovac.
His eyes were glazed over, focused onto some marking on the metal flooring in front of him.
"Dr Kovac?"
He didn't glance up.
"That's great Abby." He shouted back after some silence.
She raised an enquiring eyebrow.
"Oh and gee, isn't that the giant man eating bunny rabbit of New Mexico, Dr Kovac?"
"Yeah, great Abby."
"He's even got a little pocket watch, and a waistcoat..."
"Great, Abby."
She smiled, one eye still trained onto his reaction. "I think he's about to take over the world. You think we should call in the giant-bunny-eating-turkey-of-Atlantis or something? I think it might be giant bunny season."
"Yeah, great Abby."
She sighed, moving her face into his line of vision. His head remained fixed, but his eyes turned to look into hers.
"Is everything OK Dr Kovac?"
He gave a weak smile. "Sorry Abby, what was it you were saying?"
She shook her head, slightly concerned by his green complexion. "Uh, nothing important." She paused. "You do realize that there's like a trillion to one chance that we're going to crash don't you?"
His eyes returned to that single imperfection of metal within the flooring. "A trillion to one?" He repeated, with a slight smile.
Abby grinned. "And that would be on a really bad day." She paused, "Well I'm feeling pretty lucky today, how about you?"
His eyes had glazed over again. "Lucky. Yeah, great Abby."
She sighed, and turned to face one of the helicopter technicians, who had said something.
"Sorry?"
"Your first time?" He repeated, having to shout to be heard over the noise of the choppers and the engine.
She grinned, "Yeah," she glanced back at the pale Dr Kovac, "Both of our first times."
"Good view, huh?"
She nodded furiously, tired of having to shout to be heard.
"He not a fan?"
She frowned, her gaze returning to the doctor. "Uh...he just ate." She shouted back quickly. She had a feeling pride was a contributing factor in his silence.
He nodded in understanding, before turning to speak to the captain, or the driver, or whatever the head honcho who had control over this thing was called, and then after several nods at him, returned his focus to both of them.
"Prepare for landing!"
It wasn't an order.
She braced herself against the back of the machine, the movement from the choppers on top echoing throughout the whole metal framework.
The chopper shuddered as it drew into the ground.
And then she could feel Dr Kovac's body shudder, releasing all its fragmented nutrients into a mess of stomach acids onto the *almost* perfect flooring below them.
--And it was a hell of a ride.
-----------------
Lucy Knight was not the most patient of medical students at the best of times. And yet, the high tolerance levels that she had developed as a med student almost always managed to contain her self-control.
"That's *my* pokeman sucker!" one of the kids suddenly cried out, grabbing at what Lucy figured must have been at least a hundred or so pokeman suckers.
Self-control that came quite in handy, being the 'struck-off-as-dumb/valueless/unworthy' student of Dr Carter that she happened to be.
She sighed, only two floors with them, just *two* floors.
That self-control was presently being tested. To all unhealthy limits.
"No, it's mine!" The other kid sneered, refusing his vice-like grip on the bag of sweeties.
She glanced around to face Carter, who seemed to be completely oblivious to them. Attempting to keep her cool in front of her superior, she looked straight a head and dragged a palm across her face.
"Mine!"
"Uh-uh, MINE!"
"No, MINE!"
"UH, UH. *MINE*!"
Lucy cringed. Just chill Luce, just count to ten, and keep your cool...
"MINE! MINE! MINE! MINE! *MI-NE*!"
"Nu-uhhhhhhh!!!"
Deep breath, one-a-thousand, two-a-thousand, three-a-thousand...
She usually liked kids. Enjoyed all that wanton, destructive energy they seemed to yield, but today, well, today she wondered if she herself had ever been a kid. Questioned if she hadn't just been born twenty-four. And the fact that she hadn't had any sleep the past few years in medical school, had *just* missed the last burrito in the cafe, and that she was presently carrying an assorted variety of human waste fuelled that bitter angst.
No, today, kids truly did bite.
It was several seconds before she realized that the sound of the kids squabbling had ceased. Wondering if she really did have psychic abilities after all she turned to face them. Her eyes widened, and for the first time that day she found herself at a loss for words.
--And this was getting interesting.
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is it... onwards and upwards? Or is this the part where I surrender to all things wholly and decent?:)