molly foster is a sucker for strays

If she could, she would have patted his shoulder, but the professional courtesy holds her at warm arm’s length, “If you can’t be melodramatic after getting your gut cut open, when can you. Live it up until someone gives you your walking papers. And you know? And with all this talk of pain, how is yours managing right now? I mean the physical on a scale of one to ten?”

Everyone sees things in hospitals, the best and worst of humanity and it’s draining. There’s less of it in the children’s ward but so little to hide when it comes creeping in with the lie of ‘falling down stairs’. If she had a dollar for every fib she heard in children’s ward and out … she’d be far richer. Half the reason she wanted to get to a doctor’s office was to escape the tragedy. But what nurse didn’t want that?

“Well, Mr. Graham, I’m about to make your day because I don’t know who Freddie Lounds is. He- she sounds like a newspaper reporter from the 40s with a name like that. I wish you hadn’t told me she’s a woman, I’m far too much enjoying the idea of a huge camera and cigar from a guy with a pencil mustache.” She finds his smile is infectious despite the unfamiliarity on his face, she images it’s been awhile since he’s smiled. With arms hooked and bright head straightened, she gently shakes her head, “What would there be to tell? Near dead man apologizes for being depressed in the hospital?”

Molly’s quip made Will chuckle (which he instantly regretted). “Well…perhaps it’s better to remain gloomy simply because of what laughter does to my insides,” he said, smiling through the pain. “As for the scale, I’d say it’s an even six. I’m accustomed to pain at this point…very little fazes me.”

Again, Will was tempted to laugh, but this time he kept his amusement in check. “To be fair, you’d already made my day, so let’s just say this was the proverbial icing on the cake.” His eyes crinkled warmly around the edges. “Trust me when I say that you’re not missing out. Though forgive me – it wasn’t my intention to destroy your fun. Perhaps if you look closely enough, you’ll find a fine pencil mustache on Lounds’ upper lip.” He shrugged. “You’d be surprised at what she’d ask for… She’s already managed to wheedle a book deal out of me.”

"Ah," Finger wags in the air, it's a sturdy hand free of jewelry and delicate of skin, "I'll try to retain a more somber, sunny behavior. Would you prefer that?" Head tips with consideration, "I'm afraid that's verging onto strong ... and it's been awhile since your last dosage?" 

She writes a note on clipboard, the pen tip smooth and quick, "Here's hoping you're something of a fan of chocolate cake?" The curve of her mouth is gentle amusement, "And yet you seem to be haunted by this Miss Lounds. Believe me, most honest people wouldn't even know her name. And we're in Johns Hopkins, Mr. Graham. Our security and our reputation is wrapped up in keeping her from you."

Accurate, all too accurate and she’s damn sure he’s not lost a wife. But he’s lost someone, hasn’t he? Of course he has. On top of this there’s something netted and hidden under flesh. And then once again, that quiet tone, that apologetic tone of a man that … she wished she met outside of the hospital.

Where none of this was awkward or tainted by IV and duty. “Of course it will. Empathy or not, time is usually the best healer. Sadly it never works as quickly as we want it to and goes too fast when it should be slowed to crawl.”

What was needed to be done? Vital signs checked, he was really doing all right. She ought to excuse herself and find yet another to come back later. But not now. Not when he’s winding up to something and she’s so very curious.

“I don’t know, as a nurse I think I’m a pretty good judge of who deserves it and who doesn’t. I would never say anyone leaves here neglected but … I’ve seen men and women here far worse than you think of yourself and we nurses often know it.” The smile is bitter tinged, and hard, and nothing breaks her heart more when a child comes with injuries made by adult hands. 

The darkness in his eyes lightened, if only for a moment. “I’m sorry… I’ve been told I talk a bit like a Shakespearean tragedy. Perhaps I’m too melodramatic for my own good, even while healing from a near-death experience.”

Molly’s bitterness was detected, and Will’s expression softened. She had a good heart. Despite only knowing her for a handful of minutes, he could tell these things, and it was rare. So horribly rare, and it made his stomach lurch to think that Alana Bloom had once been similar to this woman. All it took was one bad day to make everything go to shit. 

