MAKEdamnSURE

[anaxzandra corinne house]

We lie, we lie together
Just not too close, too close

» There were some days- recently, more often than usual- that found Xzandr questioning everything she'd ever done, wondering where she went wrong, why everything seemed to be going by the wayside. Sometimes she wondered if she should jusr use the leftover Vicodin in her desk to overdose. Would anyone discover her in time? Would anyone even care? Well, maybe- her latest patient might get a bit miffed if Xzandr randomly skipped out on him. But he was one of the many reasons she was feeling so down. The man had initially come to the clinic about a week ago- Xzandr was there as a punishment, having been caught skipping the seminar. The man sitting beside her had turned out to be acting as a spy for the Dean of Medicine, and told the old man that she was gone. Surprisingly, Xzandr hadn't used a single one of the infinite excuses she'd prepared. She could easily have gotten away with saying she'd been throwing up, or was crampy or any number of random ailments. But instead of making something up or lying, when asked where she was or why she left the seminar, she confessed that it bored her to tears and she simply left during a break. She was subsequently sentenced to clinic duty until told otherwise. The day the man- Todd- came into the clinic, he presented with run-of-the-mill virus symptoms, and she told him to get the hell out. But as he walked out of the hospital, he collapsed, and started developing all kinds of bizarre symptoms. He was given all kinds of tests, which ended up coming back inconclusive. So, Xzandr was relieved of clinic duty, just until she figured out what was wrong. Since then, she had been wracking her brain to come up with a diagnosis, but has thus far gotten nowhere. And with Todd getting sicker and developing more symptoms, Xzandr might never figure this one out.

» But the patient wasn't the only thing on her mind. For one, her drugs. She still had several half-filled bottles of Vicodin in her desk and hidden throughout her apartment, all easily accessible. She needed it now more than ever- damn, she sure picked a bad time to quit. And of course... Ryan. Try as she might, as much as she was convinced that he was just an asshole that wasn't worth her time, it was as if he were permanently implanted into her brain. She'd made it clear- or, she thought- that she hated him. After walking away from him at the museum several weeks ago, she'd been all but refusing to interact with him. She didn't drop by the office for a fuck, didn't drag him into the janitor's closet, and always made sure her office door was locked, whether she was inside or not. She'd walked by him in the hall a few times, but had always walked right past him, refusing to acknowledge his presence. But whenever she had a quiet moment alone in her office, random, involuntary flashbacks to her and Ryan's little fuck sessions would pop into her head. She didn't want them there. She didn't want to remember good things about Ryan. All Xzandr wanted to do was hate him. Maybe he hadn't meant to be hurtful, but that didn't change what he did. In any case, she was not going to voluntarily go up to Ryan and strike up a conversation. With any luck, if Xzandr had her way, the next time she and Ryan would speak would be well after she had the kid, perhaps enough so that he had no say in what she did or did not do to it.

» Glancing down, she realized that she'd grabbed a bottle of Vicodin. She wanted so badly just to rip the cap off and down her usual dosage... A glance at her white board, filled with Todd's symptoms, only made things worse. She was developing a massive headache. Her abdomen was sore. And, of course, her leg was perpetually throbbing. But as she looked back down and read the label, Xzandr sighed heavily and dropped the medicine bottle into the open drawer by her leg, shut the drawer, and stood up, wandering over to the white board. What was she missing? Something in the history? One of the tests got screwed up? No... The patient had to be lying. He had to. She couldn't possibly be wrong... She picked up the dry-erase marker and poised it to write, just in case she thought of anything. But the thought that suddenly occurred to her was too "ingenious" for her to write. She couldn't waste any time- if her theory was correct, she could easily have solved the puzzle in front of her. Dropping the marker, she ran out of the room and down the hall.

» She'd been right. All it took were some more specific tests, and a keen eye to confirm it. The patient was now on medicine and showing signs of steady improvement. A very satisfied Xzandr wandered back into her office- closing, but not locking, the door behind her. The high she was getting from this small triumph canceled everything else out. The stress from detoxing, her unborn child, and Ryan melted away- albeit temporarily- and she felt some level of peace. Sitting down at her desk, she pivoted and faced the computer, bringing up iTunes. A couple of clicks later, Xzandr was standing in the middle of the office- back to the door, where the curtains with partially open as well- playing some hardcore air guitar, with "Ace of Spades" by Motorhead blasting from the computer speakers.

Especially for RYAN.

[ry]

Today was turning out to be a royal pain in the ass - he’d had no fewer than five people come in the last two hours, two of them terminal, one with ineffective drugs and two in the early stages of what could be an aggressive cancer. It wasn’t the fact that they defined the worst part of his job that was really getting to him, it was the fact that all but one of them were set on hating his guts and blaming him for their disease. Now, Ry was many things, asshole extraordinaire among them, but even he did not have the power to give someone a disease, much less the mindset to give someone a terminal illness. To top it all off, his car had broke down on the way home from work the previous day so he’d had to resort to public transit to get to the hospital (forty minutes late) that morning, for which he was duly punished. The Dead had forced him to take one of the cases that none of the other doc’s wanted, or one that his colleague, some distinguished doctor, hadn’t wanted to take so he booted it to Ry. Another case of terminal cancer, as if he didn’t have enough to deal with. He had been lucky enough to escape punishment for skipping out on that seminar a few weeks back, some half-baked excuse about a ‘family’ emergency. It was a good thing he was such a private person, or else the dean would have known that Ry didn’t actually have any family. As it was, it had been a rather half-assed excuse, even by his standards, but obviously the Dean was preoccupied with something or another and he’d squeaked by. Everything would have been fine, Ry didn’t really mind an extra patient, seeing how he had nothing better to do with his time than paperwork and the occasional consult, but this current patient was showing symptoms that didn’t quite match up to the original diagnosis one of the clinic docs had given him.

He was practically at his breaking point with this guy, he had absolutely no clue what was going on. He was a good doctor, yeah, but he was used to dealing with run of the mill, black and white cases, there were no surprises, no curve balls, just cancer. The fact that his mind wasn’t just weighted down by his current cases didn’t make things any easier. Every single night he’d gone home this week he’d poured himself a whiskey and lamented over the fact that’d he become a sad sack, a pathetic excuse for a man. When Xzandr had walked away, well, he’d didn’t exactly know what he’d been feeling. A hazy mix of emotions that ranged from anger, to relief and then to guilt. Unfortunately, out of all the emotions he’d felt at the time, guilt was the one that had stayed with him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a kid he really, really didn’t, he just didn’t know how he could possibly be a father. And the fact that the last thing he wanted was responsibility, because he’d seen first hand what responsibility had done to his mother. The one thing he could think of to do was distance himself, to keep himself as far away from the situation as possible so he couldn’t possibly hurt her or the child as much as his mother had hurt him. Every time he passed her in the hall or walked by her office, that stab of guilt would pop up again and he’d be in a horrible mood for the rest of the day. Not even a pounding hangover the next day could keep his mind off her and the million thoughts that assaulted him consequently. He wanted to change, he really did, he didn’t want to be the guy who left Xzandr on her own to deal with what was half of his mistake (not that he’d ever tell the kid that if they ever spoke) but he just couldn’t. Whether that was because of fear or stubbornness, he couldn’t bring himself to go and tell her that the reason he was behaving like such an ass.

The hallway was almost deserted as he stalked down it, his nose buried in a case file as he navigated the halls by muscle memory. This was the absolute last thing he wanted to do, but there was no other option. He could not think of a single other doctor whose expertise would be more helpful to him. Olive eyes scanned the messy scrawls frantically, desperate to find something that would make things clear to him before he was forced to go to her for help. While he wanted nothing more to see her again (well, there were probably a few things on his list ahead of that, a lot of things actually) he knew she probably hated his guts (he did as well). The last thing he wanted was to get his head bitten off and for him to retaliate in the only way he knew how, by being on the defense, deflecting, making an ass of himself.

When nothing showed up after his careful scanning, he resigned himself and slowed his pace, not wanting to get there any quicker than necessary. The distance to her office seemed to be cruelly short this morning and he braced himself, swallowing hard as he approached. From his position, he could hear music blasting from her room and he could only be grateful she was no where near the patient ward, or else there’d be a myriad of complaints, although he didn’t know how that was of any consequence to him. He reached the door and hesitated, his face a mask of expressions, currently stuck on reluctance and a hint of fear. Olive eyes watched her as she rocked out to what he assumed to be an air guitar, using the opportunity to collect himself before clearing his throat and knocking solidly on the doorframe. “Knock, knock,” he said, his voice raised but purposefully professional. “Time for a consult?” he asked, keeping his tone steady and neutral. He didn’t want to start anything, or be here really, but he didn’t want his patient dying because he had no clue what was going on.

[anaxzandra corinne house]

» All work and no play makes Xzandr a dull girl. Okay, so she wasn't as badass as she tried to make everyone believe. No, she didn't particularly give a damn about most people. their feelings, or what kind of day they were having. She didn't squeal with glee at the sigh of an "adorable" puppy or kitten. She was still a hardcore bitch that played by her own rules, did what she wanted- fuck what everyone else thought or did about it. Still, there were times when even she had had enough of herself and had to do something as crazy as hardcore air guitar. If she'd have brought it with her, and had a small TV in the office, she would be playing guitar hero. Sometimes she might throw a ball against the wall and catch it repeatedly... But nothing was ever quite as good as air guitar. Sometimes she wondered in Gregory had brought the wrong baby home from the hospital- if, by some cosmic event, she was actually the child of a rock star, destined to be awesomeness. Of course, there was no possibility that such a thing was true- for one, she had inherited things from him that it was highly unlikely of her to have developed spontaneously, and for two, there were no rock stars in the area at that time. In any case, medicine was her niche. As much as she hated it sometimes, as stressful as it sometimes was, she just couldn't see herself doing anything else. Still, she would want to die if anyone caught her doing that. But of course, being the idiot that she was, she had neglected to shut the curtains and lock her door.

» She froze as she heard a knock on the door, wondering if maybe she was just hearing things, or in some idiot walked by and bumped into the door. But of course, the next thing she heard was the door opening, and Ryan's voice. "Fuck!" she shouted, stumbling toward the computer. She leaned over, grabbed the mouse, and hit the "pause" button in iTunes, effectively ending the song. Damn him, damn him to hell. She turned back around, looking at Ryan expressionless at first, but if looks could kill...

