She stomps into her office, slamming the door shut behind her and is immediately confronted by the flowers still sitting on her desk. With a disgusted sigh, she puts her bags and mug down carefully before moving the monstrous bouquet from her desk to the floor. She retrieves her paperwork from her satchel and tries to catch up on the miserable reports before she has to go do her rounds. Her world shrinks down nothing more than her pen and the reports until a hand on her shoulder nearly frightens her out of her skin.
"You really need to switch to decaf," John chuckles as he steps away from her and she scowls at him. "Keep making that face and your face is going to stick like that."
She mumbles a few choice words at him and he laughs.
"I'm going to have to wash your mouth with soap if you keep talking like that," he warns with a big grin on his face.
She throws him another dirty look and then starts to sort the stack of completed reports. Once they're in a neat pile, she hands them to John who gives her a sassy salute. She glares at him and then gets up to go do her rounds. He follows her, dropping the reports on the secretary's desk on their way out.
"You know, if you don't get it out of your system, I'm going to have to lock you in one of the quarantine cages," he jokes as they start to head towards the clinic.
"Get what out of my system?" she asks, not bothering to look over at him.
"Whatever's eating you up," he answers, easily keeping up with her. "If you don't say something you're going to make the polar bears look like cuddly teddy bears and then I'm going to have to lock you in a cage."
She gives a sigh, stops dead in the middle of the path they're on, is silent for a few seconds and then she starts to rant in French. He hasn't a clue to what she's going on about, but it doesn't matter. As long as she vents her frustrations verbally to the world in general, she won't take it out on her coworkers. She waves her arms around as she paces around on the path and he does nothing but duck the occasional flailing limb.
"Feel better?" he asks nearly fifteen minutes later.
"Yeah, thanks," she mutters as she starts walking again. "Am I really worse then the polar bears?"
"I've seen Tasmanian Devils with kinder dispositions when you're upset about something," he honestly tells her with a smile. "Don't worry about it, now that you've told the universe what you think of it, everything should be good. Provided, of course, the universe wasn't listening."
"Thanks, I think," she chuckles and he gives her a big grin. "How do you know me so well?"
"I've worked with you since the day you got here," he reminds her. "I'm the one who works with you the most. Who could possibly know you better?"
"Lars," she states as they step into the clinic.
"Hey, how is Lars these days?" he asks. "Found himself a new beau yet?"
"He's fine and he's still single," she answers as they cross through the examination area and into the area where the sick and injured animals are kept. "I think it's good for him. He's trying too hard to be in a relationship and he keeps ending up with the wrong guys."
"And what about you?" he inquires as they stop in front of the first cage. "Any hot prospects?"
She turns a bright red as she picks up the chart on the snowy owl sitting in the cage. She stares at the paper but is unable to read it since her mind is now spinning in circles. She finally shakes herself out of it and gets down to work, ignoring his question all together. Luckily she refuses to look at him or the look on his face would have sent her running from the room as he stares at her with a burning need.
By lunch time she's ready to drop. She didn't get enough sleep, didn't have breakfast, didn't have time to make lunch and she's just emotionally drained. She pulls out a bag of trail mix that she keeps hidden in her desk for just such an emergency and starts working on her reports again.
If they'd just give her a computer this could go so much faster. Of course that would also mean that she wouldn't bring the work home and she'd have to spend even more time in this office. That's not a prospect that she would relish, though it would mean she would be able to have an email account and be able to communicate with her family more.
With a resigned sigh, she bends to her task once more, trying not to sneeze from all of the flowers in the room. She's opened the window, but there's no breeze today to help clear the room out. She disappears into her work once more and is nearly startled out of her wits by her phone ringing. Maybe John's right; maybe she does need to switch to decaf.
"This is Dr. Knight," she says into the phone.
"Hey, Gwen, it's Bob," Dr. Taylor greets from the other end of the line.
"Hi, Bob, how's it going?" she asks, glad to have an excuse to stop doing her reports.
"I'm good, I was just calling to see how our patient is doing," he answers.
"He's good," she replies. "He should be ready to have the external brace removed tonight."
"Tonight? So soon?" he asks in shock.
"Hey, I told you they were fast healers," she chuckles.
"Why tonight?" he inquires. "If they heal that fast, why not bring him in right now?"
"Because he's sleeping," she answers. "They're completely nocturnal, so you'll just have to wait until he's awake to take the rig off."
"So, we have to wait until he's up and about before we can knock him out and remove the rig," he snickers.
"Yup," she laughs.
"Ok, I have tonight off, but Kevin should be here to take care of things," he tells her. "If there are any problems or questions or anything at all, call me at home."
"Will do," she responds.
"Ok, I'll let you get back to your lunch," he says. "See you later."
"Bye, Bob," she replies, hangs up the phone and then looks at the bag of slightly stale trail mix. "Some lunch."
With a groan, she gets back to work.
