Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. Tolkien does. I only own my OCs and make no profit from this.
"How's Mama doing?
"As well as can be expected for an old girl with a broken leg."
"Pity."
"Yeah," Billie rubbed the aforementioned greyhound's head affectionately that was splayed across her lap.
"Has Dr. Moore decided the next course of action?"
"Euthanasia." Jessie remained silent at her friend's words, not missing the way Billie refused to meet her eyes through her disheveled bangs.
"Why?"
"Her bones aren't mending properly and you know Ms. Grady doesn't have the money to send her away upstate for surgery. Besides, because of her age there is little guarantee she would survive it."
"Right," Jessie knelt beside her friend as she continued to scratch behind Mama's ears, managing a smile when the pooch's tail thumped weakly against the blankets beneath her.
"I called Ms. Grady, she'll be here in about half an hour," Billie said, patting Mama one last time on her hindquarters before standing. She turned, swiping away her tears with the sleeve of her light green scrubs and grabbing a leash from the wall. "I'm taking Boingo and Molly out real quick, they've been stir crazy all day and driving Sam up the wall. Will you-?"
"I'll let you know when she gets here," Jessie assured her friend, assuming her previous position and petting the ill greyhound.
"Thanks Jess."
"Don't mention it."
Billie turned her attention towards the kennel at the back of the small veterinary clinic, able to hear the aforementioned dogs yelping already. She didn't even have to say anything, merely hold the leash up before their cages as they vocalized their happiness in cheerful yips courtesy of Boingo, an eighty pound Australian Shepherd and a wavering howl from Molly, the chunky but adorable basset hound.
"Who wants their walkies?" Billie asked, a smile spreading over her lips as she opened Molly's cage.
"Walkies?" The veterinary technician blushed, fussing with the hound's collar and waiting until the heat in her cheeks abated somewhat before looking at the handsome man behind her leaning against the doorway with a teasing grin on his lips.
"Hi Dr. Moore."
"Good afternoon Billie, I trust you've been taking good care of our charges?"
"Yeah, Ms. Grady-."
"Elizabeth," he corrected her gently. The small animal hospital was well-known for its hospitality and being on a first-name basis with their clientele made the experience more personal and therefore they were more likely to return.
"Elizabeth will be here shortly, she wants to be with Mama when she's -," Billie trailed off, hating the way her voice trembled as she lowered her gaze back to Molly's soulful brown eyes.
"Understandable," he agreed, not saying anymore. Billie cleared her throat before standing and patting her thigh, bidding the old girl to follow her outside. She grabbed a tennis ball out of the plastic bin beside the door as an afterthought.
Leaning against the back of the clinic she watched Molly run the length of the enclosure several times with that adorably clumsy lope that made Billie love basset hounds. She had one pet growing up and that was a beta fish affectionately named 'Jaws' when she was seven. Her mom was allergic to nearly everything under the sun it seemed and as a result they weren't able to have any cats or dogs.
She had never dealt with the loss of a pet (though she did shed a few tears when Jaws was sent to a watery grave down the loo when she was ten) and it tore her apart watching others having to experience what must be a devastating loss. She had thought several times about changing her major but she loved animals far too much to do so (not to mention tech school ate up most of her college fund. With her lousy luck and lack of finances she'd become a certified veterinarian by the time she was forty).
The blond began bouncing the tennis ball at her side in an attempt to distract herself from such a dismal subject only to accidentally bonk Molly on the head with it.
"Oh! Sorry girl!" she laughed, kneeling to press a kiss to her head and rubbing her behind the ears by way of apology.
Molly, however, took off after the errant tennis ball, returning a few seconds later with the fuzzy yellow ball clasped in her maw. She dropped it into Billie's lap, panting lightly. Molly was recovering from her near-fatal brush with heartworm from a few months earlier and had been given a clean bill of health by Dr. Moore earlier that day. They were simply waiting for her owners to return from vacation to pick her up.
"Take it easy girl," Billie laughed, tossing the ball forward as Molly scrambled after it. It was only then that the technician noticed the gate to the small compound hadn't been properly latched by the last worker who had been stuck with the task of cleaning it out. Molly grabbed the ball and ran with it, slipping through the gate as Billie sprang to her feet.
"Aw, shit," she muttered, taking off after the sly hound that was halfway across the yard by that point. She hadn't even known Molly could move that fast though her long legs easily ate up the distance between them as she fell to her knees, grasping the pooch by her collar before she ran off the property and into the woods.
"You are such a royal pain in my royal ass," Billie grumbled, directing her back to the hospital.
At least that had been the plan before something hot hit her in the chest, the force behind it sending her sprawling gracelessly on her ass
"The hell-?" she coughed, accidentally stepping on Molly as she stood, glancing down and seeing red blossoming quickly over the front of her scrub top. Then the pain came.
It was white hot and agonizing, her flesh was torn apart and the burn…oh god, the burning sensation was the worst. Her vision was swimming, she could taste copper thick on her tongue as blood spilled past her lips and she collapsed to the ground.
"Billie!"
"Call 911!" She was briefly aware of someone hovering over her, hands pressing against the wound on her chest in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.
Stop.
Please stop.
Ithurtsithurtsithurts.
"I saw something crouching, I thought she was-oh fuck!"
"Billie, sweetheart, I need you to open your eyes." With an extraordinary amount of effort she managed to do so groggily, staring up into the worried face of her employer; "You were shot. You're going into shock-."
Shot?
"-bulance will be here soon, you need to hang on okay? Focus on me."
He has pretty eyes.
"Billie?"
Dark green with flecks of gold.
"Shit, she's not breathing."
"I'm starting CPR."
Wish I had the balls to ask him out for coffee.
"Billie!"
The last thing Billie Turner heard as she lay bleeding out on the ground was the faint sound of bells ringing.
Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.
Irony at its finest…
Revised October 6, 2015.