FicWad

Taking up Cara's shift was a bad idea. It's the dead of winter, at night, and the first floor of the building never has heating. Ever. Not to mention there's no one to talk to and I'm just sitting here at the desk, sporadically glancing over at the phone to see how much time has passed.

10:52. God, only one more hour of this bullshit.

The patients normally don't leave their rooms after 10. There's no need to, really. They all have bathrooms and shit like that. Besides, the nurses are only here to keep the emotionally disturbed ones from completely losing their shit and vaulting themselves from the third story balcony.

Growing bored and restless, I walk down to the infirmary to see if anyone is still there. I can hear voices, but one sounds like the announcer from 'Twilight Zone'. So maybe it's just the TV. I knock quietly on the door, and hear a very timid "It's open" trickle through from the other side. I turn the knob gingerly, and feel a warm smile creep across my face as a pair of large brown eyes connect with my own.

She looks about 18, maybe younger, with a thick bunch of red and black curls draped around her face. One of her ankles is propped up on a pile of mismatched pillows and encumbered by a heavy black brace. She keeps staring at me with wide eyes, flicking them rapidly, taking mental notes as I stride towards her.

The room is dim, the only light coming from a small TV perched on a stack of old milk crates. She shifts, trying to curl her injured ankle into herself.

"Who are you?" she quips, brushing some of the hair from her face.

I smirk and fold my arms across my chest, "Bert."

She huffs and rolls her eyes, "That's not what I meant."

I rub my eyelids tiredly and stifle a yawn, "I'm a nurse here. I'm working up at the front desk."

Her mouth forms into a small 'o' shape as she casts her eyes down, fumbling with her painted nails. For a spilt second my mind flashes back to a couple months ago, and the terrible storm that left Gee and I stranded in the dark, freezing and naked. I shiver involuntarily and wrap my thin jacket closer to myself, cursing internally for not wearing long sleeves under my scrubs. The girl clears her throat and pushes herself up on the pillows, "Aren't you going to ask my name?"

I shrug and take a seat beside the bed, folding my hands between my legs to keep them warm, "Would you tell me?"

"It's Layne." she spits, returning her attention to her nails.

My eyes flick to the TV for a second, which now has a barely-clothed woman talking about diet pills. Layne groans softly and shifts in the bed, "My ankle itches like a fucker..."

I smile and reach to the nightstand, grabbing a pen off the clipboard, "How'd you hurt your ankle?"

She starts laughing, her free hand burying the pen into the cast and scratching the tender skin below, "I was taking a shower, and bumped into someone. We both fell, but she just bruised her arm."

A smile tugs at my features, and there's a quiet knock at the door. Brittany, one of the primary caretakers, gives us both a wary smile, "Feeling any better Layne?"

She nods quickly, before turning to look at me, "It was nice meeting you Brett."

She grabs a pair of discarded crutches and struggles to lift herself up, before hobbling over to Brittany and out the door. I just sigh and flip off the TV, crashing into the warm but unkempt bed.

"It's Bert..."

********
I was jerked awake by my phone, the jarring cacophonious ring breaking the soothing silence of the abandoned infirmary. I look up at the clock and rub the side of my face tiredly. It's 2:53... shit I was supposed to leave at 12. I answer my phone quickly, still trying to wake myself up.

"'Lo?" I grumble, my voice gravely and high.

"Bert... where are you?"

It's Geoff, and he sounds kinda panicked. He's always mellow about everything, even the time the kitchen caught on fire. The only thing he was concerned about was the weed he'd hidden in the pantry burning. I sit up in bed and straighten out my clothes, "What's wrong?"

"Why aren't you home yet? Are you working the graveyard shift?" he asks, his questions spewing out in an almost nonsensical flow.

I sigh deeply, crawling out of the bed and flipping on the glaring fluorescent lights, "No... I fell asleep. I'm going to clock out now."

Geoff makes a strange grunting noise on the other line, "Hurry home, I think Gee is sick."

I yawn widely, toddling into the locker room and pulling my coat and scarf off one of the benches, "What do you mean 'sick'?"

