By the time arrived and extracted the baby, stroller and all the packages from the taxi, with the driver helping, Izzy and Sookie were nowhere to be seen.
"Excuse me," Bill asked the nurse at the desk. "A woman and a little girl with a broken arm just came in an ambulance...?"
Bill kept his head down, realizing that if she assumed he was the father it would gain him entry he might otherwise be denied. It must have worked, because she pointed to the double doors and said. "X-Ray. Big Blue door on the right. You can't miss it. Cute baby." She smiled.
"Thank you." Bill said over his shoulder. He pushed the stroller down the hall to the X-ray room. He could hear Izzy crying. How did Sookie stand it? Bill wanted to burst through the doors and pick her up, anything to make the tears stop. Instead, he paced outside, pushing the stroller back and forth down the long hallway. The wait seemed interminable. Will fell asleep, and Bill slumped on a nearby bench. Finally the door opened and Sookie emerged, pale and shaky, with an orderly pushing Izzy in a wheelchair.
"Her arm is broken." Sookie said. "The orthopedic surgeon is looking at the x-rays. Something about her elbow and a growth plate." She sank onto the bench beside him.
The orderly, a slight young man with a barely visible mustache, parked the wheel chair and touched Sookie's shoulder. "I'll be right back to take you upstairs."
'Thank you." Sookie murmured.
Izzy's arm rested in a padded sling tight against her chest. Her eyelids fluttered and closed.
"They gave her something," Sookie said, stroking her daughter's hair. "For the pain."
"How are you?" Bill asked. Sookie looked exhausted and overwhelmed.
"There's a lot of noise here. It's hard to shut it out." She leaned back against the wall. "I can't seem to keep my shields up."
Bill remembered the concentration it had taken for Sookie to do that when they first met. She had been quite open about how wonderful it felt to be with him and hear nothing after a lifetime of mind-noise. While they were together he taught her some techniques and he knew that she had used them with some measure of success but under this kind of stress all of that collapsed.
"Sookie," he said. "Look at me." She turned toward him and he placed his hands on either side of her face. Her skin was smooth and warm and he fought the desire to pull her closer, to capture her lips with his own. But that inappropriate behavior would not help the current circumstances at all.
"Concentrate on trying to read my mind." Sookie closed her eyes and he felt her gradually relax.
"Nothing." She smiled. "Nothing at all." After a few moments her hand moved to cover his. "Thank you."
The sharp clack of heels on the tile broke their reverie. A petite woman wearing a lab coat over expensive slacks stopped in front of them. She had dark hair cropped close to her head. Wire rimmed glasses framed wide brown eyes. She held out a hand. "I'm Dr. Bradford. I've been looking over your daughter's x-rays."
Sookie stood, taking the offered hand "Sookie Merlotte, and this is my friend Bill Compton."
The doctor was either rude, absorbed in her work, or familiar with the habits of vampires, for she did not offer him her hand. She directed her comments to Sookie.
"From what I can see there isn't any growth plate involvement. We're going to fix her up with a cast and get you on your way. She'll need a follow up visit in a few weeks. Do you have a primary physician?"
"No," Sookie said. We just moved to the area."
"Alright," the doctor said brusquely. "I can see her." She extracted a card from her pocket and handed it to Sookie. "Call tomorrow. Tell the receptionist it's an emergency case and she'll get you on the schedule." The doctor's eyes searched the corridor. She muttered something about the orderly and released the brake on the wheelchair. "I'll take her. Do you want to come?"
"All of us?" Sookie said, indicating Bill and the baby sleeping in the stroller.
"The more the merrier." The doctor said. But Bill detected a note of exasperation.
"I'll wait here with Will," He told Sookie. "I can call and get us one of the Coalition drivers to take us home. No reason to call a cab."
"All right. We'll meet you here. How long will it be?" She asked the doctor.
"Shouldn't take long."
The doctor pushed the wheelchair rapidly down the hallway and Sookie hurried to catch up.
By the time Sookie reappeared, pushing a drowsy Izzy, her arm now incased in a bright pink cast, the limousine was idling out front. Bill watched in fascination as Sookie detached the seat from the stroller and buckled it into the limo facing backwards. He decided he would have to have her show him. It would have been nice to know for the taxi ride. The limo driver put the packages in the trunk as Bill helped Sookie get Izzy settled next to Will, buckling her in as well.
"Can we give Bull his present now, Mama?" Izzy asked.
"It's in the trunk. We'll give it to him at home, okay?"
Bill noted Sookie's use of the word 'home'. He knew it was accidental, but it made him happy to know that she even fleetingly thought of this as home.
By the time the limo had gone several blocks, Izzy and Will were both asleep. Sookie yawned.
"You've had quite a day." Bill said.
"Yes. But she'll be fine. The doctor said kid's bones heal quickly. Shopping was fun, and maybe you can take us back to the museum sometime, if you want."
"Izzy might enjoy the aquarium more." Bill said.
"Um hmm." Sookie nodded, yawning again. "Sorry."
"It's okay. Go to sleep. I'll wake you when we get there."
Sookie drifted off, leaning against him, and silence filled the car. Bill found himself breathing in sync with the three of them without even thinking about it.