» What? He was asking for a consult? She was carrying his demon, and hated him to death, and he wanted her help? She wanted so badly to tell him to get the fuck out of her office. She wanted to tell him to go ask someone else- she wasn't about to help his sorry ass. Ask him; Couldn't he go to Gregory? But still, she recognized that it must be a huge step for him to have even thought about entering her cave, so after a brief moment of thought, she took a deep breath, and forced herself to calm. She could murder him later. She reached down, opened a drawer, and pulled out a lollipop, popping it into her mouth before heading toward Ryan. Mmm, rootbeer. With the stick protruding from her mouth, lollipop itself held in place by her teeth, she muttered, "Go fuck yourself," and reached out- she'd only come close enough so that she could grab the file without leaning over- grabbing the folder from him, and opened it.

» She held the file in one hand, and with the other, erased what she'd written previously on her whiteboard, then frowned, realizing that the marker wasn't there. She looked down, pouting a little. She'd dropped it on the floor... Damn. She sighed irritatedly, grabbed a new one out of her desk, and resumed her whiteboard crusade. After a thorough listing of the symptoms, she took a few steps back, reading it carefully. Ahh, where would she be without her white board? Oh, and post-it notes. Those were her savior. She grabbed a stack of them off her desk, and a pen, and started writing stuff on them, crossing most of it out, and tossing them in the trash. Finally, she figured it out, and wrote on one post-it note a list of tests to run, and on another, what the diagnosis she'd come up with was. Then she stuck them both onto the inside of the front flap of the folder, and took it over to Ryan- again, only getting close enough to give it to him without leaning over. "You can worship me as your god later," she said in a rather condescending tone. Hey, she was awesome at this- hadn't she earned the right to be cocky?

[ry]

In all the years Ry had ever worked in any sort of medical facility, he had never, not once, ever thought that he was having fun. Work was not a place to let your guard down; he’d done it once and look where it had landed him. If he wasn’t working while at work, he was thinking about working or about a case or something related to his job. To be honest, he did that even when he returned home. It wasn’t as if he had a whole other life waiting for him as soon as he stripped off his lab coat, he had almost no hobbies, and some people, if given the chance, would call him a workaholic. The craziest thing he’d ever done sans his whole fling with Xzandr had been making paper airplanes in the break room once and forgetting to clean them up after he was done. For all accounts and purposes, Ryan was one of the most boring people you’d ever meet. Sure, he did the regular things like listen to music and watch TV, but you’d never see him go out of his way to discuss anything related to that with anyone, which is sort of the point for most people. True, he didn’t just sit at home all day staring at a wall, he went out, to the parks or supermarket but the only thing he was truly passionate about was his job. It was really the only thing he considered he did well at, most of the time that is when mystery symptoms didn’t crop up, and his life was wasn’t totally purposeless. He was more than content to spend the rest of his days that way, without dealing with messy personal problems and pissed off doctors.

Ry barely restrained the urge to laugh when she cursed. While he was coolly indifferent outwardly, he still felt like a terrible ass about what he did was doing to her, which could only mean that on some level he still had some affection for her. He bit his lip, almost nervously as the music cut to an abrupt stop and he thanked whoever ruled the universe at the current time that humans weren’t able to kill with their eyes. Didn’t mean she couldn’t scare the crap out of him with her glare, but at least he’d escape with his life (maybe).

If there had been any other way of solving the case without going to her for help, he would have jumped at the chance. In truth, he didn’t want to interact with her any more than completely necessary, i.e. not at all, and from the way she was glaring at him, he bet she had the exact same thought. He took care to make sure his hands didn’t shake as she approached as he held the folder, trying not to think about how many ways she could kill him with her bare hands and/or cane if she really felt like it. A brow rose when she advanced toward him with a lollipop, but he kept his expression neutral wanting to get out of there quickly and in one piece like the coward, he was. He frowned and swallowed lightly at her suggestion, biting back the urge to shoot back something along the lines of how it wasn’t as much fun on his own. Now, he might be a cowardly ass who couldn’t step up to save his life, but he wasn’t stupid and he liked his head where it was, firmly attached to his neck.

His fingers curled loosely to his palms as she stalked away with his file. He shifted uneasily as he watched her mess around with her white board and he absently wondered why he didn’t have one in his office. Not that he’d probably ever use it, unless he was incredibly bored and decided to scribble something on it. Olive gaze drifted around her office lazily, although what he was really thinking about was how fast he could leave this office. Being in her presence made him slightly (very) uncomfortable and the less time, he had with her the better, for both their sakes. To tell the truth, Ry admired the way Xzandr worked. Everybody in the hospital, whether they liked her or not acknowledged her competence and efficiency as a doctor, Ry included. While Ryan was a skillful doctor, especially in his field, he still knew that Xzandr surpassed him as far as skill went. She’d solved at least twice the number of cases than Ry ever had, a fact, which he tried to ignore. Delicately he took the file from her hands and muttered a quick sarcastic, “will do,” as he looked over the file briefly before looking up. He paused for a moment, opened his mouth to say something but closed it and cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he said, quickly and then turned and walked out of the office, toward the safety of his own.

[anaxzandra corinne house]

When you walk away ,
I count the steps that you take ...

» Every second that Ryan was in the room- before she was given the folder, of course- she thought of the various objects within reach that she could impale him with, shove up his ass, or use to slice off his genitals. She could be infinitely creative, borderline unhealthily, in that respect; in a way, she was always thinking of ways to murder people, though whether or not she would ever actually kill anyone was yet to be seen. Most people- like Ryan, apparently- seemed to think that, hell yes, she would kill, and acted accordingly. Might not show it, or want to admit it, but they were scared. Most people just outright avoided her unless they were forced by circumstance to come around. It was just as well. While she hated silence, she would rather fill that void listening to music or watching TV instead of some actual person. So she was a hermit, so what? Did it hurt anyone? Not really, no. If she wasn't such a recluse, her social interactions might distract her from her job- and then it would hurt someone. Of course, as soon as she had the folder, everything else was effectively gone. She wasn't knocked up by a guy that never seemed to care, he wasn't in the room, and she wasn't about to shove a pencil through his eye. Her world ceased to move, and all that was left was her, the folder, and the white board. It would stay like that until she figured this out. Surprisingly, it was incredibly easy for her. After she wrote everything on the white board, it just all fell into place. She began to wonder if maybe Ryan had been faking not being able to figure it out, but then quickly put that thought away. That wasn't like him, and besides- just because it was easy for her didn't mean that it would be easy for him. In any case, she wasn't going to let someone die because she was standing around with her head up her ass.

» Unbeknownst to her- or to anyone, really- downstairs, a man was entering the hospital. No biggie, right? That happened every day- several hundred times a day. The difference being, he had a destination, and it wasn't a medically-related visit. He stepped up to the secretary and asked for the location of Xzandr's office. The secretary was new, and because of that had never been introduced to the bitchy doctor. She simply looked on her computer and told the man what he wanted to know. He seemed harmless enough... But in reality, no, he was not harmless. See, he was the brother of a former patient of hers- one that she'd fingered as the one at fault for the brother's illness, poisoning. That was almost a year ago, and the man had been in prison ever since; he got time off for good behavior and because his brother begged for him to have some lenience in his sentencing. But still, a lot can happen to a man in prison for a year. A lot of anal violation, a lot of bitterness at the person responsible for his being there... He made his way upstairs, looking at the numbers and names on doors carefully- wouldn't want to target the wrong bitch, now, would he? He actually rounded the corner of that particular hall soon after Ryan exited the room, and passed him a ways down the hall- Xzandr would have seen him coming if she had stayed against the glass, or held the blinds just a few seconds longer...

» As Ryan left the room, Xzandr slowly walked over to the door to watch him. He looked like he was about to say something besides a forced "thank you"- would he return around to finish the thought? She leaned against the glass and moved aside the blinds so she could get a better view of him, but with every step that he walked away, there was less and less chance that he would stop. But did she ever truly believe he would? Not really, no. Sighing, she stood up fully, getting off the glass and letting the blinds fall back into place. She wasn't going to watch him any longer than she had to. What was the point? He wasn't going to stop being an asshole any time soon. He wouldn't turn around and come back in, and no amount of watching and wishing would fix that. With a sigh, she turned to fully shut the door, only to be met with resistance. "What the fuck?"{/color] was all she could say as the door came toward her, instead of going in the direction she wanted it to. The man hadn't looked before he went barging in, and simply opened the door with as much force as possible. As a result, it hit Xzandr, who hadn't had enough warning to stop it. She didn't have time to put counter-pressure on the door. It hit her in the stomach, and then her back hit the glass wall- she was sandwiched between the wall and door- gasping. The man stepped through the door, puzzled at first that no one was at the desk, then turned and saw Xzandr, saw her swollen belly, and nearly fell over. "Oh, shit," he muttered, the only thing going through his mind being going back to prison. He quickly ran back the way he came, obviously in a hurry to get out. In his haste, he accidentally bumped into Ryan, but just kept on going- no time for petty apologies.

» Meanwhile, Xzandr was still in shock. What the fuck just happened? She was starting to lose presence of mind, remembering only bits and pieces of preceding events. She remembered watching Ryan leave, and turning back around... But why had the door come to her instead of shutting? She hadn't gotten a good enough look at the man's face to recognize him, let alone figure out why he was there. All she knew was that it wasn't Ryan, and that now she was in considerable pain. Her back pressed against the glass, she slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor, in a puddle of blood that was slowly getting bigger. Her cell phone was in her desk, and she didn't have enough energy to vocally call for help- would someone happen to see the man coming from her room, and wonder why he was acting in such a way, or why she wasn't chasing after him?

Do you see how much
I need you right now?

[ry]

Ryan had never been overly concerned with personal safety, some nights he forgot to lock his door and he spent more than a few nights walking in the middle of the city (or had back when he lived in a dangerous one). That said, he’d be downright stupid if he’d stayed any longer in Xzandr’s office. He was glad she’d turned her professional to the medical field where she saved people, because he was quite sure she’d excel at any other job, jobs where she’d take life and not save it (yeah, so one night he’d had a dream thought about her as an assassin, so sue him.) While Ryan usually tried not to show any external weakness, a skill he’d learned from his early days, he was pretty sure Xzandr could see the imperceptible way he became on edge every time he stepped into her presence especially recently. He had to admit, she was tougher than he was. She had the intimidation thing down pat, whereas Ryan had trouble mustering up the nerve to do anything but passive aggressive. Not to say that there weren’t some people who were wary of him, on the best of days he was a rather dour character, sometimes he spoke too harshly or didn’t seem to care all that much who he glared at, but he never did it intentionally or used it to his benefit. So, while he could be imposing, underneath it all he was much, much easier to intimidate than the other way around. When she’d taken the folder, he’d had to hold back a sigh of relief. Half of him thought she’d refuse just to spite him, and he wouldn’t have blamed her. He supposed he could have taken it straight to the dean who probably would have given it to Xzandr anyway, but he figured she’d probably hunt him down and kill him if it got to her that way. Probably call him a pansy or something while she was at it. He could deal with name-calling, sure, but she’d probably add physical violence to that, which is where he definitely drew the line.

