Disclaimer: I don't own Codename; Kids Next Door!
Title: Soda and Sugar
Summary: Being an operative means dealing with the good and the bad. Even if the good is addiction and the bad is stitches.
Warnings: Blood, surgery mentions, addiction (in KND terms- no actual beer or drugs), etc.
...
Numbuh 5 is the last operative to preach sobriety under stressful situations. When in turmoil she tends to go straight for the soda, then to the darker chocolates. Eventually she steadies out, lays off the sweets for a bit, then starts all over again.
Still, it's a shame to see an operative as young as Numbuh 2 succumb to the dance. He'll be addicted for life, she muses; even after his decommissioning. Not much better can be said for her.
"Here, boss." She passes him a mug of the hard root beer. It's not the best, but it's not bubbly water, either. "Take the edge off."
Normally Numbuh 1 abhors drinking on the job- at least until the mission is done- but he takes it with raised eyebrows. Numbuh 2 is slamming them down. Numbuh 5 quietly sits next to Numbuh 1 and waits, hands on her lap.
Boy, does she need a drink. Too bad the others need her more.
"Numbuh 5, by all means." Numbuh 1 says eventually. He's a good guy like that. "Don't hold back on our account."
Numbuh 5 bites her lip, tempted. "It's gon' be awhile yet. What if we get a mission?"
"We're in no shape for a mission. Besides, our med unit is being overseen by Numbuh 86 herself. Nobody ever wants to call when she's in." Nigel pats her arm, surprisingly gentle for a guy on his second can. "There's no need for you to be so..." He gestures blankly with his hand.
Sober.
Fair enough, Abby thinks, getting to her feet. Fair enough.
It's not like Numbuh 5 hasn't done the deed. Everybody has, by her age. When you go on a mission, you have to cope with the fact that you may be forced to slice open another operative's gut or stitch up a wound. They may fight with food and fun, but that doesn't soften concrete or curb wood from splintering. She knows her way around a needle.
Still. She prefers the dangers of being a field operative to being a medic. Just to avoid certain situations. Situations like, say, cutting open Numbuh 4 to remove shrapnel. Yeah. Abby doesn't envy Numbuh 3, that's for sure.
They say your first time operating on a teammate is the hardest. Numbuh 5 has never operated on anyone else. But that's a story for another day.
Numbuh 5 takes the long route, past the med bay. The room is a wide open space, with places to station medical equipment as needed. They could cram ten to twenty sectors inside easily. There's a tarp over the entrance for easy access, but the option for a door to slam down to protect injured parties is there.
It's not Numbuh 4's first trip in there, but normally it's Numbuh 5 who does the surgery. Kuki insisted this time. Gotta do it some time, she said; they all know it's to prepare her for when Abby is gone.
It's dead quiet inside. She taps her knuckles on the door frame and waits.
Numbuh 86 pokes her head out. "If it ain't an emergency, I'll have to ask ya to wait, Numbuh 5."
"No biggie." Numbuh 5 shakes her head. She notices the girl keeps her hands carefully concealed behind the tarp. There's probably something unsightly staining them. "Numbuh 5 is heading down to grab somethin' from the stash. Want anything?"
The girl's mouth soured. "Not 'til that boy is seen to." Fanny glanced behind her, then back, voice lowering. "I don't wanna give 'er the chance. Not 'fore she's done, anyway."
Numbuh 86 knows best. Numbuh 5 hates to admit that, but she's been a medic for years. She knew what she was saying.
Numbuh 86 disappears back into the med bay. Numbuh 5 keeps on walking.
Numbuh 5 hits the king-sized bars immediately. Dark chocolate. Bitter, but quick to do the job.
She makes herself stay mostly able. It's hard, but a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do. She contemplates taking a chest up with her, but that's too much of an excuse. Numbuh 5 stuffs her pockets and heads back.
This time, Numbuh 3 is there.
She's curled into a ball, face hidden behind the bulky sleeves wrapped around her knees. She's too numb to cry. Her sweater is covered in blood. They'll have to toss it and buy new. Poor girl.
