Chapter 6: Released
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hospital or Mort Rainy they belong to the brilliant Stephen King.
A/N: Special thanks to my beta she's a doll and a fantastic writer I recommend her work to any one. Thanks for the reviews and to niichan626 sorry I haven't been updating I've been busy with school and I would just like to say that I have absolutely no intention of discontinuing this story. I have worked too hard on the plot and changed it way too many times to just give up now, trust me it will be finished.
Paul was laying in the eerie green glow of the tank that had taken his life, thinking. He closed his eyes and floated in the warm water surrounding him as he recharged. Paul both liked and hated his time in the tank; he liked it because it gave him time to think, to clear his head. It was also the only place in the in-between where he could get away from damn Gottreich.
He hated it because it made him feel exposed. Not because of the fact that he was floating in a glass tank stark naked—he definitely wasn't shy—but because being in the tank left him trapped. In there he was virtually powerless, vulnerable. It also gave him a weird sense of déjà-vu... like a bad memory that he couldn't quite remember.
But for the time being that was locked away somewhere in the back of his mind. He had something else to think about now. A dark haired, blue-eyed girl with a face that was strangely familiar. By now Paul was accustomed to the hazy spots in his memory and had grown used to pushing that nagging sense of familiarity to the back of his mind. But there was something about this girl, as though he knew her from somewhere, and he just couldn't figure out where.
As he lay pondering over the situation, he could feel the energy from the tank pulsing through his body, finally returning him to his full strength. As his strength returned, he felt the tank's hold on him loosen and, as soon as it let go completely, he faded from inside.
Blake continued to sit on the hospital bed, sketching away, oblivious to the time. Occasionally, she would set her pencil down as she erased a part she didn't like. Her hands were black from smudging and she had a dark mark on her chin from where she had absently scratched it earlier.
The door opened and Kelly poked her head inside. "Morning," she greeted cheerfully as she entered the room, bearing a cup of coffee in each hand.
Blake looked up from her sketch and smiled. "Hey, you're here early."
"Early?" Kelly giggled. "Blake, it's almost eleven."
"What?" she asked in disbelief, turning to the clock. Lo and behold, it read 10:48.
"Here," Kelly said, holding out one of the coffee cups. "Brought you a little pick-me-up."
"Thanks," Blake replied, accepting it.
"You seem to be working hard," Kelly remarked as she noticed the sketchbook and Blake's graphite-smudged hands.
"Um-hmm." She nodded, mouth still full of coffee.
"Can I see?" Kelly asked innocently, leaning forward to get a better view.
"No." Blake quickly snapped the book shut and Kelly gave her a curious look. "It's… not finished."
"Riiight, sure. Well, you might wanna go wash up, Hook'll be up to see you in a minute… and what the hell happened to your IV?"
Blake smiled, trying to look innocent. "Umm, I took it out," she answered casually, using her cutesy, I-just-fell-down-an-elevator-shaft-oh-woe-is-me voice, then getting up and walking to the washroom.
"Why?" her friend demanded.
"Because it was bothering me," she stated matter-of-factly as she washed her hands, and reentered the room, shaking them dry. "What?" she asked Kelly flatly, noticing the deeply amused expression she was wearing.
"That's very Mort Rainy," Kelly snorted and Blake rolled her eyes as she noticed what she was doing.
"Oh, shut up."
At that moment, Dr. Hook walked in, smiling as usual. "Good morning," he greeted, not looking up from his charts.
"Morning, Dr. Hook," both girls responded at the same time, causing Hook to glance up at them. The girls just grinned at his reaction.
"I think I'll just wait outside," Kelly said, casually making her way towards the door.
"So, Blake. How are you feeling this morning?" Hook asked brightly as the door shut behind Kelly.
"Can't complain," she stated, propping herself up on the side of the bed, one foot tucked under her with the other hanging over the side. "I mean, if you ignore the fact that my head hurts, my sides hurt, and I may be out of a job, I'm just peachy."
Hook just chuckled as he pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed. "Well, I don't think you have to worry about your job. But I do have some questions about your injuries. Have you been experiencing any dizziness?" Blake shook her head. "Vomiting?" She shook again. "Hallucinations?" Blake froze for a split-second before answering.
