A.N.: English is not my first language, so please, forgive me my mistakes and typos.
Chapter 1
The dawn is always interesting. During it silence reigns without much dispute and it is possible to hear the most subtle and miserable noises. Dawn hours are slow, which if well spent yield more than any hour of any ordinary day time. When misused, the first few hours of the morning can be loaded, suffering to cross. In these hour reside the fears, the demons and the nightmares.
It is during these hours, as she wandered through the deserted hospital, that she felt as peaceful as possible. The nurses were gathered in their rest rooms in readiness for any emergency and not walking in busy and noisy entourages. Most of the patients slept as well, as most of the companions. No people running to and fro, no phones ringing, no questions asked, no worried family begging for attention or information, just silence and nothing else.
Making the round of dawn was quiet and she liked it. It felt easier to drag her demons with her through long walks in clear and deserts corridors. It made them tired and kept them away for the next day, and they would not be when she'd finally fall into her bed in a torpor of exhaustion.
She visited bed after bed, conferring progress or regression on the recovery or treatment of each patient. When necessary making the appropriate changes and moved on. She was zealous for the life and health of an immense group of internees, but out of the shadows, like a ghost.
They all knew her by name, but only the staff attached her to the lean, angular-faced woman, hair caught in a messy bun and intense blue eyes. Three year she worked in that hospital, and besides her figure, they knew nothing about her.
Well, whoever had exchanged enough words with her, knew she had one foot in Scotland by the accent, but taking away that detail, all the rest was a real mystery, but nobody really cared.
The early hours of July 23 seemed as promising as the countless others she'd been through. Mr. McAllister was recovering well, Mrs. O'Brien remained steady, Robert Foley wans't making so good, and the long list went on. In a general review, it was certified that most patients had more positive than negative signs. Excellent.
Mary Harington woke when she stood by her bed as at every shift. The 80-year-old lady would always open a wide smile, with bright eyes and extend the free arm of the medical paraphernalia toward her in a silent plea.
"My beautiful girl, you came to wish me good night." Her low, trembling voice always carried nuances of joy when she saw her. She took her hand and sat on the edge of the bed, indulging to the senile appeal of the poor lady.
"It's late, go back to sleep," She said quietly, running her thumb over the woman's knuckles. That recurring situation penalized her, but those were the most significant conversations she had with anyone else in recent months.
"When are we going home, my dear?" The lady asked, as she did every night they saw each other. This made her wonder if on the other days or if during day time there was another person playing the same role she did for that woman. Did anyone else offer this little consolation to her? She could not say.
"Soon, but for this you need to rest to regain your strength," She said softly, with the vehemence necessary to maintain the illusion of the false promise.
"We'll have to go shopping, I've lost my handkerchief, and I need another one and lines to embroider the initials." Mr. Harington told her seriously, making it clear the importance of the item and the task to her.
"We'll do whatever you want," She promised kindly, though she knew none of it was true. Mary would not leave, at least not alive. Knowing this made her swallow hard, and yet she smiled softly. "Rest now."
"Goodnight, my dear girl," Mrs. Harington murmured before falling back to sleep.
"Night." She murmured in response
She waited a few minutes to make sure Mary was actually asleep. Her health was weakened increasingly and nothing could be done but to give her as much comfort as possible in those last days. She made a mental note in arranging the handkerchief and embroidering the initials to bring to Mary on her next turn. That might bring to the heart of that poor lady a little joy.
Normally she would not do something like that for a patient, she did not even have contact with them beyond what was necessary, but not even her self-determination to remain isolated was so absolute. She rested the lady's hand back on the bed and stood up.
It reminded her that she was human and that the desire to have a bond with someone, to be part of one's life is natural, inherent.
She let her breath escape through her nose with sadness and ass he turned on her heel she saw a figure watching her through the window of the door. A man, well, a doctor, judging from his dress, watched her from the corridor.
The first thing she noticed was his gaze. In his eyes she saw respect and sympathy and knew immediately that whoever he was, he was a good man. He was the kind of humanized and solicitous doctor who had become rare specimens lately.
"Doctor Saxon?" She gave a restrained nod, confirming her identity as she stepped into the hallway and stopped in front of him. "That's your mother?" Apparently he not only watched the scene, but heard the few words exchanged.
"No, but she thinks so." She said in a low, polite voice, watching him closely. She did not remember seeing him in the hospital before, not the night shifts at least. She would have noticed that figure walking through the hospital with his messy gray hair, his clothes a little crumpled and the air of tranquility. "And you are..?"
"I'm the Doctor," he answered immediately, a polite smile lighting his face.
"Doctor Who?" Did he really expect her to know him? From the surprise on his face it seemed so, but she had no idea who that man was.
"I'm Doctor John Smith, have not you received the notification? I'm here to replace Dr. Jones, I'm going to be your shift partner from now on." Despite the initial surprise, he kept his cordial tone and a friendly smile on his face.
"Ah..." She felt uncomfortable and cleared her throat. "Yes, I did. Welcome." She had completely forgotten about the doctors change. Martha Jones never got in her way, staying exclusively with the pediatric ward where she totally refused to visit.
"Thank you." He smiled even more, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Can I help you with the round?"
"No. Actually there's nothing else to be done here, I'll just pass the notes to the system." She said directly. "You're going to stick with the child wing that was Dr. Jones's job."
"I know. I've been there doing my rounds, but the ward is almost empty so I thought I'd take the quiet time to come and introduce myself and meet you, maybe help if that was the case. I already know our colleagues on shift, you're the only one I have not yet had the pleasure to meet. " She wondered if he needed to smile so much or be so willing to help. Being solicitous with patients was one thing, she did not need his help or sympathy.
"Well, we are already properly presented." She sounded polite and direct, giving all indications that the conversation ended there. Her feet took a step back and she turned her body to turn away in the opposite direction before saying. "Good luck with the new turn." She said and turned completely.
"Dr. Saxon?" He called her and she turned around enough to look over her shoulder. "Would you like to ... hm..." Missy saw uncertainty in him. He called her on an impulse not expecting such a big barrier. No one had told him anything about her? "Would you like to take a coffee?"
Take a coffee presumed conversations, first professionals, then about patients, then about personal amenities. Take a coffee could be professional warmth, the beginning of a bond, a friendship. Everything she did not really want.
"No, thank you." She answered directly without any emotion, then turned and left to her own office.