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That’s Probably Not Good
@professorofcrimeratigan
Date: April 10th, 2021
Ratigan meets the baby and accidentally gets capital “i” Involved
CW: blood, medical emergency, baby is 100% fine tho it’s Franny lmao dw no baby ouch allowed
FRANNY:
Pedram Ratigan could deny it all he wanted, but Franny was absolutely certain of three things. One, that they were best friends. Two, that he actually did like Behet Ghol Midam and pretended he didn’t. Three, that when he responded ‘why would I?’ to her ‘miss me yet?’ texts, he really meant ‘you nasty hoe why would you leave me here alone at this university with these clowns?’
It had been a month and a week since her daughter was born and just as long since Franny wasn’t in pain. But Dr. Brennan said she was fine and Franny was always inclined to trust doctors. Still, she thought after seeing him the second time would make him look further into...well, he said there was nothing to be concerned with, so she’d have to believe that.
She wanted to believe that.
Staying busy usually helped, but with a five week old baby that could prove challenging. She rarely left her daughter’s side mostly because she was breastfeeding and needed to be close by because this baby could eat, but it had just as much to do with being in pain more often than not in pain.
Now that Sovanna was a month old Franny felt comfortable inviting close friends over to meet the baby and hold her now that she was a month less delicate and breakable, and of course her “not” best pal Pedram was high up on the list!
“Are you ready to admit you miss me yet, Pedram?” Franny teased, sitting across from him in one of the first floor’s sitting areas with her glass of sweet tea in front of her and a pot of boring, British people, not sweet tea for him.
Sovanna rested in a baby wrap, content and quiet against her mother, only occasionally giving a little coo to let them know she was very much awake and there.
RATIGAN:
Ratigan had been waiting for Mrs. Robinson to contact him since her due date had come and gone. It had not been hard to find the evidence that her child had been born and that there had been little to no complications recorded by the hospital staff in her or the child’s records. (It was a small town hospital, their online security had never been hard to bypass.) He knew it would only be a matter of time before she would reach out to those within her secondary circle once she felt she was up to it.
The beginning of the semester had come and gone without her roaming the ground of the university and while he would not admit to missing her presence, he would say that it had been rather quiet around there without her— whether this was a good or bad thing would be left up to interpretation of whoever had asked the question.
He had made his way to the Robinson home upon her request and immediately he could tell that something was amiss. But, of course, after giving birth to a living being, it would do that to a person. She smelled different and the wolf (aside from its unbound excitement for seeing her and the baby) was concerned.
Ratigan ignored this. It was too temperamental. Nothing was wrong with her besides her body adapting to its new normal.
“I fail to see what you have to gain from my answer to the question. It isn’t as if you will be returning anytime soon.” He smiled at her from where he sat, teacup in hand. “How are her sleeping habits as of now? Bearable enough for you to sleep, I hope?”
FRANNY:
Franny would take that as a yes, for the record. See, you grumpy-ass man? They were totally best friends, just accept it!
“Mm, you’re right.” Franny said, patting Sovanna’s little head. “They tried to get me to stay on as an adjunct like Sarabi Lyons, and I considered it...until I found out by chance how much some of my more recently hired male colleagues in the music department were being paid. I’m not hurting for money, obviously-” she gestured to her house around her, which for full transparency, was purchased with her husband’s money before Franny Sor Robinsons was anyone or anything, because she knew Pedram was similarly beyond comfortably wealthy. “And in fact would have offered my pay to be cut if the department was hurting for funds. But it’s the fact my labor was consistently undervalued for nearly a decade.”
“Not to mention. Who is Andrew Gilliam? Benjamin Davis Braswell? Where are their Grammys, ASCAP and CMA awards, induction into the Songwriters Hall of Fame, and Netflix productions based on their lives? Were they gifted citizenship to their mother’s home country because of their accomplishments?”
This was a sentiment Franny was careful not to express out loud often, only with Pedram, Petunia, and Tallulah who would feed her petty bone. It wasn’t that she thought she was better than Professor Gillam or Dr. Braswell, but a woman with her accolades should have been at the same rate of pay as them, considering her impressive career. And! All by age forty-one! That was all before her most recent birthday!
