Who: Sam and Daryl (with special guest star, Adam) What: A proper first meeting Where: Virginia Mason Hospital When: Early Sunday (2/20) Morning, around 3 am Warnings: In the beginning there was nothing. Then Conan Doyle said, "LET THERE BE BROMANCE." And there was. And it was good.
After not having slept since Thursday night, Daryl was under strict orders to sleep until morning. Adam had managed to coax her into allowing the hospital staff to do their jobs without receiving the third degree about the specific origin and purpose of every substance they put into her body. Not long after she became somewhat cooperative, she found herself unable to stay awake. She faded in and out during most of the evening, catching glimpses and pieces of the room around her. Sometimes it was Kyle leaving, sometimes it was Adam coming, sometimes it was the cheerful nurse reading her vitals. Once Adam laid down beside her, a steady heartbeat against her ear, she felt herself finally give way to a proper, deep sleep.
A sleep that broke halfway through the night. Eyes heavy, she took a slow breath, inhaling the scent of sterility and latex. Adam was a space heater behind her, arms draped around her waist and holding her close. He was still asleep, and a part of her wanted to will herself to be the same. But she was, for some reason, restless. Perhaps it was the fact that she had been unable to move for twenty-four hours. Perhaps it was the fact that she had slept now, and her brain was convinced that she had rested. Whatever the case was, she looked down at her left hand as it lay silent at her side. She wiggled her fingers, mostly to remind herself that she could. When the limb responded - she was surprised by the sudden fear that it wouldn’t - she flexed her foot, watching the blanket shift at the foot of the bed. Satisfied that her limbs were in working order, she very carefully slid out of Adam’s embrace. She had to move slowly, ensuring that he didn’t wake, but finally she succeeded.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she looked down at her legs. She hadn’t stood properly and on her own since Friday, right before the first snake bit her. Her legs were covered in bandages over the many bites, as were her arms. It was like looking at someone else’s body, someone else’s wounds. But then she kicked her right leg to watch it swing, and she was reminded once again that this was her body, her sack of meat.
She looked up at the IV drip bag connected to her arm, gaze following the clear tubing from bag to needle. Taking a slow breath, she edged off the bed, feeling her feet touch down on the floor. The floor was cool, sending a chill through her body. But for the first time in her life, she found this discomfort to be a good thing. She stood, steadying herself with a hand on the railing of her bed. Once she was on her feet, she took a tiny step forward. Her legs responded, her upper body controlled and moving forward through space. She was almost amazed by the simple mechanics of taking a step, looking down with a wildly appreciative expression. Standing beside her IV drip bag, she reached up to remove it from its roost, holding it with a thumb and forefinger. A few feet away, there was a mobile IV stand in the corner. She slowly approached it, taking awkward and shuffling steps. Upon reaching the stand, she hung up her bag with a bare half-smile. She had gotten the hang of this.
The hallways were vacant, dimly lit and silent. Gripping her IV stand with one hand - but not both, she was determined to do this on her own - she slowly walked forward. The thin gown she wore draped over her shoulders and hung awkwardly over her sides, making her look nearly a decade younger. She looked like a child in a paper bag, pale and unsteady. Her steps were slow and tiny, weight distributing awkwardly between her feet. But she forced herself forward, walking for the sake of it. After a few minutes, she saw a lit room ahead. The wheels of her stand glided quietly over the floor as she approached it, keeping to the close wall to avoid detection. She heard voices, and with an interested ear, settled just outside the half-open doorway. Leaning forward, she caught a glimpse of the nurse that had tended to hear earlier that day. She stayed silent as she listened and watched, a fly on the wall.
Sam’s interest in the medical profession extended beyond the desire to help people. While that was his first and foremost reason, he would admit, if pressed, that he liked the challenge of it all. Treating a patient was like solving a puzzle. An oftentimes whiny, misbehaving puzzle, but a puzzle nonetheless. It kept his mind active. It kept him from getting restless. It kept life from getting boring. And then there were nights like this.
His shift had started off interesting enough. Emergency filled up early on with the victims of a five-car pile up and Sam was occupied with broken bones and lacerations. Then, off to administer medications and mind-numbing paperwork that should have been done last week. The real highlight of the shift was the woman who came in covered in snakebites. Sam felt somewhat guilty thinking of it as a ‘highlight’ because it certainly wasn’t for the patient, but how often were multiple snakebites and paralytic drugs an issue in a Seattle hospital? It was something interesting.
