A thick, beautiful, young Portoriccan girl and the live action equivalent of 'Rise of the Guardians' Jack Frost stand on the breezeway just outside the chief's office in this seemingly forbidden part of the hospital. Medusa is just across this bridge. The very bridge upon which her husband got shot once. He's heard all the stories as a passing ghost in these halls and now he's being summoned to the throne by the very thing which all who work here fear.
"You got this." Says Tori, "She's not that scary. She's beautiful and a mom and she's partially responsible for saving my kids life today so it's probably a good thing."
Her hands are on his shoulders and she's shaking him the way you shake a rag doll and it's kind of working.
He nods, "Your right. If it is bad. If I am getting fired?"
"Me and Ella will get drunk tonight at Joes." She smiles.
He furrows his brows in confusion, "You mean you're getting me drunk tonight at Joes?"
"That's what I said." She smiles.
They both laugh and she spins him to face the bridge. Several white coat doctors walk across its length referencing pieces of papers on clip boards in their hands as they discuss with fellow doctors the surgeries they had today. There's a disturbance in the air and even they radiate with woe and sadness. It's all very thick and heavy as he walks past the massive windows revealing the sparkle of a frozen city.
Then he's got his hand on the icy door to the office and his fist is knocking on the wood.
"It's open." Comes the stern voice of Dr. Grey.
He twists the nob and pushes the door inward making sure to close it behind him, "You wanted to see me, Chief?"
She looks up from the book on her desk, the spectacles rest on the edge of her nose and she has the look of a wise grandmother though none of her hairs have gone silver. A smile spreads across her thin lips but it's small and sympathetic, "Mr. Bryson. You look absolutely wonderful."
He can't help but smile. That's the last thing he ever expected anyone here to say of him. Of the garbage man.
She rises and walks over to him, her heels clicking on the marble flooring, and her right hand comes out to find his. They shake, it's gentle and firm and she's placing a hand on his shoulder, "You've had an awful day."
"Um. I wouldn't say awful. Interesting, might be a good word if I was trying to be happy about being alive." His words would have made absolutely no sense to anyone else but she understood.
She turns and gestures towards the seat opposite her own and says, "Take a seat. Tell me all about it."
When she's sat down, he makes his way over and does the same, "Where do you want me to start? Because my morning, before I ever got to work, was the real interesting part."
"Sure." She nods.
He hesitates, "Should I be wearing my mask? I apologize-"
He goes to grab it and she swats at him, "Nonsense. I need to hear you."
"Three guys broke into my home claiming to be different versions of me and I brought them to the clinic to get them tested." He states this as one would describe a simple infraction on a driving law. A common mix up. A casual mistake. Only sometimes the smallest things can cause the greatest amount of chaos. eight vehicle pile ups on 85, eighteen flatlines, overdoses.
She responds with, "Wow. That's insane."
He nods, "Yeah. Other than that, today was pretty much the same for me as it is any other day."
She sighs, "I know where you're coming from but it's not every day you pay respects to eighteen members of the dead. That's traumatic, Parker."
There's something sweet in her laughter when she says such dreadful words. He's very confused, however.
"I've been paying attention Parker. You have a very respectful way you go about life. And you're so atmosphere in this weird blue sadness. It reminds me of myself back when I was an intern here." She speaks.
He leans forward, "Maim, I'm just the garbage boy. I could never be anything like you."
"Nonsense. Anyone can save a life. Even Ghosts, Mr. Bryson." She closes the cover on her book and he realizes it's his own, or at least P. Parker's.
A sudden shock goes through his body and she's pulling open a drawer. Out comes a single sheet of paper. She's giving him a raise. Resting down a pen in front of him she asks so kindly, "When you finish signing this agreement, I would greatly appreciate an author's signature. I'm excited for the next one. I hope it comes out soon."
He scribbles away his signature and then she's handing him her copy of a book he wrote, and he asks, "Can you keep this between us? I don't want everyone knowing who I am."
"A ghost isn't a ghost if everyone can see him." She takes her book back and tucks it away, "You're dismissed. Thank you for stopping by Professor Aracne. You're free to haunt us another day."
And so, he leaves knowing the Gods have not forsaken him.
