Chapter Text
Rhodes Hill Chronic Care was an opportunity. Kaliah was far from a fresh nursing grad, but she still caught glances from her coworkers. Whispers, snide comments, jokes at her expense.
It was what she deserved, she supposed. For being the frigid bitch. The uptight nurse with two failed marriages under her belt. The one who accidentally killed her patient and got arrested. How awful she must be. How terrible she is. She got away with murder.
Her practiced hands folded cloths as she stared at the aftermath of their latest code. Regina was a young woman, maybe twenty. Ten years younger than Kaliah. Her pallid skin shone with the waxiness of death in the light of the art nouveau lamp on her bedside.
Kaliah stared into eyes that had no spark, nothing was reflected. Her body was already cooling, most likely. Poor Regina, life was difficult, especially when you had a blood disorder. All it took was a papercut and she chose to give herself five different places to exsanguinate from. Kaliah could empathize with the woman who had been here, in this shell.
The process was simple. She folded the cloths she would use to wipe down the body and once that was done, she would fill a basin. That would go on the end table. She’d take off the patient gown to wipe away the blood and then transfer it onto a gurney to be wheeled to its destination. Wherever that was supposed to be.
There’s something startling about death, not the process of it. It’s the fact that we’re gone in one exhale. Once that’s done we leave behind a husk, and it rots eventually so it can feed the earth. We aren’t there anymore. We’re there one moment and gone the next. The only thing we can do is try to give a little bit of peace and a little bit of understanding, even to the dead.
“Hey, Kaliah.” Her coworker, Jenny, poked her head through the door. “I can take care of the rest of this if you’ll give Riordan Hawlings his medicine. Since you did it so well before.” Jenny was a fairly small brunette with big brown eyes. She was like an owl in every way, chirpy, boundary-crossing, and sweet.
Of course she wants to clean the rest of the blood from the room now that I did the hard work. Not that it matters in the end. I’m the only nurse who could transfer a body over by myself. Thanks for the hefty body mass, mom and dad. Miss you.
“Sure.” Kaliah washed her hands in the ensuite bathroom then left the room. Jenny observed her curiously, she was the only one who didn’t make comments. So, Kaliah never said no to her requests. She would wish she had.
“Agh Fuck.” She reared back and clapped a hand over the gash that had instantaneously formed. From the sharp numbness of the wound she could guess that it traced a jagged path from her temple to her cheek and across the bridge of her nose. Her shout startled Riordan, the young man who had slashed her with the medical facility equivalent of a prison shiv. Likely, he made the damn thing at craft time then sharpened it every moment he could, keeping it hidden until he could use it.
Kaliah’s free hand immediately reached for the shiv without a solid thought. It was a mistake, his other hand, the free one, fisted and buried itself in her stomach. Which hurt. Bad. That was stupid of me. Stupid, stupid Kaliah. Security surrounded them both then, pulling her away after she had the air knocked out of her. She couldn’t breathe.
Breathe, have to do that. Have to get away from him. Panic makes things blur, nothing ends up making sense. Her hands hit tile when she finally slumped against a cold wall. Probably the bathroom. She wasn’t used to this part of the job. Not used to being hit. Not yet.
It was common for nurses, getting hit, pissed on, bit. Still, she couldn’t get used to it. It hurt. It was scary. It reminded her of…
Big fat tears seared lines down her face and pooled around her fingers, stinging raw flesh. The wound throbbed. Great, the fat bitch is crying again. Hah. It stung. It hurt. It bled all around her fingers, dripping down her wrist. He could’ve blinded me. A wavering heat bubbled across her back, the physical manifestation of distress. What’s happening to me, what’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me.
“You have quite the scrape there, nurse,” a strange voice said. Through tear-blurred eyes Kaliah saw the figure of a man. One that appeared to be nearly as tall as the ceiling. A concerned man? She didn’t trust her mouth and unconsciously she curiously hummed. Who? I can’t see his face without my glasses. She never encountered anyone so large within the care facility, the only person above two bucks was herself.
