The ambulance bays at NRMH was a cavernous room, illuminated dimly by natural light from the broken windows housed in the garage doors. Two single, bare bulbs glowed in the center where sat three ambulances - one merely a shell, gutted for parts, the second just needing a few more crucial items to get it running, and the third - a little battered but well cared for and the only one that worked.
Boxes and crates and carts and shelves and buckets and all manner of bric-brac surrounded the three vehicles. Not hospital storage, her storage area full of goods she traded for supplies the hospital could not replenish itself. She sat on the bumper of the ambulance that would never run again - her home, or at least the place she hid out in when she was supposed to be sleeping. She was supposed to be sleeping now, but sleep was death and death, it
seemed to her, was nothing but ghosts and shadows and loneliness. She let her legs dangle off the edge while she fiddled with a carburetor that might fit a small motorbike and never work in a full size ambulance.
Adriann came here to find her... because he had his orders; as much as a man who wasn't part of any faction could be given orders at this stage of the game. He had a green knapsack thrown over his shoulder and he wore a desert camouflaged shirt and trousers. He came here to find her because in the last three weeks everyone had said this was where she *lived* and he wanted to find her. To tell her... no, not goodbye, he told himself. To
tell her he'd be back. He moved through the door leading out of the hospital proper and into the bays.
Only the ghost that hovered at her left knew what she was trying to do with carburetor. It whispered to her, though it really didn't need to. No one but her could hear it. There was grease on her chin and in her nails. She didn't see him come in, oblivious to all but the task at hand and ghosts quiet words of instruction.
His steps were quiet and he saw her sitting there on the bumper, working on something he didn't recognize. He'd never repaired a car part in his life. He'd only ever seen working vehicles when he'd joined the Complex. His voice carried softly in the cavern of the bay. "Asche?" And he kept moving toward her.
She muttered at him, "Not on duty for another two hours. I'm busy." She never looked up from the piece of equipment. Just kept trying to twist the thingamabob into the whosawhatzit.
He smiled and ducked his head, causing loose hair to fall forward into his eyes. "I know that... I wanted to talk to you while you were off duty."
Her head snapped up so fast, she came close to slamming it against the back doors. Her eyes, unfocused and dull, seemed to pick up the light as she lifted them, almost sparkle in the dimness. "Oh! Adriann... I..." She made a sound that was likely a clearing of her throat. "I didn't realize it was you. Something happen upstairs?"
It was a relief to see her react that way, it made him smile so wide that a single dimple showed in his left cheek. It made him think she really liked him and that made it all worth it. Dealing with the Gideonn brothers and ... everything that had happened. "Everything's fine upstairs. The boys are restless enough that I think they need to get their asses out of bed. Which is why I came to find you really." He stopped a few feet from her. The
determined stride he'd started with became the insecurity of relationship protocol and he shifted from foot to foot.
She clutched the carburetor to give her hands something to do rather than allowing them to wander toward the hair in his eyes. His smile surprised her, and she blinked in astonishment that it would be so fine. She almost despaired she would succumb to Bliss' ailment and spout "pretty" at him. Despair turned to disappointment when he wanted to talk about the VIPs upstairs. "Oh...yeah, well, I guess they could take little trips. Yanno, down the hall
and stuff."
"I told them that. I told 'em too that they weren't to get you to help them around, either. Orderlies and nurses can help 'em, but they gotta keep their hands off the prettiest Medic on staff." His eyes crinkled at the corners as he said it and his cheeks seemed to color but he didn't care; it felt too good to just leggo that
way; to tell her just what he thought.
She called out. "Elliot? Put a physical therapy regimen together for the patients on Seven." Her orders to the supercomputer were cut short by the words he spoke and she finally heard. Her cheeks in comparison, turned. Self-consciously, she scrubbed fingers through her spiky hair, discoloring the blonde tips with inky oil. "What?" She knew what he said. She just needed time to recover.
"Mirandahh," came the sing-song tone of the Super Computer. "How long do you wish the therapy to continue?" Elliot, of course, didn't care one whit about blushing huumunns.
"I said ..." her blush made him more daring. " .. that you're the prettiest Medic in the hospital." He came closer and crouched down, tossing his head slightly to clear the hair from his eyes.
Even in the hazy light thrown by the bare bulbs, his eyes were striking, catching her breath with a single glance. She forgot to breathe. Her jaw slack till she remembered other eyes that she would never see again. She blinked away the enticement for safer sights, the carburetor. "You gotta get your eyes examined or something. I got a lot of eye glasses." She mumbled. "Mebbe that'd help."
