#cross stitch temperature chart

[sproutinglupine]

I finished my temperature chart design for 2024 really early this year! There are 12 vines, one for each month, and the leaves get stitched with a specific color based on the temperature for that day. This mock up uses my Verdant colorway, but there are 3 other colorways that come with the pattern. I'm really excited to stitch my version in 2024!

Weather Vines Temperature Chart Pattern | Sprouting Lupine Shop

[theprocraftinator]

by SproutingLupine

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

In Love, in War Pt. 2 | Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary | She (the reader) comes from a wealthy family in Birmingham, England and he (Thomas Shelby) comes from a family of no-good troublemakers in Small Heath. Their worlds finally collide when Thomas lands himself in the triage tent of a nearby hospital camp during the battle of the Somme with a neck wound. Past traumas and heavy-handed words open old wounds, and yet, they always find their way back to Birmingham.

Warnings | Blood, gore, war, death, crying, and out-dated language ("Gypsies").

Before you gotta go- Courtney Barnett 🎵

Evil- Interpol 🎶

Crying lightning- Arctic Monkeys 🎵

Word count: 2073k

Not proofread- my b, folks!

Thomas was moved to the infirmary by nightfall. The tent was cold and poorly insulated so the nurses draped what extra blankets they could find over the patients. Thomas waved them off. 

“I’m fine. Give it to that bastard.” He’d say again and again as the blankets were distributed amongst them. He saw the nurse again during his 5th night in the infirmary. She had the night shift and set her things down at the nurses station. She did her rounds, checking vitals and distributing medication. He felt as though he recognized her from somewhere but with the habit-like uniform he couldn’t be sure. 

She moved on down the line until she reached Thomas, who was sitting up and smoking in bed. 

“I see they’ve discarded the bandages.” She put gentle fingers near the healing wound. 

“You must’ve stitched me up too well.” He exhaled and shifted beneath the top sheet. 

She looked down at his chart, hanging from the end of his bed and froze. Shelby. Thomas was a Shelby. She looked at the chart, her hands shaking slightly from shock. She hadn’t run into anyone from Birmingham before him, and of course, the first man she sees is a Shelby, one of the poor, troublesome families living in squalor in Small Heath.

“Are you from Birmingham, Thomas?” She cleared her throat. 

“Yeh, you?” He took out a new cigarette from the pack. 

“Yes, I am. I recognized your accent. This will be cold, sorry.” She put the stethoscope under his shirt, listening to his heart. She watched her watch and counted the beats per second. 

“Funny, I don’t recognize yours.” He tensed as the cold scope moved across his stomach, listening to his lungs. “Which neighborhood are you from, nurse?”

She removed the stethoscope and wrote down the numbers on his chart for the next nurse to read. She cleared her throat again, “Claremont.” She looked up and saw him chuckle, shaking his head.

“Ah, so you’re one of ‘em rich girls.” He observed pointedly and crossed his ankles beneath the bedsheets. She said nothing. She spread vaseline across the wound with a cotton swab. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere,” he continued, “must’ve seen you down at the tracks.” 

“How did you get in?” She asked a little too ignorantly and Thomas frowned slightly.  

“Poor men with money to spend will always be welcome at the tracks. I learned as much from my old man.” He looked down at the cigarette in his hand.

“I never saw you.” 

“You wouldn't have would you, eh? They put us farther back in the pubs where your-like couldn’t see us.” 

She blushed and slipped a thermometer below his tongue to record his temperature. He spoke around the thermometer, “Why’d you become a nurse? Didn’t your daddy tell you it wasn’t a hobby for the girls of your status?” 

“I wanted to help.” She answered truthfully, forgoing any mention of her fiance. 

“And was it everything you dreamed of?” He trained his cold oceanic eyes on her as she removed the thermometer. 

“No, it's much worse.” She whispered.

“Eh, imagine that. Can’t handle this can you?” He flicked the long butt of ash onto the dirt floor below. 

“I managed your stitches just fine, I think. You’re alive aren’t you?” Her face burned and she evaded his piercing eyes. 

“So I should thank you, should I?” He felt a swell of anger in his chest. “It was your lot that got us into this war in the first place and then you expect us to fight it for you.” 

“I didn’t get anyone involved in this bloody war, Shelby. I involved myself and I’m still here, aren’t I?” She fummed as she left the chart at the foot of his bed. 

“You’ll leave as soon as you get the chance, I bet.” He sucked hard on his cigarette, looking away. 

“Wouldn’t you?” She retorted angrily. 

“I don’t have a choice, love. They sent me here to die. I’ll leave when I’m dead.” 

“Excite yourself again and you may not have long to wait.” She pointed to her own neck and stomped away in her wooden-soled shoes to the nurse’s station. She heard Thomas huff loudly from his bed. She lowered the gaslight at the desk, letting the ward fall darker, and watched dutifully as the men tried to sleep. 

She was moved again to the triage tent and worked during the night shifts, restocking supplies and listening to radio calls requesting medical personnel. It was quiet that night as she ran through the stock of syringes and gauze. She came up short and approached the head nurse on duty. 

“Go to the infirmary and take from their stock then go home. We’ll get you if we need the extra hands,” the head nurse directed. 

She hurried to the infirmary tent, tripping over piles of mud and old grass. It was approaching summer again and the mud had warmed to a more bearable temperature stuck inside her stockings. She pushed aside the tent flap and approached the petite brunette behind the desk. 

“I need seven more syringes and about ten more rolls of gauze. Can you spare that?” 

“Let me check for you.” The nurse smiled and took the medical bag from her hands. She stepped into the connecting tent and disappeared behind the flap. 

She turned to the patients left in the ward and glanced over at the bed for Thomas Shelby, empty. She looked back to see if the nurse had returned before going outside. She spotted him against the side of the tent in the dark, smoking a cigarette by himself. 

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” She said quietly. Thomas turned towards the voice. “You may tear a stitch and die without anyone noticing.” Thomas smirked in the glow of his cigarette.

“Then join me.” 

She said nothing but stepped in closer where she could see him properly in the light of the distant moon. He was pale in the dark with iridescent eyes and soft cheekbones. She stopped beside him and pulled her cardigan closer around her chest instinctively. 

“I’m not going to touch you, yeh know.” Thomas exhaled a stream of smoke and flicked his eyes at her cardigan. 

“I never said you would.” She murmured. 

“Right.” He rolled his eyes under the cover of darkness. 

“I know you’re not like that.”  

“Like what?” He looked over at her. 

“I don’t know.” She looked away and exhaled shakily. 

“People like me? People from Small Heath? ‘Gypsies,’ petty thieves, day laborers and gangsters?” He offered sarcastically. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She dropped her arms defeatedly to her sides, “I just mean…” 

“I get it, princess. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” He laughed breathily. She sighed and rested her head on her shoulder. The night noises were scattered with occasional popping sounds and squealing fireworks.  

“Do you miss it? Birmingham, I mean.” She broke the heavy silence. 

“I miss my family.” He answered and dropped the cigarette into the mud. 

“Do you have a large family?” 

“Yeh, most of them are here with me.” 

“Really?” She raised her head. 

“My brothers, yeh. John and Arthur. There’s also Danny and Johnny Doggs, not brothers by blood but they’re still kin.” He looked down at his chest and hissed from the movement pulling at his stitches. 

“Were your brothers out there with you before you were hurt?” 

“Mhm, they’re all still out there.” He gestured to the distant battleland shrouded in gray clouds and smoke. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. 

“Yeh well it’s our duty in service to the crown, ain’t it?” He laughed stiffly. 

“It's a massive sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” He laughed, “What sacrifices have you made, eh? Stop talking as if you understand what it’s like for us. We die out there, in the factories, in our homes and your lives never change.” He spat. 

She forced back the tears stinging in her eyes. 

“Hello? I have the things you requested! Where are you?” The nurse called from inside the tent. She turned back to Thomas, angry tears flooding her eyes. 

“What sacrifices have I known? What have I given in my duty to the crown and to this country? You have no right to speak to me like that, Thomas Shelby. You have no idea what I’ve lost in this war. Just because I don’t wear a black band or carry a pistol does not make me any less of a tool in this national scheme.” She cried beneath her breath and threw open the flap to the tent, leaving him struck dumb in the humid dark. 

“Thank you.” She smiled weakly at the nurse and took the bag. 

“Is everything alright?” The nurse asked in a low voice. 

“Oh yes, I just need a good rest is all. Homesick.” She lied and nodded goodnight. 

She deposited the supplies back at the triage tent and went straight to her tent, shared with five other nurses. She was alone in the tent and allowed herself to cry, cradling the abandoned black band that stood for Francis’s death. Her tears merged into angry sobs that she couldn’t suppress. As her sobs slowed, she stared off into space and ignored the quiet footsteps outside her tent. 

“Nurse?” Thomas whispered loudly through the thick canvas siding. She didn’t hear him until he had entered the tent and moved to crouch beside her cot. When she noticed him, she surprised herself by not reacting. He sat beside her on the cot in his army-issued thermal pajamas and wrapped his arms around her. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered by her head. “I didn’t think… I wasn’t thinking.” He repeated over and over again as she cried quietly in his arms. “I’m so sorry.” 

She shook her head and gave into his embrace, burying her face into the joint of his left shoulder. 

“What was his name?” He asked gently. 

“Francis.” She sobbed. 

“Shhhhh-” He held her closer as she hiccuped. She placed her hands against his chest, warming them with the heat of his body. When she regained composure, she sniffed. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered and pulled away, wiping her eyes. 

“Here.” Thomas offered his handkerchief and she took it. “Don’t apologize.” He ran a hand down her back, his leg propped up on the cot at an angle. 

“Thank you.” She returned the hankie to his hand, blushing with embarrassment. She looked up into his eyes and saw a newfound softness in their hue. His lashes were long and dark like his skunk-like hair. He looked back, glancing down at her lips, wet with her own tears. He licked his lips and withdrew his hand from the small of her back, pulling a thread of hair from beneath her cap. She covered his hand with her own and leaned into it, innocently. He leaned in and brushed his nose against hers, asking permission to go further. Her lips brushed his, barely a kiss and came back for more. She kissed him messily, like a virgin, and found comfort in the warm softness of his lips. She sighed and allowed herself to be swept up by the pleasure of his closeness in her sadness. He kissed her back, breathing in deeply. She ran a hand down his chest as he cupped the veil of her habit in his hands. She shook her head suddenly, shaking herself out of it. 

“You shouldn’t be here. Anyone could come in.” She stood quickly and he followed, his head brushing the small tent’s ceiling. 

“Will you be alright?” He asked. She stared back, caught off guard by his question, his interest. She stuttered slightly, catching on the roundness of her answer. 

“Yes, yes. I’ll be alright. We weren’t married yet… just-just engaged.” She looked down at the space separating his ribcage from his stomach, the divot of muscle that shook as he breathed through his shirt. 

“No, no. Will you be alright?” He stressed and she paused. 

“I miss him.” 

“I know.” 

She nodded stiffly and pressed her hand against his chest, pushing herself back away from him subtly. He covered her hand and looked into her eyes. 

“You should go before you get caught.” She whispered and he nodded slowly. He turned away and peered outside, looking both ways. 

“Goodnight, Shelby.” She uttered in a low voice which he returned with a sad smile. 

“Goodnight, nurse.”

...................

End of part 2 :)

[beccagetscrafty]

Here is the design I chose for my second attempt for my 2024 temperature cross stitch after I gave up on my first.

I also simplified my color palette so instead of using a different color for every 5 degrees, I’m doing it for every 10.

This one is actually by the same designer of the first pattern I was going to use.

[somediyprojects]

Temperature Chart stitched and designed by charline_m.

“I picked up cross-stitch again after a 18 years hiatus, here is my first project: a temperature chart. Full temperature chart, 1989 Dax, France and WIP of 1987 Maisons-Lafitte France.

I was 15 when I first tried cross stitch, and I loved it already, but for some reason, I never got to do it again before this year.So to start again, I chose a rather ambitious project combining my love for meteorology and thread arts: I want to make one of those temperature charts for every year since 1989. (1987 is a gift for someone)This way, we could see the climate evolution of the last 30+ years.

Can't wait to get it stretched and appropriately framed! WDYT of it? Pattern by me: as I am a developer, I made a small program to help me generate patterns and know what colors to use. Here is what it looks like, not pretty, but very helpful.