His knees bent and suddenly he came into focus, though still blurry around the edges. His facial proportions were decidedly irregular, and his skin was a wan shade of cream. Small lips, a sizeable nose, and a head of gray hair. Parts of it fell over his forehead in locks. He didn’t look like staff, his shoulders were wrapped in a snakeskin jacket that likely was faux, but well taken care of. He smelled like rust, or old blood left to dry.
There was a grainy quality to his voice, “Who would do that?” His hand hovered in the air in offering, but when Kaliah tried to pull her hand away from her face the skin dragged down on the maimed flesh underneath. It hurt to take it away so she used the hand that was pressed against where she’d been hit in the stomach.
Her hand pressed against his as she got her legs under her to push up into a standing position. “It was just one of my patients, sir.” Truthfully Riordan was Jenny’s patient, but she didn’t like him. Apparently, that was for good reason. All she ever said was that he had a history of paranoia. Something about dead people walking around the facility at night.
“I assume you didn’t mean to enter the men’s restroom.” Men’s room? Urinals line that wall, yup, men’s room. In her haste to get away from the scene of the incident she made her way into the men’s room somehow. A cold panic gripped her heart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-” The man’s fingers closed around the hand she had set on his, a calming gesture. “That needs stitches.” This person was strange, very strange. Strange and somewhat kind.
Kaliah couldn’t help but notice smaller things about him now as he loomed over her. A glint of gold peeked through his lips. Gold fillings? His eyes crinkled on the edges as he looked down at her. Gray eyes and dark sclera. It’s probably tattooed. His throat and chin were scarred. The only way to describe his appearance was odd. Yet, she wanted to trust him a little. He was the first friendly face for…
Kaliah let him gently tug her down each hall. She had never been in this part of the facility, every area had a clearance level and she didn’t have access here. It was somehow more sterile than any other part of the facility. He let go of her hand.
He unlocked the door to a small study and led her inside with a hand between her shoulder blades. “Please sit.” The only “real” seat in the room was a wooden captain’s chair with a plush leather cushion. It was probably a century old with the sheen of it being considered, and expensive when considering the rollers attached to its bottom. Nonetheless, she planted herself on the edge of the seat only to slide backwards. It was big, meant for the man in front of her no doubt.
“I’m Dr. Victor Gideon.” He already had opened a kit, and his hands were busy threading a needle. He had gloves on, when had he snapped them on? “Kaliah Williams. I’m really sorry to impose, I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can.” His hands paused. “It’s not an imposition.” The movement began again. “Do you believe in human evolution?”
It was an abrupt question, one that was likely meant to keep her mind on something other than the needle he’d be sticking in her face. “I guess?” His eyes flickered over and then back away. “I mean, we’re supposedly only the way we are because of cellular cannibalism and various viruses. So, I guess I do, because what else would you call that but evolution? Isn’t that what adaptation means? Evolving past each barrier.”
His steel gray irises were trained squarely on hers as he approached with a bottle of antiseptic. He pressed a piece of gauze in her hand. “That’s an interesting point to use. Hold this underneath. This might sting.” Kaliah pulled her hand away gingerly then held then gauze under her chin. She smelled saline as the wound ached with an acidic burning similar to rubbing lemon in a cut. “Yup, yup, yup. Burns.”
Victor’s voice was softer as he spoke again. “I apologize, we wouldn’t want it to get infect now, would we?” It was almost a croon in her ear. What was this? Who was this? Why does my stomach hurt more? Why is it hard to breathe again? Pain. It had to be.
“Thank you for this. I think you’re the first doctor here to actually speak to me beyond orders.” Her mouth pulled at the edges, forming into a smile before she had the sense to avoid it. It tugged at the gash, causing a blinding pain that made her groan in agony. Victor’s lips bowed in what might have been amusement as he readied the needle. “Now, no more smiling. I’m out of practice and I wouldn’t want to leave any avoidable scars.”
I don’t mind scars. Her mind drifted to the scars on his lower face, it left her head a little cottony. She would have said that scars weren't nearly the disturbance he thought. If he didn’t already slide the suture needle into her flesh to create the first stitch of the procedure.