There were no more patients for the rest of his day after he went and gave his current the treatment. For as busy as he’d been this morning, the remainder of his shift was going to be absolutely boring. The clinic was already filled with doctors, a first but something he couldn’t complain about. All his paperwork was either done or waiting on an intern who had dealt with the patient in the first place. All he could do was perhaps catch up on some reading he’d been neglecting to do, or if he really wanted to do something productive, get home and clean out his closet. He still had a bucket load of things from med school piled up on the top shelf and he could probably make a mean buck on eBay if he could figure out how to work the site. Preoccupied with his thoughts as he strolled down the hall, he barely noticed the stranger who stalked past him. Not that he really took the time to notice anyone in the hospital, unless they were a patient or were doing something to get his attention. His lower lip was firmly held but his upper teeth, his face fixed in an absent scowl. How was it that he still came away feeling like the world’s biggest jerk, and they really hadn’t said anything to each other. Ry was still vaguely surprised she hadn’t told her father (at least he assumed she still hadn’t, as he still had all his limbs and he hadn’t got the shit beat out of him). He didn’t peg the elder House to be the type who’d beat someone up for getting near his daughter, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

He contemplated going back several times, mostly to apologize. He knew that was the mature thing to do, that he could probably salvage some sort of respect and redeem himself in a small way if he just apologized and was willing to step up to the plate and become a man (for once). Maybe he should have taken a job as a researcher, out of sight, out of mind, with only a microscope for company. He was perfectly suited to it, all the way down to his social inability and his tendency to stick his foot right into his mouth. Hell, he might have even been happier there, what without the constant terminal diagnoses or the failed treatments, the grieving patients and family members, who looked at him in accusation half of the time. He didn’t need that, nor did he want it, but for some reason he couldn’t even begin to imagine his life without his job, the one he had now. Maybe he could give Xzandr some reason for why he couldn’t be a father without having to reveal too much about himself. Not exactly the truth, but did she really want to hear his whole sad sob story? he was pretty sure she wouldn’t, she’d probably tell him to suck it up, the past was the past and his mother was dead. Frankly, he told himself that sometimes, although he’d never been too good at listening. Especially to himself. Shoes paused on the ground, his olive eyes narrowed as he contemplated what to do. He could go back, or he could continue forward. Either way, he didn’t see it as a win/win situation. If he went back, he’d probably fuck up the situation even more, if he kept going, she’d probably never speak to him again and the only contact he would have with the child would be the checks he sent each month (which, ironically, wasn’t that just what he wanted?).

Just as he was about to make a decision, he was pushed forward by some loser who didn’t even have the decency to apologize after he almost knocked him over. Ryan muttered something decidedly inappropriate under his breath and resisted the urge to shout some profanity after him. He chewed on his lip for a minute before turning on his heel, thinking repercussions be damned as he stormed toward her office. It only took him a couple of seconds to make it to her office doorway and he peered inside, expecting her to be at her desk or messing with her Ipod. When he didn’t see her, he frowned. He stepped inside, and was about to leave again when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. When he turned, he swallowed, his mind hesitating for a moment before he noticed the blood and immediately launched into doctor mode. “Xzandr,” he said, kneeling down before her, his hands on her shoulders. “Can you tell me where you’re hurt?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm as he looked over her, seeing no sign of outward wounds. “I need some help in here,” he called over his shoulder, hoping his raised voice would reach someone in the hallway.

[anaxzandra corinne house]

Will you swear on your life
That no one will cry at my funeral

» Truthfully, she probably had it coming to her for a long ass time. She didn't have the best bedside manner- A.K.A none whatsoever- and often didn't speak to people in the most savory manner. Most just forgot about it, or chalked it up to her being drugged up, or just straight-up completely forgot or didn't hear her. But there were a few that took it hard, that didn't so easily forget; especially ones she'd accused of something. If only she weren't so damn memorable... But, after all, it was just a tad hard for a pill-popping doctor with a cane and bad attitude to blend in with the sea of other medical professionals. Still, she never suspected anyone would come back to attack her. The worst she'd ever gotten was someone coming around to bitch at her for being such a bitch to them, but that, she could easily just ignore or brush off. It was nothing she hadn't heard before. But an attack? No way. Wasn't security supposed to weed out the crazies instead of allowing them into the hospital? If she were to be asked now who she thought had done such a thing, Xzandr wouldn't have the foggiest of ideas. Not even her father would stoop that low, and if by some cosmic event he had accidentally harmed her physically, he wasn't such a douche bag that he wouldn't stick around- and then it would be him calling for help instead of Ryan.

» She vaguely saw someone else enter the room, but in her haze didn't even register that it was Ryan until he had her by the shoulders. If she'd had a bit more presence of mind, she would have shouted at him to help as soon as he came in- wasn't that what people did when they needed help and saw someone able-bodied?- but couldn't work up the sense to do it. In fact, if he hadn't spotted her when he did, he could easily have walked away and not known of her plight- that is, until she bitched at him for it later on. She was almost certain she would have to somehow work up the strength to get to her desk, but luckily Ryan saw her.

» She groaned a little, and tried to move but stopped short. Could she tell him where she was hurt? Given time to think, she might have been able to come up with something witty and stinging to say to that, but time was the one thing she did not have. "No..." she breathed, looking away. "No... I'm not hur- oww..." Bullshit she wasn't hurt. If it weren't for the persistent pain now in her abdomen, she would have continued asserting the point, nonetheless. Just because she hung around the hospital all day didn't mean she wanted to be a patient there. She swallowed a little, and looked at the door, as if that were enough to undo everything. "It was the door... It just kind of slammed into me..." She tried to fumble through some sort of explanation, but gave up. Until she was able to take time to collect her thoughts, it wouldn't do any good trying to tell someone else what happened.

» She paused for a second, then looked Ryan straight in the eyes. "Don't let him die," she said, voice cracking, just as a nurse popped her head in the door. "Oh, shit!" she said, then leaned back out to shout for a gurney and another nurse. She would have been there sooner, but the voice calling for help came from Xzandr's office, and, well... For all she knew, she was murdering someone, and nurses just didn't get paid enough to mess with her. Luckily for Xzandr, the other nurse was quick, and before she had time to really say anything further, she was lifted onto the gurney and being wheeled to... god knows where. Would they waste time going to the ER or just go elsewhere? Xzandr, of course, had no say in the matter. The second she failed to prevent herself- her baby- from getting hurt, was the second she gave up her right to comment on where she went or what happened.

» That was the last thing she remembered. The next thing she knew, she was waking up in a strange hospital room- how often was she on this particular floor? All of once that she could remember, when she did that forced obstetrics rotation, years ago. Groaning a little, she tried to sit up, completely confused as to why she was even in a hospital bed- another pulmonary embolism, maybe?- but stopped as soon as he felt a sharp, stinging pain, laying flat on her back. But just seconds later, she found herself bolt upright, and then leaning over. She grabbed the ugly salmon-pink bedpan from the otherwise-empty bedside table and, holding it in both hands while leaning over the side of the bed, vomited into it. She stayed there for a couple more seconds- easier to stay there than have to re-assume the position, should she feel overwhelming nausea again- before deciding she could lay back down. She set the pan back on the table and laid back down, still utterly confused.

» Anesthesia always did this to her. Could be something as simple and non-invasive as Novocaine for a cavity filling (which, thankfully, she hadn't had to endure in over a decade and a half now) or complicated as the stuff they used here in the hospital. If she was ever anesthetized for any length of time, five minutes or an hour, she would find herself worshiping the porcelain god- or, in this case, the ugly plastic one. As soon as the nurses had her on the gurney, they'd called in a doctor who, in turned, ordered her straight to the OR. They could waste no time keeping her awake- not that she would have completely understood what was going on anyway- and ended up just giving her gas and putting her under, the quickest option. At only 21- almost 22- weeks, the likelihood that the baby boy would survive was only in the vicinity of two percent. Still, it was better than the chance he had staying inside Xzandr after she got slammed by the door. In fact, if Ryan or the nurses had taken just a few extra seconds getting to Xzandr, the little one would be a goner- and definitely so if this hadn't happened in a hospital. Currently, they were struggling to stabilize him down in the NICU.

» Of course, Xzandr suspected nothing. As far as she knew, she had gotten slapped upside the head a little too hard, and that was why she remembered nothing. After laying perfectly still for several minutes, she groaned in boredom and, ignoring the nagging pain in her incision- which didn't exactly register in her mind as what it was- fumbled around until she found the button that sat the bed up. If the back was up, she would have an easier time getting up and getting the hell out of this room. Where better to recover from anything than her own damn office?

[ry]

Ryan had always hated violence, every now and again, when he’d see someone come in all bruised up after a fight or with other fight related wounds, he’d feel a bit sick to his stomach. You’d think that after all his time being a doctor, he’d get over the squeamishness at the sight of blood or nasty wounds, but it snuck up on him every so often. As he knelt before Xzandr, his olive eyes distracted by the puddle of blood as it pooled around her, he felt his stomach clench and he had to mentally will himself to shove the feeling away. This was not the time to be getting sick, she needed him there and coherent, not getting rid of the meal he’d eaten earlier. Still, the vibrant red of the blood was making his head swim, just the faintest bit and he knew he’d be plagued by visions of it later. Ryan had gone through shifts in the ER where he’d emerge practically coated with blood, his gown or lab coat saturated in a rusty brown color, dried blood. After the first two nights like that, he hadn’t so much as blinked as he shoved the garment into a bag and took it home to wash. He couldn’t possibly function as a doctor if every speck of blood had him on his knees. Trying to distract himself, he clamped down hard on his lower lip with his teeth, wincing slightly at the pain but relieved that it seemed to keep his attention on what mattered.

Her lack of reaction made him nervous and he fought the urge to raise his voice to get her attention. He peered intently at her, his gaze sharp and focused, taking in each and every detail he could manage. Between the frantic medical terms flowing through his brain, he was trying to remember why he’d come back. He didn’t remember making the decision, or why he’d decided to turn around, and at this moment it really didn’t matter if he’d been possessed by some alien creature and that’s why he came back, but his stomach twisted nervously at the thought that he could have walked away and left her like this. With that amount of bleeding, she could easily have gone into shock or bled out or something equally unthinkable.

