Rites of Passage

A Kingdom Hospital Novel

One

One of the few things Dr. Hook despised was water. Not the kind used for his hot showers or the kind he made his iced tea with. It was the disgusting rain water that he hated. The kind that had flowed into the hospital in all of its muddy, murky glory, sloshing at his feet and ruining his brand new shoes in the process. Oh, yes. He despised that kind of water.

"Dr. Hook! Dr. Hook!"

Hook turned to see the unmistakable, round face of Bobby Druse making his way towards him, grimacing as the water soaked the bottom of his scrubs.

"What can I do ya for, Bobby?" he struggled to be jovial despite the disgusting, wet, squishy feeling in his shoes.

"The crowd's trying to get in again. Otto and Jeff are fending 'em off, but they're gonna need help."

Hook sighed, using one of his hands to comb through his unkempt hair while the other sat comfortably on his hip. And he was suddenly aware of the fact that the water had begun to creep up his ankles and towards his calves. "Can't you help them?"

Bobby raised an eyebrow, gesturing to his less-than-fit shape. "Elmer's on his way and a few of the other patients are there, but we can use more."

"Alright. Let me run up the records on this patient and then I'll be back down," Hook sat a hand on Bobby's shoulder, forcing a smile onto his face before he waded past the young orderly. Glancing towards the direction of the elevators he mourned for the loss of their technology. In the past few days, not only had they lost the use of their elevators, but nearly a quarter of their computers had either locked up, rebooted for three hours straight or completely shut down, erasing whatever unsaved information that had been open. Which meant a painful amount of longhand and shorthand writing, depending on the person.

Compared to this, earthquakes and black noise seemed like nothing.

He stopped before the stairs, grasping the doorknob and shoving his shoulder against the door to force it open. With a great "swoosh"-ing sound, it opened, a great amount of water rushing past his legs and down the stairs.

He hoped no one was down there.

To his relief, the level of the water and lowered a bit, making it easier to make his way up the stairs and towards the neurosurgery floor. The weeks since the change hadn't been the easiest weeks of his life. Of course, they had all been impossibly happy that little Mary had finally saved and that Gottreich and "the bad boy" were gone for good. Hell, even Steg had finally resigned. Or, more appropriately, agreed to resign to save himself the humiliation after being put on probation for his anesthetic "mishap." He'd tried to save face on his last day, gathering the items from his office and giving tight smiles to his colleagues as his said his cordial goodbyes. Not that it made much of a difference.

Hook still had a faint purple ring around his eye where Steg had laid one on him.

He'd thought the Keepers of the Kingdom sign would be a fitting farewell.

Apparently Steg thought differently.

But really, nothing necessarily "good" had occurred since then. He and Chris had called it quits after a particularly passionate argument in which certain words were exchanged, concluding with a smashed vase and the key to Hook's apartment connecting with his forehead. Thing had not been cordial between them. Most people scrambled to leave the area when he and Chris were around one another.

And then this damn storm. Weathermen in Bangor still insisted that, by all accounts it should have been a bright, sunny morning for Lewiston. They promised day in and day out that the storm was dying down. There weren't even any clouds anywhere else on the east coast. Hell, New York hadn't had any rain in weeks. Apparently, the storm clouds (which appeared to be of hurricane quality) had stationed above Lewiston and only Lewiston. Images playing on the news showed that, at the border between cities, one could see the precise area where the storm began and where it ended. As if there were a glass partition isolating them and keeping them in their watery prison, as it were.

Hook stopped before the neurosurgery floor doorway, shaking each leg off in turn, trying desperately to rid himself of the disgusting feeling. Once he was sure he had shaken off as much water as possible for the moment, he pushed the door open, hurrying towards one of his newest patients' rooms. In his rush, he failed to look up, gaze focused on the now ruined loafers. Until he collided with another, slightly smaller body.

He grunted as his rear end hit the tile floor, oblivious to the distinctly feminine voice echoing his sentiments no more than two feet from him.

"Ow, ow, ow."

The familiar voice caused Hook's body to tense and he glanced up to find a Dr. Christine Draper seated on the floor before him, legs bent in a rather unladylike manner, skirt exposing more than he would like anyone but himself to see. Without thinking, he reached forward, pushing her skirt down to give her some amount of modesty. Chris finally looked up, obviously prepared to either scream or pummel whoever had touched her thigh. Whatever sound she had been going for caught in her throat, emerging as a tiny squeek.