When he had first seen the patient, his heart had immediately gone out to her. Daryl Hockney was pretty, to say the least. She looked…sweet. It was a mystery to Sam as to how someone could ever hurt her with a face like that. The fact that she was surrounded by worried friends only cemented Sam’s belief that this was a girl to be protected, to be cared for in the gentlest of manners. So, when Sam introduced himself, he did so in the cheeriest, most polite way possible. Each patient was different and experience had taught him how to adjust his mannerisms, subtly, in order to achieve the best results. Sam’s goal was to heal and some patients needed a little more structure than most.
The shift passed relatively quietly after Ms. Hockney was admitted. Sam watched from the nurses’ desk as friends came and went and as one man in particular stayed. Sam pegged him for a boyfriend the minute he started questioning Sam’s qualifications. Evening turned to night and night turned to early morning. Around three the alarms in one of the rooms went off, pulling Sam out of his paperwork and down the hall. It was the junkie that had come in the day prior on an overdose and he was fiddling with the equipment.
“Mr. Hollis. I see you’re feeling better,” Sam deadpanned. His inner wheel of nurse personas spun. Mr. Hollis had been in and out of consciousness, but whenever he was awake, he was hostile and uncooperative. He would respond best to a little force. The drug addict didn’t seem interested in replying without the use of curse words, so Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “This can go two ways, Mr. Hollis. You can get back into bed and we can forget this ever happened. I won’t have to go back to my desk and make some calls regarding your oh-so precarious fate. Or you can try me. And see what happens.”
Sam heard the clink of metal and turned around, pulling the half-open door wide. He found himself staring at Ms. Hockney, who had somehow gotten out of bed and was lugging a mobile IV unit around.
“Ms. Hockney,” he said, his voice immediately dropping to a low, concerned tone. “Did you need something?” It was fascinating, really. Nurse Walker’s demeanor was so different that he was almost a different person. His posture had changed. Back when he was treating her, he had been all open palms and soft tones. He held himself with a minor sense of authority and a major sense of accessibility. But now, confronting this man - clearly a drug addict, from his behaviors and the state of his body - he was closed and powerful. Shoulders square, back straight, he spoke with conviction. Adam had practically steamrolled this young nurse just hours before, but now, he was a granite pillar.
She heard the sound as he did, a clink that gave her away. Normally, she’d have dashed, but she was held fast both by the IV unit and her own inability to run. She had just gotten walking down - running was a whole other class of movement entirely. So she could do nothing but look up, gray eyes wide, as the nurse opened the door to reveal her. The light streamed out into the hallway, causing her to squint and look down. She slowly lifted her left arm, as if she weren’t sure she could, to shield her eyes. After a second, she shifted her hand so that she could see him, lips pursed slightly at his question.
“I just wanted to walk” wouldn’t go over well, she thought. Neither would “I need you to continue speaking to this patient so that I can observe the changes in your behavior.” So she just looked at him with narrowed eyes, face turned away from the light. “I was looking for the restroom,” she lied in a deadpan voice. “I seem to have lost my way.” Sam’s immediate reaction was concern. Here she was, standing in the hall in her hospital gown, all pale limbs and big eyes. His lips parted with words unsaid, posture sinking into a more relaxed, softer position. He wasn’t talking to a snide drug addict now and it was easier on his shoulder anyhow. Then, something clicked and he narrowed his eyes. Half turning, he ordered, “Don’t move” at Mr. Hollis before walking forward, pressing his hand briefly to the doorway.
He whistled sharply, once, to get attention from the nurses’ desk and gestured over his shoulder back into Mr. Hollis’s room. The junkie could be someone else’s problem. Ms. Hockney was proving to be a….well, she wasn’t exactly a problem per se, but Sam was starting to think that he had underestimated her. Sam liked to think that he could tell when someone was lying to him.
“There’s a restroom in your room, Ms. Hockney,” He replied, eyebrows raised and a trace of amusement in his voice. Gone was the soft-spoken, easygoing nurse. In his place had emerged a patient, but wholly unrelenting force of medical nature. The girl clearly wasn’t as fragile as he had originally pegged her. “How about I take you back to your room?” It was a question, but the voice he said it in didn’t really leave many options open. It was astounding how fluidly he shifted. Daryl was accustomed to watching people change their stripes to match the situation, putting on different faces for different companions. Simply by looking at a woman’s posture, Daryl could tell if she was around a man she wished to impress and vise versa. But these changes were often gradual and slow, something she could tell was unintentional. Rarely did the entire ensemble come together in one breath.
She watched him shift from the friendly nurse he had been just seconds ago into something else. What it was, she couldn’t say - yet. But it was nothing a bit of further observation couldn’t uncover. Though she was galled that he seemed to disbelieve her, she kept her expression quite neutral, turning away from the bright light of the addict’s room to bathe herself comfortably in shadow.