"No, I'm all good," she responded, but it seemed to be spoken a little too quickly for Hook's liking.
There was a pause while he watched her carefully for a few seconds, but she gave no sign that would confirm his suspicions. "Good," Hook commented at last, but then he frowned at her again. "Where is your IV?"
"It was bothering me, I took it out."
"Blake, you shouldn't—"
"I know, I know," she cut him off. "Kelly already gave me the third degree." Getting impatient, she began nervously twirling her pencil.
"You're an artist?" he asked randomly after a moment, noticing the pencil and then observing the fact that she had a sketchbook sitting nearby, and making a few notes.
"Kind of."
"That's a good hobby. Okay." He tore off a small prescription form. "This is for a mild painkiller, take them twice a day. Come see me in a week, I'll take the stitches out, and if you experience any additional pain, you know where to find me." She reached out for the prescription, but before she could bring her arm away, he grabbed hold of her wrist and turned it slightly to reveal the cut on her arm. "When did this happen?"
"Oh. Uh, last night." She blew it off, but he stood to take a better look at it. "It's just a scratch, really. It's nothing."
"Well, it doesn't appear to be too serious." He looked up at her. "How did you say this happened?"
"Umm, I caught my arm on my IV stand," she clarified quickly. "Yeah, that's why I took it out." Hook just looked at her speculatively a moment before giving a sigh.
"Okay, well, I think you can handle this part yourself." Hook held out a clipboard and a pen to her. "Sign here…" She scribbled down her signature. "And initial here." She did what he said and handed him back his pen. "And you are officially released," he concluded.
"Thank God," she replied, getting up from the bed. "Thanks, Doc."
"You're welcome," he responded, heading towards the door. "And remember, if it—"
"Gets any worse, I know where to find you. I know."
Hook smiled. "Just checking." Kelly entered the room as he left.
"So, what's the what?" she asked.
"I'm gonna live and I'm allowed to go home," Blake stated simply, picking up the bag of clothes Carrie had brought the night before as she wandered into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
"Good, I'll drive you home. But I want to stop off and see Carrie, and check the schedule for this weekend before we go."
"Don't you have to work tonight?"
"No, I worked a double-shift last night. Besides, I didn't want you walking home."
"Aww." Kelly looked over to see Blake walking across the room, changed. "You do care." She pulled her hair back before shoving her book, pencil case, and the bag of clothes into her book bag.
"Come on, you moron," Kelly said, grinning as they left the room.
In the ICU nurses station, Carrie sat with her back to her computer, looking through some files. She didn't notice at all when her computer turned itself on, and she didn't notice the malevolent apparition standing beside her or the fact that he was using the high back of her chair as an armrest.
The computer began spontaneously bringing up recent patient files, and Paul grew more and more irritated at the fact that he wasn't finding what he was looking for. Coming to the end of his search, Paul balled his fists in frustration, a low growl emanating from the back of his throat. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, refraining himself from ripping the computer apart. He never was good with machines.
As he opened his eyes, the computer shut off. "Guess I'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way," he muttered dully to himself. He was on the verge of fading back to the in-between, but he paused at the sound of laughing behind him. Two girls were coming down the hallway, talking, and he instantly recognized one of those voices. As he turned, he saw Blake with Kelly and smirked to himself. "Huh. That's convenient."
"Well, well, well," Carrie commented as the girls stopped in front of her. "Look what they let out." Blake just rolled her eyes at her.
"Very funny."
Carrie smiled at the très drole tone of Blake's reply. "Going home?" she asked.
"Yup. Finally. Good thing, too, I can't get any sleep in this place."
Paul's brow furrowed with impatience. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, quit the yakkin' and give me something I can use!"
"Carr? Can you pass me the roster?" Kelly asked, leaning over the counter to grab a pen.
"Sure." Carrie swiveled around in her chair and grabbed one of the clipboards. While doing so, she unknowingly passed her arm through Paul, who jumped back a little bit at the contact.
"Hey lady, personal space…"
Carrie shuddered as she pulled the schedule towards her. "Do you guys find it cold in here?"
The other two just shook their heads as she passed the clipboard over. "So when are you off?" Kelly asked Carrie as she scribbled down days and times in handwriting that no one could possibly understand.
"Three," Carrie replied. Blake opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by someone calling her name from down the hall.