Numbuh 5 is familiar with blood. She's seen her father work; has had some sticking to her hands. Blood don't bother her anymore. The idea that it's Wally's- that the small firecracker she had seen fine just a few hours ago was unconscious on a gurney, bloody and stitched up- makes her stomach turn. She should have paid better attention, as senior operative, but there wasn't much to be done for it now.
"Hey, baby." She murmurs huskily. She braves her own nausea to press Numbuh 3 to her side. "You up for a shower just yet?"
Kuki nods. Tears spring up in her eyes. "Can I use yours?" She whispers. "I don't want my babies to see me like this."
"'Course, Kuki. Whatever you need."
Numbuh 3 stumbles after her, a death grip on her hand. Abby squeezes in return.
"He won't wake up tonight."
"That's a shame." She tuts. "Numbuh 1's got some words for that boy."
"Can I sleep in your room?"
The idea of sleep now is play-pretend at best, really, but she indulges her. "Always. I'll grab one of your Rainbow Monkeys for extra comfort."
Kuki shakes her head, lip shivering. "They'll be so scared."
"Your doctor Rainbow Monkey'll get it." Numbuh 5 says, thinking as quick as she can with five candy bars under her belt. She can't recall if there's a doctor Rainbow Monkey, and, if there is, what it's called.
She hesitates. "You think?"
"I know, baby. Numbuh 5 knows."
Abby doesn't know how long they take to get there- Kuki in shock and her body weighed down by candy, both eaten and not- but eventually she helps Numbuh 3 into her room, down the steps into her clean bathroom, and clicks the door shut behind her. She knows a cry for alone time when she sees it.
"Use Numbuh 5's robe when you done." She calls. No reply. "She won't mind."
Numbuh 5 hesitates to leave her, but Numbuh 3 has too much strength, and too little strength, to do more than clean herself off. She goes to give Nigel the good news.
Numbuh 86 has beaten her to it. Her uniform is pristine as she rocks on her heels, face drawn into her usual scowl. She seems to have refused the offer to sit down.
"Ye'll be better off requestin' temporary leave, Nigel." She's saying. "I swear, ya' put that poor lass inta battle again this week, I'll have yer butt for it. Same fer that idiot Numbuh 4. It sends a bad message 'bout the Kids Next Door."
"Of course." He agrees. Numbuh 1's words are slightly slurred.
Numbuh 5 uses the lull to politely wander into the room. "Numbuh 5 set the girl up with a hot shower. She'll be out soon."
"Numbuh 5, you're in charge of Numbuh 4 while he recovers." Fanny does an about-face to look at her. "Just make sure he don't fall outta bed and it'll be fine." Her eyes soften, just a tad. "Watch over Numbuh 3 fer me, all of ya." She says that to her, simply because she can't imagine showing such weakness willingly to a boy, but Abby nods anyway.
"She's our friend, 86. 'Course we'll take care of her."
"Good." Numbuh 86 marches out of the room like nothing traumatic has happened. It occurs to Numbuh 5 that while Sector V can sit back and wait, the Irish woman's night had just begun. She wouldn't know much of Wally's condition until after he woke up. She thought she heard her voice echoing quietly down the halls.
"Kuki, darlin', I gotta leave now. Your stupid friend'll be fine. I know it ain't easy, but ye'll survive." A long pause. Then, quieter. "I'm sorry, really. Don't be mad. S'your duty."
Numbuh 5 pulls out a handful of lollipops.
"Relives the stress."
Numbuh 2 gestures with his half-empty mug of root beer. "Trade ya."
Numbuh 5 ends up giving him half her pocket-stash. She vows to push the rest on Numbuh 3 when she makes her way up and settles back in by Numbuh 1's side, chugging a soda in one go.
It's a long time 'till the stitches heal, after all.
Author's Note: I'm back to give the fandom a good shot of angst! I have a sequel idea to this, with Fanny and Rachel, but I dunno if I'll actually write it.
This is what happens when you and a comrade watch a kid's show and both of you are the type to pick out implied angst for headcanons. Seriously. You shift a pebble in this show and a avalanche showers down.
-Mandaree1
(Also, I'm so sorry to any Irish folks I may have offended. I'm terrible at writing accents.)