Happy birthday to me, another chapter.
I realize that OC's are risky, and not entirely popular. My hope is that this character, which you will actually meet here, is interesting enough and well-developed enough to work. I'm very curious to know your thoughts! Any constructive criticism is appreciated.
Let me know what you think!
DOCTOR, DOCTOR
"Move," said the woman, pushing the gun more firmly against Rick's neck. He stood, hands raised, and moved under the carport. His team had their weapons drawn, but Rick was a very effective human shield for the woman. "Drop your weapons," she said. Her southern accent was slightly different than Rick's; giving him some idea of how far north they had traveled.
No one responded to her demand, and every weapon but Rick's remained steadily trained at the stranger.
The gun at Rick's neck gave an ominous click. "Here's a little anatomy lesson, folks: the barrel of this gun is about a centimeter from this guy's carotid artery, and his spinal cord's just a little ways past that. So unless you want your boss man to be paralyzed for the thirty seconds or so before he dies of blood loss, I suggest you drop. Your. Weapons."
Rick lowered his gun to the ground, and the others followed.
"Thank you" said the woman.
"We don't mean you any harm, ma'am" said Rick. "Just needed a place to stay."
"You definitely do," said the woman. "I could smell you from the gate. Not to mention see you. Stealth really isn't your forte, is it?"
In a flash, Rick grabbed the gun and wrested it from the woman's hand, pressing her firmly into the wall. He held her by the neck, and pressed the barrel of her own gun into her temple.
To his astonishment, the woman laughed. "Well never mind," she said. "I'm impressed."
She was not at all what Rick had expected. She was maybe thirty and, he couldn't help but notice, quite pretty. She was athletic and slender, of average height, with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had olive skin, and eyes that glinted with mischief and humor and shifted eerily between a deep blue and gray. There was a certain luster to her hair and skin that told Rick she was much more well fed than anyone in his group had been in too damned long.
Rick's grip tightened around the butt of the gun, his finger on the trigger. It would be so easy. The house was obviously secure enough, and they could have it all to themselves. They could make it better. Judith could be warm and dry. All it would take was a twitch of his finger. The most miniscule movement, and it would be theirs. It would be the easiest thing in the world.
Rick stared at the woman, and the woman stared back, meeting Rick's eyes unflinchingly. It was as though she could see through him, and for a moment he wondered what kind of man she saw there. In her eyes he saw cleverness, he saw strength, he saw a deep well of sadness hidden beneath that initial glint of humor, but he saw not the slightest trace of fear, and he wondered what kind of person could have a stranger point a gun to her head and remain unafraid.
The answer, though, was obvious. Rick could.
Rick could pull the trigger. He could still do it, and it would still make things simpler. But it no longer seemed quite so easy.
"Well, what's it gonna be, gorgeous?" the woman asked after the long pause. "You haven't shot me yet—which, don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to bits about—so I'm guessing you're not one for indiscriminate violence."
"I told you," Rick replied, wondering how accurate her last statement was of late. "We need a safe place."
"And food, and baths, yes," said the woman. "Looks like y'all been on the road a long time. And smells like it too." Her eyes flicked toward the rest of the group. "And you need medicine for the little girl. She's yours?" she asked Rick. "Cause—no offense—she doesn't favor you overly." She said to Tyreese.
"Uh, none taken," said Tyreese.
"How long's she been sick?" the woman asked, meeting Rick's eyes again. Her tone was utterly relaxed and casual, and she showed no sign of anxiety at having a stranger hold a gun inches from her face. They might have been chatting over beers at the local bar, back in the days when people did such things.
"You talk an awful lot for someone with a gun to her head," Rick replied.
"Well y'all look to me like folks in need of help, and I can provide that" said the woman. "Now, you could just kill me and take my place and dump my body out back with the dead guys, but I figure if you were gonna do that you'd have done it already. And anyway, your little girl's sick, and I'm a doctor."
Rick's head jerked back in surprise, and he glanced at his group in question. Glenn shrugged, Michonne nodded, and Daryl, after a moment of consideration, gave a slight dip of his head in assent.
Rick turned back to the woman, and pressed her gun more firmly against her temple. "How many walkers have you killed?"
"Walkers?" she said blankly, and then her eyes brightened in recognition. "Oh, walkers! I like that. Can I use that?"
"How many walkers have you killed?" Rick growled, squeezing her neck more firmly.
"Oh, honey," she said. "Too many to count. Dozens? Hundreds? I lost track a long time ago."
"How many people have you killed?"
The woman's eyes darkened, all trace of humor disappearing from her features. "Eight."
"Why?"
"The first three," she spat, " were because they tried to rape the closest thing I've ever had to a sister. The fourth and fifth were my father and my fiancé because they died and turned and I put I knife through their skulls and I just can't seem to count them among the dead I've put down. The sixth was that almost sister, because she got caught in a herd of your walkers and she begged me to. And the seventh and eighth were because they thought they could break in here and take what they wanted and turn me into a fuck toy. Any further questions?"