It was a strange experience. Having a man breathe soft puff after another against her skin while he was carefully sewing her up. His hands manipulating something so small in comparison to his own person. It was cathartic in a way.
No screaming. No hitting. Not a single comment telling her it was her own fault. That she deserved it. That she deserved to hurt. Derek wasn’t like this. Earnest wasn’t either. Victor didn’t stink of alcohol. He wasn’t cruel in the way he tightened each stitch, every slow pull on my cheek was calming. I guess that’s what it means to be a whole self-contained human being. This person had no need to control other people, he was already fully constituted, self-assured.
He was… better. Although better is the bare minimum. Better is usually not common.
“The laceration will close in around seven weeks. I’ll give you antibiotics to take home for the first two weeks. You won’t need to cut the stitches out, they’ll dissolve on their own.” He put everything back in the kit that needed it then turned his back to her. She heard the clatter of pills hitting the insides of plastic containers.
With each clatter her heart thrummed harder in her head. Blood rushing through her veins at a rate that was most definitely abnormal. What was happening to her? Why was he looking back at her? Why was her hand holding the scaled material of his hooded jacket?
It was real snakeskin, that was the thought that struck her. Her face was probably blotchy with increased blood flow, this was embarrassment. She dropped her hold immediately. “I- I’m sorry, I probably got blood on your jacket.” He didn’t speak, nor did he give any indication of disdain. He simply observed. Like a scientist observing a lab rat as it skittered through a maze.
Kaliah carefully sat up in the chair, attempting to balance herself so she wouldn’t slide back again. Her hand reached for the plain white plastic bottle in his grasp before stopping. She looked up at him with wide eyes. “May I?” Wordlessly, he set the bottle in her palm which she, in turn, set aside on his oak desk. The text, prescription 00273 lettered on its side.
Victor leaned closer until she slid backwards in the captains chair and even then he didn’t stop until her back was pressed to the wooden bars of the chair backing. “Would you like to see what’s under the hood?” The way he said it was temptation itself. One thought haunted her nonetheless, this was her workplace, the place meant to be her fresh start. She couldn’t fuck it up. Right?
Except she already had. She had a record. She hadn’t meant to give the wrong medication, but she did. She hadn’t meant to marry the wrong guy, but she did that twice in a row. She killed a man. A father. A son. While she tried to save his life. Because a machine wouldn’t give her the right vial and she was so frazzled from the daily fights with her second husband.
The truth is that this wasn’t an opportunity. Not really. This facility was her tomb, her self-inflicted punishment. So, she cupped Victor’s face and left a rusty handprint against his own cheek. This may be a tomb but I’m not dead yet. “Yes.” His eyes jolted from place to place, seemingly taking in her own face. Clear eyes glazed with unseeing. Dents on the bridge of her nose from where her glasses usually sat when they weren’t crushed underfoot by an unruly patient. Braids framing her heart-shaped facial skeleture, dark lashes framing bright white sclera. Her plush lips were pressed to his forehead as she whispered, “Be gentle please.” Something boiled in her diaphragm.
Kaliah pulled back to watch him as he sank to his knees on the hardwood floor. His index finger gently prying of her ratty work sneakers. His focus was still on her face as his digits hooked into the band of her scrub bottoms. This was unfamiliar, a man lowering himself to do this. To take off her clothes without making it seem like a chore.
Victor’s actions paused when he encountered the black spandex of her Spanx. Its material covered the entirety of her rear and extended up to her ribcage. “Oh, I forgot that I wore Spanx today. Let me just…” She lifted up her pelvis to claw her thumps under and wriggle the slip off of her body. “What is it for?” The question only properly processed once the Spanx were hanging off her ankle along with her burgundy underwear that had gotten caught on the stretchy girdle of death.
“They’re to hold everything in.” Her hand came up to press against her bruised paunch. “To keep this in and smooth.” Victor’s hand pressed over top of hers as he absently said, “That’s a waste.” A bolt of electricity shot through her belly with a painful intensity. “A waste?” He swiped the last remnants of the clothes that had covered her bottom onto the floor. “A waste. Your organs have to settle someplace.” His lips pressed themselves to Kaliah’s now purpled stomach.