Each color corresponds to the day's minimum, maximum, and average temperature. That's interesting because sometimes the colors blend together, and sometimes they contrast a lot, giving a sense of the temperature difference.

I prepared a scale going from -12˚C to 45˚C, I used 41 colors for the 1989 one :)”

[mathysphere]

As the new year begins, check this out-- the coolest temperature chart cross-stitch pattern I’ve seen, by Kristi’s Corner on Etsy

[teashopcrafts]

January Temperature Cross Stitch!... Again!  So it’s gotten so cold lately that I needed to redo the color chart for this idea, lol, just in case it gets even lower or higher in the rest of the year.  The top and left of the squares are still the high, bottom and right the low, and middle the median tho.  Looking forward to doing February, cause this shit is getting wild. :-P

[thehomelesscrafter-blog]

Working on my own spin on the Temperature Chart that I see a lot of people stitching each year. Instead of the whole year, I'm sort of documenting the temperatures we've been dealing with since we started living in the car (hence why June is going to be the shortest of the months I stitch here; we became "homeless" on the 20th). Once I get caught up to present day I will keep writing down the temps and stitch slower, since we don't know exactly when we'll be getting an apartment, and TBH I'm a big believer in jinxes and superstitions 😎😉

[beyondconfessor]

Principle Decisions [12/24]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: She leant forward then, her face shifting into the familiar expression of a woman not to be messed with. “Do as you are told.”

N.B.: Also posted on AO3. This is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief.

Zelda’s eyes opened, her throat felt dry and sore as she looked up at the bright lights and then closed her eyes again, feeling her eyes sting at the pain. They were fluorescent and sharp.

Drawing a breath, she felt her head throb as she pushed to sit up.

“Take it easy,” came the scolding voice and Zelda turned beside her to see Lilith sitting next to her in a chair. She blinked again, looking around her and focused on the blue curtains, the chattering that suddenly popped into ears as electronic beeps drew around her.

She went to ask: am I in a hospital, but all the came out was “hospital?” as her dry mouth fumbled to form words.

Lilith turned, grabbing a bottle of water from beside her and handed it to her. “You spectacularly knocked yourself unconscious in my kitchen. I wasn’t sure if you want me to call your family or not.”

So she stayed, Zelda concluded as she drew in a breath, feeling her chest tighten. It was for professional reasons, she supposed. Or common decency to not have her wake-up alone.

She took the water and drew in a deep drink, feeling it slip down her throat. Setting it aside, she lifted her hand to touch the throbbing point of her head only for Lilith to snatch at her hand and pull it away with a warning look. “You cut your head on the fall down. You have a concussion, but otherwise, you’re fine.”

“Just a concussion.”

“Well, they were running some other tests to see why you fainted.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That we had had sex before it occurred. I diverged that it wasn’t particularly standard sex, but otherwise nothing else.”

Zelda hummed. There was no reason to mislead doctors about their activities, and if bondage or extreme orgasms had caused it, it was only reasonable for her to be upfront. “I see,” she said. “Do they know if that caused it, or what did?”

“Mm, no,” Lilith said. “I think they were waiting for you wake-up.”

Zelda sighed, adjusting in the chair. Well, it was certainly one embarrassing thing, but she appreciated that Lilith had taken care of her. “Thank you,” she said, low, almost embarrassed to say it. “For not calling my family.”

“I promised discretion where I could,” Lilith said, but there was an odd expression to her face as she shifted in her seat.

“You don’t need to stay.”

“Did you want your family called now?”

Definitely not. The last thing she needed was them interrogating her when she could barely string a sentence together.

“Then I’ll stay, and we’ll sort it out.”

Zelda nodded, falling back on the pillows as she felt the wave of humiliation wash over her. She couldn’t believe that she had given herself a concussion and in the place of the dominatrix of all places. It was, perhaps, better than if she had fallen unconscious in her car, or out on the sidewalk.

Lilith adjusted in her chair and offered her a smile. “You’re okay,” she assured. “Just a minor head injury. It won’t even scar.”

“There’s a cut?” She went to reach for her handbag, only to frantically look around and realise it wasn’t there.

Lilith pressed her hand against Zelda’s chest, pressing down until Zelda was lying back on the bed. “It’s nothin to worry about. It’s a small cut on your hairline. It’ll bruise, but there wasn’t any need for stitches.” She reached up and stroked Zelda’s cheek softly, and Zelda sighed.

She knew, in her heart, that Lilith conditioned her to respond to the movement and soften down, and yet she couldn’t help but feel her heartbeat ease, a wave of comfort washing over her at the woman’s touch.

“What did you want to tell your family?” Lilith asked.

Zelda felt the headache return, but as Lilith’s hand move to touch over hers, reminding her that she was right there, Zelda drew in a breath and centred herself. “Not the truth.”

“Well, that’s obvious enough.”

“We can just say that I fell on the pavement and you happened to be there. You’re Sabrina’s principal, and we’ve met before, so it’s not entirely out of the scope that you would have a duty of care to ensure I was fine.”

Lilith’s eyebrows rose briefly before she shrugged. “And if they question you?”

“They won’t,” Zelda stated. “They know better to dig into my affairs.”

A strange look passed over Lilith’s face, and for a horrible moment, Zelda felt the scrutiny was mixed in with something like sympathy as if the woman was concerned for her. Looking away, she pulled her hand out from Lilith and moved to sit up, slowly this time, so the dull throbbing in her head eased.

A nurse arrived in the room and smiled tightly. “You’re awake, I see.”

“Quite,” Zelda said. “How long until I can go home?”

“Well, we’re waiting on some blood tests. You were unconscious for quite a while.” He moved closer and pulled out a penlight. “I’m going to check your pupils. Just stare over my shoulder.” Zelda followed, squinting as the light was moved in front of her eyes and then away before he did the same to the other.

Taking the chart at the end of the bed, he made a note. “You might need to stay overnight for observations.”

“Absolutely not,” Zelda assured. “I can’t stay here any longer than I already have. Whatever needs to be watched out for can be done at home.”

The nurse took a long stare at her, disapprovingly before looking to Lilith. “We’ll wait for the doctor’s opinion, but I can assure you, they’re likely to agree to the same.”

Zelda sniffed, looking aside and watched as the nurse moved on to other observations, checking her blood pressure, then her temperature and heartbeat before marking those down as well and commenting that the doctor would likely be in soon before he left.

Once he had left, Lilith reclined back in the seat and looked to Zelda.

“What?”

“I should have known that you wouldn’t take medical advice.”

“And what is that meant to mean?” she inquired sharply. “As you well understand, I have a hundred different things I need to do and being in the hospital is not on that list.”

Lilith shrugged. “We’ll see what the doctor says.”

Zelda went to make a retort back, advising that if Lilith was going to keep acting this way, she might as well go home, but as she opened her mouth, the doctor entered.

“Ms Spellman?” she inquired, picking up the sheet to glance through it. “Do you remember what occurred?”

“I was standing in the kitchen when I took a step and fell unconscious,” she advised.

“The MRI and CT scans show a small bleed from the fall and a fracture to the skull, but that will heal up fine. We’re going to keep you here for observations overnight. It’s not much to worry about, but if it does become worse, you’ll be around medical staff. I’ll let the nurse––”

“I’d prefer to be home,” she advised.

“I see, well, my official recommendation is to keep you here.”

Zelda felt her throat swell; she did not want to be in the hospital. Being in the hospital was the worst place she could currently be. She needed her laptop, her work. She needed to make sure Sabrina had everything she needed. She needed to respond to emails, fix the lesson planning, finish marking Shirley’s fucking religious class essays. Complete a new presentation, finish up ratifying the meeting minutes which she still hadn’t issued out to the department (not that anyone ever fucking read them) and then she needed––

“Zelda,” Lilith said, and her hand was on her shoulder.

She blinked, looking up at the doctor and realised the woman had been speaking to her and she hadn’t listened. The doctor’s brow rose, unimpressed before she glanced at Lilith. “Speak to her. My recommendations are that she remains here,” before she left the room.

“I can’t stay here.”

“You can,” Lilith said. It was said in the same way that she had earlier that day. Assuring her that she could take another, and then another. A command shook through, and Zelda drew in a breath, staring at her.

“I’m going to go home to my family.”

“Or you could call your family here, and whatever the concern is can be fixed.” She leant forward then, her face shifting into the familiar expression of a woman not to be messed with. “Do as you are told.”

“Or what?” Zelda asked. The words were meant to bite back with venom, but her own arousal softened it.

Lilith smirked. Damn her.

“Or,” she purred, “You can have the very opposite of what I provided today, given that it seems it had an adverse effect. Perhaps we should avoid orgasms entirely for you. Keep them for my own satisfaction.”

Zelda sniffed, turning away as if it didn’t matter. As if she didn’t suddenly crave to feel the woman inside of her.

As if knowing, Lilith’s fingers slipped over her leg, drawing over her thigh. It was innocent enough, a resting place as she leant in, but Zelda’s could feel the nails drawing over her skin, up and down, promising things that Zelda knew she could deliver on.

She was intimately aware that she was currently not wearing any underwear.

“You’re healing right now,” Lilith said. “But in a week, you’ll be all better, In a fortnight you’ll be rapping at my door and negotiating, and if you left the hospital, I would be very cross.” She lifted her other hand, tucking Zelda’s hair behind her ear in a long, slow movement that curved around the shell of her ear, before dropping away. “You don’t want to make me cross, do you, Zelda?”

“I––“

“No, because you want to play with me, and if I’m cross with you, we can’t play together.”

Zelda bit back the whine she felt building, looking away from the intensity of her expression as she shifted her legs on the hospital bed, drawing in a breath. “Fine,” she said. “We can call my family, and I will request that my laptop be brought to me while I stay overnight for observations.”

“Good girl,” Lilith said, and her hand settled on her thigh, no longer teasing, but not leaving either. “I’ll leave once you call them.”

Zelda went to ask why, before realising that there was no need to come with some lie as to what occurred between them if she wasn’t here. Zelda could simply say she fainted and was taken to the hospital, uncertain as to what occurred.

“Do you have my handbag?” she asked.

At that, Lilith ducked her head, realising a mistake. “Ah,” she said. “I may have left that behind.”

“Then I guess I’ll just head home,” she advised.

“Does your landline have caller ID?” she inquired. “Because you could just use my phone.”

Zelda scowled, hating how the woman twisted her words. “Fine.”

“Wonderfull, I’ll drop yours off tomorrow for you before school. Otherwise, if you find yourself discharged, you can contact the school directly, and I’ll arrange to drop it off at your discretion.”

Zelda had the briefest image of Lilith inexplicably providing her handbag to Sabrina, before realising that Lilith meant that she would discreetly find a way to drop it off.

“Entirely suitable,” she advised.

“Good,” Lilith reached into coat pocket then and then set her phone in Zelda’s hand. “And this way I can check if you did call your family.”

“Honestly, as if I would go to the effort of maintaining a fake conversation,” she advised. “I have better things to do with my life.”

“Mm, such as hitting your head on my table.”

Zelda rolled her eyes and clicked open the phone, being presented with a neutral background with a request to enter the passcode. Lilith took the phone back before presenting it to Zelda again, the phone opened.

Unlike her own phone, which had only two pages of apps, all neatly aligned, Lilith’s phone had over a dozen pages of apps, and as Zelda accidentally flicked through to the wrong page, she found herself looking at a strange assortment of, what appeared to be, mobile games. Of course, the woman played mobile games and had a mess across her pages. No doubt her computer desktop was similarly a mess and in requirement of order.

“Honestly,” she scoffed and flicked back to the first screen, tapping the phone application and opening it up to dial in her landline.

Pressing the receiver to her ear, she watched the other woman smirk at her, apparently amused by her annoyance as she dialled out.

The phone rang once, twice, thrice and Zelda wondered what time it was. The blinds were shut, and her family was used to not expecting her home until dinner when she went out. It was entirely possible that they were all out doing their own thing and-– “Hello?” Ambrose said.

“Ambrose.”

“Auntie. Did your car breakdown again?”

“No, and there’s nothing to worry about. I had a minor accident and ended up hitting my head.”

“Oh, did you need me to pick you up? Aunt Hilda’s out but––“

“I’m at the local hospital,” she advised. “They want to keep me in overnight, but there’s nothing to worry about. I just need you to bring my laptop when you can.”