His expression remained anxious as he watched her, his lips set firmly and his grip on her shoulders solid. The fact that he didn’t immediately receive a smart assed remark almost toppled him, and he swallowed hard trying to keep his mindset professional. He might have been an ass, but he couldn’t deny that secret part of himself that really, really cared what happened to Xzandr. He pressed his lips tighter together at her response and he shook his head. “Uh huh,” he muttered, needing to say something even if he couldn’t exactly muster up the enthusiasm for any sort of actual reply. He kept his gaze on her, watching as she turned her attention to the door and he shifted his stance on his heels, already uncomfortable. He nodded to show her he had heard her, and his grip on her shoulders slipped slightly, his fingers sliding just a bit. A thousand possibilities flowed through his brain, each one more worrying than the next. Sometimes it sucked being a doctor, imaging all the bad that could happen to a person. He attempted to force his mind to slow down, because he didn’t want to become overwhelmed and consequently useless.

He swallowed hard, his gaze freezing at her words. He’d been so focused on her that he’d forgotten about their her child and he was immediately assaulted by guilt, but he managed to force out a, “I won’t,” that half stuck in his throat. The unexpected sound of the nurse caused him to flinch and he swallowed hard, tearing his gaze from Xzandr for a moment, his fingers absently finding her pulse point on her neck, assuring himself that she wasn’t in danger of dying imminently. When the nurses bumbled into the room, he barely had the presence of mind to stumble out of the way, his eye almost comically wide. He uttered instructions to the nurses, the words barely falling from his lips. They knew what to do, but he couldn’t dare withhold his input, as if filling the air with words would keep anything bad from happening to Xzandr. His shoulders hunched as he stared after Xzandr, not daring to take his gaze off of her for a minute and feeling like an utter failure at the same time.

After that, his brain sort of stuck on auto-pilot as he followed the gurney toward the OR, but was told rather forcefully by one of the nurses to wait outside. He made to protest, angry words pulling at the back of his mouth, but in the end, his arguments died as he realized that he’d probably hinder their efforts to save her if he went in there. For the first time in a long while, he was overcome with sympathy for those who had to wait in the waiting room, wondering what was going on behind those closed doors. Technically, he could just slip through, the authorized personnel only painted on the door practically beckoned to him, but he didn’t dare go in yet. Or at all really. He wasn’t one of the surgery guys, he’d be lost in the sterile room. After a half an hour of pacing, he took off to his office with strict instructions to alert him the moment something happened, good or bad. He’d spent the rest of the time staring blankly at one of his prescription ledgers, the scripts blurring before his eyes.

Someone had come to get him, told him that the baby was being stabilized in the NICU, and he could tell from the look on the nurse’s face that she couldn’t understand why Ryan was so interested. He kept forgetting that no one knew the kid was his, and he was struck by the awful realization that it took some traumatic event to realize that he definitely did not want the child to die. He spent the entirety of ten minutes trying to decide where to go. Instead of making a decision, he walked out of his office and let his feet take him anywhere they desired. He wasn’t exactly surprised when he ended up in the NICU. He couldn’t bring himself to go in, but he managed to find someone who could brief him on the condition of the infant, pretending as if he were only interested because technically the child was his patient by extension. The thought of only a two percent survival chance shook him and he swallowed hard before forcing himself to return to the recovery rooms, where they took the patients after surgery.

The trek to her room was surprisingly short, probably because he was so preoccupied by the myriad of unwanted thoughts ravaging his brain. The fact was that he was now suddenly undeniably worried about his son’s child’s condition, a gnawing feeling in the very pit of his stomach that practically made him sick. He wasn’t supposed to play the part of a worried father, he should be vaguely upset about this turn of events, a doctor’s dismay at the chance of a patient not surviving, not this overwhelming feeling of panic fluttering in his chest. He shoved these thoughts away as he stood in the doorway, his expression neutral, the epitome of forced calm. “How’re you doing?” he asked, probably not the most prudent question, but he was at a loss for words.

[anaxzandra corinne house]

» Why was she still in this damn room- in this damn bed? The obvious answer was the correct one- she was in pain. Pain had never stopped her before. But before, all she'd had to do was pop a few Vicodin in her mouth and be on her way. Leg hurt? Take Vicodin- it wouldn't go away, but it would take the edge off, allowing her to function as a normal human being. Headache? Same thing, except the drugs were a little more effective on that. But what now, when she wasn't- or thought she wasn't, though if she would have looked harder, she would have seen it- attached to some sort of pain-dulling device, with no medicine bottles within arms' reach? It was almost blinding, and any time she tried to move at the torso, it felt as though she was being pulled apart by a medieval torture device. But did that mean she would quit trying? No. Just because she worked in a hospital didn't mean that she spent a lot of time in patients' rooms- or a lot of time as a patient herself. Hospital rooms actually creeped her out. They all seemed to have that same somber shade of off-white on the walls, with the exception of a few wards. The pediatrics, well, those made a half-assed attempt at making it seem like they wanted to kids to feel comfortable during their stay. But, really, what kind of kid would be comfortable in a damn hospital? And things like the cardiac unit had those badly draw hearts on the border going around the room- as if the patients there didn't already know they had heart problems. And, of course, this particular ward, the one that one would assume to be easier to decorate. There were an infinite number of baby-related decorations that could be used, and yet they went with the simplest, mind-numbingly-dull assortment they could find- the walls pale blue- almost white- and the border going around the room with alternating old-timey baby carriages and badly-drawn pacifiers. Had Xzandr noticed this sooner- or at all, really- she would damn sure put forth more effort into escaping. But it wasn't like she had never been in a hospital room, and it wasn't like she took the time to observe her surroundings every single time.

» Before she had the time or presence of mind to do anything else, she heard Ryan's voice. What was he doing there? Shit, did she have some sort of bullshit cancer? Oh, shit, oh, shit. Damn it, she should have seen this coming. For a doctor, she never really paid much attention to her own health, and besides, over the years she had managed to rack up some hardcore bad karma. Judging by the subtle differences in his voice, something was wrong, obviously. But she couldn't let on that she thought so. Ahh, ignorance was bliss, yes? Besides, if she just jumped to conclusions, and she was wrong, she would end up just looking like an idiot. There could be any number of reasons- though only a handful she could pull off the top of her head- for Ryan to be there that didn't involve some serious problem with Xzandr's health. He already had enough dirt on her to make fun of her for life; would making a hurried, untrue assumption really help anything?

» She scoffed a little. "I feel like I got squashed by a champion sumo wrestler, and then placed in an ill-fitting medieval torture device and given a large dose of ipecac." She resisted the urge to twist to fully face him, instead simply turning her head. Of course, one other very important question was on her mind, and took precedence over everything else buzzing around in there; one of the few things she remembers before winding up in this room. "Your patient," she said first, to avoid the whole 'what the fuck are you talking about?' scenario, "I was correct, yes?" While highly intelligent, Xzandr sometimes had trouble with prioritizing things. There were so many other things she should be more concerned with at the moment- find effective pain relief that won't completely destroy her detoxing, before she loses her mind and her newborn that is struggling for his life, just to name a few- but then again, she was always one to worry about things nobody else would really give a damn about. Like now, she was more concerned with being correct about the diagnosis she'd given Ryan to give his patient than figuring out where she was in the hospital, or why she was there. It was sort of like when Ryan scraped her off the floor when she had that pulmonary embolism- as they were taking her away to begin treatment, she was more concerned with making sure she didn't waste seventy-five cents on a can of mountain dew only to have someone else drink it, rather than being worried about her health. Right now, she wanted to know she was right, and that was all she really cared about. Even though she never really felt the need for validation, she liked being right, and liked being told she was right; not for herself, but for anyone who heard it, so they knew- she was right, and she could always derive some happiness from that. Hell yeah she was smarter than them, and they damn well better know it!

» Xzandr was always good at deducing things, but everyone already knew that. If she wasn't, would she be trusted to diagnose complicated illnesses that half the other doctors in the hospital had never heard of? Or would she be a doctor at all, for that matter? Even what she thought to be the easiest, least complicated branch of medicine wasn't completely mindless. Even small children knew- to be a doctor, you had to be smart. Maybe not a complete genius, as it were, but you did have to be able to deduce things quickly, even if it wasn't your primary duty. For Xzandr, it was her main- practically only, since even when she was stuck in the clinic, she had to diagnose on some level, though it wasn't nearly as complicated- function in the hospital. But still, for some reason, she couldn't put two and two together. She didn't make the connection, at least not at first. But as she waited for Ryan to confirm her correctness as far as his patient- because, to her, being wrong just wasn't a possibility- it finally began to click. First, she didn't feel the kid moving around. Usually, if she moved at all, he would too, and wouldn't stop for what could possibly end up being hours. And yet, with all her movement, still nothing. That she could chalk up to the fact that she wasn't moving too terribly much, but what she saw, or rather, didn't see next was what really made her come around. There was no monitor, other than the ones keeping track of her own vitals. Even this early, there should be something attached to her that made sure the baby's heart was still beating. But as she leaned over- just slightly, because then it began to hurt- she saw no wires jutting out from under the blanket. It took her a second to register what this meant. Then she squinted, trying to make out the shapes on the wall, and as they came into focus- she didn't have the best eyesight- she gasped, everything finally registering in her mind. She clamped one hand over her mouth, mumbling through it. "Oh, no... No no no... I can't... No..."