If she could, she would have patted his shoulder, but the professional courtesy holds her at warm arm's length, "If you can't be melodramatic after getting your gut cut open, when can you. Live it up until someone gives you your walking papers. And you know? And with all this talk of pain, how is yours managing right now? I mean the physical on a scale of one to ten?"

Everyone sees things in hospitals, the best and worst of humanity and it's draining. There's less of it in the children's ward but so little to hide when it comes creeping in with the lie of 'falling down stairs'. If she had a dollar for every fib she heard in children's ward and out ... she'd be far richer. Half the reason she wanted to get to a doctor's office was to escape the tragedy. But what nurse didn't want that?

"Well, Mr. Graham, I'm about to make your day because I don't know who Freddie Lounds is. He- she sounds like a newspaper reporter from the 40s with a name like that. I wish you hadn't told me she's a woman, I'm far too much enjoying the idea of a huge camera and cigar from a guy with a pencil mustache." She finds his smile is infectious despite the unfamiliarity on his face, she images it's been awhile since he's smiled. With arms hooked and bright head straightened, she gently shakes her head, "What would there be to tell? Near dead man apologizes for being depressed in the hospital?"

Voices were never as easy to read as faces, especially not the tinny electronic distant voices. And he was glad. He didn’t want to read Molly right now.

The voice pauses on the other end, her breathing pained and the bitterness trying to be swallowed. She should have told Willy it was all right. That it was okay. That Will was a grown man who made choices. At that moment she hated herself. "We’re still at his grandparents."

Considering head tilt, the lips tip up in a quirk, “I think it often escapes them that’s the case, but I bet you’re right.” The glazed look is familiar, there are people her age who enjoy both shows and then their are people her age and older who look at her as if she’s grown a third arm. (A third arm would be so useful, though.)

His face reminds her of a pond, a gentle ripple and the emotions play upon it. Her swallow is only acknowledged to herself, the distress and shame sharp on the boyish square of face, the color of his sea eyes. “You adjust, you make room. It happened three years ago… it.” The fabric of her scrub is comforting, cartoonish corgi looking up at her with orange eyes, “You adjust and shaped again.” Molly almost lifts her tongue to ask his loss; but that’s for him to give and not her to suss out between the lines. “Try telling him that during dinner time and I won’t give him dessert until he eats growing foods.”

The slip away from pain to enter in something ridiculous is welcomed and she laughs again, warm and sunshine. “Oh, Ozzie is hardly crazy. He’s a great nurse, a good catch, and -” Tongue clicks behind teeth and she faintly wonders if Will would consider her crazy. Mood shifts and Molly realizes she might be here longer than planned.

“Like a spider’s web,” he softly observed. “You get broken and tangled up in whatever’s attacked your state of mind, and then after a certain amount of time, you gradually begin to rebuild.” Will glanced toward the open window. “I’d like to think that’ll happen for me one day, but my, uh…empathy can sometimes make moving on rather difficult. I feel too deeply when I’d much rather not feel at all.”

Suddenly sheepish, Will returned his gaze to his lap. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have rambled…the hospital’s a depressing enough place without adding my nonsense to the mix.” He offered Molly a tired smile, though it never quite reached his eyes.

The smile quickly faded and Will nodded once, unsure of how to properly approach her remark. After a while, he agreed, “I wouldn’t say it’s our place to determine who’s worthy of what, but I also wouldn’t disagree with your assessment. In my defense, I was just trying to do what I thought was right…” Or had it been “the right thing” to do? 

Accurate, all too accurate and she's damn sure he's not lost a wife. But he's lost someone, hasn't he? Of course he has. On top of this there's something netted and hidden under flesh. And then once again, that quiet tone, that apologetic tone of a man that ... she wished she met outside of the hospital.

Where none of this was awkward or tainted by IV and duty. "Of course it will. Empathy or not, time is usually the best healer. Sadly it never works as quickly as we want it to and goes too fast when it should be slowed to crawl."

What was needed to be done? Vital signs checked, he was really doing all right. She ought to excuse herself and find yet another to come back later. But not now. Not when he's winding up to something and she's so very curious.

"I don't know, as a nurse I think I'm a pretty good judge of who deserves it and who doesn't. I would never say anyone leaves here neglected but ... I've seen men and women here far worse than you think of yourself and we nurses often know it." The smile is bitter tinged, and hard, and nothing breaks her heart more when a child comes with injuries made by adult hands.