There was a pause on the line, and for a moment, Zelda wondered if the line had died. “You’re in the hospital.”

“It’s nothing serious,” she assured. “Just a minor concussion.”

“Auntie,” Ambrose said. “I’ll call the others, and we’ll––“

“I just need my laptop,” she assured. “There’s no need for a fuss. If you could just arrange for that, my make-up bag and a change of clothes.”

She heard a sigh and knew that Ambrose was rolling his eyes, likely cursing her before he said. “Of course. I’ll call Aunt Hilda and get her to take it to you.”

“Thank you, Ambrose,” she said. “I promise, there’s nothing to worry about.” And then, before her nephew could argue or find out any further information, she clicked the phone off and handed it to Lilith. The woman’s eyebrows drew up, but she took the phone and slipped it into her pocket.

“Well, as agreed I shall leave you here,” she said, pushing up to her feet. “I’ll arrange for your phone to be returned to you,” and then she leant forward and kissed her cheek before leaving. Zelda watched her leave, exiting into the hall of the hospital, looking far more beautiful than she had a right to.

But with her leaving, Zelda felt an ache, low in her chest. A part of her didn’t want to be left alone but knew that any further moments they spent together would only place them further in trouble of being caught by someone.

And despite all of that, the truth was Lilith had no reason to stay. Her client was safe; the family would be coming. Her duty of care was spent.

It didn’t ease the ache. Zelda settled in the bed, feeling her head pound as she tried not to focus on how her face tingled. It wasn’t unusual to develop a bond with someone you were having sex with, but Zelda could feel her emotions becoming more and more complicated. If she was being honest, she…enjoyed Lilith’s company, outside of sex. She enjoyed their conversations, their teasing, the easy way Lilith touched her and right it felt when her hand was brushing her skin.

The other week, when her car had been bogged, she and Lilith had spoken after the spanking session for well over an hour on an assort of topics.

Part of her wanted that again. She wanted a long conversation over tea. The teasing of fingers touching over the back of her hand, the ease of knowing she didn’t need to impress Lilith, that the woman was engaged in the conversation when she tossed her head back and laughed.

She liked her.

Honest to God, she liked Lilith and had their situations be different; she may even have considered trying to formalise in some way. As it was, the idea of formalising such a thing was entirely insane. She needed to separate the desire in her mind.

Perhaps she should…no, she couldn’t do that. She just needed to reign in her own desires. Something simple enough to do.

Zelda’s thoughts went round and round until she looked up as there was a knock on the doorframe of the hospital, allowing entrance to not just Hilda, as she expected, but Ambrose and Sabrina both.

“Oh, love,” Hilda tutted, rushing into the room and before Zelda could so much as slap her away, she was being pulled into a great big hug as Ambrose frowned in the corner and Sabrina came, sitting on the end of the bed. “What happened?”

“A fainting spell,” she said, “unfortunately I landed on something else and was brought here. Terribly embarrassing,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand.

Sabrina’s eyes narrowed. “Where were you?” she asked.

“At the University.”

“Huh.” She said before biting her tongue. Zelda looked away, brushing her hair behind her ear and looked over them all. “I’m fine,” she assured, “It’s just a small cut.”

“Is it?” Ambrose asked. “Because that’s a massive bruise for a small cut.”

Zelda frowned. “Well, I haven’t seen it, but I was assured there was no reason for stitches.”

They all frowned her and Zelda swallowed, looking away. She didn’t want to repeat what the doctor had said, nor did she wish to advise of what could occur. But they were all looking at her as if her face was a rather large mess, which only served to make her all the more anxious about it.

She had work tomorrow. Surely it wasn’t so awful that she’d have half a dozen questions raised.

“Well,” Sabrina said, sitting up straighter on the end of the bed. “I mean, as least you’re otherwise okay. Did the doctors say what they needed to do?”

“Overnight for observations,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Nothing to be concerned about, but I will have to let my morning class know that I won’t be in. And Faustus, as well.”

“Maybe,” Ambrose said. “This might be a good time to take a few days off.”

“Preposterous. And whom will cover Shirley’s classes?” she inquired. “Prudence certainly can’t. She doesn’t have the education. And there’s no other TA to cover it. No, I will attend the midday classes.”

She watched as her family all gave her similar expressions of disapproval, but held their tongues from saying anything, knowing better than to disagree with her when she’d set her foot down (so to speak). Much better than Lilith who had somehow managed to manipulate her into staying.

“Well I’m just surprised you’re listening to the doctor,” Hilda stated, as if able to read her mind. “Last time you were given instructions to stay in bed, you immediately disobeyed, and we found you half passed out in the hallway.”

Ah, Zelda recalled, the time she had a terrible bout of the flu and was convinced of her need to attend the school. She recalled having to phone Faustus rather late and advise that she’d been unable to leave the bed since her medication apparently had a drowsy effect.

She did not wish a repeat of that, purely for the embarrassment of having to admit her own weakness. No, she’ll be perfectly capable of attending classes tomorrow, following the hospital’s speedy need to discharge her. And if they weren’t speedy, she would certainly be encouraging them to move on with whatever was needed to let her go or so help her. She’d leave on her own merit.

Lilith be damned. __________________

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Boston Boys [Part One]

Summary: Dr. Aurelie Juneau treats someone in the emergency room she shouldn’t, and get a visit from her brother a few days later.  Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1700 Chapter Warnings: Hospital setting and treatment, mentions of guns, implied crime.  Square Filled: The entire series (bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo​.  A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

A busy emergency room wasn’t an unusual thing, especially in Boston, but tonight the chaos was weighing down on Aurelie. She pulled the magnet piece of her cochlear implant away from her head in an effort to drown out the sound for a few peaceful seconds. She stretched her neck from side to side, then rested her head in her hands. The near-silence was a welcome reprieve from the things weighing on her mind.

A tap on her shoulder prompted her to replace the magnet against her head and turn to see who was beckoning her. A nurse handed Aurelie a chart.

“The guy in room five is refusing to let anyone examine him or anything until he sees you. Says he’s got a lac, I see blood on his shirt.”

Aurelie frowned. “He seem legit?”

The nurse shrugged. “Seems like any run of the mill guy, middle class, whatever. We called security down, they’re waiting by the room.”

“All right.” She flipped through a few pages of the chart. “I don’t recognize the name, but I’ll check him out.”

She stood from the desk where she had been charting and skimmed over the rest of the chart as she walked. The curtain to room five was pulled closed for privacy, but the sliding doors were still open. Normally such a room would have been reserved for a psych patient or a near-trauma. Aurelie suspected that the nature of this patient’s refusal to speak to anyone but her had something to do with his room placement.

The request for her services was another common occurrence in the emergency room. Though no one, including most of her patients, particularly knew why she did it, Aurelie treated any injury or sickness that came into the ER, and she did so with a discretion that, at times, was outside of the law. Her casual manner about the treatments often went unnoticed by her co-workers, or didn’t bother any of them enough for them to speak up. If you lived in Boston and got tangled up in some mess that got you hurt but you didn’t want the authorities involved, you went to MassGen and asked for Dr. Juneau. That’s just the way it was.

Pulling the curtain to the side, she kept her facial expression neutral, as she would with any patient. She surveyed the man laying on the bed; at least six-two, maybe a buck-eighty in weight. Brown hair, face pale -- from his injury, Aurelie figured. She set the chart on the metal tray and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m Dr. Juneau. You asked for me?”

The man nodded. “I’ve heard that you’ll take care of someone and not put anything sketchy on the books.”

Aurelie licked her lips, pulling her bottom lip between her front teeth. She flipped on all of the lights in the room and surveyed the man again; his face was only vaguely familiar. Regardless, she wasn’t going to put herself on radar by causing a scene. So, she stepped out through the curtain again and told security they could go.

“He’s an old family friend, scared of hospitals. I’ll talk to him about it.”

The two guards who had come down from their bubble shrugged and left. Aurelie asked the nurse to give her a few minutes before she came back into the room. She donned a pair of gloves and disappeared back behind the curtain. After hooking him up to a heart monitor and a blood pressure cuff, she checked his temperature and respirations. With all of vitals noted, she took a seat on the rolling stool and asked where his laceration was located.

The man pulled his shirt up to reveal a cut above his left hip bone, pulling around to his abdomen. Aurelie positioned herself on the side of the bed and took a closer look at the cut.

“How’d you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Fair enough.” She rolled to the door and asked the nurse to bring a laceration kit. While she waited, Aurelie got a clean washcloth and doused it with sterilized water. She cleaned the dried blood from the area, then sat and waited in silence. When the nurse came with the lac kit, Aurelie sent the chart with her, and got ready to stitch the man up.

“This is gonna sting, but it’s better than taking the stitches raw,” Aurelie assured, injecting lidocaine to several places in and around the cut. She waited a little longer, then poked him with the needle again. When he didn’t even flinch, she knew she could start the stitches. “Do you need a tetanus shot?”

“Don’t think so.”

Other than that, she went to work in silence, quickly and neatly stitching up the cut, making sure the scar would be straight and minimal. The cut was halfway stitched when he spoke again.

“What’s that above your ear?”

Aurelie pursed her lips, completing two more stitches before answering him. “It’s called a cochlear implant. It helps me hear, to a certain degree.”

“You’re deaf?”

“I wasn’t always. Slowly started to lose my hearing as I got older, sometime in high school, it dropped out completely from the left side. Right side is there, but not nearly a hundred percent. They still don’t know why.” She bit her bottom lip as she struggled to knot the stitch she had just completed on. “My turn?”

He frowned. “What?”

“You asked me two questions. Now I get to ask you two questions, right?”

“I guess.”

Aurelie nodded. “Are you from Boston?”

He laughed. “The accent didn’t give it away?”

She smiled. “You needed to lighten up. It was worth wasting a question. What’s your real name?”

“My real name?”

“I know it’s not Boris Schmidt, even if that’s what’s on your chart.”

The man said nothing, and Aurelie knew better than to push the issue. They fell into silence again while Aurelie finished the stitches and bandaged the area. She left for a few minutes to fill out his dismissal papers, then returned to educate him on the aftercare.

“What are you going to put in my chart?”

Aurelie shrugged. “That you came in with a lac to your lower left flank and quadrant, there was no sign of infection or organ disturbance, that I stitched you up and sent you on your way. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Aurelie snapped her gloves into the trash can and turned back to him. “You’re welcome. Good luck.”

At the curtain, Aurelie thought she caught him say something, but had to turn back around to ask him to repeat.

“John,” he smiled. “My name is John. Krasinski.”

Aurelie’s smile faded. “Krasinski?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “it’s a weird one, I know.”

Aurelie nodded. “Do me a favor, John. Don’t tell anyone that I treated you.”

With that, she pulled the curtain closed behind her and went back to her desk to chart and catch up with her other patients.

GIF found via Pinterest search. 

Three days later, another hospital shift. Fortunately, this night was not nearly as busy as her last shift. When Aurelie’s pager went off and she saw the code 613, she finished the current orders she was working on, then made way for the parking lot just outside of the emergency room lobby.

Her brother, Chris, was leaned against his car, a classic American muscle number, smoking a cigarette.

“You know this is a hospital, they’ll fine you for smoking outside of the designated area, dumbass.”

Chris turned with a chuckle, tossing the cigarette to the ground and put it out with the toe of his boot. “Better? Here. Your ma packed lunch for you.”

“That was nice of her,” Aurelie replied, taking the brown bag from him. “What’d she pack for you?”

“A nine mil and a wish that I wasn’t so much like my father. The usual.” He opened the driver’s side door of the car and reached in for another bag. “This is from him, by the way.”

Aurelie checked that no one was watching them and shoved the bag back at Chris. “I don’t want that shit, and you know it. I didn’t earn it, neither did you, neither did he. I don’t need it.”

“Aur, listen, all right? Hey, don’t make that damn face. Yeah, we’ve been over this a million times, we’re gonna fuckin’ go over it again. You’re his kid, whether you ever wanted to be or not. Maybe he’s not the dad you were born to, but he’s the one you ended up with. He’s just trying to take care of you.”

“He’s not over what happened. He still thinks my deafness is his fault, and if he pays me off long enough, I’ll come back to the family. Can’t you see that?”

Chris pursed his lips. “Why can’t you stop putting me in the middle of this?”

Aurelie groaned and tucked the extra bag into her white coat. “Fine.”

“All right.” He pulled another cigarette from the pack and held it between his lips but didn’t light it. “You been holdin’ up all right?”

