It's cold outside, but the inside of the hospital is warm and cosy; the heating is on inside the waiting rooms and in the clinics, and the windows have been firmly closed since the bad weather began. The rain slowly slides through the fogged windowpanes, and outside people can be seen running in the streets, seeking to reach their destination as quickly as possible to escape from the freezing cold.
The hospital is the pride of the city. A serious looking building, neat, perfectly built and with abundant resources. Just perfect for its purpose.
There is a slight peculiar smell in the waiting room; the whole place smells like disinfectant and cleaning products (maybe flowers if one of the nurses has a particularly positive day), but only the children area retains that special scent. It smells like colored crayons and birthday chocolate cake, it smells like baby cologne and garden earth. Waxed wooden floors and puddles in the rain. Flowers crowns and wet grass.
For a pediatrician like you, those are both the scents of childhood and those of your day by day.
Speaking of which, at the time you sit at your work desk, writing files about the last baby you attended on the small computer on your desk. That's the way it is the place where you work; simple and clean, but as cozy as the little scarce space allows. The walls are white, and completely decorated with pictures of your youngest patients (mostly babies and toddlers), and drawings that the older ones give to you.
In a corner of your work table rests a slightly more unusual decoration: a small robot bunny. An unusual gift from one of your first patients here. It just sits there, motionless (you have a key to wind it in one of your drawers, crammed with paperwork. It's been a long time since you forgot which one was), watching you through those tiny pointed glasses of reddish glass; it is a delicate robotics work, carefully worked over several weeks. Almost the exact same time you had been helping the little boy, at that time just a baby of barely half a year.
Oh, you even still remembered the precise second when you received the gift…
He had stood there, in the middle of the room, his countenance frozen in the perfect example of a poker face, while holding a sleepy little baby (your previously mentioned patient) in his arms. Dear God, you could still perfectly remember the way you had laughed when you recognized the exact copy of his anime glasses that the metallic animal wore over his eyes.
He was definitely not an expert on kids, you had known that from the very first second that he walked through the door, struggling to balance two small babies in his arms..
Being of legal age for only a couple of months, seeing the situation in which the older brother was, made you wished you could have a 'friendly' conversation with the bastard judge who had given him full custody of his two little brother (without any kind of economic or social help) after both of their parents died in a car accident.
You know what? Sometimes it seemed to you that you were almost a better psychologist than a pediatrician.
Actually, if you take the time to think about it, most of your patients problems are usually quite simple; you attend to toddlers who are teething, you give vaccines, and diagnose and help to deal with colds and ear infections. All along with the occasional case of that one child without enough parental surveillance that ends with several pieces of lego stuck in his nose. It's mostly easy, but you can not say that that's exactly what you were expecting after studying medicine for so many years. It's not that you are complaining either; you personally assume that the fewer children with health problems out there, the better for society and, plus, for your daily paperwork.
Precisely at this moment you are fighting against one of these hells of what your daily paperwork consists of, when suddenly the noise catches your attention. It comes from outside; from the waiting room, and it's not exactly normal that there's such a fuss over there, so (for the patients' safety, and maybe a little of your own medical intuition) you decide you'll go out and have a just quick look…
And then you see her.
She is taller than you, and also quite thin. Your eyes can see her gray alien skin and huge orange ram horns from the door. Her curves are not excessive, but they are still enough to know that you are dealing with an alien female, although the anatomical difference may not be so important right now... She is nervous, defensive; she does not let you notice, but her look give her away.
"Ma'am, you can not be here" a receptionist tries to explain to her. Her tone is perfectly serious and professional, completely empty of life except for the bit of irritation that filters into her voice. She is probably like this because an alien is here in the first place.
Or course if she refuses to leave, she will call security, otherwise she will simply throw her out.
That's the way things are with trolls, unfortunately.
"i need help" the alien speaks, ignoring the words of the human. Her voice has a strong accent, something between Asian and Alternian.
You raise an eyebrow.
"i came for help" she continues. For the first time you notice the two little alien babies she carries; the first is on her left shoulder, half hidden in his long wavy mane, and the second is resting in her arms, curled up against her hands.
The receptionist frowns, her patience running out for seconds.
"i need help!" The alien repeats, increasing the volume of her voice, almost as if she expects that speaking louder could make this human understand her better. Clearly English is not her strong point.