"Miss Winters?"
The girls turned to see Dr. James walking down the hall towards them. "Dr. James," Blake answered with a sudden smile that clearly said he was the last person she wanted to run into at that particular moment. "Good morning."
"I see you're feeling better," Dr. James observed with his usual pleasant grin.
"Yeah."
"I hope you'll be back to work with us soon. Mrs. Powell is anxious to get started with the reorganization." This prompted a real smile from Blake, but Paul began to shift impatiently before walking through the counter and circling Kelly a few times.
"Yeah, I'll probably be back in a couple days," Blake replied, causing her roommates to glare at her.
"Excellent, excellent," Dr. James beamed. "I hope to see you then."
Blake nodded and he turned to leave, but then turned back, handing her a 'Morning Air' button, grinning widely. Blake's original half-smile returned. "Um… Thanks." As Dr. James walked away, whistling happily to himself, Carrie took the button out of Blake's still-open hand and tossed it into a box full of them under the desk.
"A couple days?" Kelly demanded, raising an inquiring eyebrow as Paul moved invisibly over to Blake.
"What? I'm fine and I need the money."
"Blake…" Carrie began to argue, but stopped when Blake gave her a fierce 'don't argue with me' look.
"Don't even bother," Kelly commented, shaking her head.
As Carrie and Kelly began a conversation involving hospital stuff that Blake didn't much understand, she suddenly froze. A peculiar feeling came over her; it was the distinct feeling of being watched. She became even more uneasy as Paul closed the gap between them, circling her like a vulture.
A cold chill ran up her spine, the hair on the back of her neck stood up, and goose bumps broke out over her entire body. Paul stopped in front of her and cocked his head to the side, studying her face. "Blake Winters," he repeated her name, almost mockingly, in a voice she couldn't hear. "Why do you haunt me?" He smirked as she visibly shuddered.
"Hey, Kel?" Blake asked, trying to sound casual. "Can, ah, can we take off?"
"Yeah, sure. See you later, Carrie."
"Bye guys." Carrie called after them as they left the hospital. Kelly made an attempt to wave good-bye, but Blake yanked her on towards the parking lot.
Blake sighed in relief as soon as she stepped outside. Even so, that didn't stop her from dragging Kelly to the car as quickly as she could. Paul sat on the hood of a silver Sunfire and watched as they drove away from the Kingdom. He would have followed, but projecting himself beyond the hospital parking lot took too much of his energy, and he was not about to go lay in that tank twice in one day.
Across town, in a small and decidedly unkempt apartment, an alarm clock blared for the fifth time that morning. The occupant of the bed beside it, who was buried quite contently under his covers, reached out and felt around for the clock. After a moment, the room went silent again and then a groan came from under the blankets.
Elmer rolled over onto his back and threw the blankets off, exposing his head and bare chest to the cool air of the apartment. He knew he had to get up and he really didn't want to, but it had to happen sometime. So, he reluctantly crawled out of the warmth of his bed and made his way towards the bathroom.
He had decided to take Lona's advice the day before and had gotten the day off. He had to go back in for 2 am, but it was well worth it. That had been the first full night sleep he had gotten in over a month. In fact, this was the longest he'd been in his apartment in almost a week.
After a quick shower, Elmer reentered his bedroom, drying his hair. He walked over to the dresser and sifted through a pile of junk before finding his glasses. As he put them on, something caught his eye. It was a picture, but he'd never seen it before.
It was him on his couch with Blake, the girl from the day before. It was weird, they looked very close, but he didn't remember it ever being taken. He picked it up for a closer inspection when something else caught his eye, something that had been under the picture.
He picked it up. It was a napkin from 'Shooie's', a nightclub that was about a block away, but there was something scribbled on it. It was a little cartoon, which looked suspiciously like Elmer, but it had a little noose around its neck and it appeared to be dangling comically.
Elmer stifled a little laugh; the picture was amusing, albeit slightly disturbing. He had no idea where it came from or why he was keeping it. He tried to make out the signature, but it was too small and scrunched together.
Shrugging it off, he crumpled up the napkin and held it over the garbage can, but he paused just as he was about to drop it. For some reason, he couldn't let it go. Smoothing it out, he tossed it back onto the dresser with the photo and walked to the closet to get dressed.