“Yeah, of course. I can hold my own. You made sure of that.” She decided to take a chance and mention her patient from the other night. “Hey, you remember that guy who went to the high school, he was a year ahead of you -- John Krasinski?”

“Fuck that guy,” was Chris’s immediate response. “He and his family could jump into the river and not come back up and I’d keep walking.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Aurelie snorted. “So that thing with your family and his, that’s still a thing?”

Chris nodded, tossing his cigarette lighter up and down in the palm of his hand. “Hell yeah, it’s still a thing. They’ll learn one day that we run shit, though. What made you think of him?”

“I don’t know. Random thought, I guess.”

The expression on her brother’s face told Aurelie he was going to be watching her carefully over the coming weeks. She thanked him for the food and went back into the hospital, careful to put the bag of money into her backpack before anyone else suspected something was amiss.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @hurricanerin​ @horsesandbandsforlife​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @shynara51​ @sea040561​ @anxiouskore​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xtina2191​ @jackryanplz​ @beakami​ @heartsaved​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl

Boston Boys: @atc74​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @becs-bunker​ @shield-agent78​ @patzammit​ @crazyandanonymous4u

[puddygeeks]

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 70: Sᴇᴇᴅs ᴏғ Dɪsᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Episodes: Watch The Thrones

Chapter Seventy

My body felt heavy as I gradually stirred and the first thing that I noticed in my environment was the consistent beep of a heart monitor. Something was in my nostrils, irritating my nose and I could feel dressings of some kind stuck to multiple parts of my skin. There was an intense soreness in my chest, feeling as if I had been bruised all over and I felt the familiar tight sensation of stitches.

Exhaustion hung over me, preventing me from opening my eyes too soon and my mind swirled over the last events in my memory as I tried to make sense of what was happening. The explosion of Mount Weather replayed in my mind and I felt my heart skip a beat in panic, allowing me a burst of energy to wake from the medication that was being pumped into an IV.

The medical unit swam into view and it took a few moments for me to process the fact that I was back in Arkada. People rushed around me, seeming flustered by my movement as if they had not expected it and I strained to concentrate on their words.

“Get Abby. She’s waking up!” Jackson’s voice alerted, before hurrying over to my side in concern and he slapped my hands away as I attempted to pull an oxygen tube from my nose.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Now listen, don’t go getting all excited and jumping around. You’re not long out of surgery, so you still need to rest. I’m just going to run some obs on you to check how you’re doing whilst you get your bearings.” He explained, moving to wheel over a blood pressure machine with a bunch of other medical tools sitting in a basket that was attached to it and I nodded to consent to anything that he felt he needed to do.

Everything felt horribly bright to my tired eyes, but fortunately the ward was empty so I could take my time to reorient myself without any interruption. My memories of how I survived the explosion were hazy in my muddled mind and I was sure that I remembered Jackson arriving at the perfect moment to treat me, but I couldn’t think of any reason why he would have been there.

“Am I imagining things, or did you save my life?” I muttered, my voice still hoarse from smoke inhalation and Jackson smiled down at me as he worked.

He finished placing the blood pressure cuff on my arm and set it to begin squeezing my arm, then busied himself with taking my temperature. I waited patiently for an answer, my blinks lazy and long as I still battled to wake up and once he was content that he’d done all he needed too, Jackson perched on the edge of the bed to view me with evident fondness.

“Sinclair radioed to ask me to come to staff the med bay in the mountain as soon as the rescue party left. Just in case things went bad, he thought it made sense to have me standing-by where the best of our equipment was.” He explained calmly, observing me closely as he filled in a medical chart and I hummed thoughtfully, surprised at how efficient Sinclair had been whilst we were leaderless. “Fortunately, it took a while to get there, so I was just in time to witness your crazy stunt.” He quipped, glancing up at me with a cheeky glint in his eye and I smiled weakly at him.

Before I could manage a response, Abby rounded the corner and thinned her eyes at me in a manner that indicated that I was in trouble. Jackson noticed my attitude become tense and glanced back at her, before grimacing slightly. He instantly got to his feet, sneaking me a supportive smile as he packed up the equipment and then made himself scarce.

“You have us quite a scare, Indigo. Again.” Abby declared, nearing to check my stats on the machines and I knew that I was in for a lecture. 

“I only just found out that you asked Jackson to hide your broken ribs from everyone. Do you understand how irresponsible that was? If he hadn’t arrived at Mount Weather just after the explosion, you would have died from your injuries. You’re very lucky that you still didn’t.” She scolded, standing above me with a stern expression and I moved my gaze to my feet awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, Abby.” I whispered, feeling completely unprepared to defend my actions when I was this weak and I chewed on my lip. 

Deep down, I knew that I deserved to hear this and she was right to be furious at me for my actions, but whilst every part of my body was aching, I was all too aware of the effect of my decisions. I didn’t need anyone to tell me that I had been foolish, but I swallowed my pride to allow them their reactions and she sighed in an exhausted manner as she regarded me.

“I’m not the only person that you need to apologise to. Sometimes, I’m not convinced that you realise the impact you have on this camp. Your remaining group all depend on each other for their wellbeing and each time that we lose one of you, the rest of you suffer. They all worry for you and you know better than anyone that when they worry, they make bad decisions. In the time that I’ve known you, you’ve always acted as if you are the most mature of your group and have taken the role of being responsible for them. I’m sorry if this is difficult to hear, but it’s time for you to realise that your actions will get them killed if you don’t start learning to share the burden.” She advised, her voice low and serious, and I finally met her eyes with regret.

“You’re right.” I admitted, fiddling with my hands awkwardly, feeling as if I were staring into the face of my own disappointed mother and as I opened my mouth to continue, Bellamy hurtled around the corner in a fluster.

Though Abby tried to warn him off with her body language, clearly keen to finish our conversation without him fussing over me, he refused to await permission to interrupt. He charged past her to reach my bedside with desperation and had to pause just before he reached me to soften his movements so that he wouldn’t unintentionally hurt me in his enthusiasm.

“You’re finally awake!” He breathed, relief filling his handsome features as he gently took my face in his hands and placed a cautious kiss on my forehead, as if he were afraid that he might break me. “You really scared me this time, Inds. I thought I was gonna lose you.” He confessed in a weak voice, his eyes still red from crying and whilst he was close enough for me to properly examine him, I began to notice how broken down he looked.

“I’m fine, Bel. I’m not going anywhere.” I answered reassuringly, keen to put his troubled mind at ease and without even looking at her, I could feel Abby raising her brows at me as she cleared her throat.

“Actually, she’s not fine.” She clarified, stepping closer with her arms crossed and Bellamy turned to view her with interest. “In the interest of transparency, as your girlfriend has a history of hiding important medical information, you should know that she has three broken ribs, one of which caused the puncture in her lung. These breaks occurred almost six weeks ago in a fight, I’m told, and so although they shouldn’t give her too much trouble in future, they are something that will need to be taken into consideration from now on. Fortunately, we were able to confirm in surgery that they’re mostly healed at this point, as much as it is possible for them to.” She reported, allowing Bellamy a chance to sneak a frustrated glance at me that made me shrink in shame, before she continued.

“However, her lung has taken some substantial damage. We will need to monitor her breathing to ensure that it continues to heal and doesn’t collapse again. She’s also sustained several second degree burns, which will need regular dressing changes and care. Not to mention that she just underwent life saving surgery which will leave her weak and vulnerable. We’ll keep her here overnight, at least, but I need to make it clear that she is not to go on patrol, or guard duty, or partake in any kind of strenuous activity for some time, and absolutely not without my express permission. This is serious and I expect it to be treated as such.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that it is.” Bellamy asserted, his voice deeply serious now that he knew the full extent of my injuries and I already recognised from his tone that I was about to be in far worse trouble with him than I ever had been with Abby.

“I’ll let you two catch up for now. But, Indigo, you and I are not finished.” Abby stated, flashing me one last severe glare, before she departed and I gulped down my dread as I anticipated the rest of my punishment from her.

Once we were alone, I could sense the tension in the air and Bellamy turned to study me with an obvious sense of betrayal that made me want the ground to open up and swallow me.

“Indie. What is going on with you?” He asked, furrowing his brows together as if he couldn’t understand what he had just been told and I shuffled in discomfort as his dark eyes studied me. “Why didn’t you tell me about the broken ribs?” He grilled, his tone displaying the hurt that he felt at this discovery and I could hardly stand how awful I felt about this decision now.

“Because I knew that you would make that face.” I answered in a sulky manner as I peeked up at the protective expression that he was wearing and I watched as he attempted to disguise the overbearing concern that was present in his eyes with little success.

“What face?”

“The face that you’re making right now. The poor, delicate Indie face. I hate that face.” I grumbled childishly as I crossed my arms, despising the way that he fretted over me whenever I was hurt and he cracked a slight smile at my confession. 

“You know, I hate your face is a terrible way to start an apology.” He replied mockingly and though I was appreciative of his efforts to lighten the conversation, I couldn’t deny the awful feeling that was taking root in the pit of my stomach.

“I know that I should have told you. Even at the time, I knew it was wrong to cover it up.” I began, knitting my hands together nervously and he slipped a hand between them to stop me, instead just holding it comfortingly. “I knew that if you all found out, you would take me off patrol and guard duty, and I would just be trapped inside Arkadia, going totally crazy. It’s selfish, but I wanted to be able to go out with you, to make sure that you were okay. I couldn’t go back to waiting for you to come home.”

“We could’ve restricted your duties, so that you weren’t totally grounded.” He argued, seeming disappointed that I hadn’t trusted him to compromise with me and the guilt of this choice compounded in my chest. “You have to be more careful with your decisions, Indie. Keeping this to yourself could have gotten you seriously hurt at any time. You almost died!” He added with his voice raising in frustration as he considered it and I struggled to defend myself against his points.

“I know. It was stupid and reckless, and I knew that, but I did it anyway.” I confirmed, unable to lie any longer about my mindset at the time and Bellamy tilted his head at me as if to silently ask why I still did it. “I needed to keep coming out with you all, so that I could protect you. I couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to you whilst I was recovering. As it turns out, my protection didn’t make a damn bit of difference when it really counted.” I added bitterly, dropping my gaze to my lap to avoid his reaction as I felt my eyes welling up and I could sense that he was studying me.

“What are you talking about?” He enquired with confusion, leaning forward to meet my gaze and I cleared my throat in a pointless attempt to keep the emotion from my voice.

“I failed her. Gina died because I left her alone. If I had stayed with her, I could’ve protected her. I could’ve protected all of Mount Weather. Instead, all I did was save myself.” I divulged, a feeling of utter shame overwhelming me as I recalled the moment that I ran, leaving everyone to die and Bellamy grabbed my chin to force me to look at him.

“Hey. Don’t do that to yourself.” He ordered, viewing me with disbelief and I felt my heart breaking in my chest as I tried to push the invasive memory away. “The Ice Nation sent an assassin into somewhere that we considered a safe space. Your guard was down. You weren’t even armed! If you’d been in that room, chances are that you would be dead too. This wasn’t your fault.” He stressed this point, leaning closer as desperately tried to reach past my self-loathing and I felt the first of many tears escape my control.

“I gave up, Bellamy. I just ran out of the facility to save myself. I could’ve saved other people, but I didn’t. I only thought of myself.” I revealed, feeling disgusted as I shared this with the overpowering fear that he would never be able to see me the same way and instead, he surveyed me with a pained understanding.

“You made a difficult decision in an impossible situation. You shouldn’t be ashamed of wanting to live, Love.” He advised, squeezing my hand and I sniffed to contain the wave of tears that willed to flow down my cheeks. “You remember the first time that we had an honest chat? When you followed me into the woods after Atom died, and you almost collapsed, and found me totally losing my mind with guilt?” He recalled quietly, taking me back to an encounter that I had long forgotten and I nodded slowly in response, allowing him to continue.

“You were the one that pointed out that we weren’t trained to make these choices. You told me that I would make mistakes, but that it would allow me to learn. We’ve both made a lot of mistakes since we landed here and we’ve become better survivors from it. At heart though, we’re still those same kids with no training. We’re doing the best that we can. I promise you, the best thing to do in that situation was to live, because we need you. I need you.” He spoke from the heart, reaching out to brush a tear from my cheek with such tenderness that it caused the dam inside me to break and I took a sharp breath as the emotion exploded out of me.