I can practically hear Geoff shrugs as he pushes air through his teeth, "He's all pale and weird looking. I dunno."

I sigh deeply and ram my card into the time punch, nearly cracking the flimsy white plastic, "Is he with you or in his room?"

"We're both in the living room," he explains, his voice groggy and heavy with sleep deprivation, "He came down about an hour ago feeling shitty."

I pull on my overcoat, before wrapping the scarf around my neck, "I'll be home in 20 minutes. bye, Geoffy."

I tuck my time card carefully into my wallet, before shoving the whole thing into my coat pocket and rushing outside into the bitter cold. The sky is dark, the thick clouds a rich purple hue from the moonlight. As I step into the car, soft flakes of snow being to slip from the sky, dusting everything in white. The city seems deserted, almost like a wasteland as the snow beings to fall in thick blobs. I drive home, relishing in the much needed silence and solitude of the night, the only noise the soft, monotimous swish whir of the wipers. I get through the city surprisingly quickly, pulling into the duplex driveway only 7 minutes later. I wrap the coat tighter to my frame and rush up the cracked sidewalk, brushing the snow flecked hair from my face. I nearly trip over the last stone, caught off guard by a strange, soft yelp, like a small child who'd hurt themselves. My sights darts frantically around the lawn, finally spotting a strange brown lump half hidden in the snow. It squeaks again and tries to burrow further, taken aback by the strange cold earth. I scoop it up gingerly, feeling it's little body tremble in my palms. Suddenly, a sharp sting erupts from my middle finger, and I nearly drop the ball in shock. I turn it gently, somewhat dazed to see a little pink nose staring up at me. I rush inside, trying to keep as quiet as possible as I nearly barge into the kitchen, "Geoff, do we have any milk?"

He looks up from his armchair, extremely confused by the statement, but begins nodding slowly, lifting a finger towards the fridge. I grab the dish towel off the oven handle and wrap the precious find into a warm cocoon, setting it down on the counter. I can hear a soft rustle from the den, and soon Geoff is standing behind me, looking dazed, "What in the name of fuck are you doing?"

I look up, my hands clasped tightly around a mug of warm milk. I reach into the cabinet behind me, pulling down my first aid kit and fishing out the tiny eye dropper from it's sterile casing. "Look inside the towel."

Geoff starts unraveling the tiny bundle, an excited giggle escaping his throat, "Awww! Can we keep it? Please, please! Can weeeeeeeeeee?" he practically screams.

Gee perks up from the living room, lost by the sudden yelling and excitement, "What is it?"

I smile, grabbing the milk and towel from Geoff's hands, waltzing down to the couch and sitting beside Gee.

"It's just a baby, so be careful."

His cheeks flush with a childlike glow as pink nose pokes out from the towel, sniffing around for food. I hand him the eyedropper, now filled with milk. He feeds it, smiling and giggling the entire time, "It's so cute and tiny! Where'd you find it?"

I lean back into the couch, kicking my legs up onto the coffee table, "Outside... trying to burrow underground."

He snuggles it happily, grinning as it starts to sniff at his face. I lean against Gee's shoulders, taking the hedgehog from his hands and wrapping it up tightly, "We need to find a place for it to stay the night, get warmed back up."

He nods hurriedly, his features looking drawn and pallid in the soft lighting. I cock my head to the side and bring my palm up to his cheek, sighing as I feel the boiling skin. He bites his lip and looks down, "It's just a little fever, Berty. I'll be fine."

"Bed." I order, standing up and taking his hand.

He stands up and follows behind me, head cast down as I help him up the stairs, "You can name it if you want."

The stairs creak under our weight as a warm silence fills the empty hall. I open his door and he bustles past me, laying out on the bed and yawning widely and drawing a quilt close to his body. A shudder snakes through his form, now shaken by a violent bought of chills. I lean down and kiss his sweltering forehead, draping another blanket over him, "Try and get some sleep, okay?"

He looks up at me, eyes wide and gleaming in the dark, "Will you sleep with me... just for tonight?"


Wait... what?!