"I don't need glasses Asche..." He said it quietly, seriously, as if he believed she believed he really needed them. "I just need to tell you..." and now that he was so close, so ready to tell her, he found he didn't want to.
She kept her eyes down, watching her fingers pick nervously at the metal in her lap. She knew what he was going to tell her and it made her smile, small and ephemeral. "You're leaving." Good, good. He should go. Just go away. Go away.
"I have to, for a while. I have to go to Kermaddikk and run a few stupid tests..." and suddenly they *were* stupid tests, of no importance at all and he wished he'd never learned anything about genetics.
"Sure." Think, Asche, think. She put on her stoic mask and dared to look up. "Uhm...who's taking over upstairs for you?" Meaning, who was she going to have to deal with in decisions about the VIPs medical care.
"You're the drill sergeant... but there's a Freemen Commander named Starr. He'll be here to help you." He knew he was a good guy and that Ric at least trusted him.
"Yeah, okay." With a grimace at the "drill sergeant" comparison she nodded. "I've seen him around. Seems like an all right guy." She could feel the heat from his body this close to her. It was getting harder and harder to keep her face on, to even breathe.
"Mirandahh, I am waiting further details of the regimen you ordered."
Sometimes Elliot was a sending from the gods. His prodding gave her something real to focus on instead of the stomach flopping "what ifs" being this close to Adriann gave her. She slipped on the smooth bumper to the side and stood stretching as best she could while still holding onto the carburetor.
Ohhh... and from where he crouched in front of her gave him such momentary visions of things he shouldn't be thinking about at all. His eyes traveled up along the curves of her coverall pulled against her body as she stretched. He breathed a very soft whisper. "My my."
Only she could hear the ghost snickering. It had seen how Adriann looked at her and grew jealous that it would never be able to act on such looks. She trundled away from him, not hearing his utterance, to put the carburetor on a fold-out table that wobbled under the weight.
"He will.. uhm..." and his mind drew a total blank. As he shook his head slowly it kicked into gear again. He stood, shaking his leg slightly, trying to get rid of the unexpected reaction. "He'll help you with getting them moving again."
"Fine, fine..." She wiped the worse of the grim off her hands with an equally grimy towel.
"But I'm coming back." He walked over to where she stood, just to the left behind her... and reached out a hand to touch her back. He was hesitant as to whether he should, as he stood inches from her .. then he let his hand fall to rest lightly against her, as if cupping her left shoulder blade. It was intended as friendly and reassuring but it was - deep inside - wholly an intimate gesture. Though, maybe not so deep inside after all. "I still
have to show you how grateful I am."
She leaned back against his hand, but for a heartbeat only. So brief, she might not have done it at all. She gulped in some air and turned to the right, away from him. It was intimate. Too close because all she wanted to do was lean into that wholesome, yet alluring touch. And that was dangerous. Once free, she shoved her hands deep into her pockets. "Yeah, well, I won't hold my breath. Besides, I'm just doing my job."
He guessed at many things, vague things... that she must have been hurt sometime. He knew she'd been married, he was guilty of asking around among the older folks -who there were that is- on the staff... and yet that turning away pricked him. If he'd been wise in the ways of the world rather than just bookish about things, it would have hurt more. Instead, it became an obstacle to overcome; to come back (something he had no doubt about) and work
through. With her.
If he were wise he would run very far from her, she thought. The walls weren't worth the trouble it would take to tear down, at least that had been the plan all along. And people would just leave her alone so that she could be lonely and terrified all by herself. And they stood there. She stared at him, wishing he would go so she could get busy with the job of forgetting him. That someone with eyes so green ever existed.
The awful thought - spurred by something he couldn't explain although he felt a certain tingling along his spine - that he might not come back thrust his whole body forward (as if he'd been shoved, but that couldn't be, could it?) and he caught her around the waist and kissed her, lightly, feather soft on the lips; then brushed by her quickly with a whispered, "I'll see you soon."
That was a lie in her ears, yet the rest of her yearned for his swift return. In slow motion, he had come to her, trapped her with the briefest, the lightest of kisses. Fingertips drifted to still tingling lips. She whispered to his back. "I'll be here."
He wanted badly to linger but knew that could make it worse, damage the tentative connection and make him crazy to hold her. He nearly ran out the big bay doors to catch the Freemen jeep waiting for him and waved before disappearing.
She didn't dare watch him go. Elliot had called for her again; but she ignored the supercomputer because she was too busy crumpling against a box, betrayed by weakening knees.
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