The fact of the matter was that Franny Sor Robinson was an asset to Pride U and attracted students to the music department. There are a number of students who passed up scholarships to Juilliard, NYU, or Berklee to come study under her at Pride U. Professor Gillam was a fine man, and as much as Franny hated Dr. Braswell she had to admit that music was the man’s life and his blood, but they weren’t the ones students came to Pride U for.
That was her.
After nearly a decade of putting up with the bruised egos of white men, Franny was relieved to be done with it. She’d miss teaching adults versus just doing music lessons for some local kids at her home, but it also meant she’d have time to focus on her actual career, which was making music.
She smiled down at Sovanna and said, “She isn’t too hard to get to sleep but the thing is she needs to be held until she’s asleep enough to lay down. If you try to lay her down too quickly she’ll wake up and cry -- isn’t that right, little lady? You love attention and cuddles, don’t you?”
“And when she’s awake,” Franny said, unwrapping the baby wrap so she could later pass her to Pedram to hold. “She really only cries if she’s hungry or wants a diaper change. If she’s sleepy she’ll make this sound that’s just a single long, continuous noise until you pick her up or she’s out of breath. Cornelius is wrapped around her finger-- he had to pop to Berlin for a one-day no night business thing.”
Cornelius meant it when he said he was taking six months of time off for the baby, but Franny insisted he go to Berlin.
It’s one day, darling. I know this day’s important and if your team who has handled everything this year wonderfully is saying they’d feel more confident if you were there, that’s okay. A one day business trip to Berlin is nothing. You’ll kiss her goodbye in the morning and be home just two hours after her bedtime.
But he’d be there when she woke up crying in the middle of the night because she got hungry. He’d crawl out of bed probably not fifteen minutes after he finally got comfortable, grab Sovanna from her room, bring her to Franny to feed, and then handle burping her and putting her back to bed so Franny would only barely be woken up.
She hoped his paternity leave would not be interrupted again of course, but if he was needed, say, once or twice more for just a day, she’d consider his paternity leave successful. Franny was not a selfish woman. She didn’t mind sharing her husband some.
“She’s a good baby once she got used to being born. Wilbur was too after he bonded with us. It’s always hard at first whether you had your baby or adopted them. 10/10 don’t recommend childbirth though; it’s much better when you get a free baby.”
Not really free. Adoption was expensive but it at least wasn’t physically painful.
RATIGAN:
One of the things he could admire Mrs. Robinson was her ability to speak so freely about whatever it was that popped into her mind. It had taken him this many years to be able to communicate as little as he did but he would never be able to do what she did. Everything that came out of his mouth (for the most part) was calculated and combed over because he was always wearing a disguise— in order for it to be believable the lies had to be fine tuned and consistent. If there was a slip, one single thread there to be pulled on, the whole life he had made for himself could be unraveled.
Ratigan sympathized with her and said nothing, only nodded. She was not looking for feedback, she rarely did when it came to these matters. Why would she from him? A man who had no qualms or problems within his department. (Nor should he, if they knew what was best for them.) Maybe he was swayed because being a university professor had less to do with his actual care for the job or the students and more to do with keeping a plausible identity. Ratigan did enjoy academics, it was why he had chosen the day job, but it bored him easily. It was why he relied on the challenge of his other job to keep it occupied.
So he remained silent and allowed her to say whatever she needed to on the matter. That was usually the role he played with her, an ear to listen.
Again, he had nothing to say in regards to her answer to his question. He had asked it out of politeness, knowing very well what he had come over for— to talk about and see the baby that everyone had been waiting on for months now. She was about as remarkable as he suspected. Which was to say, she was like any other child he had encountered, and that was more than a few considering he had played the role of nanny for the children of the Shrivani’s and other members of their circle when it was needed of him.
Babies were what they were, simple, fragile, and small. A fleeting stage in life since soon they would grow and the world would take its toll.
“I will keep that in mind,” he said in stride. “And I can assume everyone in the house is happy that she is finally here?”
FRANNY:
“Laszlo most of all,” Franny said, adjusting Sovanna in her arms. “I’m sure as soon as she’s got her vaccines I’m going to wake up to ‘hey I took the baby to school you can have her back at lunch’ texts.”
Now, most families would find that odd, but that was just such a Laszlo thing to do, of course it would happen eventually. Their family was tight-knit and trusted each other without question so Franny would probably just laugh and fall back asleep.