[ry]

The walls were too white, he noticed as he shifted against the doorframe, his hip jutting painfully into the wood. There was no comfort in the atmosphere here, just a forced complacency that made his stomach twist. He’d much rather be tucked up safely in a lab coat, wielding a file of information which was usually all he knew about a patient. No familiarity, nothing to say except the words that had slipped from his lips time and time again, medical facts with little sentimental value. His pulse in the hollow of his neck was erratic, his palms softly damp with sweat that he wiped repeatedly on his pants. Not only did he not want to be here, but he really, really didn’t want to be here. It was all he could do to keep himself with going mental with panic over Xzandr (oh yes, somewhere between all the bitchy conversations and insults, he’d grown attached) he was trying desperately not to remember the few brief weeks he’d spent cooped up in a hospital bed when he’d, to put it bluntly, tried to off himself during his eighteenth year. No, he did not need any reminding of that, thank you. He preferred the façade of superiority, of knowing, having the power because he had all the facts, and he wasn’t particularly fond of reminiscing on the times he’d been absolutely clueless. Besides, most of his patients spent a lot of their time in his office, so he could avoid the whole patient-room scene. As he stood stock still as if on the off chance he moved something devastating might happen, he was rather annoyed to find his mouth had gone dry, any and all platitudes he’d thought of on the way up fleeing his mind. This room was rather bland, the border somewhat unimaginative, which helped keep his mind off his previous stay. There’d been no baby carriages on the wall then, thank god. He was almost hoping someone had come in and briefed Xzandr about the condition of their her son, because he really, really did not want to be the one to tell her. Sure, he was the bearer of bad news around the hospital, couldn’t escape that in his chosen specialty, but he’d always had the shield of distance between him and the patient. As far as he could remember, he’d never fucked one of his patients in the elevator when it malfunctioned, no, he’d definitely remember that. Here, that shield was completely and utterly obliterated, as if there were no such thing. He wanted to distance himself, to feel carefully, calculatingly removed, because even the most emotionally distant of doctors needed to have some sort of bond, so that they would continue to fight for the patient.

His feet remained firmly planted on the floor, rooting him to the spot, when she noticed him, and he tried to keep his expression calm and neutral. Lips curled ever so slightly downward, tense as he tried to hide the frown that was fighting to take over, prevent those little worry lines from surfacing on his forehead as he shoved a hand against the edge of the doorframe, counting on it to be solid enough to help him keep his balance. There were only a few times he’d been this upset while at the hospital, a handful of times when he had to consciously focus on keeping his emotions in check. Usually it was when dealing with children, those who had hardly had time to live their life before he bowled them over with a terminal diagnosis and sent them off to the pediatric unit. This was nothing like that, and he almost wanted to laugh at himself. Since when did he care so damn much? Last time he’d checked, she hated his guts and he wasn’t feeling particularly friendly toward her himself. He honestly did not want to be the man who only cared when it was all falling down around them.

The corners of his lips twisted upward absently at her description, as if he wasn’t really sure how to smile anymore. His head ducked as he shifted on his feet, bringing his body closer to the doorframe as if it would give him shelter. Olive eyes flashed, he studied her intently, his heart plummeting when she didn’t seem to be particularly distressed. Not that he would expect Xzandr to completely fall apart if anything happened to the child (although he alternatively didn’t expect her to brush it off) but for some reason he could tell absolutely that she wasn’t yet aware of the situation. His gaze shifted but returned to her at the question and he cleared his throat as if he hadn’t spoken in days. “Yeah,” he said softly, barely even speaking. “Ehm, yeah you were right, everything a-okay with him and case is solved,” he replied, his tone stressed, as if the more he filled the room with words the easier it would be to say the ones that actually mattered. Somewhere between his numbness and the overwhelming anxiety he’d gone through while waiting for Xzandr he’d managed to shove the case file at a nurse and order her (rather roughly he remembers guiltily) to start the treatment. A part of him was hoping that Xzandr would continue asking questions or throwing insults at him, so that he could prolong the inevitable or maybe, magically, someone would rush in and say the kid was alright and he’d never need to say anything. Or perhaps another doctor would walk in and explain the situation, someone who knew the facts a little bit better, whose mind wasn’t currently racing and stopping and slowing down all at the same time. He tried not to think about the fact that he might have been coming around to the idea of a kid, no not officially, not particularly fondly either, but a small part of him that had balked at the responsibility was shifting, softening, molding into something that almost resembled anticipation.

He swallowed awkwardly, wondering if he should just launch into it, use soft words, placate her, assure her everything would be fine even if he really, really wasn’t sure it would be. If he looked at the situation objectively, there was almost no chance of this ending with happiness instead of someone (both of them) getting their hearts ripped to shreds. That’s what most people wanted to hear though, everything will be alright yeah, the cancer is advanced but there’s always new drugs, new treatments, everything will be alright you’ll be fine, I promise. Ry had never liked breaking promises, but it almost came hand in hand with his job. He could promise someone they wouldn’t die until he was blue in the face but at the end of the day, it wasn’t his choice, he didn’t get to decide. People expected him to make those promises, he knew that, so he did it just because he couldn’t dare to tell someone until it was absolutely certain that there was nothing more they could do. He studied her warily, like he expected her to lash out or do something, he didn’t know. If he hadn’t gone to medical school he would have sworn his heart had stopped when it finally clicked for her. He swallowed heavily, hesitation written heavily in the lines of his face as he clung precariously to the doorframe. “He’s…it’s, they said, he’s fighting,” Ryan managed, taking a few steps into the room, treading carefully. “Down…down in the NICU they’re trying…trying to stabilize him and,” he swallowed forcing himself to settle, not to let his words blur together into a mess of unintelligible syllables.

[anaxzandra corinne house]

» Xzandr had never given any indication that she gave two squirts of duck shit about her child. While most pregnant women had that glow about them, Xzandr retained her same sour demeanor, perhaps a bit more so when an unsuspecting nurse- usually a newbie- would ask her all kinds of questions, as if she expected Xzandr to be the typical woman and be excited. She never rubber her swollen belly, in public or otherwise- in fact, she almost considered it quite an accomplishment that she had successfully not touched it except for when she bathed. She didn't hold up headphones so the kid could hear music- though, if it could hear well enough, she'd blasted music pretty loud for herself more than a few times, so if he survived and ended up in a death metal band or being a rocker, yeah, it was totally her fault. And even though she occasionally talked to it- she hated silence, yes, and lacked better things to do- they were never loving words, or anything caring. Usually it was more of her yelling at him to stop moving around before she kicked his ass; not that she actually would do it, or that it ever worked, but yelling seemed to help her deal with a lot of things. Not by any means was it the most mature thing she had ever done, but it wasn't like anyone expected and different from her. Damn, those girly little nurses and their questions pissed her off. Was she excited? Hell, no, she wasn't excited. She was, though to get her to admit it, one would have to given her as much nitrous oxide as they could find, completely terrified. She was on blood thinners, for crying out loud! If she had been able to muster up the guts to actually abort the kid, she would have been a lot more safe, as far as bleeding risks went. In fact, Xzandr was in the OR almost twice as long as she should have been, because they had to stop the bleeding, and replace so much blood. Thus, excitement theory disproved. Next question: Had she thought of any names? Ha! Her only answer was a simple "Hell to the no!" Why would she, when she was obviously so detached, want to risk accidentally starting to give a damn by giving it a name? Besides, she couldn't think of any, even if she were so inclined- nothing but hideously common names, and if she were going to be stuck with this thing for eighteen years, it damn sure better have a creative name. On top of all that, or ignoring it, there was one humongous honking sign practically broadcasting that she disliked the little demon: the drugs. Even though she did end up quitting- her motives were still a little shaky- she waited so long to do so that it would appall anyone who did care for their own unborn child. She knew damn well what drugs could potentially do to the kid, and kept right on taking them for a significant length of time. What kind of caring mother could do that? All things considered, nobody expected Xzandr to really start giving a damn any time soon.

» It shocked even Xzandr that she felt so much, so suddenly, without really giving any warning. No doubt, Ryan was probably excepting her to throw something at him, or jump up and kick his ass, or be more angry; hell, if she were him, that's what she would expect, based on prior knowledge of herself. But, to her own shock and no doubt Ryan's, here she was not angry, but in denial- and almost in tears. She hadn't spent a lot of time on infants or neonatology- last time she was anywhere near the NICU was on a forced rotation way back during her residency. She never thought she would even need to know anything about premature babies- sick ones, maybe, if they managed to survive long enough with a mysterious illness to come across her desk- because she never thought she would have kids at all. She knew some things, sure, because it was just common knowledge in the medical community; but in many ways, she was just like any other patient with a premature baby- scared shitless and having no clue what was going on other than that their kid would probably die. Medical advances, Xzandr knew, were pretty good now-a-days, what with new drugs and new ways of keeping those babies alive, but still- not even 22 weeks? Unless the kid had some massive will to live- though why it would want to, knowing it had her DNA in it stumped her- no medicine in the world could help him. Not knowing everything was what initially got to Xzandr. She was so used to being the one person that truly knew it all, and now here she was, thrust into a field of which she knew about as much as the hospital's janitor. It was practically unknown territory to her- not knowing- a path she hadn't trodden since the "dark ages", the first days of medical school. But soon the shock of not knowing was replaced with fear. A life was in jeopardy, and it wasn't her own. Maybe she still didn't really care about the kid on a loving level, but as a doctor- one hell-bent on keeping people alive, as it were- it was just devastating. This life that had been leeching off her own for the past 21-odd weeks was now on its own, and probably wouldn't last long. She couldn't grow a pair and kill it, why would she want it to die now?

» Ryan's words almost didn't even register at first. It was a total mind fuck on so many different levels. She couldn't be a mother. The kid couldn't be dying. Ryan couldn't be a father. And Gregory... no way in hell he was... No. There had to be some mistake. None of this could be true, not in the least. What was he doing, trying to play some sort of horrible prank on her? Yes, of course. That had to be it. It was all just an elaborate prank on Ryan's part. She had to hand it to him- he was thorough, worthy of a high-five or some other sort of acknowledgment of his genius. He'd obviously planned it down to the minutest of details. The wallpaper? Probably taped it over the actual paper, which was probably the same ugly pattern on any other wall in the hospital. The lack of movement? Well he'd obviously given her a very mild paralytic, that affected the baby but not Xzandr herself. And the monitor? Of course there was one; Ryan must have taken it off of her and hidden it in the closet or something... But just as she was about to vocalize her denial, she realized how ridiculous her argument was. No way would Ryan have had the time to come up with all that plus go buy the wallpaper, put it up, hide the machine, and then find and administer the paralytic. Not in such a small window of time. Not without waking her up. Ryan was smart, yes, but everything Xzandr had just fabricated was way beyond his skill level. Besides, he just wasn't that kind of guy.

» That was another thing that kind of scared her- her reaction to Ryan's presence. When he walked out of her office without turning back- even though, obviously, he had, but it wasn't soon enough to really count- she had vowed, in the second between then and the attack, that she would hate him. If she had to deal with him, she would; no sense in letting some patient die, or missing out on a great medical mystery just because she had a vendetta against the man handing it to her. But it would go no farther than that. She would stop trying to get inside his head and understand him. There would be no more pulling him into the janitor's closet for a quick fuck between running tests on patients. No more of those random-ass stories she wove from absolutely nothing, that seemed to amuse, on some level, even Ryan. She doubted he would even care, seeing as he seemed to want nothing more than to stay the hell away from her unless he had to. She was so prepared, she thought, to yell at him, to tell him what an asshole and a deadbeat he was, accuse him of the exact same thing she had at the museum- that she was never anything more than a nice fuck to him- and to tell him to get the fuck out and not to even try to come around herself or the kid, or have any sort of contact whatsoever. But right now, all of that was forgotten. All she wanted now was to be held. Yes, she hated to be touched, but sometimes human contact was better than medicine itself.