Rick loosened his grip but didn't release the woman as he studied her carefully. He wanted to trust her, and something about her meant he did, with a depth he didn't fully understand. "How do I know I can trust you?" he asked quietly.
"Because," she murmured back, "the knife in my hand isn't buried in your gut."
Rick followed her gaze. Her right hand, which had been hidden from the view of the others by Rick's body, held a four-inch serrated blade, the tip of which just brushed against the fabric of Rick's coat. She could have had it buried in his gut in an instant, had she chosen to. He met her eyes again.
The woman shrugged, smirking slightly, and Rick released her. She tucked the knife back into the sheath at her hip. Rick returned her gun, and retrieved his own from the ground.
"Are you really a doctor?" Rick asked.
"Family doctor," she said, and offered her hand. "Hannah Todd, MD."
Rick hesitated, and then shook it. "Rick Grimes."
"And company," said Hannah Todd, looking at the others. "We'll do the formal introductions later, but why don't y'all come on in? I'll take a look at the little one."
Hannah ushered them into a cozy kitchen, as clean and well maintained on the interior as it was dilapidated on the outside. The cabinets were white, with the walls painted a pale gray and the floors granite tile. It was the first place Rick had been in since the farm that didn't smell of death and rot and disuse. It was only mildly warmer inside than out, but at least they were protected from the wind.
Rick and the others looked around with uncertainty, but Hannah Todd entered and took charge immediately. "I'd better take a look at the little nugget right away," she said, heading straight for Tyreese and Judith. "What's her name?"
"Judith," said Tyreese.
"Come here, Judith," said Hannah, taking Judith in her arms with a gentleness that endeared her to Rick immediately. "Papa Rick, you'll wanna come with me?"
Rick nodded.
"Me too," said Carl.
"Carl…" said Rick.
"I wanna stay with my sister," Carl insisted.
"It's ok," said Hannah. "I could use your help too, Carl."
"The rest of y'all might put your things in the den, for the time being," said Hannah, indicating the large, high ceilinged room just off of the dining area. "You could get a fire started, warm up. There's some wood in there, but you might get more. There's plenty stacked behind the barn. Oh, and there's a tub in the hall bathroom. You could get some water from the pump out back, warm it up over the fire for baths. There's soap, shampoo…I've even got disposable razors under the sink." Tara gave a quiet gasp of excitement, and Hannah grinned at her. "Knock yourselves out."
The group split off into the den, while Hannah ushered Rick and Carl into the front room. It was painted a cheery yellow, with a desk, a couch, and numerous boxes stacked along the wall to the left. Hannah laid Judith gently on the couch, lit an oil lamp against the growing darkness, and immediately began examining Judith. She was confident, efficient, and sure as she looked over Judith with an expression of mild concern. Rick had never been so glad not to have pulled the trigger in his life.
"Carl?" she asked. "Would you mind getting your sister undressed? I need to get a few things." Carl did as she asked as Hannah began rifling through the boxes. "Help me look through these, Rick Grimes. There should be one with bags of normal saline, and one with IV start kits. I'll need a pediatric one."
"How do I know which bag and kit to give you?" Rick asked as he began searching the boxes.
"Well the normal saline is in a clear bag that'll say 'normal saline' on it and the IV start kid says 'IV kit, comma, pediatric."
Rick gave a snort of laughter in spite of himself. "Thanks for that."
He found the items and brought them over to the couch where he knelt beside the doctor and his son. Hannah had gathered a few other items, and was listening to Judith's lungs with her stethoscope. "How is she?" Rick asked when she was finished.
"She's not good," said Hannah. "But I think you knew that. From her lung exam, I'd say she has pneumonia. She's also a bit malnourished and badly dehydrated."
"Can you help her?" Carl asked, the desperate tone of his voice making him sound, for once, like the kid he was.
Hannah had already gone to work starting the IV, and Rick couldn't help but wince as the needle pierced his baby girl's skin.
"Yes sir I can," said Hannah as she worked. "I'm gonna start out with giving her some fluids. That should perk her up. Then I'm gonna give her some ibuprofen for the fever, and because she's probably super uncomfortable, and some IV antibiotics for the infection. I keep those in the basement where the temperature stays more constant. The other thing I have to do won't be quite so much fun, and I'll need y'all to help me with."
"What's that?" Rick asked.
"Judith has fluid on her right lung," said Hannah. "It happens sometimes with bad pneumonia, and it makes it that much harder to breathe. I need to do what's called a thoracentesis, which is just fancy doctor-speak for taking the fluid off her lungs."
"How?" Rick asked.
Hannah held up a large syringe and an astonishingly large needle. "With this," she said. I'll stick this between her ribs and draw out the fluid. It'll hurt."
"Do you have to do it?" Carl asked. "She's already so sick, I don't wanna hurt her."