"I think maybe she's looking for an asylum", a lady sitting in the waiting room whispers in a not-so-low voice. You hear laughter. The troll also frowns, and you bite your lip.
"you can help!" The troll tries to emphasize, the unconscious movement of her arms as she talks gets the grub she is holding to turn over, and for the first time you notice how heavy her breathing is and the burgundy flush on her cheeks.
'Well, this makes more sense…'
The employee (who either has not noticed the health condition of the alien baby or, unlike you, does not give a shit) talks again "I'll repeat it one last time, ma'am: I'M SORRY, WE-CAN-NOT-HELP-YOU".
You can honestly say that that has been one of the least credible 'I'm sorry' you've heard in your entire life.
All of a sudden the infant in the adult troll's arms moans softly, moving feebly as she tries to get as far away as possible from the loud voice of the human receptionist.
You know she wouldn't dare to use that same tone if the problem came from any of the humans… if just was a human instead of the alien in front of her.
There is an look of concern on the face of the female troll as she slowly caresses the grub's small burgundy body reassuringly. She seems sufficiently pleased by the gesture of affection of her caretaker to lie down slowly in her arms again.
"i'm no fucking deaf," she murmurs, grinding her teeth, though the apparent discomfort of the baby is likely to contribute to her sudden low voice.
"Oh, really?" The human replies. "Are you sure? It's amazing considering how you do not seem to understand this!"
'This is not good.'
"Look, I feel kind today: if you leave at this moment I promise I will not call the police. A couple of streets down there is a dump, maybe there you can find something of value to pay someone WHO CAN HELP YOU".
'This is REALLY not good.'
The troll frowns even more, if that is still possible. "why are you doing this?". Her tone is noticeably lower, almost as if she was trying to speak to herself.
The human ignores her.
"The exit is there", she speaks out loud, and her hand rises to indicate with a serious gesture the exit door. Probably the same place by which the troll came in first place.
"Right there".
Of the numerous patients who are in the waiting room, waiting for the turn of their kids or relatives, some begin to whisper about the situation.
"What a lack of manners", an older woman with a baby in her arms comments.
"How the hell did they let her in?" A middle-aged man next to her asks.
The alien now looks down at the ground. Her breathing is slow with contained rage, as she squeezes the small alien baby against her chest in a protective way. The whole situation is causing something inside you to break into pieces…
Another lady in the waiting room with two twin toddlers in her arms continues to talk. "She has probably sneaked inside: that's the only thing they know how to do", she makes a gesture of disgust, while the babies in her arms are still sleeping calmly. "I can't understand how they still let them enter public places just like that."
"And steal! One of those monsters stole my friend's wallet! And on a bus. A PUBLIC ONE! I do not understand how the government has not yet forbidden them to travel with normal people", one more girl contributes to the discussion.
Fuck. FUCK. Fuck your manners! Fuck your job! It is impossible that you can continue to see this without doing anything. It just… it hurts too much.
Before you can realize you are no longer at the door, watching from a distance, if not just a few steps from the receptionist and the troll in distress.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I think maybe I could be useful."
It is impossible that you can stand aside while this happens: you have always had a weak heart for injustices.
'They say this isn't an injustice, don't they?'
The thought barely reaches your brain, busy at this moment trying to make you look as professional as possible and be apposite.
Your phrase catches the attention of the two females, who so far do not seem to have noticed your presence. The alien turns her gaze towards you, and for a moment her eyes widen, and amazement fills her expression when she looks at your hospital uniform. Her mouth opens slightly and, for only a moment, she almost seems relieved.
This lasts until the receptionist opens her mouth again, five seconds later.
The young woman seems suddenly so nervous, stammering for the right words, and you can practically see her fear that all this could become a problem in her 'impeccable' file.
"B-But, miss (y/n)", she murmurs. "Y-You do not need to be here, I-I'm sure you're busy enough with your daily job to also worry about this..."
You turn your eyes towards the young employee, who seems visibly to shrink under your gaze.
"Nonsense", you stop her, doing your best to make your voice sound firm and secure. "I am sure that the other patients won't mind waiting a little longer to give this lady and her… descendant, a short turn."