“I couldn’t save her.” I gasped in remorse, finally allowing the true depth of my pain to show and Bellamy shushed me gently. “I tried so hard. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to put pressure on the wounds, and-and I wanted to carry her to medical, but she wouldn’t let me. I really tried to help her and she still died in my arms. I couldn’t save her, Bellamy!” I cried as sobs wracked my chest causing another wave of pain and he pulled me to him.

It was hard to breathe as I wept against his chest, my still recovering lungs struggling to manage the sharp breaths of my cries, but Bellamy simply held me close and smoothed my hair, allowing me an opportunity to fall apart. Whenever I felt this broken, I craved his comfort in a way that I couldn’t put into words and his embrace melted away all of the outside influences that pressed down on me until it was just him and I.

“I know that you did everything you could. You always do. Sometimes it’s just not enough. You can’t blame yourself.” He soothed as he reasoned with my frazzled mind and although logically I knew that he was right, I felt that it would likely take some time before I was able to believe it for myself.

Time passed without my notice as I waited for my emotions to become manageable and Bellamy remained patiently holding me, content to allow me all of the time that I needed with him. 

The warmth of his body gradually calmed me and eventually, I noticed that my eyes were stinging with tiredness again. The weight of the anaesthetic still hung over me and as I sat back to look up at him, he gave me a concerned look.

“It looks like you could do with some rest.” He remarked with a subtle sense of worry as I laid back on my pillow with a drowsy head and he lovingly pushed my fuzzy hair behind my ears, his touch lingering on the side of my face. “I’ll come back later to check on you.” He breathed as he moved to stand, but I grabbed his hand in a desperate bid for him to stay, clinging onto him with all the strength that I could muster.

Bellamy paused, looking back down at me from his towering height with a sympathetic smile and I battled to keep my eyes open, unwilling to be parted from him yet. After a few moments of consideration, he returned to sitting on the bed and placed a hand back on my forehead, tracing tender circles on my skin.

“Alright. I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He conceded, observing me with such fondness that it made my heart swell and I released a small sigh of contentment. “I still need to read you to sleep, afterall.” He added with a smirk and as a smile filled my lips at the idea, I found myself drifting to sleep.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

When I next woke, it was to an empty bed and the ward was almost totally quiet other than Jackson, who was completing paperwork nearby whilst also keeping an eye on me. It was as if Abby and him expected me to dramatically bolt out of here at any moment, ensuring that I was guarded at all times, but I honestly didn’t have the strength to escape from anywhere at the moment. 

Though I wondered where Bellamy had got to, I knew that I was trapped in this bed for now and would need to come to terms with it sooner or later.

I sighed in frustration, looking around for something that could occupy my frantic mind when I noticed a book sitting on the table beside me with a note on the front. The moment that I gripped it, I recognised Bellamy’s scruffy handwriting and a smile filled my face.

I KNOW I PROMISED TO READ THIS TO YOU, BUT I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT NEED SOMETHING TO DO TO KEEP YOU OUT OF MISCHIEF. READ THIS AND REST, MY TROUBLE. B x

Peeling the note from the cover revealed the copy of The Iliad that I had gifted him recently and I appreciated how thoughtful a gesture this was. With little else to occupy me, I fidgeted into a comfortable position and lost myself in the book.

As I absorbed the story, I could just imagine a young Bellamy with his mop of curly hair and adorable freckles, enthralled by the adventures in the pages. The idea caused a sense of happiness that helped to push away the weight of my grief and for a while, I was relaxed. So relaxed, in fact, that I didn’t notice the sound of the doors, or the person approaching, until they cleared their throat and startled me.

“Oh, Kane. You scared me!” I gasped, gripping my chest with a genuine anxiety as I panted and he held his hands up in surrender.

“My apologies.” He commented, glancing down at the book with amusement and I used Bellamy’s note as a bookmark before closing it. “I thought I would check how you were doing. Abby tells me that it was touch and go for a while?” He clarified, settling casually in a seat beside the bed and I gulped at the thought of another lecture.

“I’m okay.” I answered quietly, meeting his eyes with a nervous feeling and wondering if I could survive another talk on my foolish behaviour. “I know that what I did was stupid and irresponsible-”

“I’m not here to punish you. From what I understand, your Chancellor already beat me to it.” He remarked lightly, a playful smile dancing across his face and I breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought that I would update you on the events of the Summit, if you’re feeling up to it?” He offered in his usual wise demeanour and I nodded fervently, pleased that he still addressed me with the same sense of value, even when I felt completely broken and helpless.

“Please. All anyone wants to talk about is how much of an idiot I’ve been.” I grumbled, allowing myself to indulge in a moment of self pity and he chuckled under his breath. “No one has told me anything. What’s our situation?”

“We have become the thirteenth clan in the Commander’s coalition, officially recognised as Skaikru.” He began, causing my mouth to drop open in shock and he rolled up his sleeve to reveal a large brand on his forearm that represented our unity. “Lexa knew that The Ice Nation wished to kill her and she planned to show the coalition that she had acquired Wanheda’s power, without being forced to kill Clarke. We completed the joining process just before Bellamy and the others burst in.” He explained, with every word he spoke further blowing my mind and I struggled to wrap my head around everything that he had just told me.

“Did the Commander have any insight on the attack on Mount Weather?” I managed to form a single question as the puzzle pieces assembled in my mind and he studied me as if he were gauging my reaction.

“The Ice Nation claimed responsibility for the attack at the Summit. Lexa arrested the entire delegation and has vowed to support us in avenging the attack. Indra just confirmed that she will send the Trikru army to protect Arkadia, to ensure that we cannot be ambushed.” He reported in a matter of fact tone and I shifted uneasily, recalling how quickly she had retracted her word at Mount Weather. “Clarke has remained in Polis as Skaikru’s ambassador in the War Council, to ensure that our interests are represented.” He added and I felt a frown immediately cross my face in response to this revelation.

“Clarke?! That’s a mistake.” I blurted, another wave of shock washing over me and Kane raised his brows in question. “I get it. She’s been living as a grounder for all of this time and she facilitated the original alliance with them to get us out of Mount Weather. But you don’t know her like I do. With all due respect, Sir, I think that your view of Clarke is likely biased, because of your rel-friendship with Abby.” I stated, causing him to smile again and it seemed that as usual, he was amused by my brutal honesty.

“If you have concerns about Clarke’s suitability for this role, then I’d like to hear them.” He offered calmly, leaning forward in his seat to place his elbows on his lap and though I had expected him to be offended by my statement, I was glad to find that he was open to discussion.

“Clarke might be living their lifestyle now, but the moment that something doesn’t go her way, she’ll expect the Commander to abandon their rules to accommodate her. In our old camp, I saw her insist on democracy, which only resulted in a majority vote against her plans and she just went behind everyone’s back to continue with her own agenda anyway. Once Clarke has decided to do something, no one else’s opinion matters. Believe me, that attitude doesn’t work in a culture as rigid as the grounders. The first thing that I was taught with Arlo is that you follow orders without question. Clarke is physically incapable of doing that.” I rambled, not hesitating to express my full opinion and Kane smiled proudly at me.

“I appreciate your honesty on this, Indigo. Unfortunately, there is no one else that Lexa respects as she does Clarke and so we will have to rely on her to prove you wrong if we are to stand any chance of surviving this conflict with The Ice Nation. However, knowing your concerns will help us to anticipate any problems.” He remarked finally and I sighed in disappointment, anxiety settling in my stomach at the idea of Clarke sitting in a war council with the very real potential to cause carnage.

“Well, at least the Commander knows everything now. Azgeda are no longer working from the shadows and we have her support.” I conceded, deciding to focus on the positives for now and Kane nodded slowly as he processed my words.

“There is something else that I thought you should now.” He declared, seeming as if he were reluctant to discuss this next topic and I thinned my eyes at him suspiciously. “Bellamy returned his guard jacket to me earlier today. Apparently, he feels as if he is at fault for those we lost at Mount Weather. He doesn’t think that he deserves to be a guard any longer. Usually, I wouldn’t interfere in personal matters like this, but I have a gut feeling that he hasn’t told you about this decision and I hoped that you might be able to talk some sense into him?” He suggested in an uncomfortable manner and I felt my eyes widen in shock, hardly able to believe that he would keep something of this severity from me. 

Recalling our earlier conversation, I felt immensely guilty for burdening Bellamy with my own grief when he was already blaming himself for the outcome of Azgeda’s plot and I felt a lump rising in my throat as I thought of him viewing himself in this manner. The wisdom and ease of the advice that he had given in defence of me made sense now that I knew he had already decided that the responsibility laid at his feet and I was hurt that he had put his own feelings aside to listen to me, instead of confiding in me.

“No, actually. He didn’t tell me.” I whispered, fidgeting with my hands nervously and Kane nodded slowly in understanding. “Thank you for letting me know. I will definitely speak to him about it.” I confirmed, forcing a polite smile and he seemed relieved that he might potentially be able to return Bellamy to his post.

“Well, I should get going. There is a memorial starting soon for those lost in Mount Weather.” Kane announced as he rose to his feet reluctantly, seeming as if he was exhausted too and I felt myself straighten up slightly at this revelation.

“Wait. I want to come.” I blurted, staring up at him with a sense of desperation and he studied me sceptically, clearly unable to believe that I would be able to manage it in my current condition. “I know that I need to rest. I’ll be careful and I’ll come straight back after. I just really need this. I was with Gina when she-” I cut myself off abruptly, unsure of how to explain exactly what I had experenced and Kane sighed heavily as he considered me.

“I don’t have the authority to allow you to leave. It’s a medical decision.” He stated regretfully and I felt my shoulders drop in disappointment. “Fortunately, I’m rather close with your doctor. I’ll speak to Abby now. As long as she agrees for you to go, I’ll ask Bellamy to come and collect you.” He added with a sly smile and I felt my face light up in appreciation.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

Bellamy was quiet when he arrived and though I was alarmed by this, I was quickly distracted when I realised that he had thought to bring me some fresh clothes. He helped me to change into them delicately, before I placed the jacket that had once been his over the top and he chuckled at me for this. I held onto his arm for stability and once Jackson was content that I would be able to manage the walk, we carefully left medical.

As I clung to Bellamy’s bare arm, I noticed that he truly wasn’t wearing his guard jacket any longer and remembered my conversation with Kane in unease.

“You’re not wearing your jacket?” I enquired as casually as possible as we moved delicately through the halls of the Ark and Bellamy sighed slightly, revealing his discomfort at my question.

“Yeah. It got damaged.” He excused in a distracted manner and I could tell that he was struggling to think of a way out of the conversation. “ I need to get a new one. It’s not really a priority at the moment, though.” He reported, glancing down at me with a smile to subtly suggest that caring for me was far more important and I felt my stomach lurch as I realised that he had no intention of telling me that he had quit the guard.

We spent the rest of the walk in silence as my thoughts swirled, fearful over his secretive attitude and I was anxious that he had tried to keep me from the memorial too. It was obvious that he was suffering with guilt, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want my support with it and I hated the thought of him isolating himself with this.

Bellamy led me into the main dining space, where rows of chairs had been set up and tables were lined up at the front for people to leave items. The room was already full of grieving people waiting for the service to start and I could feel the weight of emotion in the air. He guided me into a seat beside him at the end of a row and immediately I began fiddling with my hands due to anxiety.

It wasn’t long before people began to present their tributes for their loved ones and I felt myself shaking as I considered all of the lives that were lost in the attack. Though it was challenging, I was glad that I had forced myself to attend to face it and I knew that this would be the hardest step of my journey to forgiveness. Each speech was heart-breaking to listen to, but I considered it my atonement for not attempting to save them and held myself together despite the storm of emotions in my mind.

My breath caught in my throat as Raven struggled her way to the front and Bellamy took my hand for support, sensing my distress. Her face was already red from tears and she appeared as if she hadn’t slept at all since we returned home. My heart ached for her as I had a unique insight into the pain that she was experiencing and I respected her strength as I compared it to my breakdown in Mount Weather quarantine.

“Gina was kind. She always put everyone else first, sharing love and compassion with anyone who needed it.” Raven began, her hands trembling as she read from a piece of paper and I knew that she was battling to make it through her speech. “She had incredible patience and no matter how hard I tried to push her away, she always stayed at my side. I never appreciated her for how wonderful she was, but I will make sure that she was remembered for it. Gina deserved better.” She finished with a tear rolling down her cheek and sniffed to contain the rest.