"Neither do I," Hannah replied. "And I don't have to. If you and your dad say no, I won't do it. It's not like it's a risk-free procedure. But Judith's having a lot of trouble breathing, and this'll help with that. And that fluid is full of bacteria and disgustingness, and if I leave it there she'll take a lot longer to heal. Probably get even sicker."
"Do it," said Rick.
Hannah studied his face for a moment, then nodded and went to work. Rick held Judith in his lap, securing her legs between his thighs and holding her arms out of the way. Carl sat on the floor by Rick's feet, holding a piece of gauze in one hand and a small cup in the other. Hannah, deep in concentration, carefully inserted the needle between Judith's ribs. The little girl whimpered and squirmed pitifully in discomfort, but was too lethargic to fight very much.
For the next several minutes, Hannah drew syringe after syringe of fluid from poor Judith's chest. When the syringe was full, Carl would hold the cup beneath the end of the needle to catch the drips while Hannah squirted the dark, foul smelling fluid into another container, and then they would go again. It hardly seemed possible to Rick that so much fluid could come from such a small body.
After several rounds, though, Judith seemed to breathe easier.
"I think that's enough for now," said Hannah, as Carl helped her bandage the wound. She listened to Judith's lungs again, and said with a nod: "much better. We may have to do it again tomorrow, but she already sounds clearer."
"How long before she gets better?" Carl asked.
Hannah smiled sadly. "I can't say. And I can't promise you she will. Judith's very sick. But I think with rest and food and medicine and time, I think she'll be fine. And I'm not planning on kicking you out until she does."
Hannah gave Carl a cheeky wink and rose, walking with smooth, athletic strides to the corner closet and returning with a bottle of Children's Motrin. Judith whimpered quietly when the offensive-tasting liquid entered her mouth, but swallowed and quickly went back to sleep.
"Why did you let us in?" Carl asked. "How'd you know we weren't bad people?"
"Well it was getting kinda lonely around here," Hannah replied. "I was starting to talk to the furniture. Figured I'd better take the risk of being axe murdered before it started talking back."
She made a face, and Carl grinned. It had been weeks since Rick had seen his son smile, and he felt his own spirits lift in response.
"I'll be right back," said Hannah. "Gotta go find those antibiotics. Carl, you're in charge."
"Yes ma'am," said Carl, and Hannah departed.
Rick leaned back against the couch and ran his hands over Judith's head. He still worried about her, of course. She was still dangerously warm and horribly lethargic and every breath was a deep, rattling wheeze, but she was out of the cold and lying on a soft, clean sofa, and Dr. Hannah Todd was so calm and capable that he felt the horrible knot in his chest loosen a bit.
"What do you think of her?" Carl asked. "Do you think we can trust her?"
"I hope so," Rick replied. "I'd like to trust her. She didn't have to take us in, and she seems to actually wanna help Judith."
"She's nice," said Carl. "Funny."
"Pretty?" Rick offered.
Carl's cheeks flushed. "Well, yeah."
Rick chuckled lightly and gave his son a playful nudge.
"Okay, got the good drugs," said Hannah, striding back into the room. Carl's ears turned even redder beneath his hat. "And cozy blankets." She tucked Judith snugly into two soft blankets and then rummaged through the boxes, emerging with extra IV line. She returned to Judith's side, and went to work adding the antibiotics to the circuit. Every so often, Hannah would ask Carl to hold something or attach a piece of tubing, ensuring he felt involved in his sister's care.
"I think she's all set," said Hannah a few moments later. "The best thing we can do for Judith now is let her sleep."
"I'll stay with her, if you don't mind," said Rick.
Hannah nodded, smiling softly. "Of course. Carl?"
"Can I…" Carl hesitated. "Would you mind if I took a bath?" He asked shyly. "Is that okay, Dad?"
"Sure it is," said Rick.
"I should go and see how the other guys are faring," said Hannah. "Let me know if you need anything."
Rick nodded, and Hannah stood. "Come on, Carl. Let's get you cleaned up."
Carl stood, and Hannah guided him gently to the door. With one final glance and a reassuring smile, Hannah departed, closing the door and leaving Rick alone with his sleeping daughter.
For a long time, Rick just sat and watched Judith sleeping. The room was lit with the golden glow of the single oil lamp, and the shadows were long and deep but not menacing. After some time, the lines of distress smoothed from Judith's forehead, and her body relaxed. The shaking chills seemed to have stopped, and her forehead felt cooler to the touch than it had in days. The knot in Rick's chest loosened a bit further.
Things were still far from perfect. Rick was still cold and hungry, and being in this clean home made him realize that he really did smell pretty ripe. Judith still wheezed with each breath. They were momentarily secure, but who knew how long that would last? Something deep within him trusted Dr. Hannah Todd, but he wasn't sure he should listen.
But the carpet was soft and clean and comforting, the room secure and dry. The only sounds were the faint hiss of the oil lamp and the faint murmur of familiar voices. They were safe, at least for the moment, and Judith seemed to be on the road to recovery. Rick laid his head down on the seat of the couch, one arm tucked around his sleeping daughter, and before long he was soundly asleep.