“You know as well as I that my room is seven doors down on the right,” she replied, though her voice was still fairly thin. Her mind was as sharp as ever - her body was just taking time to catch up. “Do you think that I need supervision to walk a straight line?” Perhaps her question would have been more potent if her right hand weren’t curled around the body of her IV stand in a death grip.
Sam pursed his lips to hide the smile that threatened to slice his face in two. Okay, so he had majorly underestimated her. She spoke like someone straight out of a Victorian novel, but the way she was gripping her IV unit displayed her body’s weakness. She seemed to be having trouble with the light, so Sam reached back and pulled the door halfway closed, casting one last furtive glance at Mr. Hollis.
He followed her into the shadow (she really was a bit of a vampire, wasn’t she?) and reached out carefully, wrapping his fingers around the body of the IV unit, just above her hand. He wasn’t one to make bodily contact without permission. Few patients were comfortable being manhandled, even when it was absolutely necessary. Still, he hoped being in her space would be enough to make her more willing to listen.
“Yes, I do.” He gave the IV stand a gentle tug in the direction of her room. “You really should get some sleep.” Seeing his hand extend towards hers, Daryl temporarily froze. An expression of borderline horror flitted across her face as she pulled the IV stand a bit closer, but not enough to tug it out of his reach. She recalled looking down, unable to move as the snake man held her hand, his rough fingers crawling over her skin. She was back on that couch, surrounded by the musty stench of reptile, as he cooed and pushed her hair out of her face, calling her by another woman’s name.
There was a second of lag before she realized he was touching the IV stand, and a second later before she realized that she had instinctively moved her hand down while trapped in a memory. It was one of the rare moments when a memory of her own - and not an object - wrapped her up so tightly. She looked down briefly, composing herself. Daryl Hockney didn’t show weakness. Kidnapping and hospital stay be damned.
“No you don’t, and I have been sleeping.” Her tone was deadpan once more, though a very slight peevish edge crept in as she looked up at him critically. “If you have been taking notes on my chart diligently, you would already know that I have been passing in and out of sleep ever since the evening began. This is more sleep than I usually experience in several days. Too much and I will be off-balance.”
Sam saw the look on her face and could have kicked himself. His understanding of the circumstances that led to her hospital stay was vague, but all the staff has been informed of the bare bones information. She had been kidnapped and here Sam was, pushing his way into her personal space just to get her to be more cooperative. He released the IV, eyes tilting toward the floor for a heartbeat before flicking back up to her face.
The look of fear that had been present on her features only a moment earlier had disappeared. In its place was one of calmness and emotional control. Sam was impressed and almost curious, wondering how she flicked from one emotion to the next with such ease. His own nurse roles were only easy to slip between because Sam had had years to practice them. Ms. Hockney seemed to have no more difficulty controlling herself than she did breathing.
Her explanations and veiled insult about his critical reading skills made him raise his eyebrows. “If you have been living as a human, you will know that in and out of sleep doesn’t cut it.” He slid around her, starting to head in the direction of her room. “You’re recovering from trauma.” He paused, staring her down. “Come.” The fact that he let her IV stand go and looked away told her enough. She had shown him weakness, clearly. Furious with herself, she gripped the metal stand a bit more tightly. The last thing she needed was to be a victim. Victims were disgusting. They snotted and sobbed and made a mess everywhere they went. She just had to control it, had to compartmentalize. If she broke the last twenty-four hours up into pieces and sectioned them away, they would be manageable. There would be no more unintentional slips, no more admissions.
She pursed her lips as he said the word “human,” tempted suddenly to claim that she was a robot. However, she imagined that it wouldn’t go over well - according to Adam, she was terrible at telling jokes. “It will suffice,” she said lamely, following him with her gaze as he moved ahead. At his statements, she stared back at him, gray eyes borderline expressionless. “I am recovering from injury,” she said a bit too forcefully. “And exercising my body in a controlled environment is progress. Wouldn’t you say?” The hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, the tiniest seed of defiance as she stood stock still, not moving a muscle. She’d be nothing without it.
Sam was aware of how comical he probably looked. His lips parted in a mixture of shock and disbelief and his eyes widened. Was she….was she seriously trying to form some sort of logical argument as to why she shouldn’t be resting? She had just been kidnapped. There were snakebites all over her body. And she had the nerve to look smug about it all, as if she had just achieved a personal triumph.
Sam’s mouth shut with a click of teeth and his jaw clenched. His arms crossed over his chest on instinct, his posture straightening. His eyes narrowed to slits of displeasure. If she was going to be difficult, Sam would give as good as he got. He let out a heavy sigh.