One of the ladies who were talking before seems to be about to make a snarky answer, but her mouth automatically closes when you direct your special 'do-not-fuck-with-the-medical-professional-here' look, suddenly looking as silent and tense as the other persons in the small waiting room.
"Can I see her?", you ask, looking back at the alien, who is still holding the sick grub in her arms "It's okay if you do not want me to do it here… or right now".
She narrows her eyes, still vacillating with her confidence in you.
The room is silent.
The sound of rain on the street (outside) is a murmur that comes through the windows.
Slowly, she extends the grub towards you. You carefully open your arms and take the little creature, in the same way that you are supposed to pick up a human baby.
She is so small... small and soft. Her grub body is silky and delicate, and it feels a little bit like touching velvet. She is also hot, increasing your suspicions about a possible fever. A high one, in this case.
Slowly you caress one of the multiple legs of the alien baby, earning a soft sound that (you think) can be a giggle. It makes your heart fill with the familiar feeling of tenderness and warmth.
"Hello, little one", you whisper to the wiggler.
The adult troll watches while you play with the baby; gently moving her tiny insect legs, stroking her long silky locks, and even lifting them (her hair is REALLY long, especially for a grub) to be able to observe a small pair of horns, almost identical to those of the adult troll, on her head.
Although the confidence is not yet total, there is a visible change between the first human and you, almost like a small bit of confidence and security in her eyes.
That is another thing that warms your heart.
When you finally turn your gaze to the receptionist she seems more irritated than ever before.
"But she's a troll!" She screams, and the smile of tenderness disappears from your face as you see the anger on her eyes. "I bet she do not even have money to pay!"
She spits a little while speaking.
… you do not think it's the right time to tell her.
The troll looks at the human with a face like thunder.
"have money", she says, visibly annoyed. Almost as visible as her lack of experience with English grammar.
"THAT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING! She probably just stole it from someone in the street! That's the only thing those… those MONSTERS know how to do! Damn it, I knew I should have called security when I saw one of them here! I'm going to call the police right now!", she growls,about to move away, but suddenly her body freezes with pure terror...
In less than a second the alien has has taken a sharp knife out of one her pockets. The silver blade has an almost hypnotic glow when she presses it a few millimeters from the neck of the human, who suddenly looks as pale as a ghost.
"do not fuck with me", she whispers.
Terrified screams and exclamations of terror come out of the throats of the other patients, who in panic try to put as much distance as possible between them and their children, and the adult troll with the knife in her hand. There are drops of cold sweat falling down your neck...
"It's okay", you say.
The receptionist looks at you for a moment, looking like she is about to faint. A bit of confusion. An incredible amount of terror.
"There is no need for violence", you speak clearly, getting a confused look from the alien.
'Fuck, how are you doing this? How is it that you have not fainted yet?'
"If we needed to reach these consequences for a simple discussion we could have fix this from the beginning."
The knife in her hand hesitates. You turn around and walk in direction to the inside of your work room, the drowsy grub still in your arms.
"What are you waiting for?" You suddenly ask, turning around to see the female who is still in the exact same position as before. "Don't you need help?"
The troll looks again at the receptionist, and then at you for a few seconds, and in the meanwhile you notice a few things. You notice the way she holds the knife in her hand, like someone who hasn't done something for a long time but has too much experience in it. You notice how beautiful is her dress, in contrast to how old and little cared it looks. You notice the fatigue in her face and the hidden bags under her eyes, almost in a professional way.
"It is fine", you offer a kind smile. "I'm sure nobody will take this misunderstanding as something personal, at least not while I'm with you."
She blinks. The knife slowly separates from the throat of the terrified receptionist. Step by step, she walks silently behind you. Inside the room. Near the grub.
You inhale and exhale as gently as you can, and keep breathing slowly until the door closes behind you. You think about what you just did-
'You just entered a room with an alien with a knife and good knowledge of how to use it, and a sick alien baby... what's wrong with you?!'
You wonder why. Why are you interested in her? Why did a troll have to get in today? Why right when you were here?
You think about the trolls in the streets.
You think about how hungry and cold some of them look, desperate when the police remove them from the places where they sleep in the open because they 'block the way'. About the universal declaration of human rights, about justice, and about the day of the alien invasion.