“And her father is absolutely in love with her. He’ll just lie down and lay her on his chest and they’ll nap together, it’s precious. He’s going to be a great girl dad.”
RATIGAN:
Bringing a baby to work, even if the man was only an art teacher (which, to Ratigan, was barely a job so much as it was more of a time occupier) was hardly a smart move. Then again he hadn’t known that particular family member of hers to be entirely competent. Also working in an environment filled with adolescents didn’t seem safe for a baby either. Especially in a town like this where anyone of those children could be in possession of magic that they were still working on controlling.
He did not care enough to say any of this to her aloud— but that would not stop him from judging silently.
“It sounds like everything is going well.” And yet the wolf still did not settle its worrying. It felt more frantic now despite hearing all of what Mrs. Robinson had to say, which was only good and positive things. Ratigan continued to ignore it. “And how are you feeling?”
FRANNY:
Franny’s smile faltered only slightly as Pedram asked how she was feeling. Really, she felt silly for even hesitating since her doctor had said she was just overreacting. Just the hormones blah blah, your body will feel normal soon blah blah.
Yeah? Then damn, would she love to feel like that was true.
There was no reason that she should be bleeding for three weeks straight, right? Right?
But Dr. Brennan said she was fine. So she was fine.
Franny was just being a woman, you know, overreacting like they do.
(but then, why would even Laszlo have pointed out how pale she looked last night, hm?)
“Uh, happy, of course!” Franny said, deciding to just answer with how she felt emotionally. “I’m just in love with her. It was like when I met Wilbur the first time, just this time I was high off my ass on pain meds.”
RATIGAN:
Raitgan caught the hesitation. Anyone may have been able to, but it stuck out to him as he was someone who over analyzed the body language and patterns of those around him. It was just how he had learned to operate. He had been around Mrs. Robinson for a lot longer than many of the people he’d have to pick up on within the span of a few minutes of meeting them, so the slight misgiving was odd. (And it only gave the wolf something to whine at.)
“Of course.” He smiled, but a wrinkle formed between his brows when she did not continue. “I know we’ve not spoken in person for a while, but I did not think that would change the nature of our relationship. I’ve never known you to hold back when asked a question.”
He paused to take a sip of tea. When he set it back down he continued. “Is there anything wrong?”
FRANNY:
I’ve never known you to hold back when asked a question.
Okay, get out of my literal brain? Franny thought, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. Pedram really did know her too well to pretend they weren’t friends, didn’t he?
“I mean...my doctor says I’m fine. It’s probably just general malaise or whatever. Like, I thought I’d feel better post-baby by now but my body is still like, ‘haha, that was wild.’ Probably just what happens when you wait until forty-one.”
She sighed and reached for her glass of sweet tea, only to find it empty. She pouted and set it down, then stood up. “Here, take her for a second, I need to commit more tea sin. She’ll fuss if nobody is holding her.”
RATIGAN:
Ratigan had been prepared to ask her more questions about the topic because she was right, the variable of her age did play a significant role to the rate at which her body healed. He felt as though that should have been more cause for concern than simply thinking it was something to be brushed under the rug. They were all there, ready to go on the tip of his tongue, but then she was standing and telling him he needed to hold her child.
Before she finished her sentence he was already shaking his head. “No. I— I don’t think that’s a very good idea. She doesn’t know who I am, she’ll fuss either way.”
He had not held a child since the detective’s and had no intention of holding Mrs. Robinson’s. His hands were blood stained. One wrong move and nails could turn to claws. He avoided touch with anyone, let alone the fragile body of a baby.
“Surely one of the many inhabitants of this place is home?”
FRANNY:
“Not that I wouldn’t have to call down from the third or fourth floor,” Franny said, though she didn’t argue further because a sharp pain in her pelvis made her lightly gasp and her grip on Sovanna tightened a hair. “On second thought. I’ve had too much sugar today already. I need to shed the rest of this baby weight sooner rather than later.”
That was what she was supposed to do anyway.
Sitting back down only made her wince, because every movement seemed to hurt. Hell, she was so weak at one point last night...but she was fine. This must be what having babies is like. She wanted this after all.
RATIGAN:
He was about to argue that he didn’t see anything wrong with that. It wasn’t as if whatever they were doing would be any more important than helping her when she asked for it.