Some hours later, Gwen is back at her desk once more still doing paper work. She idly wonders how many forests she's wiped out doing all of these blasted reports. She finishes the one she's working on, puts it off to the side and stretches. She leans her chair back while arching her back with her arms over her head, closing her eyes as she does so.
"You keep doing that and I'm going to do something I won't regret," a husky voice states.
She lets out a squeak of surprise as she jumps in her chair causing the already overbalanced piece of furniture to fall over backwards.
"What is it with you and trying to scare me out of a year's growth, Bluestone?" comes a snarled question from the floor.
"You've got to stop being so focused, doc," he chuckles as he comes around the desk to help her to her feet.
"I have to be focused," she grumbles as she brushes herself off while he picks up her chair. "Otherwise nothing would ever get done."
"You know what you need to do?" he asks.
"What?" she growls back as she sorts through the reports on her desk.
"You need to relax," he replies as he sits on the edge of her desk.
"I relax just fine, thank you," she tells him stiffly.
"Uh-huh, sure you do," he scoffs as she scowls at him. "I wonder, what would you do if I kissed you right now?"
"I'd probably slug you," she warns as she shoves the uncompleted forms into her bag.
"Assaulting a police officer can get you into a lot of trouble," he warns with a snicker.
"Self defense," she snaps back.
"True, but I'd still have to put the hand cuffs on you and why does that sound like a lot of fun?" he nearly purrs, casting a lustful gaze in her direction that causes her to swallow audibly.
"Hey, Gwen, do you have those reports done yet?" Tony asks from the door and Gwen could almost kiss him for the well timed rescue. "I'm sorry. Am I interrupting anything?"
"No, uh, Tony, this is Matt Bluestone," she answers as she grabs her completed forms. "Matt, this is Dr. Tony Richardson. He's the head vet here."
She tries to get around Matt since the other way is blocked by the jungle in a jar and has to step over his long legs to do so. Why do those legs have to look so good in those jeans? After she gets past him, he stands to his full height, towering over her as he extends his hand to Tony. They extend pleasantries as she takes her finished forms out to the secretary's desk.
By the time she returns, they're talking amicably and she knows what the subject of their conversations is when they both turn toward her and grin. She can feel the skin of her face heating up and it has nothing to do with forgetting to put sun block on in the morning. Without a word, she slides between the two men and retrieves her belongings.
"Going home so soon?" Tony asks with his eyebrows raised. "It's not even dark yet."
"I have some guests staying with me and they're expecting me back," she answers as she heads for the door, Matt in her wake. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Have a good night," Tony calls back as she leaves the building.
"Thanks!" she yells through the door.
She continues walking, ignoring the handsome man following her with all of her might as she waves her farewells to the coworkers she passes. John gives her a funny look when they walk by, but she ignores that as well. She gets past the security gate and starts to head for home only to have a gentle hand at her elbow steer her towards the parked cars.
"M'lady, your chariot awaits," Matt purrs in her ear and she can feel a shiver run up her spine.
"I can walk just fine," she protests as he continues to leads her across the parking lot.
"You look just about dead on your feet," he replies as they step up to a dark compact car that's something between a sports car and a sedan.
She'd argue with him but the adrenaline from her fright and anger has just about run out and she is on the verge of falling on her face. She doesn't complain when he opens the car door for her and helps her into the car. He quietly drives her home and by the time they reach her neighborhood, she's nearly asleep.
"Have you had dinner yet?" he inquires, suddenly breaking the silence.
"Huh?" she snorts in surprise, as she shocked out of a near sleep.
"Dinner, have you had it yet?" he asks again, trying not to smirk.
"No, not yet," she mumbles as she rubs her face to try and wake up.
"Good, I know a great little Mexican place around the corner," he says as he makes the turn.
"No, I can't," she yawns as she stretches.
"You don't like Mexican?" he questions as he gets ready to change lanes. "I know a pretty good Thai restraint near here."
"No," she repeats.
"Well, then where do you want to go?" he asks.
"No where," she answers. "I can't afford to go out."
"Not a problem, my treat," he replies as he finds a spot and parks the car.
"The gargoyles will be expecting me," she points out, refusing to budge.
"The sun's not due to set for another hour," he responds as he gets out of his door and nearly clobbers a passing bicyclist.
A few words are exchanged between driver and cyclist as she sits there and shakes her head. What is it with this man? Is he trying to drive her crazy? Because if he is, he's doing a damn good job of it.
Before she can reach for the door handle, he opens it for her and extends his hand to help her out. She grabs her bags before taking his hand and letting him pull her from the car. He grabs her satchel and throws it back in the car, shutting and locking the vehicle before she can protest.
"No paperwork at the dinner table," he insists. "If I'm paying for dinner, I want to see your face, not the top of your head."
"Who said I was going to do paper work?" she asks, cringing on the inside since that's exactly what she intended on doing.
"You're always doing paper work," he smirks as he starts to pull her from the car.
"Says who?" she demands, planting her feet and practically taking root.
"Says Lars and Lily," he answers.
"When did you meet Lily?" she inquires, stunned that he would know the other doctor.