“Trauma,” he repeated, his words weighted with verbal force. “And considering the way your visitor treated me like some tenth grade Biology student today, I’m sure he wouldn’t be pleased if I went back to your room and told him that you were endangering your health,” He frowned, keeping his tone even. “Or you could cooperate with me. Failing that, I’m sure I can rustle up some sedatives and permission to give them to a hysterical, traumatized patient who is a risk to herself and others.”
Okay, so she wasn’t exactly a danger to others, but she didn’t have to know that. After all, ‘danger to others’ was such a subjective term. And there was the shift. It came over him like a wave, sweeping in at once. Posture, expression, voice. It all came together seamlessly, perfectly complex enough to appear simple. Unfortunately, her intrigue was offset by the fact that he was opposing her. And she couldn’t be too intrigued by someone that was attempting to force her hand - her bandaged, snakebitten hand.
Normally, she would have accepted his threats with a smirk and continued pushing. Once upon a time, they’d have fallen on deaf ears. But then he mentioned Adam, and she knew that he was right - Adam would be quite upset if he thought she was endangering herself, especially as this entire situation was brought about by her own concrete decisions. Though she never looked away, her expression softened just a bit, falling into borderline horror as he mentioned a sedative.
She pulled the IV stand close, protecting her arms by holding them to her chest. “You would be hard-pressed to make a case for my hysterics,” she said, though her voice was the slightest bit cracked. Her expression, however, had been molded back into neutrality. The effort this took to maintain, however, was obvious in her voice. “I haven’t acted irrationally or dangerously at all tonight, and I am far from unmanageable.” The look of terror that spread across her face and the way she held her arms close to her chest told Sam that he had won that round. He resisted the urge to mirror her smirk with one of his own. There was something about her that was kind of humorous in a uniquely frustrating way. Mentioning her visitor – her boyfriend? – had definitely had an effect and the sedatives caused an even stronger one. So, he had her weak points at least.
He took a cautious step toward her, careful to keep his hands to himself. “Ms. Hockney, you’ve been far from,” he added air quotes. “not unmanageable.” He didn’t smirk, but he felt a look of confidence spread over his face. “You’ve left your bed against your doctors orders, tampered with medical equipment, wandered the halls unsupervised, and now you’re arguing a moot point with your nurse just to what? Prove your cleverness?” He kept his eyes on her, half worrying that she might bolt. “If that’s your game, you’re not making a very good case.” As he stepped forward, she stood her ground, though she felt discomfort begin to rise in her chest. She kept hold of the IV stand, subtly holding it between them as a barrier. It was a feeble attempt at maintaining control, something even she could recognize. Her body was starting to tire from just standing still, even a day of being denied activity having taken its toll.
His tone deepened the frown on her face, lips stretched to lend visuals to her disapproval of this situation. As he went on voicing all of her flagrant disregards for private and public safety, she listened carefully, fixing him with that glare that could have set water on fire. Finally, once he finished, she straightened. “And yet,” she said, voice quiet just like it had been all along. “If anyone else were to be watching this conversation, you would be viewed as overreacting and unreasonable.”
It was a strike thrown as she was falling, a wild thrash sent out solely so she didn’t collapse without a fight. But she smirked all the same, finally comfortable with taking a few slow, tiny steps towards her room. The way she visibly concentrated on each step, moving herself deliberately, betrayed the fact that her slow progress was due to physical limits and not the desire to be a further problem.
The way she gripped the stand suggested to Sam that she was finally tiring. He privately thanked whatever force out there in the universe spawned Daryl Hockney because he wasn’t sure if he could have continued this circular argument for much longer. Go to bed. No. Go to bed. No. She was glaring at him so strongly that Sam felt the back of his neck tingle and it was a struggle not to look away. She really was a force of nature. Sam had to admit it. He was a little impressed. Still frustrated, but also impressed.
His frowned deeply and went over what he had just said in his mind. He was not being unreasonable! Was he? No, he was perfectly justified. She was out of bed and being obnoxious about it. And she was clearly tired. Regardless, her comment seemed to be a parting shot, an attempt to get the final word in even as she started to head back toward her room in slow, labored steps. Breathing a sigh of relief, he moved ahead, walking beside her in silence.
“Thank you,” he said, after a moment. He was tempted to offer her help, but she didn’t seem like the type who would appreciate it. Sam knew that he wouldn’t if their roles were reversed. “You’ll be home before you know it. Then you can disregard your health to your heart’s content.” His thanks went unanswered, not even a nod in response. She was focused on moving forward, tiny steps over cool floors. Even as she gripped the metal stand, she kept her palm free, cupping her hand so that it tented. It was an awkward position, making her hand look unnatural, but it protected her sensitive palm. The wheels of the stand slid almost silently over the floor, rattling just slightly when the bulk of her weight fell against the stand.