Then Mrs. Robinson gasped and anything he would have said was pushed away by the sound if it. Inside him the wolf whined in response, scratching in an effort to get closer, the want to provide some sort of comfort or help all the more pressing now.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” This was said in the form of a question and yet he knew that they both were aware of what the answer was. He just wanted her to say it— to give some form of permission.
FRANNY:
“...yeah, I just-“ Franny said, then she chewed on her lip as she tried to think of a lie. “- realized I’m actually hungry! So.”
Before Pedram could protest this time, she hopped to her feet and practically shoved Sovanna into his arms.
“Be right back!”
Maybe if she shoved some cold leftovers in her face she’d gain some energy back. She was sure Pedram could tell she was unwell behind her smile and gushing over her baby. Even Lucille had commented on how pale Franny looked.
Now, her periods has always been incredibly light, but this heavy, prolonged one she was going through felt truly excessive. She shouldn’t feel this awful, right?
RATIGAN:
Mrs. Robinson had left her child alone with him, trusting that she was safe in his hold.
He stilled completely, his already stiff posture going completely rigid. His eyes were trained on the doorway that Mrs. Robinson had fled and disappeared through, as if his will alone would make her see reason and return to them before she could get another step farther— but she did not reappear.
Ratigan did not look at the baby until she made a noise of protest against his awkward hold on her. When she began to wiggle, trying to regain the comfort that she had just been in and that had been shifted into this for seemingly no reason, he was forced to look down to meet her eyes. Again, the child made a sound, this time louder and more aggravated than before. He knew that it would only get worse from there.
Carefully, he shifted her in his arms, his hold on her small body softening and allowing her to be settled closer to his chest rather than where he had been trying to keep a distance. The baby wiggled against him, but less in discomfort and more so that she was settling back down. She blinked up at the new face that filled her view, cooing softly before she relaxed.
It had been many years since he had held a baby and yet the mechanics of it had not changed. (She was bigger than Parisa had been.) Such soft innocence should not have been anywhere near him, so content, and yet there she stayed.
He continued their staring contest, both of them studying one another for some time. Ratigan was looking at the shared traits of her parents in her features, her mother’s— her mother.
It had been some time since the woman had left them. More time than he himself had been aware of.
“Bya, kuchak,” he said when the child wiggled when he stood. “We’re going to find your mother.”
FRANNY:
While Pedram was probably busy pretending Sovanna wasn’t the cutest baby ever to baby, Franny was in the kitchen pretending she was actually hungry. The truth was she needed to scurry away and down something to try and quell the pain in her abdomen and pelvic area.
She ran the tap to get it nice and cold and she rummaged through the drawer with bottles of aspirin, acetaminophen, and ibuprofen, and other over-the-counter basic medications and grabbed the first bottle of painkillers she found - aspirin. After taking three with a literal handful of tap water, she splashed cold water on her face like that would somehow help.
Dr. Brennan said she was fine. She was fine, she was fine...then why did she feel anything but fine?
Time didn’t feel real as she stood leaned over the kitchen sink, the water running and running, her hands gripping the counter no matter how many times she told her brain to reach over and turn off the tap. The sound of the sink so completely mesmerized her that she didn’t even feel herself fall to the kitchen floor. Nor did she remember managing to half-sit half-slump against the cupboard beneath the sink. She could vaguely remember thinking that this would pass soon.
The tap’s still running, she thought. Someone should turn that off.
RATIGAN:
Ratigan could hear the sound of the running water now that he was paying attention— but it was the smell of blood that had him quicken his pace down the hall.
“Franny?” he asked upon entering the kitchen, unable to see where she had slipped below the countertop. It took him only a few seconds to assess the scene before him, eyes flickering over the room. (A drawer had been left slightly ajar— probably in haste rather than carelessness. A bottle of pain killer left beside the sink— she had not come here for food. She had also not caused some sort of accident using a kitchen utensil as there was none to be found on any counter or near the sink, unless it had hit the floor but he hadn’t heard the clatter. The faucet was running but there was no glass— again, out of a lack of time rather than laziness.)
He rounded the other side of the counter and what he found there was to be expected. Mrs. Robinson lay limp in a pool of her own blood.
In his arms, the child stirred. In his chest, the wolf howled. Ratigan remained still.