He placed small licks to her stomach in a trail that eventually ended at her slit. Suddenly sparks of light altered her vision. Her fingers threaded into his fine hair, clinging desperately as his rough tongue brushed against a part of her that no one had bothered to do this to. It was too much all at once. “S-slow. She hasn’t gotten this kind of attention before, Victor.” His licks slowed and this time his attention held so much care it was almost enough to bring her to tears. Kaliah’s grip relaxed as the spring in her belly coiled, her every breath becoming shallower.
It seemed like the moistness of his mouth smoothing itself against her clit went on forever. Teasing her. Never letting her fully enjoy each stroke. Until his tongue dipped into her core. Until every muscle in her abdomen seized violently in ecstasy. She’d ache for weeks afterwards. A groan tore itself out of her throat and Victor’s hands clamped down on her thighs, pinning them to the chair as he dipped inside once more. Each thrust hit some new spot that itched and burned, seeking his attentions. By the time she reached that peak again she was spent. Her hair itched against her neck, her back was coated in a thin sheen of sweat that stuck to her scrubs, and her leg muscles snapped with overwork where they laid atop Victor’s shoulders now.
He only relented his onslaught when she finally tugged on his hair. Victor’s chin came to rest atop her thigh. “How are you doing?” Which was, quite frankly, an idiotic question. Especially considering how slick her skin was with sweat. “You make me climax so hard I’m jittering and then have the audacity to ask how I am? And not just once, twice. You’re a terror.” Her hands dropped from his hair to where his hands curled around her legs “Come here please.”
He moved from between her thighs to lean against the chair backing, an arm holding him steady. Kaliah awkwardly rose up to kiss him, exerting her already sore legs just so she could catch the vaguest taste of bitter coffee and the even more subtle taste of whiskey. Then her legs quit on her and she plummeted back onto the seat.
When she looked back up at Victor after pulling away he was smiling and it was honestly the most horrendous smile she’d ever seen. I’m doomed, I think it’s cute. I can’t be thinking about this. “Do you wanna…” She probably had the world’s most unsure expression on her Frankenstein-ed face because his smile gets toothier. His hands come under her legs to pull her closer, it’s only then she really realizes how large his hands are. Those could…
One of his hands makes a retreat to unbutton slacks that are three sizes too big in the legs and perfect in the crotch. Her eyes wander then, face undoubtedly flushed. A moment later she feels him prod against her as her legs are hoisted high in the air. Wow. This is the most embarrassing position I have ever been in.
A moment passes, then two, and she realizes that he’s waiting for her to give the go ahead. The time it took her to realize is also embarrassing but so is having been married to a man named Derek. But, this, the waiting, it was sweet. For a moment all she could do was stare him in the face while the roiling fire in her belly burned all the brighter. Maybe he could be… That’s a stupid thought. “Please.”
Victor’s hips thrusted forward with an unexpected force that punched the air out of her lungs. This wasn’t like anything she’d felt before. Pressure pressing outward, making room for him, only him. “Victor…” It was a breathless kind of moan, one she wished had stayed in her throat with how needy it sounded. His hips slowed to a slow grind that had him kissing her cervix with every movement. It made her choke on anything else she could have said.
Her head was fuzzy, she couldn’t hear properly, and she had to be ruining his poor chair that survived this long just to have her bodily fluids leak all over it. She could have passed out at any time, but Victor drew back and thrust so roughly the force rocked her whole body. A yelp leaked out of Kaliah only to be muffled by Victor’s hand clapping over her mouth. Which was justified considering they were getting jiggy in her goddamn workplace. Somehow, deep in the back of her head she felt that it was liberating to think about. A fresh gush soaked the seat under her. A low groan reverberated in Victor’s chest.
Her lashes fanned his gentle grip on her face before she looked up to see his expression. It was twisted in complete agony and that was just another moment in this sequence of events for her to remember.