At his comment, she glanced to him, mild surprise on her features. That was certainly an unconventional thing for a nurse to say, even a tough one. However, she was far from insulted. In fact, her expression lightened just slightly, a soft smirk on her lips. “Is that an approved medical opinion?” she asked. “Or are you attempting to use the potential future to placate me in the present?”
Now, he did grin. He had caught her off guard. It pleased him to think that something that he had done had had an effect on her. Ms. Hockney certainly seemed more willfully obstinate than most of his patients, although he had seen worse. She hadn’t physically attacked him, at least.
She was making slow, small steps and Sam continued to walk beside her. He glanced to the side momentarily to catch eyes with one of the other nurses, shrugging his shoulders in a silent display of patients, huh?. “Consider it a prediction,” he replied, smoothly. He looked ahead toward her room, wondering if her visitor had noticed her missing. “You don’t strike me as the type to be very attentive to your health.” Whenever people grinned around her, it was a sign that they were amused - most likely at her expense. She let out a small sigh, somewhat irritated yet not interested in saying anything about it.
Their progress was slow, but now only three doors separated them from her room. Glancing up at him, she raised a brow. “I am attentive to my mental health,” she said finally. “That is of utmost importance. The rest is...incidental.” The words felt a bit hollow in her mouth, though, as if they had lost their meaning. In the past, this would be true - the mind is far greater than the body. But now, feeling her legs move beneath her like a miracle, she began to doubt that.
Sam resisted the urge to pronounce her claim bullshit and looked away in order to contain himself. Patients’ impressions of how to best care for themselves were always so distressing. He bit back a sigh and instead kept silent, deciding that that was a conversation best saved for later. And maybe for a psychologist. The distance closed between them and her room and soon, they were standing in front of the doorway to her room.
“This looks like your stop,” Sam announced cheerily, like a train conductor. He peeked inside and noted the sleeping body on the bed. “Am I going to need to come back here tonight?” The silence that followed was obvious, though Daryl didn’t mind it. She liked silences. They filled it with footsteps and the wheels of her IV stand, moving slowly yet deliberately. By the time they reached her room, she was thoroughly exhausted, realizing that taking a trip for the hell of it wasn’t a particularly intelligent idea. She glanced inside briefly before stepping in, watching the nurse with mild irritation. “No,” she said sulkily.
A gentle stirring sound caught her attention, and she turned, catching sight of open eyes in the dark. She tensed. Adam had woken up. “Adam,” she said softly, fingers curled around her IV stand. “I...was looking for the restroom...” When she left, he woke, but because they were in a hospital, he knew she wasn’t going to get in trouble. Someone would find her, someone would return her. It turned out to be the nurse from earlier. Sam something. He gave the other man a subtle nod before turning his attention to Daryl and laughing.
“Oh, poppet. You dirty little liar.” He shifted in his bed and gestured her toward him. “Come back to bed and get some rest.” Then his gaze shifted back to Sam. “Thank you for returning her to me.” Sam stayed in the doorway as Ms. Hockney moved into the room to join the man on the bed. The intimacy of the situation made Sam uncomfortable, as if he were invading their more private moments. He was considering sliding oh so subtly back out into the hall when he was addressed directly. To his surprise, he was thanked. Although, Sam supposed it shouldn’t have been so surprising since Ms. Hockney’s visitor clearly cared about her. It was sweet, in an overbearing way.
“Just doing my job,” Sam replied evenly. “Try to make sure she stays in bed for the rest of the night, okay?” He sent a half-smile in the direction of Ms. Hockney. “Sleep is good for you. I promise.” The laugh and his gentle words made her face burn, and suddenly she was thankful that it was dark. Even when she was standing barefoot in a hospital gown with bandages taped to her skin, he managed to get a reaction. She couldn’t even try to deny him. She just took a few steps towards the bed, rolling her IV stand along by her side. As she reached the bed, she hesitated, glancing to the nurse over her shoulder.
“Is that a medical opinion, or a prediction?” She smirked, not expecting an answer. One wasn’t necessary. Instead, she brought the IV stand to a stop beside her bed, sinking down beside Adam and very carefully stretching out at his side. She felt him pull the blanket over her, tugging her to his chest. Yawning, she rested her cheek on the pillow, threading her fingers with Adam’s. By the time she felt their fingers entwine, she was drifting off, and within seconds, she was sound asleep.