» Of course, she knew Ryan would never approach her of his own volition, let alone embrace her. Those few steps he'd just taken into the room were probably the extent to which he would come in, if she were to leave it at that. A snarky remark like "you can come in, I won't rape you or anything" might get him to come a little bit closer, but even Xzandr, the queen of the inappropriate realm and all things related to it, wasn't up to saying such a thing just now. Suddenly, before she could really wrap her mind around any clear thoughts, another wave of nausea hit her- whether it was still the anesthesia reaction or pure fear was still out with the jury- and she reflexively reached out, grabbed the bedpan, and leaned over the bed- the one away from Ryan- and puked into it again, holding that position until she was sure no more bile or stomach content was coming up for the time being. She sat back up, put the bedpan back on the table, and leaned back. That was when she finally, on some level, broke. One hand returning to her mouth, she shook her head again, and spoke, voice cracking the whole time. "I didn't want him... but I... I didn't want... him to die..." Before she could stop it, a single tear made its way out of her eye and down her cheek. "You know, I.. I tried, when you just walked away that day... I went upstairs to terminate... But I just couldn't do it..." A half-confession on her part, though if she were in any manner feeling well she probably would have controlled herself a bit better. "Oh god, this is all my fault."

[ry]

Ryan wasn’t much for making lasting attachments to people or things. Half the stuff in his apartment could be thrown away and he wouldn’t bat an eye, and if he had a social life, it must be going on without his knowledge. It wasn’t that he went out of his way to discourage personal relationships, well, he might a little, but for the most part, he acted how he usually did and figured the hell with it if no one jumped at the chance to be his best friend. As far as he was concerned, he was more than perfectly content with his job and his flat, and maybe his plants too if they didn’t die every other week, why he kept getting more, he had no idea. Anyway, to put it simply, he was perfectly a-okay with his life; he didn’t need any drama or anything else to ‘complete’ it. Hell, he could go on for the rest of it and die and he still wouldn’t have wished for anything more. To say he was a hermit might be a little bit harsh, but he certainly was not opposed to solitude. He happened to appreciate the odd bout of silence and he’d never felt anxious or upset when there wasn’t some sort of ruckus going on like some people were. All in all, Ry was the sort of guy who would live the rest of his life with nothing meaningful happening and it wouldn’t be that big of a disappointment. He honestly didn’t need any responsibility to make his life worth living, and he’d prefer it if the biggest worry of his life was wondering if he forgot to water the plants the night before. A kid was something he probably could do without, after all if you forgot to water a kid, it’d die and the consequences of that were far greater than if a plant died. Then again, you didn’t ‘water’ a kid, but the same principle applied. Ry, when it came down to it, could be responsible if he really, really had to it, but it wasn’t ideal and he was bound to make mistakes. And as he knew, mistakes were horrible things when raising a child, at least when they were the type his mother had made. Perhaps the reason he was so against becoming a father was that he feared he’d turn out like his mother, even if he wouldn’t be in the same position she had been. Hell, he didn’t even know if Xzandr would even let him see the kid except to pay child support (actually, would he really have to do that? did that only work if you were married or? definitely something he’d figure out later). Or maybe Xzandr wouldn’t even want the kid, adoption was always a viable option and Ry couldn’t quite picture her toting a toddler around while she was on clinic duty (though he’d probably pay to see this). Besides, it wasn’t as if either of them had wanted a kid, perhaps Xzandr might have down the road, but Ryan was quite sure it would be no problem for his family name to die out after him. He wanted no legacy and becoming a father definitely hadn’t been on his ‘to-do’ list.

Ryan kept his stationary spot near the doorway, as far as he saw it, the closer to the door the better, because it seemed to be the only escape route. If worst came to worst he could go for the window but he wasn’t sure if he’d survive the fall. There was a good chance, him being at a hospital and all, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. Most people lashed out at him when he delivered bad news, he expected no different from Xzandr. He understood it to a point, but that didn’t mean he liked having his stapler launched at his head or listening to someone curse his entire family, any and all pets he’d ever had and whatever else the distressed patient could come up with. To tell the truth, he’d always dreaded telling bad news to people because he never knew what their reaction would be. Still, it was a safe line, him being the bearer of bad news and not on the receiving side and while he wouldn’t be so cruel as to say he was grateful, he wouldn’t exactly jump at the chance to trade places. While he did have a certain drive to keep his patients alive and he didn’t always know if he would be able to or how long they had, it was nothing like not knowing what was happening down in the NICU. He’d go down there himself and lend a helping hand if he didn’t know he’d be absolutely useless. It scared him a little that he was this worked up; after all, he’d been so sure that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the kid. Another part of him was scared that he could even feel that way. He’d always had the idea (denial) that he was perfectly fine, a little rough around the edges but not a bad person. He felt a little guilty about not wanting to play the part of a father, but did that make him a bad person? There probably wasn’t an answer for that, and perhaps it didn’t matter anyway. At any rate, the last thing he wanted was for the little guy to die, no he’d never wish that on anyone no matter how much he didn’t want to accept the fact that he quite possibly was going have to step up, become the responsible adult he’d always told himself he was (even if the plants always died).

The most logical thing to do was to tread carefully, because although he didn’t see any sharp or blunt objects that could be hurled his way, he had no doubt that Xzandr was a creative person. And so he stood cautiously, muscles tensed in case he had to flee and while a part of him was rolling its eyes and trying to tell him that ‘hey, don’t you think that’s a little over the top’ it didn’t stop him from being extra hesitant nonetheless. He kept his gaze trained on her, hoping she wouldn’t go straight into denial as most of his patients did, telling him he must have gotten the wrong patient file, did the test wrong, went blind that moment and couldn’t read the results right, etc. He wouldn’t blame her but his stomach clenched a little at the thought of having to tell her, assure her that he was right. If he could get rid of one thing about his job, that would be it. To hear the hope in their voice, the confidence when they told him that he’d gotten it wrong and that they were absolutely perfectly fine, and then to see it crumble right down at their feet when he finally got through to them. He wanted them to keep that hope, that confidence, and he hated the fact that he was the one who took it away from them. And so he waited with baited breath, willing himself to stay rooted to the spot because he really wanted to turn tail and be a coward and equally frightening he wanted to scoop her up in his arms and lie, tell her everything would be alright and he knew that because he was Ry and he always knew, she should trust him.

On the other hand, he kept expecting her to call him on the fact that he was horrible person, a waste of space, any and all other insults she probably had stored away. He probably wouldn’t disagree with her, act a little offended because it would be pathetic not to, but he wouldn’t be able to deny it. That was a pretty sad fact, he reflected bitterly, but so was the rest of his life so he couldn’t be too upset about it. He wanted to say that he’d be thinking good riddance when she finally told him to fuck off, but then he’d be lying. The fact was, in a pathetic sort of way, he’d grown attached to Xzandr and all her sharp words and opinions, and he maybe even liked the fact that she was one of the few who called him (sometimes) on his shit, because most of the nurses and staff either didn’t really care, or thought he was a big sensitive baby who needed coddling and god forbid they say anything remotely mean while he was around, when he wasn’t, well a totally different story. He was a big boy, he could take care of himself. He wanted to say that it had been all about what happened in the elevator, sex and as simple as that, nothing less, nothing more. Somehow, he knew that if he ever said those words he’d probably be killed on the spot, and he’d also be a liar.

He licked his lower lip absently, feeling increasingly awkward as the seconds ticked by but not knowing how to get rid of that feeling and not knowing if that was the appropriate feeling in this situation. Ry’d never been good at social interaction that strayed any length from professional, and so he was a thousand times worse in awkward, tense social interactions like this one. He inhaled, hoping Xzandr would be the one to break the silence, with something snarky or just outright mean, he didn’t care. He swallowed lightly, his fingers twisted against the fabric of his jeans as he tried not to appear as if he was staring but not able to keep his gaze from straying from her. His brows furrowed and his lips parted in concern when she lunged for the pan and retched. He resisted the urge to flinch and forced himself to take a step forward, treading as if he were walking across an incredibly thin sheet of ice. Olive eyes were trained on her, his lips pressed tightly together as he watched her, waiting for her to banish him or tell him to get the hell out. He opened his mouth to say something, but could only take in her words, his expression softening. Now Ry could be a pretty heartless guy, but he’d never been able to sit around when someone was upset. He swallowed, his heart clenching at the tone of her voice as he tried to keep himself steady. The controlled look of sympathy he’d had on his face crumbled into something more, something a little rawer as he took a few steps forward, hesitant but closer nonetheless. “It’s not your fault Xzandr, okay? It’s not,” he said, his voice low and sincere, with the faintest hints of helplessness on the edges. He swallowed, inching the last few steps to her bedside where he laid a tentative hand on her shoulder.

[anaxzandra corinne house]

» How was this not her fault? Okay, so she couldn't actually kill it, true, but there were several times she wished he were dead, mainly when she had to go worship the porcelain God every two seconds, or piss way too much to be able to accomplish something useful, or... pretty much every other second, yeah... But she wasn't the one who slammed the door into herself. She wasn't standing there intentionally, or even on the off chance that someone would be idiotic enough to come in. She wasn't running around doing jumping jacks or some other highly unrecommended physical activity, in hopes of an extremely early birth. She hadn't continued to take drugs the entire time, or started drinking heavily, or smoking... Still, she suddenly felt as if there entire situation was her fault. She shook her head, refusing to believe what Ryan was saying- that it wasn't her fault. It had to be. "No, it's... the drugs.... The drugs, Ryan... Maybe if I had quit right away, he'd have some sort of chance..." Obviously, she wasn't thinking clearly. Anyone who'd so much as seen a medical drama on TV would know that, this early, virtually nothing would give the kid a "better chance". His lungs would be so severely underdeveloped that the effects of the drugs were probably insignificant at that point, unless Xzandr had done something hardcore like cocaine, which she hadn't. At this point, however, it didn't matter. The drugs certainly didn't help him any, but it wasn't like he had a great chance either way. Xzandr knew that damn well; she just refused to believe that it was anything but her fault.