About the alien children who look through the bars of human schools on cold winter mornings. About the shelters and abandoned houses where they sometimes settle, with holes in the walls and windows, and heat and insects in the summer. About the sick baby in your arms.
You close the door and put the latch.
'Well, that at least will keep them from trying anything for a while'
You turn around and look directly into the adult troll's eyes.
Alert.
You frown slightly at how nervous she looks, that expression of pure distrust and fear, frozen in beautiful yellow alien eyes.
"Over here" you indicate
She just follows you.
The Handmaid observes while the human closes the door with latch, entering the room with the small grub still in her arms.
Her descendant.
The room is small. She looks at it for a long time as the click of the latch resonates in through the walls.
"Over here", the human says, turning around, a too smile friendly still on her face.
Isn't she tired of pretending?
She turns again and the troll follows her silently, the handle of the knife feels like an almost natural weigh in her hand. A part of her. A forgotten one.
The white-coated human reaches a stretcher and carefully places the grub (HER grub) there.
It's small and silent. The lights are dim and white. The murmur of rain hits the windows. The furniture is painfully neat, in a way that results almost vaguely familiar...
The girl opens a briefcase with a small click. She looks inside and pulls out a strange metal instrument, which she gently places on the bare chest of her wiggler.
It was dark in that place. Too dark and cold. Too green...
The little wiggler whimpers softly and shakes when she feels the cold of the instrument, which suddenly brings back the adult troll to reality.
"Shhh…. It's okay, baby", the strange human whispers. "I know it's cold, but I can not fix that... Just hold on a little bit."
She signs, looking at her. "What is your name, sweetheart?".
There is a long pause. Too uncomfortable. The Handmaid does not know what to do: is she talking to the grub? Nobody talks to the grubs. No humans talk to trolls either.
"aradia", she finally whispers.
She smiles.
"Hello, Aradia", the human doctor greets.
Yes, she must be talking to her.
She gently caresses her body and lifts her up, just before she sits her on her arms and pulls out another different instrument and place it on her ears. "I'm pretty sure she has a high fever, but I do not think it's anything extremely serious... probably some kind of winter virus."
Suddenly Aradia coughs; it is a sore and dry sound, and Damara shakes on the shoulder of the adult troll.
Concerned.
"So... she also has a dry cough", the human murmurs (apparently to herself), rubbing the wiggler's back lightly while she breathes heavily. "A runny nose, fatigue... has she been vomiting?" She asks.
The Handmaid nods slowly. A couple of times. At first it did not seem so bad, just a little cough and she felt hotter than usual.
… but then things got worse.
She was not moving as fast as normally... and then she started vomiting and coughing at night, in her sleep. She would wake up crying and coughing.
Her body also felt really feverish, although she was trembling, even with the blankets. Her nose was sore and dry from the mucus, and she did not move so much anymore.
It had started badly, but this was definitely enough: she could not let things get worse.
She could not lose her.
Never.
The female human throws into the wastebasket the thin wooden instrument with which she has been examining the grub's throat and mouth. She removes the thin blue rubber gloves from her hands and gently picks up the grub, handing it slowly to her.
"It's... a 'flu'", she explains "... It's not so bad, but she'll need to lower her fever as quickly as possible... I recommend resting and making her drink a lot of liquid, no solid food or anything hard to digest for her during the next three or four days".
She goes to her desk and open a drawer. The troll raises an eyebrow as she pulls out a small bottle of reddish liquid.
'I-N-F-A-N-T-S T-Y-L-E-N-O-L'.
She reads the human letters in front of the bottle one by one.
"This is a medication for human babies, but she can also take it. I'm going to write you the right doses on a piece of paper so you do not have to consult a pharmacy...", the weird human murmurs, writing something down with a blue pen on a small piece of paper, which she hands over with the bottle.
"You also have there my private phone number, in case you have any doubts", she shyly adds, her tone of voice descending each second. The adult troll can feel her confidence diminishing little by little…
"A-And... if you want my advice... I would use the backdoor, i-it will be less noticeable..."
The troll snatches the bottle from the hands of the human and murmurs a sharp 'thank you' in broken English.
Although she does not know if she gets to hear it. It doesn't matter.
She opens the door and directs one last look at her, before closing it with a bang.
She really expects that shit to work.