5:47 am. Mikayla had 43 minutes left to her shift before she could go home and collapse into her wonderful, memory foam mattress. God, that sounds amazing right now, she thought. It had been a painfully slow night and she was ready for it to be over with. At least if the night was crazy busy it kept her on her toes and awake. As of now, she struggled to keep her eyes open. No call lights, no distraught patients, no newcomers. It had been almost pure silence on the Rivers unit since 11pm, with only two patients coming out of there rooms to ask for a blanket or sleeping pill.
42 minutes. 41 minutes now. Report was already done, charting was finished, and patients were beginning to stir as day shift arrived, slamming the locked doors behind them.
"Hey, Kayla, can you do this intake assessment?"
Motherfucker. Kayla turned around in her chair to face her charge nurse, Brad, who was smiling at her. He was a fairly young guy, maybe in his mid-30's with short brown hair gelled up in the front. He was stocky but muscular and she wondered if he purposely got his uniform a size too small to show off.
"Can the assessment be a dayshift problem?" She asked. God, freedom was so close. She was so ready to go home, take a hot shower and snuggle into bed with her cats.
"I'm afraid not," Brad said with sympathy. He must've seen the bags under her eyes from a mile away. "Look just do the intake and history and I'll take care of the rest okay? I just don't want this lady waiting any longer."
Kayla sighed and nodded. "What's she here for?" And this damn early? She thought.
Brad handed over the intake assessment paperwork to her, which he had already prepared on a clipboard. Damn, he knew she'd say yes. "She's here for depression and anxiety with S.I."
"With attempt?" Kayla questioned.
"Nah," Brad said. "She was a voluntary intake. Came off the street it seems. Denies drug use so she'll be coming over to the Rivers unit."
Kayla nodded again, hoping it was voluntary and she wasn't convinced by a friend. Voluntary intakes were so much easier. No legal paperwork, no getting EDO's from docs, no trying to get notes from the ED or paramedics that brought them in.
"Alrighty then. Guess I'll go meet Miss Miller."
"Thanks a ton, Kayla. Like I said just get the basic info and I'll do the computer stuff, okay?"
Kayla nodded and headed off to room 3, one of their intake rooms. Kayla was a psych nurse at Walker Springs, a psychiatric and substance abuse facility located off Walker Avenue in Gotham City. To say they were a busy facility was an understatement, it was Gotham after all. This city wasn't gentle to its citizens. It was a grim, horrific place to live most of the time. Great job security though, she thought grimly. It was impossible to not have gallows humor in this career.
Kayla checked her watch. 35 minutes. She sighed and tried to shake off her grogginess as she stood outside room 3. Through the small window in the door she could already see a middle aged caucasian female sitting with her knees pulled to her chest in one of the chairs. Her hair looked matted and greasy from a distance, it was probably worse close up.
Kayla put on a sympathetic smile as she knocked and entered. "Hi, Miss Miller? My name is Mikayla and I'm going to ask you some questions and get some history on you, is that okay?
. . . . .
Fifty-five minutes. It took fifty-five minutes to do the intake. The lady cried about fifty-four minutes of the intake. Why does this happen to me? Kayla thought. She clenched her teeth and did her best to ignore growing irritation. Being snippy with a person in crisis was not helpful to anyone.
Finally, after gratuitous hand holding and patience, the intake was done. Mikayla practically bolted to the break room to grab her bag and coat. Scanning through the multiple locked doors was painfully slow. She fast-walked to her bus stop and was grateful to see it pull up right as she approached. Finally, a break. The ride to her apartment was also blissfully free of any complications. No weirdos checking her out or trying to grope her, no obnoxious passengers, just half-asleep commuters sipping on expensive coffee.
After a short ride, Kayla finally reached her stop. It was right outside her building thankfully, so she didn't have to worry about any muggers along the way. Either way, she carried mace and a sound grenade for safety. A person could never be too safe in Gotham.
She lived on the seventeenth floor of her building in a cozy one bedroom apartment. It wasn't high end for sure but it wasn't a pig-sty either. The appliances were old and the heat wasn't great but it was in a semi-decent neighborhood and had an armed doorman at least.
Upon opening the door, she was greeted by high-pitched whines and screams from a black shadow. Her kitten, Buffy, was a small black cat she had rescued off the street a few months ago. And when Buffy was hungry, she let you know.
"Let me get in the door first, cat," Kayla huffed. She picked up the kitten who shrieked some more in protest to being man-handled. From around the corner came her other two cats, Archer and Lana. Archer was an orange and white tomcat and a big boy. Not fat in any way, just tall and long. Lana was a brown tiger and looked tiny compared to her brother, even though she was an average sized cat at nine pounds.
"Hi babies, did you miss me?" Kayla asked and a sweet, baby voice. Buffy struggled free of her grasp and jumped to the floor, taking off towards her food dish and shrieking. The other two quietly followed suit.