» Being touched was completely unexpected. Actually, she hadn't even noticed Ryan approach, since her mind was so occupied elsewhere. She actually expected him to be "typical" Ryan and say something along the lines of 'Yeah, sorry, okay, gotta go' and walk out. Not to say she didn't welcome it, it was just... completely unexpected. She jumped a little and looked at his hand there, then up at his face, struggling to keep her own in check. It was the first time the two had had any physical contact since she'd "hugged" him at the museum and then run off. Startling, yes. Why start now? She couldn't break any more than she already had; he had already proved, several times over, to her that he didn't care, so why put forth the effort of opening up now, when she would be so vulnerable that if one part of her wall fell down, it might all crumble, and that just couldn't happen to her. Not now, not ever. However, instead of pushing him away, or threatening to rip his arm off, like he was probably expecting, Xzandr let him be. If she ever worked up the nerve to grow a pair and try to open up to him again, he would never allow her close enough if she harmed him now. She doubted he ever wanted to talk to her again anyway, and ever a bitch like her could appreciate the immense courage that was keeping him here now. She fell silent once again, unsure of what to say. What, was she supposed to thank him for being there? He wasn't ding much good, at any rate, only serving, to her, as a figure keeping her from any sort of true emotional outlet, which would probably result in an ulcer or two down the road. Sure, his touch was a bit of a comfort, but not nearly so much as pretty much anything else would have been. Besides, he should have been there anyway. It was his damn kid, he had a legal obligation, if not moral, to be there for her, if only until someone from the NICU came up to inform her that the kid was dead. She, of course, would never bother with the legal system, or forcing Ryan to be involved, nor would she force him to not be involved. If he wanted to, great, he could, if he didn't want to, fine, then he wasn't going to. She might yell at him to do one or the other, but as far as getting a court order for him to help out or stay the hell away, she wasn't willing to put forth such tremendous effort. She would also likely play it off as not giving a damn either way; like he simply wasn't worth her time or emotions.

» Oh, who was she kidding? She couldn't just let go of him. Sure, on the outside, maybe even verbally, all she cared about as far as Ryan went was getting laid, or someone to dump her stories and bitchiness on, someone who was basically a captive audience, who wouldn't dare fight back. She had never truly given any indication that he meant anything besides that to her, and if she ever had her way, it would stay thus. But, in some ways, she was like that guy in Brokeback Mountain- she couldn't quit him. She might bitch, moan, and complain every time he came around. She might yell at him, call him names, throw things at him, or try to shove things into his anal cavity every time he approached her, but no matter what she tried on her own private time, he never left the dark corners in the back of her mind. Even when she was still super-pissed at him for not stepping up- like when he let her walk away at the museum, instead of following again to talk to her- he was still there. She would sit in her office and fume about him, but part of her just wanted him there, so she could bone him again. No matter how much she hated him, she couldn't lie to herself- he was a sexy beast. While a good majority of her wanted him there just for the awesome sex, there was a small part- very small, enough so that, whenever she considered it, she immediately drowned it with drugs or something else mind-occupying- that wanted him there for him. He might not be the greatest conversationalist, or by any means a great companion as far as keeping her amused, but at least he didn't tell her to shut the fuck up whenever she started on one of those stories. Somehow, his reclusiveness, his tendency to keep to himself and tell nobody anything that they didn't specifically ask to know... well, it was kind of alluring, charming, even. But she would never let him know this full-on. Maybe in short, almost indiscernible hints, at times when he'd have to actually look for the signs, but never actually tell him. Even she didn't have the guts to say so.

» Suddenly, she was hit with the inexplicable urge to go down and see the kid for herself. Maybe her being there would encourage him enough to fight until medicine was enough to help him grow, or discourage him enough to help him die quickly. Obviously, she would much rather he survive, because of the unwanted "I'm sorry"-saying- god help any unsuspecting nurse trying to offer her sympathy for the death of her baby- and funerals just weren't her thing, but either way, she wanted to know. He wouldn't get better any time in the foreseeable future, and it would be a good while before he would be in the clear enough to where the NICU staff could say with any certainty that he would make it, but if he was indeed going to croak, she didn't want to sit around with her head up her own ass, watching him suffer before he finally met his untimely end. Unlike the patients she saw, it wasn't a matter of wanting them to live as long as possible, or giving them the best quality of the life they did still have left. This kid, if the prematurity was going to kill him, would not have any quality of life. All he would know was, most likely, pain and tubes. It wasn't like he had any real family to mourn him, anyway... If he was going to die, decided Xzandr, he'd better do it quickly, and do them all a favor. Sadistic as she was, she didn't want to watch something that had fifty percent of her DNA sequence suffer to death.

» But now she was faced with a challenge- how to get there without Ryan knowing. Sure, it might be easy to get him out of the room, but not if she ever wanted to speak to him again; and she doubted simply asking him to leave so she could get some rest would do any good either. It might be easier for her to simply admit she wanted to go see the kid, hell Ryan might even be vital in keeping her off the floor if he chose to come along. But what if he was the opposite of that? What if he refused to let her go? She was in no condition to be out of bed, let alone wandering the hallways. And what if he decided to make sure she wouldn't go, and strapped her into bed? Not like he would actually do such a thing, but Ryan was somewhat of a loose cannon, unpredictable in part. She couldn't risk him keeping her down. After a second of thought, she knew what she had to do, and had to use all of her self-control not to allow that familiar "haha, I'm a genius 'cause I just figured out a plan" grin to creep its way onto her face. Of course, she had to take another couple of seconds to tie up the loose ends in her head, lest there be any holes Ryan could poke in her story before she wanted him to. "Could... could you, ummm..." she started, trying her best not to sound like she was speaking of what actually was a carefully calculated plan. "Could you go to my office and grab my cane and a..." she paused for a second, as if in thought, before continuing, "Watermelon lollipop? The door should still be unlocked..." Should he ask why, she had an excuse in mind, though given the gravity of the situation, she doubted he would ask any questions.

» She gave a relieved sigh as Ryan left the room and, fighting the pain, sat herself completely up and slid out of bed, clenching hard down on her teeth so she wouldn't howl in pain. Damn, it hurt- and she had no doubt that she'd end up having to re-stitch herself once or twice before the end of the day. But, she had places to go, and it wasn't like she wasn't in constant pain anyway... Like she did when she was first detoxing, she pushed the pain, the nausea, everything, aside so she could function. She sat back down and took out all her IVs, setting them gently down on the bed, before standing back up and stumbling her way out of the room. Of course, she couldn't just go straight to the NICU; a pit stop or two was required, so she wasn't, at least immediately, caught and forced to return to her room. She slid into the supply closet first, and grabbed some gauze and some medical tape, and then a set of scrubs- the scrubs being because, if she were a patient walking around without the IV pole, that would send up a honking sign to all nurses, and the gauze because she didn't want blood from her incision to soak through. Once she'd changed into the blue scrubs and white shoes, and applied the backup gauze, she slipped back out of the closet, and headed toward her original destination.

» Stepping into the NICU was like stepping onto some weird foreign country, of which she knew no language, no customs, and none of the people. Luckily, though, as she walked in, she wasn't greeted by some obnoxiously cheerful nurse, and the few people that were there with their own sick or premature babies didn't bother to look up; they were busy with their own kids, didn't really give a damn about someone else wandering in. But then she realized- she had no damn clue which one was hers. As she stood somewhat near the entrance, she was hit with a sudden feeling of being lost, and as she looked over the various incubators and suchlike, all of their contents looked alike, though size did vary a bit. Her obvious first instinct was to find one with nobody by it- she doubted anyone else would be sitting beside her kid like those parents were, unless they were still trying to stabilize him. Slowly, as if she knew where she was going, she walked toward where they seemed to be keeping the smaller newborns, hoping to find some evidence to help her in her little quest. Just before she gave up, she found one with stats that could only come from hers: Baby boy House, 21 weeks, five days. 13 ounces. She looked to her right and saw a small rocking chair, which she immediately grabbed and dragged over, slowly lowering herself into it. God, he was so small... It wasn't like she was expecting to find him all ten pounds and healthy-looking, but the tininess of the newborn hit her like a ton of bricks. It was just so shocking, both the fact that something so small was still alive, and that they could find places to put all the wires and tubes and needles they had in him, currently keeping him alive.

» Swallowing hard, she rested her head on the side of the isolette, her hand near one of the holes. Even though she could very well reach in and touch him- there was nothing stopping her, per se- she didn't dare. He looked so small and frail, she was afraid that if she even gave him the tiniest of touches, he would turn to dust. So she just watched him, sitting there beside him, until she could fully compile the motivational- or whatever one chose to call something from her- speech she knew had to be given. "Listen, kid. None of that dying bullshit, capiche?" Her words were soft, so that she didn't have a horde of angry parents telling her to get the fuck out, but if someone were standing, say, a few feet behind her, they could very well hear her. "If you're going to exist, and you're going to have half of my DNA, you are my bitch for the next eighteen years. And if you die, you're grounded, got it? I will chase you down to hell, and you will be grounded. Forever." Which begs the question, why would an innocent newborn be going to Hell? Not that anybody would ask, but if they did, Xzandr had a simple explanation for just this purpose- guilt by association. She figured anything that came out of her body had to be pure, concentrated evil, and therefore bound for hell.

[ry]

Honestly, if you’d asked Ryan what he’d thought about the kid when he’d first found out, he probably would have been too busy freaking out to give you an answer. Somewhere between his muffled groans and the occasional retch (he’d deny that vehemently and if pressed he’d tell you that he’d eaten some curry the night before that had not agreed with him), he might have muttered an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ or ‘it doesn’t matter to me’. The only thing he’d really cared about was how bad Xzandr was going to make him pay for knocking her up and/or how he was going to get out of having anything to do with raising the child. Yes, he was that big of a bastard. Now, well, things were starting to change, but don’t think that put him in the clear. He was still a slimy bastard. Nitwit or not, there was no way he was abandoning Xzandr now, although he couldn’t think about how horrid his sense of timing was. It figured that it’d be now of all times for his sense of duty and obligation not only to Xzandr but also as a father. Really, he should be running right now, packing up all his stuff and moving to Mexico. They had to have some open job opportunities there. Still, he felt rooted to the spot at the moment and his instinct to flee was surprisingly absent. He could only hope it stayed that way. He swallowed uneasily at her worried words, biting back a sad sigh. “Drugs would have no effect on him now, and you know it,” he said, his tone gentle despite the fact that he knew she knew it. Xzandr could be pretty mean sometimes, and maybe cruel if she really put her mind to it, but Ryan would never doubt for a second that she’d never put her child’s life in any serious danger if she could help it.

