spoilery spec. Caught in passing
Title: Caught in Passing
Characters: House, *****n Doc
Rating: none
Length: approx 560 words
Comment: Just wondering. Any ideas out there?
The figure sitting alone in the short line of chairs beside the closed medicines hatch was unfamiliar to her. The concealing drab grey of the uniform-issue clothing suggested a long, lean figure; the posture, an assumed patience.
“Why are you here?”
“I was stupid. And then I was reckless.”
“I meant….never mind.”
“I know what you meant but it seemed too obvious.” He indicated the dog-eared sign by the hatch, which read ‘Collection of prescribed medications - 10am-10.30am ONLY.’ It was a quarter after already.
“You the clerk? You’re late.”
“No, I’m the doctor.”
At that the man raised his glance from the floor where it had been fixed. His gaze was speculative yet wary. “M.D. by correspondence course, I assume. I can’t think they’d dig deep here. You’re too young….”
“That says more about your age than mine. I assure you my credentials are just fine.”
“Good enough for here, at any rate, unless, let me see, a do-gooder streak? There is something a little familiar about you.”
There was nothing familiar about him, she thought. She was used to pretty much every reaction from the men here, from open hostility, unless of course they needed patching up, to almost equally open lust but this one was different. It was an assumption of an intellectual superiority that had nothing to do with her gender or even her age. With just a few words, her interest was caught.
“So, the less obvious?”
“Ah, I was right. A bleeding heart. I was stupid enough to heed advice and that led me to be reckless, to have no care for the consequence. This,” he said, with a shrug, “is the consequence.”
“And you still don’t care?”
He looked at and through her with a piercing blue stare that did not waver.
“No.”
She was almost convinced. Her inborn optimism-he would have called it naivety, she was sure, was responsible for her being here and for keeping her more or less on an even keel in the last eighteen faith-testing months. She had seen hard cases crack; brought back from the brink more than one would-be suicide. There was no reason he alone would be untouched by this experience, whatever he had done to bring himself here.
With a sudden rattle the metal shutter of the hatch rolled upward and a short man with the common pudgy outline of the junk-food fed, under-exercised inmate, peered out from the dispensary. “Whaddya want?” he demanded impatiently of his fellow prisoner. Spotting the young woman he smiled greasily, “Doc; I didn’t see you there. Need somethin?”
“No thanks, Kyle. I’m just passing through to the infirmary. See this man gets his meds, will you?”
“Sure. Name?”
“House. Transferred two days ago. I should be written up for 20 vicodin.”
A few moments later a familiar vial was slapped down on the counter and just as quickly snatched up.
Walking away she heard this exchange and wondered about the source of his self- proclaimed ‘recklessness’. She had noticed too, the halting gait and the permitted cane. House, then was his name. She’d look up his records when she had the chance. He might be useful to have around in the infirmary; too many of the assistants she’d had assigned to her had poor literacy skills. As long as he didn’t turn out to be Hannibal Lecter’s more appealing brother, he should be an improvement.
Characters: House, *****n Doc
Rating: none
Length: approx 560 words
Comment: Just wondering. Any ideas out there?
The figure sitting alone in the short line of chairs beside the closed medicines hatch was unfamiliar to her. The concealing drab grey of the uniform-issue clothing suggested a long, lean figure; the posture, an assumed patience.
“Why are you here?”
“I was stupid. And then I was reckless.”
“I meant….never mind.”
“I know what you meant but it seemed too obvious.” He indicated the dog-eared sign by the hatch, which read ‘Collection of prescribed medications - 10am-10.30am ONLY.’ It was a quarter after already.
“You the clerk? You’re late.”
“No, I’m the doctor.”
At that the man raised his glance from the floor where it had been fixed. His gaze was speculative yet wary. “M.D. by correspondence course, I assume. I can’t think they’d dig deep here. You’re too young….”
“That says more about your age than mine. I assure you my credentials are just fine.”
“Good enough for here, at any rate, unless, let me see, a do-gooder streak? There is something a little familiar about you.”
There was nothing familiar about him, she thought. She was used to pretty much every reaction from the men here, from open hostility, unless of course they needed patching up, to almost equally open lust but this one was different. It was an assumption of an intellectual superiority that had nothing to do with her gender or even her age. With just a few words, her interest was caught.
“So, the less obvious?”
“Ah, I was right. A bleeding heart. I was stupid enough to heed advice and that led me to be reckless, to have no care for the consequence. This,” he said, with a shrug, “is the consequence.”
“And you still don’t care?”
He looked at and through her with a piercing blue stare that did not waver.
“No.”
She was almost convinced. Her inborn optimism-he would have called it naivety, she was sure, was responsible for her being here and for keeping her more or less on an even keel in the last eighteen faith-testing months. She had seen hard cases crack; brought back from the brink more than one would-be suicide. There was no reason he alone would be untouched by this experience, whatever he had done to bring himself here.
With a sudden rattle the metal shutter of the hatch rolled upward and a short man with the common pudgy outline of the junk-food fed, under-exercised inmate, peered out from the dispensary. “Whaddya want?” he demanded impatiently of his fellow prisoner. Spotting the young woman he smiled greasily, “Doc; I didn’t see you there. Need somethin?”
“No thanks, Kyle. I’m just passing through to the infirmary. See this man gets his meds, will you?”
“Sure. Name?”
“House. Transferred two days ago. I should be written up for 20 vicodin.”
A few moments later a familiar vial was slapped down on the counter and just as quickly snatched up.
Walking away she heard this exchange and wondered about the source of his self- proclaimed ‘recklessness’. She had noticed too, the halting gait and the permitted cane. House, then was his name. She’d look up his records when she had the chance. He might be useful to have around in the infirmary; too many of the assistants she’d had assigned to her had poor literacy skills. As long as he didn’t turn out to be Hannibal Lecter’s more appealing brother, he should be an improvement.