After feeding the cats, Kayla went to her bathroom to take a much needed shower and threw her scrubs into her hamper. She could probably wear the pants again, since it was an easy night and she didn't get any body fluids on her but she decided better safe than sorry.
As she stepped out of the shower and began her night routine (technically morning routine, since it was almost 8am at this point) she heard a loud thud and the cats running through the apartment. Kayla chalked it up to the cats getting into something or knocking something over. Living with three cats wasn't as quiet as one may think, especially with a loud-mouth kitten.
She changed into her pajamas, a tank top and basketball shorts, and walked to her kitchen to get a bowl of cereal. In the corner of her eye she saw Archer, looking even bigger with his tail fluffed out double its size and his back arched. Lana also looked spooked, straining her neck to look at the balcony window where Archer was focused. Kayla remembered the thud she heard and wondered if maybe a bird hit her window or something.
"What are you guys looking at, huh?" She asked and poked Archer on the butt. He jumped and ran. "C'mon guys it's probably just a bird or…" she trailed off. Against the light of dawn she could see a large dark outline against her balcony sliding door. Kayla paused, that definitely was too big to be a bird. She crouched some and took large steps over to her purse sitting on the kitchen table, grabbing her keys which her mace was attached to.
She whipped around, mace in hand, to face the sliding glass door to her balcony. The figure hadn't moved. Archer had come back into the living room still fluffed out and was cautiously approaching the balcony door next to her. Lana still sat crouched on the couch and Buffy was actually silent for once.
With a deep breath she flipped on the balcony light to see better. It was definitely the outline of a person with their back against the door. The light sparked and went dark again. Really? That bulb is gonna burn out now of all times? Kayla took a shaky breath. She had half a mind to just call the police. In Gotham, people arriving on your balconies or fire escapes usually weren't your friend. Was this person try breaking into her apartment? But why not just break the door then? It was old and the glass would probably shatter easily. Were they sitting there hoping to jump out at her? Fuck, fuck, fuck. She must look stupid, freaking out with mace in her hand wearing baggy gym shorts. I really should call the police.
Instead she stood there with her hand resting on the door latch.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in. With a faint click that seemed to echo in the small apartment she unlocked the door. Breathe out. Sliding open the door painfully slow, feeling every bump and hitch in the track. Breathe in. She cautiously stuck half her face, then her head, then half her body out the door. Breath out. Squinting against the faint light of the day to make out the figure with it's back against her door.
Breath in.
Her breath hitched in her chest and her heart raced. Against her door was a young man with dark hair wearing a domino mask. He looked as if he was sleeping before Kayla noticed a small pool of dark red liquid around him and holes in his suit.
"Holy fuck." She finally remembered to breathe. Immediately her training seemed to kick in. She knelt down and firmly shook him, asked if he could hear her. No response. Not even a rough sternal rub would wake him up but he did groan and grimace. Well, that's something. He had a pulse, was breathing, but was bleeding. She ran back to her bathroom and grab an emergency kit. It had basic first aid items but also some more uncommon items she accidentally brought home with her from the hospital occasionally. She grabbed her nurse pack as well and began her triage on the masked man again.
It was getting lighter out and she could see a the outline of a blue bird against his black suit. You've got to be kidding me, she thought while working. Nightwing is on my balcony unconscious. THE Nightwing. She looked at the man and wondered how the hell she was going to pull him inside to get a better look at him. He was stable and the bleeding was stopped for now. She wasn't sure if she wanted to risk moving him and causing it to start again, but she also didn't want her neighbors seeing her guest out on her balcony.
She grabbed a sheet from her linen closet that she never used and rolled Nightwing onto it, using the slippery sheet to drag him into her living room. She hoped he didn't start bleeding again and get blood on the carpet - she was hoping to get her deposit back.
Once inside, she reassessed his vitals and checked his wounds. He had some deep cuts, one puncture wound which seemed to be the major culprit of his bleeding, and a small split on his scalp. She debated calling the police again, she wasn't at the hospital and didn't have access to sterile medical equipment to help this guy. He needed a doctor and some imaging, not a green nurse with a shoddy first aid kit.
What the fuck am I even doing. Kayla leaned back against her couch and took a deep breath. If I call the paramedics they're gonna unmask this guy. He's a good guy, but I'm sure the police wouldn't hesitate to arrest him since these types work outside of the law and such.
She looked at the man lying in the middle of her living room. Even unconscious, he had a serious look to him, like he had a permanent scowl. The thought of peeling off his domino mask crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. Her life wasn't worth peeking at a face of someone she probably didn't even know.
She decided she would wait and monitor Nightwing for the time being. If he started to get worse she would call for paramedics. For now, it was a waiting game.
As she sat back and watched the rise and fall of the man's broad chest she couldn't help but smirk to herself, half delirious from exhaustion, as she thought, Huh, guess it was a bird that hit the window.