Ry fought the urge to pull his hand away when he saw the expression on her face. It probably would have made him feel more at ease if she’d batted his hand away, telling him to cut the softie shit and leave her alone. Hell, he wouldn’t blame her because even he, king of denial, could not deny that he’d been a real jerk to her. He could try though. It felt a little bit like a lie, to stand by her and pretend as if he could actually comfort her. For all he knew he was just making the situation worse with his presence, upsetting her more and just giving her an excuse to beat his ass when all this was over. Even so, he couldn’t force himself to withdraw his touch, hoping that maybe on the off chance it was worth anything, she’d find a little bit of comfort in it. Because while he could be absolutely shit with anything to do with his personal life, there was a reason he hadn’t been fired from his position yet. He was pretty good at lending a (distant) shoulder to his patients should they feel the need to cry on it, and while he obviously wasn’t about to accept any awards for his bedside manner, his patients didn’t ask to transfer to other doctors (all that often anyway). He wondered if he could or should surreptitiously scoot on down to the psychology wing and try and nab one of the docs that specialized in dealing with traumatic experiences or grief or whatever it was that Xzandr was currently going through because he had the sinking nagging feeling he wasn’t doing as much good as he hoped. Then again, he should be proud he’d made it this far into the room without being thrown out or accosted by security. He wouldn’t have put it past her to have somehow alerted the rent-a-cop not to let him into her room. Knowing her, she could have pulled off some horrible story about how he was a menace and a danger to society. They’d probably bring out the tazers as well. Alas, that was not the case, and so he could only hope that she didn’t suddenly change her mind and decide that a nice lamp from her desk would be more fitting company. He almost wished that she’d tell him what to do so that he wouldn’t have to make the decision. Yes, Ryan Darcy was that big a coward, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t have reason. At least if she made the choice for him, ten years down the road when he turned out to be a crap father he could at the very least blame her. (Not that he would, he’s low, but not that low).

Ryan had never been a standup guy. He’d always been the type who you noticed but you’d probably never trust with your children, only if it were the last resort and there was no other way. He was nice to look at and polite enough, but that might just have been because he’d never really put much effort into interacting with his surroundings. If you wanted to get morbid about it, it was almost as if his eyes were dead. (Don’t laugh, it was a pretty accurate description during his late teen years and especially during the period after he’d first arrived in the orphanage). Now, however, his eyes had plenty of life in them, even if most of the time they were filled with boredom and just a hint of ‘can you hurry up already, got places to be’. Anyway, he wasn’t exactly the man one would picture bringing home to your mother. He might be the friend you called up when you were drunk out of your mind and had forgotten a designated driver because you knew he didn’t care enough to take advantage of you in your intoxicated state. He was a reliable guy in that sense. Still, he couldn’t see why Xzandr would want him sticking around. Honestly, he was doing her a favor by being a spineless loser and all but refusing to take part in the child that was half his’ life. Really, he was, it’d just take her a while (or forever) to see that, or so he could reason with himself as he remained glued to the spot, his hand on her shoulder, now feeling almost awkward. He was nearly relieved when she told him to go get her a sucker from her office. At first he thought she was crazy, or delirious, or high from the drugs they’d given her for the pain. But then he thought that she might want to be alone for a while. So he left the room with a curt nod in the usual way, in silence. Plus, she’d probably need her cane soon anyway.

He found his way to her office easily enough (he wasn’t stupid after all) although he did spend a good amount of time searching for that damned watermelon lollipop. The cane was easy enough to find, he’d been to her office enough times to know where she set it or the most likely places she’d leave it. He was beginning to think she’d tricked him when his hand closed around the sweet and he almost crowed in relief. He gripped it carefully between his fingers, determined not to loose it because he honestly didn’t think Xzandr could handle it if he did, the cane twirled lazily from his grip in his other hand. He almost thought he’d entered the wrong room when he reached Xzandr’s empty one, and it took him a moment to realize he’d been duped. When it finally dawned on him, he acknowledged the fact with a loud curse, the hand with the lollipop, thankfully wrapped, flying up to drag through his locks. She had to know that at this stage, so soon after surgery it was a very, very bad idea for her to be out of bed. Didn’t she? He hoped he hadn’t severely overestimated her medical competence. It only took a few more minutes for him to figure out where she would have gone, and he geared up a thousand arguments and reprimands in his mind as he marched down toward the NICU, a look of irritation fixed firmly on his worried features.

His determined pace slowed considerably, almost to halt, when he entered the NICU, the cane still hanging limply from his fingers, the lollipop clutched tightly in his grip. Olive gaze searched the area, knowing almost eerily that she’d be here. He swallowed, his eyes fixed on her frame as he surged forward, ready to give her a good talking to (haha, who was he kidding?), but stopped short at the sound of her voice. Despite the blunt and perhaps not quite sensitive way she worded it, he was surprised she’d come down all this way just to be by the kid. He felt a little like somehow had just punched him in the gut, his eyes sliding past Xzandr to skim across what he could see of the infant, his their her son. He could barely believe they could fit that many wires on so tiny a body, and he had to swallow hard to distract himself from that line of thinking. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, all hints of anger completely disappeared from his mind. He took a hesitant step forward and stopped, almost turning around on the spot and leaving right then and there. But, he managed to force another step from his frozen legs and soon he’d closed the few feet between them. In a motion that he wasn’t entirely sure he’d authorized, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, almost a ghost of a touch because he wasn’t sure if he could handle anything firmer, and then leaned back as if he’d never touched her, holding out the lollipop to her because he didn’t know what else to do. “Here,” he said softly, awkwardly, trying to keep his gaze on Xzandr and not on the tiny boy in the incubator, fighting for his life.

[anaxzandra corinne house]

» Xzandr was not particularly fond of watermelon. She didn't regularly buy one, slice up a giant chunk, and munch on it. Actually, truth be told, she didn't like it at all. What really pissed her off was watermelon-flavored things. They never actually tasted like actual watermelon- false advertising much? The only reason there were ever any in the jar was because she got those huge bags with a variety of flavors in them, and didn't always want to get off her lazy ass to pick out the watermelon. There would be a bunch in there- considering she only rarely forced herself to eat one- but she used that particular flavor as a projectile. Sometimes she would just leave her door open, and when an unsuspecting patient, nurse, or other doctor would walk by, she'd chuck the lolly, then turn and innocently start typing on her computer, or writing her paperwork. Knowing her reputation, most people that got hit with the flying lollipop wouldn't dare confront her about it. There had been a person or two her watermelon-throwing had caught in the temple, which most likely hurt like hell, but the people simply yelled, threw out an F-bomb or two, and went on their way. A little pain from a lollipop was nothing compared to her cane going up their asses, or upside their heads. She figured Ryan would force himself to find exactly what she'd asked for, either because he was afraid to come back empty-handed or with the wrong flavor, or because he wanted some excuse not to be around her. Either way, she asked for watermelon specifically because she knew there was only one in the entire jar, at the very bottom, surrounded by other nearly-identical lollies. If nothing else, it would buy her time to make her escape; wouldn't that suck if Ryan realized it was a ruse before she was at her destination, and figured her out? She hated it when her plans were halted, or things didn't go as smoothly as she wanted; so this, right now, was perfect.

» She didn't expect him to never figure out she'd been playing a prank on him, she just needed a little time. Xzandr never once thought Ryan was stupid. An asshole, yes. Maybe a little bit dense, a self-appointed king of denial. But definitely not stupid. While there were a lot of idiots that worked at the hospital- doctors, even- even Xzandr knew it was pretty hard to work as a medical professional, especially with something as complicated as cancer, if you were stupid. But considering that she was still half drugged-up, and had still managed to trick him into leaving her alone... well, what did that say about him? She always considered herself to be a genius, though. Besides, this could be chalked up to Ryan's tendency to take any excuse to leave. She considered informing him, once again, that she was, in fact, smarter than him- might be true, might not, since she had never exactly had any good comparison between herself and Ryan as far as intelligence went- but refrained from going so. There was a time and place for such a thing, and this was neither the time nor the place- something even she recognized. Instead, she just reached out and took the lollipop, letting it rest in her hand as she stared it down. She briefly considered chucking it at some random person in the room, but decided against it. Her luck, she would miss-aim, and the lolly would land in some baby's isolette and crush its skull, or ruin some expensive piece of equipment. That was when it hit her. What touched her cheek? She looked over her shoulder, then back at Ryan, her expression being one of someone completely stumped. Maybe he'd just accidentally brushed against her or something when he leaned down... Why had he leaned down anyway? Damn, she should have realized what he was doing when he was doing it, instead of now. She hated these stupid drugs. She'd take Vicodin over this any day. "Thanks," she said quietly, as if trying to mask the fact that she was thanking anyone for anything.

» She looked back down at the lollipop for a second, then glanced at the baby, then back at the lollipop, and finally, her fiendish side took over. She stuck the hand holding the lolly into the side of the incubator, holding said lolly next to the baby for size comparison, and actually a little shocked at the proportions. "Wow," she said, leaving the lolly there as she pulled her hand out. Hell, she wasn't going to eat it. Maybe she would get to see some unsuspecting nurse discover it and wonder where the fuck it came from. Even if she wasn't around to see the confused nurse, just picturing the reaction would provide enough amusement for her. Xzandr doubted she would spent much time here. She wouldn't completely not come around- that would be evil even by her standards- but she wouldn't spend every waking moment here. She wouldn't be around nearly as often as some of the other parents here. Xzandr doubted Ryan would come around much, either, though lately she'd been losing her ability to predict him, which kind of scared her. But if she were right, and Ryan just kind of avoided the ward altogether, Xzandr would have to pick up the slack. Even she knew this was a fight her baby couldn't win alone- didn't deserve to fight alone.

» "It's not right," she said quietly, resting her head back on the side of the incubator. "No human being should be that small..." Of course, most humans would start out that small- but then again, most humans were still depending on their mother's blood supply for life, instead of a bunch of machines. What she meant was that he shouldn't have to be fighting for his life right now. Nobody should. He should still be inside her, irritating the hell out of her with all his moving around. She wouldn't say it out loud, but she would do anything to have him where he should be, instead of in that stupid incubator. "That's no way to live, hooked up to all that bullshit." She'd always said- she had it on-file, for proof- that if the only way she was going to survive was if a machine were performing all the necessary functions for her, she didn't want that machine to be attached to her. She'd be damned if some nurse was going to wipe her ass for fifty years while she lay there in a vegetative state. Why would she was anything different for her baby? "He's got to be in so much pain..."