"She's the one who showed me where your office was," he replies as he grabs her hand and tries to make her go again. "Do you know how long I was watching you?"
"No," she mumbles, suddenly feeling her face warm up again.
"Ten minutes," he chuckles as he finally gets her walking. "You were so oblivious to the world that you didn't hear me until you stretched."
"If I don't tune everything out I'll never get my work done," she replies as she reluctantly lets him lead her down the street.
"What is with all the paper work?" he finally asks as he opens the door to a hole in the wall restaurant.
"They're reports," she answers as she steps into the place and nearly feints from the nearly orgasmic smell of the place. "This place smells wonderful."
"And the food is as good as it smells," he tells her as he leads her over to the ordering counter.
She tries to resist, she really does. But the combination of not really eating much during the day and the fact that she hasn't had a decent Mexican meal in ages means her stomach wins the fight. She at least manages not to order the biggest thing on the menu, but it's close. After they place their order, they find a table off to the side and sit down.
"So, what are these reports that you're doing all about?" he asks, picking up the conversation where it left off.
"Every animal I come in contact with has to have a report written up," she answers, glad to have something to talk about that doesn't involve her as the subject. "For instance, one of the baby otters got something in his eye and I had to flush it out. I have to write up what animal was looked at, why it was looked at, the treatment given, where it happened, when it happened, what happened. It's actually very tedious and boring as hell, but I have to do it."
"Sounds like police work," he chuckles. "Every call we answer is followed up by reams of paper work. But I don't think even I have that much paper work."
"Well, there are hundreds of cops in New York," she points out. "But there are only three vets at the Bronx Zoo. Now while there aren't as many animals in the zoo as there are people in the city, there are still only three of us and hundreds of them."
"Why do you do it?" he inquires.
"Because I love animals, I want to heal them and make them better," she replies with a shrug. "Why do you do it? Why did you become a cop?"
"Because I want to help people, to protect them and bring the bad guys to justice," he answers as the food is brought to their table. "We're not so different, you and I. We do jobs that we love and we're both swimming in paper work.
"I don't see you with a bunch of paperwork being dragged around," she points out as she takes her burrito off of the tray.
"That's because I have the good sense to leave it at the office," he teases as he pulls his tacos towards him.
She glares at him for a second before taking a bite at her monster burrito, effectively ending the conversation. The next several minutes no words are spoken as they eat their dinners. By the time they're done, he is nearly speechless.
"I can't believe you ate all of that huge burrito," he states in shock.
"All I've had for food today has been coffee and trail mix," she states as she wipes her mouth with a napkin and leans back in her chair. "I was about ready to eat the furniture."
"I bet you could give Broadway a run for his money if you got hungry enough," he snickers.
"Thanks a lot," she huffs as she throws her wadded up napkin at him causing him to laugh at her as he bats the thing away.
"Come on, it's nearly sunset," he says as he stands up.
She follows suit and they clear their table, dumping their trash in the garbage on the way out. They return to the car and then get back to her apartment a little slower than expected due to traffic. As it is, they have to park over a block away before hiking it back to her building. They make good time up the stairs, wave at Lars as they go by and finally make it to her door. No sooner does she get the door open than a red leathery wing is shoved in her face.
"Can we please get this thing off of me now?" Brooklyn demands.
"Yes, Brooklyn, I think we can take it off," she smiles after she feels his wing. "Let's go visit Dr. Fitzgerald."
"Who's Dr. Fitzgerald and why do we have to visit him?" he demands, standing up to his full height and towering over the doctor. "Why can't we do it here?"
"Dr. Fitzgerald is another vet at the clinic and he's on duty tonight," she calmly answers. "And since the rig was put in surgically, it will have to be removed surgically."
"You're going to cut me open again?" he growls loudly and the sound of doors being hastily bolted can be heard.
"Actually, Dr. Fitzgerald will probably be the one performing the operation," she answers in a level voice.
"I don't want to go through that again," he snaps, his eyes starting to glow and Matt moves to intercede.
"I perfectly understand," she replies as she puts an arm up to block Matt. "But the choices are either under go surgery again to remove the rig or don't go through with it and never fly well again."
"What do you mean never fly well again?" he snarls softly.
"How well do you think you could fly with that thing on your wing?" she asks. "Do you think you could maintain a steady flight for any length of time?"
"No," he grumbles as his body and wings droop in defeat and she puts a gentle hand under his beak, forcing him to look up at her.
"After tonight the skies will be yours once more," she assures him.
He stares her in the eyes, but she doesn't look away. After what seems something short of forever, he pulls away and nods his head.
"Let's go visit this Dr. Fitzgerald," he mumbles as he steps into the hallway, Lex right behind him.
"Good," she smiles as she heads for the stairs. "Not that I don't like you guys, but having a life is murder on my beauty sleep."
Author's Notes: Sorry about the delay. I had to force my muse to finish a chapter for another story that's been sitting on the back burner for a couple of weeks. So enjoy, review and I'll try to get the next chapter going as soon as possible.