Rolling up the paper, Raven reached a shaking hand into her pocket and pulled out a keychain. Though many might have missed it, I noticed the pained reluctance in the way that she tenderly placed it down amongst the other items, as if she were unsure if she was truly ready to part with it and I remembered my insane attachment to the jacket that I currently wore with sympathy. I leaned my face onto Bellamy’s shoulder for comfort as tears of my own escaped my demeanour and he squeezed my arm in silent support.

Before the next name could be honoured, a group of guards entered and bypassed Kane and Abby to report directly to Pike in hushed voices. This made my back stiffen as I thinned my eyes at them suspiciously and I felt Bellamy tense too beside me. 

As I scanned the people gathered here, it was clear that the guards arrival had caused a ripple amongst everyone and a feeling of dread settled in my stomach.

It was difficult to hear the conversation that was taking place, but I was sure that I heard a mention of grounders and the way that Pike looked over at our leadership only strengthened my belief in that. He approached them to repeat the information, causing me to feel uncomfortable with his new role of negotiator between the guards and Chancellor that I felt allowed a prime opportunity for manipulation.

“You gave a grounder one of our radios?” Pike stated accusingly, raising his voice for everyone else to hear and I had the distinct feeling that this was no accident, but rather a tactical decision to gain support.

“Sir. Are we under attack?”

A voice called from the crowd who were already murmuring restlessly and though I looked to Bellamy for reassurance, his focus was strictly set on Pike. People began to stand as the feeling of panic spread and I could sense the threat of impending chaos, sending my adrenaline into overdrive.

“No. We are not under attack.” Kane announced as he rose to address the concerned citizens, holding his hands out in an attempt to calm the delicate situation. “The Commander sent a peacekeeping force to ensure that we can defend against any further attacks from The Ice Nation.” He confirmed as he battled the incredibly fragile balance of power that we all knew was hanging on by a thread.

“Peace keeping force?!” Pike spat in disbelief, growing more irate by the second despite the inappropriate timing of this conversation. “Even you can’t be that naive, Marcus!” He yelled, further feeding the tension in the room as more of the crowd stood from their seats and I noticed with confusion that Raven was staring at Bellamy with rage bubbling her face, before returning my face to our leaders.

“Watch your tongue!” Abby warned as she fixed Pike with a stern stare. “You’re talking to the next Chancellor.” She announced and I raised my brows in surprise, having clearly missed this information when I was in recovery. “We’re all grieving. This has been hard on all of us, but we can’t let anger drive our policy.”

“Anger is our policy.” Pike yelled, gaining cheers of support from the watching audience and he used this momentum to step up onto a nearby surface to rally his people. “Now, if they’re here to defend us as you say, then tell them to go home. We can defend ourselves!” He argued, pointing down at Abby disrespectfully and I was struck by how much his attitude reminded me of Bellamy in our first few days on Earth.

In a moment of clarity, his admiration for the man made sense and I realised that Pike represented a simpler time for Bellamy that had been lost in the more nuanced lifestyle that we lived now. We had to consider alliances and politics in our current days, instead of simply focusing on day to day survival as we did in our dropship camp and I could understand why Bellamy would be drawn to the patriotic nature of Pike’s approach. However, this idea frightened me and I knew that I needed to publicly oppose Pike, just as I once had my lover, rising to my feet with a fierce glare.

“You fought against Azgeda warriors for months. How did that work out for you? Lose many people?” I began, drawing his attention as he viewed me with disgust and I crossed my arms defensively. “Believe me when I tell you, those fights were nothing compared to the force of their army. Without the help of Trikru, Azgeda will obliterate us. We stood with Trikru before against the mountain. These people that the Commander sends to protect us are our allies, not our enemies!” I advised, turning to speak to the people that were gathered with hope that I might be able to turn the rising tide, but my words fell on deaf ears due to the suffocating grief that hung over everyone here.

“Miss Sloan. Why don’t you remind us how you were rescued from the mountain?” Pike argued, his face growing smug as he knew that I would have to confirm that the army was not responsible for our rescue and I had a horrible feeling that my statement had only aided his cause. “The grounders abandoned us then and they will do it again. They can’t be trusted.”

“You.” One of the members of Farm Station pointed directly at Lincoln in an aggressive manner and my jaw clenched in anger. “You don’t belong here.” He accused, viewing him with an entirely undeserved hatred and I could hardly believe that things were deteriorating so quickly between our people.

“Then I guess I don’t either!” I declared, moving to shuffle past Bellamy so that I could stand beside Lincoln in support, but before I could even exit the row of seating, the situation continued to worsen.

“He’s one of them!” The ring leader yelled, rapidly prompting similar statements to be yelled by the crowd and it was clear that people were jumping on the opportunity to rid the camp of the person that they viewed as an outsider, already forgetting everything that Lincoln had done for us.

Bellamy rose to his feet to grab my arm, holding me in place protectively and whilst I was distracted by attempting to shake him off, the confrontation escalated to violence. The man who had begun this conflict threw a rock at Lincoln, which struck his head with a worrying impact and Bellamy was the first to leap into action as the Farm Station resident moved to attack Lincoln.

In no time at all, a fight erupted between people loyal to Kane and Abby, and Farm station, and although my mind was exploding with rage, my body could not keep up. My legs shook weakly as I struggled to remain upright and I had to lean on a chair to steady myself as the room spun around me.

I noticed Abby hurrying past me, working her way around the edge of the chaos to reach Lincoln, when the sound of a loud whistle drew my attention. 

“Hey!” Pike bellowed loudly enough to bring everything to a halt and I was pleased to notice that some of our original guards from before we discovered Farm Station had leapt into action to pin down the instigators. “We do not attack our own! Fighting each other only makes us weak. The enemy is not in this camp. The enemy is out there!” He gestured to the gates and I glanced over at Lincoln to notice that he refused help from Abby, who called after him that he needed to go to Medical as he stormed out.

“You’re right. The enemy is out there. And it’s Azgeda. It’s not Trikru and it’s not Lincoln.” I clarified loudly, using what little energy had left to defend my family with passion and Bellamy nodded in support.

“Sir. We need to arrest that man responsible for this assault. Lincoln is one of us.” Bellamy advised, fortunately addressing Kane rather than Pike and before I could praise him for this, Raven interrupted with a loud scoff.

“How like you to immediately defend the grounder.” She spat, glaring at Bellamy with such venom that it shocked us and we both stared at her with confusion. “You’ve got some brass even being here when you’re the reason that they’re all dead.” She accused, moving closer to instigate an argument and I struggled my way over to them to calm things before another fight broke out.

“What are you talking about?” Bellamy investigated, forcing his voice into an even tone despite the emotional turmoil that I knew he was covering and I could see the hurt in his eyes as he regarded her.

“You told us to stay whilst you went to the Summit. You were the one who vouched for that grounder, even though you knew that she was Ice Nation. Even your girlfriend wasn’t sure about trusting her, but you did it anyway and you nearly got her killed too! You practically served us up on a fucking platter for the grounders. It wasn’t enough for you, killing everyone in Mount Weather once, was it? You just had to do it again!” She yelled, stepping forward to push his chest aggressively and Miller rushed over to restrain her, his movements careful so that he wouldn’t hurt her.

“I’ll never forgive you! It’s your fault that Gina is dead! You took everything from me!” She screamed, manically fighting against Miller as she tried to attack and Bellamy simply stared at her in stunned silence, frozen to the spot in horror.

“That’s enough, Raven. You’re only making things worse!” I snapped, stepping between them with a false strength as I faced her down and I was able to catch a glimpse of the broken person that hid beneath Raven’s rage. “Gina wouldn’t want you to do this and you know it. Take a walk.” I advised calmly, causing her anger to dissolve into pain and she shook Miller’s grip from her shoulders to march out of the room shamefully.

The moment that the conflict was over, I felt as if I might collapse. Noticing my sudden vulnerability as I turned back to face him, Bellamy gripped my arms to keep me from falling and I stared up at him with an apologetic expression.

“Baby. You know none of that was true, right?” I whispered, encouraging him to meet my eyes and the way that he nodded was as if he were simply brushing off my concern, rather than actually absorbing my reassurances. “She’s hurting and she lashed out. It doesn’t make it okay and it definitely doesn’t make her right. Don’t let her get in your head.” I insisted, already terrified that she had only intensified his guilt and his face revealed how much her words had hurt him.

“I’ve got some things to wrap up here and then I’ll get you back to Medical.” He answered flatly as if he were simply reciting a well practiced line and I sighed in disappointment, hating that he was pushing me away.

“It’s alright. I’m gonna find Lincoln and see if I can get him to go with me.” I suggested, already keen to make sure that his injury was treated and Bellamy nodded in agreement. “Come and see me when you’re done. Please.” I instructed, flashing him a supportive smile and his only response was a slight hum as he strode away from me, leaving me with an empty feeling in my stomach.

Grabbing a clean piece of fabric from nearby, I made my way outside and tried to push aside my anxiety as I focused on searching for Lincoln.

[lullabieswrappedinlies]

Boston Boys [Part One]

Summary: Dr. Aurelie Juneau treats someone in the emergency room she shouldn’t, and get a visit from her brother a few days later. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1700 Chapter Warnings: Hospital setting and treatment, mentions of guns, implied crime. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

A busy emergency room wasn’t an unusual thing, especially in Boston, but tonight the chaos was weighing down on Aurelie. She pulled the magnet piece of her cochlear implant away from her head in an effort to drown out the sound for a few peaceful seconds. She stretched her neck from side to side, then rested her head in her hands. The near-silence was a welcome reprieve from the things weighing on her mind.

A tap on her shoulder prompted her to replace the magnet against her head and turn to see who was beckoning her. A nurse handed Aurelie a chart.

“The guy in room five is refusing to let anyone examine him or anything until he sees you. Says he’s got a lac, I see blood on his shirt.”

Aurelie frowned. “He seem legit?”

The nurse shrugged. “Seems like any run of the mill guy, middle class, whatever. We called security down, they’re waiting by the room.”

“All right.” She flipped through a few pages of the chart. “I don’t recognize the name, but I’ll check him out.”

She stood from the desk where she had been charting and skimmed over the rest of the chart as she walked. The curtain to room five was pulled closed for privacy, but the sliding doors were still open. Normally such a room would have been reserved for a psych patient or a near-trauma. Aurelie suspected that the nature of this patient’s refusal to speak to anyone but her had something to do with his room placement.

The request for her services was another common occurrence in the emergency room. Though no one, including most of her patients, particularly knew why she did it, Aurelie treated any injury or sickness that came into the ER, and she did so with a discretion that, at times, was outside of the law. Her casual manner about the treatments often went unnoticed by her co-workers, or didn’t bother any of them enough for them to speak up. If you lived in Boston and got tangled up in some mess that got you hurt but you didn’t want the authorities involved, you went to MassGen and asked for Dr. Juneau. That’s just the way it was.

Pulling the curtain to the side, she kept her facial expression neutral, as she would with any patient. She surveyed the man laying on the bed; at least six-two, maybe a buck-eighty in weight. Brown hair, face pale -- from his injury, Aurelie figured. She set the chart on the metal tray and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m Dr. Juneau. You asked for me?”

The man nodded. “I’ve heard that you’ll take care of someone and not put anything sketchy on the books.”

Aurelie licked her lips, pulling her bottom lip between her front teeth. She flipped on all of the lights in the room and surveyed the man again; his face was only vaguely familiar. Regardless, she wasn’t going to put herself on radar by causing a scene. So, she stepped out through the curtain again and told security they could go.

“He’s an old family friend, scared of hospitals. I’ll talk to him about it.”

The two guards who had come down from their bubble shrugged and left. Aurelie asked the nurse to give her a few minutes before she came back into the room. She donned a pair of gloves and disappeared back behind the curtain. After hooking him up to a heart monitor and a blood pressure cuff, she checked his temperature and respirations. With all of vitals noted, she took a seat on the rolling stool and asked where his laceration was located.

The man pulled his shirt up to reveal a cut above his left hip bone, pulling around to his abdomen. Aurelie positioned herself on the side of the bed and took a closer look at the cut.

“How’d you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Fair enough.” She rolled to the door and asked the nurse to bring a laceration kit. While she waited, Aurelie got a clean washcloth and doused it with sterilized water. She cleaned the dried blood from the area, then sat and waited in silence. When the nurse came with the lac kit, Aurelie sent the chart with her, and got ready to stitch the man up.