Remember? I want to remember him? His large hands, so gentle against her skin. His eyes, shining in what might have been admiration. For what reason, she hadn't a clue. His body, carving out a place in her that she didn’t want anyone else to touch. Years, it had been years since someone was this kind to her, years since anyone had left her feeling more than dirty. He didn’t make her feel dirty; he made her feel… like a person. A person he was fucking and would likely never talk to again, but the fact still stood.
Victor’s shoulders rose and fell so rapidly it wouldn’t be strange if he was hyperventilating. Her hands rose to pull his hand away from her mouth and bit it lightly, placing one small lick to his index. Her voice lowered to something strangely solemn as she said, “that was mean Victor.” His eyes crinkled on the edges like when he smiles. His breath was impeded by a momentary grunt before he could speak. “My apologies Ms. Kaliah. You just taste too good.” It was almost mocking and she would have had an issue with it if not for the way he was practically melting.
“Then get another good lick in, Dr. Gideon.” His hips stuttered at that, and he paused before crashing their mouths together with a hunger that Kaliah had never experienced. His tongue plundered every part of her mouth. She broke the kiss to ask, “Are you about to…?” Then she was being kissed again with such intensity it occurred to her that her neck might snap. It failed to scare her, rather, she wanted more. If there was something more that she could take from him, she would.
She wrapped her legs around his hips and his grip encircling her thigh was bruising. It hurt, but it was satisfying. One more thing she could have for just a little longer. One more impression on her person. He broke the kiss to smile at her in the fluorescence of the office. That was the only warning she got before he was burying himself deep and her belly filled with warmth. She didn’t bother trying to get off again, she could barely feel anything anymore. That didn’t stop her from pulling Victor down by the shoulders so she could hold him for a moment.
“That was… too active for me.” Kaliah huffed a laugh as a hand brushed her hair back. She let Victor pull away but he stayed close enough for her to have easy access. His fingers played with a braid that had fallen across her temple. “I would like to experiment with you again. Kaliah.” This is the most awkward individual I have met in my life. The only individual to truly attract her. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she processed his confession and if she could have smiled she would have. Instead, she pressed a quick kiss to his face. “I would love to do that sometime. But right now I need to go back to work.”
He stayed there for a moment longer, as if he didn’t want to say goodbye. Then he was helping her slide on her underwear, and her Spanx, and then the rest of what she’d been wearing. He even helped her stand, sore as her legs were.
Her eyes landed on the plastic pill bottle from earlier where it sat on the desk. “Are these the antibiotics I should take home?” Her fingers had just brushed the outside when Victor slapped them away, leading to a solid clatter of pills against the hardwood floor. He turned to his cabinets for a moment before setting another bottle down on the desk. This one was an orange bottle with amoxicillin stamped on the outside. “This is it.” There was no explanation for his behavior but Kaliah didn’t necessarily need one. This stranger could keep his secrets, they wouldn't be likely to repeat this incident. Not really.
His arm wound itself around her middle from behind, her eyes studying the pill bottle in her palm. His voice was a low whisper in her ear, “You should leave before sundown. If you want to experiment at a later date.” His teeth lightly nipped at her neck. It made her stomach clench despite the fact her now satiated desires had cooled to embers. “What, are there werewolves out tonight or something?”
His hand drifted lower until it passed her pants’ waistband. “There are worse things. I enjoyed this, I wouldn’t want our time cut short.” Her spine was rigid as he eked out one more breathless climax from her with deft fingers. “F-f-fuck, I’ll leave once I get my things. Is that good enough for you?” He nodded, nuzzling himself against her strained neck. Unfortunately, he didn’t let her leave his office with antibiotic in hand until he pushed her over the edge once more. Then he left her there, trying not to pass out from the treatment she just survived. What just happened?
As she said she would, Kaliah left after that. She got her purse and left without even bothering to clock out. No one stopped her so why would she? For once she felt alive.
That was her last shift.
By the next day Rhodes Hill Chronic Care was a pit of bodies. She still wondered about Dr. Gideon, but for some reason it didn’t feel like he was gone.
She couldn’t forget what he did for her, but she had to move on.
That’s all we can do. Move on until the next.