I do not own Ratched.

I do not own my angel boy Huck.

Huck Finnigan Lives Again: A Ratched Fairytale

Mr. Harrison

"Good morning, Mr. Harrison. It's a lovely day outside. Would you like to sit in the sun?"

". . ."

". . ."

"Y-yes. That . . . sounds . . . nice."

"Grace, look at this."

"What is it?"

"Mr. Harrison's daily chart. Look at the intake."

"He ate oatmeal. Plain oatmeal."

"Yes. Not much. Not more than a few bites. But he did it."

"Oh, Huck, that's wonderful! Do you really think he's getting better?"

"It's seems like a start."

"Grace? What is it? Nurse Cooke said you wanted to see me?"

"Yes. Look."

"Is that . . . is that Peter?"

"Yes."

"What . . . he's . . . he's just sitting there."

"Yes. And look at Mr. Harrison."

"He's . . . letting him."

"Yes."

"I guess . . . it makes a certain amount of sense."

"Neither one of them overwhelms the other."

"Do you think . . ."

"Hello, Mr. Harrison."

" . . . "

"I noticed Peter out here with you the other day."

". . . "

"Are you alright with him being out here or . . ."

". . ."

". . ."

"No. I don't mind. He can stay."

"Well, I think Peter's helping."

"Maybe we could send him out there with a set of checkers or something."

"Maybe. Let's give them some time together first."

"That's my seventy points to your eighteen, William Holden," the 1922 Southern Florida Shuffleboard State Champion challenges to St Lucia's Head Nurse in the middle of same said rehabilitation center's recreational outdoors area.

"Shall we call it in my favor then?"

And Huck Finnigan seems to consider this mildly worded proposal.

As the murmuring circle of patients and staff (certainly not all but more than a few), watch on in eager anticipation.

"I don't know. I think I might be able to make a comeback yet, Mrs. Kee. Just because you've beaten everyone else doesn't mean you'll beat me."

The older woman's small even teeth are bright white against her smooth elbony skin.

"Well, William Holden, let it be said arithmetics were never your strong suit."

And with everyone in attendance looking on with no doubt baited breath, . . .

"But if you insist . . ."

. . . Mrs. Glenda Josephina Duante Kee applies just the proper amount of force . . .

"There you go, William Holden."

. . . to the cue in her delicate hand . . .

"You've done well, of course."

. . . and the weighted disc glides right down the freshly spruced court . . .

"But all's fair in love and war."

. . . to rest almost perfectly upon the number five . . .

"And I do believe I have won . . ."

. . . space.

". . . this particular war."

Much to the good-natured chagrin . . .

"It's Huck, Mrs. Kee."

. . . of Beulah Olive Thatcher Finnigan's only child . . .

"Don't change the subject, William Holden. And I suppose you're right."

. . . who somehow amid his shame finds himself able to seek out the beautiful face of his clapping sweetheart . . .

"The question only remains, . . ."

. . . and gift her a charming . . .

". . . who's the next challenger?"

. . . wink.

"You missed quite the shuffleboard competition this afternoon, Mr. Harrison."

"I was watching . . . from the window."

"Taking bets?"

Almost a smile.

"No."

"Well, maybe next time you'll join us. What do you say?"

". . . "

". . . "

"I'm . . . more of a . . . checkers man myself."

"You don't say?"

"Hey, Chief, do me a favor? Take this box of checkers out there to Mr. Harrison, will you?"

"Grace, Grace, look."

"Wher- . . . oh, Huck. Are they playing checkers?"

"Looks that way."

"Oh, how wonderful . . . hey, maybe we should make that our next St Lucia championship rivalry."

"Maybe we should."

"Good morning, Nurse Baker. Lovely morning, isn't it?"

It certainly is. Not a person alive with eyes could contest it.

It had been raining. Earlier.

But now the California sun is shining once again.

Breeze warm and tanging of the ocean.

Green grass sparking with watery diamonds.

All in all, a lovely day.

And Huck Finnigan forgets his ruined face.

"So where are we today?"

And smiles.

But the career nurse before him does not smile, nothing more than a weak attempt anyway.

And Huck's heart sinks and even though a myriad of reasons for her flat countenance could float through his mind, he knows of only one with surety.

That she speaks now simply and directly.

"Mr Harrison died last night."

And Huck just keeps still.

"He didn't show for breakfast or meds, sometimes he does that you know. I went to check. He was already gone."

And lets her tell him what he already knows.

"Died in his sleep. I guess his heart just couldn't take it anymore."

And Huck Finnigan . . .

We were making progress.

. . . feels so dispirited.

He was making progress.

"The coroner came in and took his body and we contacted his mother."

And Huck can't think of anything to say . . .

"I'm sorry, Huck. I truly am."

. . . to make it better.

"I know you were partial to him.

Because there is no one and nothing . . .

"Thank you, Nurse Baker."

. . . that can.

He's been to the room. The room where Mr Harrison tried to live.

The room where Mr Harrison tried to forgive.

The room where Mr Harrison died.

It's been cleaned already, scrubbed of him.

Quiet and still, waiting for the next patient.

Whom they may or may not be able to help.

There's a shaft of light on the floor in the middle of the room.

And Huck finds himself focusing on it.

We were making progress.

He was making progress.

"Good afternoon, William Holden."

"It's Huck, Mrs Kee. Huck, remember?"

"Yes, of course, William Holden. I know that."

"Huck, Mrs Kee. Huck. Can't you get it right once? Can't you try? Huck."

There's a growing edge to his voice, and he can't stop it.

Because just for once, just once, can't she get it right? That's all he's asking. Just once, dammit.

"Don't be so agitated, William Holden. Look at this lovely day we've got here."

"I'm not agitated, Mrs Kee. I just want you to get my name right. It's Huck. Huck Finnigan."

"Okay, Huck."

No, she hasn't gotten it. Of course she wouldn't. No, it would be too much to ask in a world like this.

"Come on."

It's Grace.

Grace suddenly at his side.

Hand on his arm gentle, voice gentle if also firm.

"Come with me."

And Huck . . .

"Have a lovely day, William Holden. Feel better now."

. . . goes with her.

Yeah. I'm sorry. I truly am.

Sadly, it is fairly common.

And there's more to come. Maybe it will help.

I hope so.

Thanks to DinahRay for previously reviewing. Though I know you may not be thanking me right now.

And that's okay. :)