“This is gonna sting, but it’s better than taking the stitches raw,” Aurelie assured, injecting lidocaine to several places in and around the cut. She waited a little longer, then poked him with the needle again. When he didn’t even flinch, she knew she could start the stitches. “Do you need a tetanus shot?”

“Don’t think so.”

Other than that, she went to work in silence, quickly and neatly stitching up the cut, making sure the scar would be straight and minimal. The cut was halfway stitched when he spoke again.

“What’s that above your ear?”

Aurelie pursed her lips, completing two more stitches before answering him. “It’s called a cochlear implant. It helps me hear, to a certain degree.”

“You’re deaf?”

“I wasn’t always. Slowly started to lose my hearing as I got older, sometime in high school, it dropped out completely from the left side. Right side is there, but not nearly a hundred percent. They still don’t know why.” She bit her bottom lip as she struggled to knot the stitch she had just completed on. “My turn?”

He frowned. “What?”

“You asked me two questions. Now I get to ask you two questions, right?”

“I guess.”

Aurelie nodded. “Are you from Boston?”

He laughed. “The accent didn’t give it away?”

She smiled. “You needed to lighten up. It was worth wasting a question. What’s your real name?”

“My real name?”

“I know it’s not Boris Schmidt, even if that’s what’s on your chart.”

The man said nothing, and Aurelie knew better than to push the issue. They fell into silence again while Aurelie finished the stitches and bandaged the area. She left for a few minutes to fill out his dismissal papers, then returned to educate him on the aftercare.

“What are you going to put in my chart?”

Aurelie shrugged. “That you came in with a lac to your lower left flank and quadrant, there was no sign of infection or organ disturbance, that I stitched you up and sent you on your way. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Aurelie snapped her gloves into the trash can and turned back to him. “You’re welcome. Good luck.”

At the curtain, Aurelie thought she caught him say something, but had to turn back around to ask him to repeat.

“John,” he smiled. “My name is John. Krasinski.”

Aurelie’s smile faded. “Krasinski?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “it’s a weird one, I know.”

Aurelie nodded. “Do me a favor, John. Don’t tell anyone that I treated you.”

With that, she pulled the curtain closed behind her and went back to her desk to chart and catch up with her other patients.

GIF found via Pinterest search.

Three days later, another hospital shift. Fortunately, this night was not nearly as busy as her last shift. When Aurelie’s pager went off and she saw the code 613, she finished the current orders she was working on, then made way for the parking lot just outside of the emergency room lobby.

Her brother, Chris, was leaned against his car, a classic American muscle number, smoking a cigarette.

“You know this is a hospital, they’ll fine you for smoking outside of the designated area, dumbass.”

Chris turned with a chuckle, tossing the cigarette to the ground and put it out with the toe of his boot. “Better? Here. Your ma packed lunch for you.”

“That was nice of her,” Aurelie replied, taking the brown bag from him. “What’d she pack for you?”

“A nine mil and a wish that I wasn’t so much like my father. The usual.” He opened the driver’s side door of the car and reached in for another bag. “This is from him, by the way.”

Aurelie checked that no one was watching them and shoved the bag back at Chris. “I don’t want that shit, and you know it. I didn’t earn it, neither did you, neither did he. I don’t need it.”

“Aur, listen, all right? Hey, don’t make that damn face. Yeah, we’ve been over this a million times, we’re gonna fuckin’ go over it again. You’re his kid, whether you ever wanted to be or not. Maybe he’s not the dad you were born to, but he’s the one you ended up with. He’s just trying to take care of you.”

“He’s not over what happened. He still thinks my deafness is his fault, and if he pays me off long enough, I’ll come back to the family. Can’t you see that?”

Chris pursed his lips. “Why can’t you stop putting me in the middle of this?”

Aurelie groaned and tucked the extra bag into her white coat. “Fine.”

“All right.” He pulled another cigarette from the pack and held it between his lips but didn’t light it. “You been holdin’ up all right?”

“Yeah, of course. I can hold my own. You made sure of that.” She decided to take a chance and mention her patient from the other night. “Hey, you remember that guy who went to the high school, he was a year ahead of you -- John Krasinski?”

“Fuck that guy,” was Chris’s immediate response. “He and his family could jump into the river and not come back up and I’d keep walking.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Aurelie snorted. “So that thing with your family and his, that’s still a thing?”

Chris nodded, tossing his cigarette lighter up and down in the palm of his hand. “Hell yeah, it’s still a thing. They’ll learn one day that we run shit, though. What made you think of him?”

“I don’t know. Random thought, I guess.”

The expression on her brother’s face told Aurelie he was going to be watching her carefully over the coming weeks. She thanked him for the food and went back into the hospital, careful to put the bag of money into her backpack before anyone else suspected something was amiss.

Tags: @themtbmbgirl​ @keithseabrook27​ @ulovemelightsout​ @rosie2801​

[alitheamateur]

Perfect Patient

Anon asked: After the fight he ends up in the hospital. Well and he’s grumpy as always but doesn't mind the company of this one particular nurse.

Hope you like it, love! And hugs for being my first request, as well!

Warnings: Language. Suggestive language/behavior. Slightly rough flirting. Patient/nurse relationship.

Word Count: 2,230

Characters: Tommy Conlon/Reader

Perfect Patient

It was the first 12-hour shift of your weekly 3 day rotation, and you weren’t even fully recovered from last weeks’ events. Nursing school had prepared you sufficiently for most situations where medical procedures are concerned, but there was no way to properly equip you for the sarcastic joys of an impossibly problematic patient. Your particular hall of the hospital had been fully stocked with arrogant, nagging individuals lately, and you most definitely had your fill. You’d think night-shift would make things easier, assuming most of the cliental is sleeping soundly in their rail-lined beds. But since you had been placed on evening duties after finally graduating with a nursing degree a short year ago, you could whole-heartedly assure differently.

You drug your feet out of the elevator, blonde bun bobbing with your steps and arrived at the nurses’ station on the 5th floor to relieve Amy, the veteran day-shift employee. “Aims, you sure you don’t just wanna pull a double tonight? I think I can see it in your eyes your itching to stay another 12.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. I can’t handle another second with 503, much less another entire shift. You better take a long sip of whatever is in that cup, and for your sake I hope it’s alcoholic,” Amy huffed as she hurriedly gathered her smock coat, and purse from beneath the desk. 

“Goodie. Thanks for the warning, I guess. Got anything else for me?”

Amy informed you on the medication changes, food restrictions, and any other crucial modifications to your full floor, and you scanned over the patient list while clipping on your plastic, worn name tag. Next on the checklist would be making your first rounds to check in on each and every name, and make sure they were notified of the shift change you had made with Amy. But, referring back to her heeded warning about whatever lurked in room 503, you saved that occasion for your last stop.

After refilling any jugs with fresh water and assisting the recovering open-heart patient with the television remote, it was time to meet the doom lying in your last room on the hall. Thomas Conlon, 31, was recovering from surgery where Dr. Patton had repaired a shattered orbital bone, and was scheduled for release in two days. Which to your lucky realization meant he would be here the entire work week for you to suffer with. You wondered how bad it could really be while massaging a drop of sanitizer into your cold hands, then cracking your neck in preparation before entering.

The man laid comfortably in the raised bed, feet crossed at the ankles outside of the sheet, and one mountainous, muscled arm tucked beneath his head. The mirror of the open-doored bathroom was painted with steam from the shower you concluded he had taken after assessing the damp, disheveled hairdo he was sporting. The mystery man shifted to raise up a bit when you rounded the corner and became visible to him, then ran a hand over the auburn whiskers of his cheeks.

“Hey there, Mr. Conlon. How are you feeling tonight?” I professionally inquired to the patient, although somewhat sincerely taken aback by the handsome mystery of him. His one unscathed eye followed my every step to his bedside as he decreased the volume of whatever sporting event he’d been engrossed in on tv.

He cleared his throat, and you accidentally locked eyes with him just as his tongue licked over a bubblegum shaded, pink bottom lip. A thin, n-neck cotton tee that seemed almost too small squeezed his torso sinfully, and black, peeping ink drawings starkly contrasted his swelled chest. The mound of ointment stained gauze placed over his left eye didn’t hinder his glorious looks in the slightest, and the minor facial bruising around his nose only made him more dangerously attractive.

“Tommy… My uh, my names’ Tommy. I can’t  handle all that Mr. Conlon shit. And life is just a damn rose garden if ya’ take away this bloodshot eye, food that tastes worse than what I’ve seen dogs eat, and this short ass bed that I don’t fit in.

Ah, and now exhibit A in Amy’s list of warnings. He wore a constant scowl, and the wrinkle between his brows looked exhausted from the constant strain of anger it displayed.

“Well now, that’s not any way to be, Thomas. Just two more days, and we’ll be out of your hair. But until then, I’m gonna need to take a look at that eye.” You stretched on the tip of your toes to garb a pair of latex gloves to shield your hands before observing the mans’ wound. “And if you’re real good for me, I may just have a lollipop for ya’ somewhere in my pocket.”

Gentle sarcasm and playful banter had become the best mechanism for dealing with such unpleasant individuals at work, and Tommy seemed that one who may even be able to play the game right back, so you rolled the dice and winked at your little joke.

“What’s ya’ name? I ain’t seen you since I been here. I feel like ya’ owe me that before you go diggin’ at a poor man’s wounds, Miss…..” He left the remark open ended in strategic efforts to catch your name, and bit his lip to stifle a wicked smile.

“It’s Y/N. Now, tilt your head back for me, and I promise to be easy with you.”

Tommy scooched lower in the bed, seeing the way your petite form struggled to get a decent look at his incisions, and his shirt raised to reveal his lower, very firm abdomen. The scorching temperature of his exhales whispered gently along your neck, and the flyaway hairs that fell from your updo tickled you. The concoction of sensations sent thick chills sailing over your entire body.

“If that lollipop you got down in ya’ pocket tastes as good as you smell, I’ll take two, please.” He spoke darkly, never looking anywhere in the room but your exposed neck, and chest as you dangled over him in dutiful examination. You could feel the slight weight from your ‘RN’ badge gently tugging open the neckline of your top, but you naughtily brushed off the urge pull away.

“Amy told me you’ve been giving some trouble the last couple days, and I can definitely see she wasn’t lying.”

“Oh, this ain’t trouble, sweetheart. I can promise ya’ that. I can sure give some trouble if that’s what you’re askin’ though.” Tommy’s hand slid stealthily out of sight, unbeknownst to you, and suddenly his thick, bruised fingers teased a touch up the back of your thigh, gripping at the curve of your backside. The prodding at his stitches didn’t seem to phase him on any level of pain, and your gym-toned figured seemed to be his chosen distraction.

“I sure as hell as ain’t had a pretty, smart thing like you takin’ care of me since I been here. And damn it, change is good.”

Reasonably and rightfully, you should report to mans’ advances to the high ups at the hospital. But, the overworked and underpaid, not forgetting under-laid woman in you decided to maybe dabble in a bit of cat and mouse with the hot little number under your care for the next two shifts. He was brazenly flirting, and it had been an embarrassingly long running clock since anything worth a second look had been a patient on your floor. Harmless teasing and sneaky touches wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

After discarding the sweaty, slightly blood-ridden rubber gloves into the nearest trash bin, you plugged the cool ends of a stethoscope into your ears and wriggled a hand up under Tommy’s shirt. Slightly allowing the nailed tips of your fingers to feather graze along his ribs when journeying to place the chest-piece of the device atop the hot Fahrenheit skin covering his heart. The chill-like shudder that seized up Tommy’s body under your touch brought about a peeping growth around the groin of his sweats.

“Oh my, Tommy. Your poor little heart seems to be beating out of your chest. Are you feeling alright?” You innocently lilted, although there was not a single ounce of genuine innocence lurking anywhere between the two of you.

He placed his hand over where yours lay listening to the bass thumps of his heart, trapping you there under his titillating, watchful stare. “I can feel anotha’ place pulsin’ somewhere, too. I think you should uh, maybe check it out. I feel a lil’ bit….hot, nurse Y/N.”

Within 10 minutes, you compiled that the man was crass, horny, and maybe even a little downright vile. But, it made you all the more thirsty for a dose of Tommy’s explicit manner.

