I do not own Ratched.
I do not own my angel boy Huck. But I love him.
Huck Finnigan Lives Again: A Ratched Fairytale
Fair
He has an office.
"-near as impressive or spacious as Hanover's office, I'm afraid-"
Which is a new experience for him.
"-nice enough though, don't you think?"
And he likes it fine.
It's not quite the size of his room above the garage.
And sparsely outfitted.
A chair and desk.
Lamp atop. Abandoned deskset.
Waning potted plant in the corner of the room.
Coatrack. Filing cabinet. Near empty bookshelf.
Large, stopped analog clock hung upon the cream colored wall.
Sunlight filters in through a single, small, smudged window facing the backlot of the tree-lined property.
And creeps across the blue shag carpeting.
"Yes. Of course."
Though Huck suspects . . .
"-quiet space to work, I suppose . . ."
. . . Nurse Bucket isn't quite as remorseful for the space size . . .
"-to think to yourself here and there at least . . ."
. . . as she purports herself to be.
"It's just fine. Thank you."
She isn't that far removed from who she used to be.
And then . . .
"Well, I'll leave you to it then. Let me know if you need anything. Chop-chop."
. . . it's just him.
Alright.
In the space
What do I do?
Alone.
He has been taking time to go through the lists.
Staff schedules.
Activity schedules.
Lists of patients and their ailments, their treatments.
Their time in house and any possibility of projected release.
There are few.
This strikes him as sad.
They should be with their families, their loved ones.
Then it hits him that some of their loved ones don't want them any more.
And that makes him sad too.
It takes him a while to figure it out.
Wait, what . . .
And when he does . . .
That can't be right.
. . . he's utterly miffed.
How is that fair?
And he has to go find Nurse Bucket . . .
"-speak to you, if you don't mind."
. . . since she is in charge of the hospital now.
"Sure, Huck, what can I do for you?"
And should be able to do something . . .
"Well, I was, uh, familiarizing myself to some of the workings of the hospital."
. . . about the discrepancies . . .
'Yes?"
. . . he's seeing.
"And I found something that doesn't make sense."
That should not be.
"Well, what is it?"
"Look."
Huck Finnigan waits as Betsy Bucket's peering eyes above her pinched nose glance down the sheet of paper he has laid on the massive desk between them.
"Employee payroll."
He nods.
"Yes."
"What of it?"
It's okay. He had to study it a minute as well.
"Well, just look."
She seems to.
Looks back up at him, growing impatient.
"I don't see anything."
And he bites back his own impatience.
Come on, this should be of interest to you.
"Well, just look. On the average, a female staff member earns an average of nearly half the pay of a male staff member."
Nurse Bucket shrugs her bony shoulders.
"So? You and I are getting paid well enough, aren't we?"
And Huck tries not to stare anymore than his ruined left side of his face already has a proclivity to.
"No. I mean yes."
He stops. Sets himself. He has just as much right to speak anyone else.
And this is important.
"What I'm talking about is the other staff. Women. They do the same work, don't they? Shouldn't they get the same pay as the men? Based on years of experience, I suppose."
And now it is Nurse Bucket who stares at him.
For several long moments.
As if shes trying to work him out.
But Huck has learned . . .
"Let's go to supper, Mrs. Kee."
"That's sounds wonderful, William Holden."
. . . to be patient.
"It's 'Huck', Mrs. Kee."
"Alright, William Holden."
And persistent.
So he simply waits while Nurse Bucket . . .
"This really means a lot to you, huh?"
. . . studies him.
He nods, determined.
And she finally . . .
"Alright."
. . . relents with a sigh that he will not go away until he has gotten what he wanted.
And Betsy Bucket, the self-designated head of the hospital . . .
"I'll see what we have in the budget, okay?"
. . . and Huck Finnigan, the man with the monster mask for a face, . . .
"Thank you."
. . . unwittingly become pioneers for . . .
"You're quite the feminist aren't you, Huck?"
. . . equal pay based on race and sex . . .
"I don't know what that word means."
. . . at least . . .
"I just know what's fair."
. . . of St Lucia hospital.
I really believe Huck is going to be Nurse Bucket's moral compass and common sense person here because in my opinion she has proven to not have much of her own.
Thanks to DinahRay for reviewing before. You're always so gracious. :)