"Chris…Dr. Draper. I didn't expect to see you around here," Hook announced, pushing himself to his feet and holding a hand out to assist Chris in doing the same. She waved his hand off, pushing herself up, careful not to let her skirt ride up, reaching up to adjust her hair.

"I work here, Hook," she shot, angrily, refusing to meet his gaze. In a vain attempt to save face, Hook brought his hand up from its helpful position, running it through his hair.

"No, I mean…I mean, you were up pretty late last night. I thought maybe you would have taken one of the free rooms to sleep it off," he shrugged, giving her a weak grin. Chris sighed, dropping her arms and finally meeting his eyes.

"Don't they need you downstairs?" she questioned, gently. Hook lowered his head, setting his hands on his hips and chuckling, nervously.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, looks like some of the people outside are trying to get in again. Bobby said they need some more help keeping them out," he answered and Chris nodded, slowly.

"I hate this storm," she announced, softly, before spinning on her heel and walking briskly back down the hall. Hook watched her for a long moment, allowing all signs of laughter to slide completely away from his face.

"Yeah. Join the club."

"Mommy? Mommy..."

Gloria Trujillo glanced up from the poorly written romance novel she'd allowed herself to be immersed in to find her eight-year-old daughter standing before her, over-sized teddy bear clutched in her arms.

"What's the matter, Norma?" she set the book down beside her, pulling the small girl-teddy bear and all-into her lap.

"My head hurts," Norma murmured into her mother's shoulder, heaving a tired sigh. Gloria smiled, rubbing her back, soothingly, running her hand through her long black hair.

"Do you want some aspirin?" she questioned and the girl nodded, slowly. "Alright. Come on, I'll go get you some."

She hefted the small girl up, carrying her into the bathroom and setting her on the toilet lid as she began searching through the cupboard for the aspirin. "Here we go. You want some water or milk?"

"Water. Milk makes my tummy feel yucky," Norma grimaced and Gloria laughed, softly, pulling a cup down and filling it with water, handing Norma both the cup and the tiny pill.

"There ya go. That should make you feel better," she announced as Norma shoved the pill into her mouth, quickly drinking from the cup, some of the water dribbling down her chin. "Now, back to bed. You have school tomorrow; I need you to wake up for me."

"I always wake up," Norma cocked her head to the side, struggling to look innocent. Gloria reached forward, grasping her by the waist and pulling her off of the toilet, tickling her and sending her into a fit of giggles. "Mooommeeee, my head, 'member?"

"Alright, alright. Go," she swatted the young girl on the rear end as she scurried off towards her bed. Smiling, Gloria turned to the sink, beginning to wash the cup out and clean the tiny bathroom out. She paused at the mirror, eyeing her gaunt, tired face. It had been almost two years since her husband had died, two years since she'd felt young. Now, at twenty-seven, with an eight-year-old daughter, she felt as though she'd grown thirty years. After the funeral, there had been a custody battle between herself and Norma's paternal grandparents. They swore Gloria had not been fit to care for such a young child. After all, who gets married at 17 and can possibly be able to take car of a child just shy of 20? Not Gloria Trujillo, no. Never mind the fact that they had forced her to pay for the funeral arrangements and the cemetery plot (which had to be near his grandparents' mausoleum). To the day, they were still fighting for the child, despite the fact that the court had ruled in favour of Gloria. After all, what did the courts know?

Sighing, she made her way back into the living room, picking up the romance novel and struggling to focus on the fact that "Manuel" had recently placed his hands on "Georgia's" voluptuous "mounds of flesh." Gloria was unable to hide a snort.

"Mommy," Norma's desperate voice called behind her and Gloria rolled her eyes, shutting the book on her finger and cocking her head to the side, eyeing the silent TV. In the screen, she could see Norma emerge, the teddy bear long forgotten.

"What now?" she questioned, struggling to hide the irritation in her voice. Behind her, Norma opened her mouth and Gloria clearly saw blood dribble down the young girl's chin and onto her pink nightgown.

And she screamed.

Thanks to my three reviewers-tIgGer-KH143, IsisRose and ChandaK562-who made me feel a hell of a lot better about putting this story up. I really do appreciate it. And I promise, despite my leanings towards certain characters, there will be no favouring. Because favouring makes baby Jesus cry. The chapters will be also getting longer as soon as I get back into the groove of college.