He reached up to use your clipped badge as a handle to pull you closer into his lips, and you heard him hiss, “you gonna stop me?”

Before puckering to kiss you, Tommy simply went straight into a bite on your lax bottom lip. You instinctively went to close your eyes into what was coming next, but the sound of an empty saline bag sent a screaming beep from the room next door. Without as much as a single word, you went running devotedly to fulfill your workplace duties and Tommy obviously had not protested.

 The next two days, room 503 always mysteriously needed the assistance of the nurse on duty when night shift rolled around. Once there was the request for a new pillow, another call had him cleverly asking if there was any way he could have a cherry lollipop brought to his room, and he even went as far as attempting to request a sponge bath. Many more visits than duly necessary were made to his room for tedious chats about what landed him under hospital care to begin with, and he hintingly pulled on the drawstrings of your scrub pants while you checked and charted his blood pressure. On the eve of his discharge, you decided against better judgment to spend your longest break of the night resting in the poorly padded recliner beside his bed.

“Why don’t you pull that curtain there, and sneak up ‘ere next to me for a minute? Ya’ favorite patient is bustin’ loose tomorrow, y’know,” he said persuasively, pulling back the sheet to offer up a tiny slot in the bed next to him.

“I think you and I both know ‘favorite patient’ is a long shot,” you chuckled through a sip from your very late-night milkshake from the cafeteria Tommy had requested you bring up. He had been mostly sleeping through the daytime hours so he could sweetly remain up all night for your shift.

“Gimme a break here, doc. Shit…”

The aching twitch he caused at the apex of your thighs made want to mount him immediately and rock the bolts loose from the creaky, remote operated bed, and for a second your weaker judgment almost got the better of you. Especially, considering the circumstances of Tommy shirtless and so earnestly almost begging. But you hadn’t worked you brain into a mashed potato through nursing school for nothing, and your residency at the hospital certainly couldn’t be offered at stake for some freakishly handsome stranger.

“Tell you what, Conlon. If you’re as interested as you seem, look me up when you’re home, and no longer my patient.”

As you kissed him on the cheek, then scribbled his next med dosage on the dry-eraser board in the corner, you glanced back towards Tommy once again with a regretful smile, and even deeper regretful thoughts of the way those anomalously fleshly lips would really feel on your body. Standing in his door way, Tommy perceived this as your goodbye and pushed a switch to kill the lights. He wouldn’t call for you the last 3 hours of your shift, and you’d peep in on him secretly once you were certain he’d fallen victim to sleep, and Percocet.

 The morning air wasn’t unbearably frigid once you made it to the covered parking complex after clocking out only 45 minutes late. You simply needed a sauna hot shower, and your empty California king to kill the worry of work for your upcoming off days. You smashed the ‘unlock’ button of your key fob when you were only short inches away, before a hand encased your shoulder from somewhere behind.

Pushed now against the driver door of your vehicle and fumbling for the mace that hung from your keychain to assault the heavy body that had you trapped, scraped knuckles planted on top of your sedan revealed all you needed to know.

Tommy hastily spun you around in his arms, grabbing the collar of your light, autumn weather windbreaker as well, and finally encased you in a kiss. Although you were probably covered in bodily fluids and crusty food from your shift, and he was sporting a very obvious eye-patch, the moment in its entirety felt gangrenous with uncut passion. Your kiss mates nosed smashed yours flatly, and teeth certainly knocked into one another, but it was inevitable considering the bedroom vibes built up from the last 36 hours.

“I ain’t ya’ patient anymore, and you owe me lollipop I believe, Y/N. So, can ya’ please just give a man a ride home, ‘n a sponge bad for his troubles?”  

[beccagetscrafty]

For my 2024 Temperature Cross Stitch project, I will be testing the Sullivan’s floss from EverythingCrossstitch.com

I’ve been curious about this brand for a few months since they color match to DMC and are 20 cents cheaper per skein.

I decided to use them for this project because I’m using a different color chart for 2024 and I needed to buy floss for all 21 colors anyway, I figured it was a good time to put this brand to the test and spend the next year working with it.

I don’t think I will switch away from DMC completely, but I want to be able to tell people about a cheaper floss option that might make cross stitch a bit more affordable for them to get in to.

[somediyprojects]

Temperature Calendar WIP stitched by Yvette Cendes aka Andromeda321. Pattern ($3.95) designed by LittleSideStitches.

“My cross stitch temperature chart is nearing completion!”

[228renea86]

Finding His Alpha: Part 7

Finding His Alpha: Part 7 A Grand Return #triggerwarning

Nigel stayed by Will’s bedside, watching him as he slept; when he told Beverly he had no intentions of leaving he meant that. As his phone started vibrating in his pocket constantly, Nigel pressed a soft kiss to Will’s temple and sat back in his chair. Crossing one leg over the other, Nigel got comfortable as he pulled out his phone and started to scroll through the messages that his source had texted to him.  Nigel’s eyes shifted slightly long enough to glance at Will, then back down to his phone as he read the messages once more. The first text read. “Doctor Hannibal Lecter, psychiatrist, surgeon, cannibal. Also known as The Chesapeake Ripper.” Nigel scrolled to the next message, “Presumed dead, looks like your will took him over a cliff into the water below, I’m surprised Will even survived the fall.” Nigel forced himself to take a steadying breath as the messages from there got worse. “Hannibal basically gutted Will, and left him to die in his kitchen, Killed someone named Abigail that night too.” Nigel’s free hand clenched and unclenched.

 Continuing to read, Nigel exhaled a deep breath as he reached for one of his coffees. “The gnarly scar on his abdomen was thanks to this man. Seems this Hannibal was skilled at messing with Will’s head.” Nigel opened hit the attachment that was on that message, and up popped an images of Will’s abdomen. Nigel could only assume it was hours after the attack as it was bruised and angry read. A row of stitches went from one side of Will’s abdomen to the other. Nigel set his phone and coffee down, and walked towards the bed, his anger was getting the best of him, but he wanted to make sure his source was right. Lifting the blanket gently, Nigel then saw the scar across Will’s abdomen; it had healed rather nicely considering the photo’s Nigel had just seen. Nigel let the blanket down and tucked it back in around Will as his blood boiled just beneath the surface. Nigel leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Will’s forehead before he sat back down into his chair.

 Nigel skipped over the images not wanting to see them again, and moved on to read the rest of the messages.  One message provided Hannibal’s last known address, and his aliases; the next provided the name and address of one Bedelia Du Maurier, attached was the message that she was Hannibal’s former colleague, psychiatrist, and possible love interest. Nigel turned his head to the side, cracking his neck, as he skimmed the rest of the messages, he was about to respond back to his source, but there was a knock at the door, and Will’s doctor let himself into the room. Nigel set his phone back down beside his empty coffee cup, and rose to his feet. He approached the doctor and shook his hand, thanking him for the extra care he took in stabilizing Will. The doctor offered Nigel a smile and offered his words that it was no issue. He pulled away from Nigel and grabbed Will’s chart, skimming over it quickly, he returned it to the end of the bed and moved around the bed with a quick step. Nigel backed away and gave him the space to work; he watched the doctor change the iv bag, and take all of Will’s vitals. Temperature, blood pressure, pulse rate, respiration rate; they were all taken with ease, and the doctor scribbled the results down on Will’s chart before he excused himself from the room.

 After the doctors brief visit, Nigel sat on the side of Will’s bed. He brushed his fingers across his forehead, brushing those unruly curls from his face.  Much to Nigel’s surprise, Will stirred, mumbling as he moved his head from side to side. “Shhh gorgeous, it’s okay,” Nigel spoke in a hushed tone, trying to ease Will’s movements. Will mumbled about needing a drink, and his eyelids fluttered slightly. A small smile crossed Nigel’s face as Will’s gaze met his, “Hey gorgeous,” Nigel spoke as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Will’s forehead. “You…. You stayed?” Will barely whispered his mouth and throat dry. “When I said I’d stay with you, I meant it,” Nigel spoke softly, and reached down to take Will’s hand in his own; he carefully laced their fingers together. “How are you feeling?” Nigel asked his voice full of concern, “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay at least the night here. Doc wants to keep you for observation.” Will dragged his free hand down his face, letting out a whimper of pain as his fingers dragged over his black eye and fractured orbital bone. “Hey now, easy,” Nigel spoke, taking his other hand in his, “You need anything?” Will sucked in a deep breath, and closed his eyes once more, not daring to move any more as his whole body hurt. “Water, or ice, or something,” Will spoke with a rough tone, and Nigel rose up from the edge of the bed, “Don’t try to run away now gorgeous,” Nigel teased and leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead, “I’ll be right back.” Will nodded and kept his eyes close as he heard the sliding glass door open and close as Nigel stepped outside.

After a few minutes passed, the door opened and closed once more, but Will didn’t hear the heavy footfalls from Nigel’s boots. “Nigel?” He whispered hoarsely before he forced his blue his eyes. “Hello Will,” Hannibal’s voice rang through the room, like a hot knife through butter. Will’s eyes flew open completely, seeing Hannibal dress in full blue doctor scrubs complete with a mask and blue hat covering his hair. “Leave! You can’t be here!” Will didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. Panic rose up in him, fear started swirling. Hannibal survived the fall, and Will knew in that moment he’d be back for revenge as Will had purposely taken them over the cliff. “Aren’t you happy to see me Will?” Hannibal asked as he stepped closer.  Will’s vitals shot through the roof, causing his machines to start beeping, Hannibal promptly walked to them and stopped the alarms. Will reached for the button at his side, and pressed it repeatedly; alerting the nurse that he needed help. “I must say, I am ashamed of your behavior Will. After all we have been through, the leaps and bounds we overcome,” Hannibal spoke as he stepped closer to Will, “and you betray me. You took us over the edge after we killed Francis. I thought I meant something to you. I returned to find you, and what do I find. You; prancing around with this poor excuse of my doppelganger.” Will’s jaw hung open, he was in pure shock at this moment, and was as close to the edge of his bed as he could move. Will moved his mouth to speak, but the door once more opened, and this time the familiar footsteps sounded.

“Nigel,” Will breathed out in a scared tone, and Nigel froze as he saw the terrified look on Will’s face, “Who the fuck are you?” He asked as he looked over at the doctor, who still had his back to the door. “I am Will’s doctor,” The voice answered with an accent that Nigel picked up on immediately. “The fuck you are, I just met with Will’s doctor, and he is not you. So once again, who the fuck are you?” Nigel’s tone was growing annoyed. When the man didn’t move, Nigel moved closer, what he didn’t see was that Hannibal had a needle in his hand and was injecting something into Will’s iv. Will’s eyes grew wider and he tried to pull the iv out of his arm, but Hannibal gripped his arm over the iv and stopped him; the needle that was in his hand dropped to the floor. “I’ll see you again soon Will,” Hannibal purred out, “or not.” “Hannibal stop this!” Will pleaded, and in that instant Nigel saw red; he lunged towards Hannibal and tackled him to the ground. The two men fell hard to the floor; sending the iv stand away from Will, tearing the iv out of his arm roughly. Will cried out in pain, and due to the commotion a nurse came running into the room. “Security! Call security!” She cried out to the nurses station as she tried to break up the two men that were wrestling on the floor at her feet.

Nigel landed blow after blow to Hannibal, and Hannibal countered back with a powerful jab to his neck. It was just enough to knock Nigel off balance and he fell off Hannibal. Hannibal jumped up without hesitation and rushed towards the door. “Stop him! That’s fucking Hannibal Lecter!” Nigel shouted and jumped up he ran to the door and stopped just as Will’s machines started screaming in alert. Nigel wanted to go after Hannibal, but he stopped as he looked back the sound of the machines stopping him, but the sight before him made his heart fall in his chest. Will was convulsing on the bed, foaming at the mouth. Security came rushing, and Nigel yelled at them to stop Hannibal. Without anything else he rushed to Will, and stood beside the nurse that was holding him against the bed. “Help me keep him still, keep your fingers away from his mouth,” The nurse spoke as another set of nurses ran into the room. Nigel moved the nurse out of the way and held Will the best he could. Over the loud speaker Code Red was announced and Nigel looked towards the nurse. “They are locking down the hospital.” She explained. Only then did Nigel remember the needle that was dropped to the ground. “He dropped a needle,” Nigel spoke, “On the flo-“ Nigel’s words were cut short as Will fell still in his arms, and his monitor flat lined.