If he had been someone else he may have gasped, out of surprise or perhaps fear, and his brain would have spiked in glutamate, sending him into a panic. But because he was who he was he remained calm as he bent down on his knees, beside her on the cold tile. He turned to lay the child down, away but not out of his immediate reach.
One hand reached for his phone, dialing the local emergency number as it would shave off time he did not know she had than simply calling 999, while his other reached around to press two fingers to her pulse point. Thankfully, it reached back out to him.
“Franny.” He slid his hand up to turn her head to face him, checking if she was still conscious. “Franny, can you open your eyes? Can you hear me?”
“Ambulance,” the dispatcher answered after a few rings, “is the patient breathing?”
“Yes.”
Next to them, the child began to cry.
FRANNY:
“This happened yesterday,” Franny muttered when Pedram asked if she could hear him. “Though not this bad.”
When her legs gave out on her yesterday like even standing was a terrible exertion of strength, it wasn’t as sudden. She’d had time to bend her knees and lower herself onto the edge of her bed and wait for it to pass. It didn’t pass so she fell asleep waiting and woke up with enough strength to take a shower.
She thought, as the water and blood swirled down the drain together, that surely a proper heavy period shouldn’t be almost three weeks long. Not even after giving birth. But Dr. Brennan said she was fine.
Sovanna started to cry and Franny’s mind cleared enough to reach in the direction the cry came from, and even that motion made her hiss in pain but she didn’t stop reaching for her.
RATIGAN:
Ratigan stopped mid-sentence of where he had been explaining the situation to the person on the other end of the phone. His stare sharpened as he looked at her.
“And you did not think to tell anyone? Or see your physician?” His words were not accusing, more so they were angry, frustrated with this woman for not thinking that an excessive amount of blood was not bad or a cause for any concern. His anger was pointed at her family for not noticing something was wrong— at himself, most of all.
He had made it this far in life due to being able to pick out the details of people to understand the situation he was in and move forward accordingly. This should not have gotten past him.
“I’m sorry, sir? What did you say?”
“Have you sent an ambulance?” He glanced away from Mrs. Robinson for one moment and it was when she had moved for her child. It should not have struck him as an odd reaction. Most mothers across all species would have done the same. And yet it had.
Though she was bleeding, perhaps to her death, she still reached out to comfort her baby.
Ratigan stopped her, pressing his shoulder up to hold the phone between his cheek and suit jacket so that he could take hold of her upper arms to keep her in place. “Do not move. Your baby will be fine, and if you care about her then you will ensure that she continues to have a mother by keeping still.”
“Sir, the baby crying, are they alright?”
“Where is the ambulance?”
“I’ve just been informed our dispatch is on a call, so we have been trying to contact—”
Ratigan hung up, that was all he needed to hear. He stood to scan the room until he located a set of keys. Though he did not wish to do so, he left Mrs. Robinson and her weeping child on the floor of the kitchen to locate the car the set belonged to. In the garage he ensured that the car’s backseat door was open and turned the car on. Before he left he also pressed the button for the garage door itself to begin to recline.
When he returned to the kitchen he kneeled back down beside her. “I’m going to pick you up now.”
It was not hard to do so as for the first time in a while he and the wolf were entirely in tune with one another, the strength it lended to him making it easy to stand with her. One arm was around her back while the other had gone under the bend of her knees. His sleeve and skin was now stained with her blood.
FRANNY:
“I did,” Franny almost whined at the accusation. “Doctor said I was...over-reacting.”
“He got real irritated when I questioned him.” Irritated was putting it kindly. Frankly, it felt like sexist treatment, but Franny so badly wanted to be told she was okay that she just accepted it. Franny wanted to explain further just how Dr. Brennan had treated her postpartum, but there wasn’t energy within her to make more words before Pedram went off somewhere.
When he lifted her off the floor, Franny hissed in pain as the motion jostled her. She tapped his shoulder with what strength she had to get his attention and pointed at her phone on the counter. He’d need it to call her husband at the hospital.
She let her head lean against his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck with no strength behind the attempt to support some of her weight.
RATIGAN:
Ratigan wished his reaction to her telling him this was not to call his people and have her doctor loudly put on display for malpractice and other crimes. (Drugs were easy to plant, especially on a doctor who had them so close at hand.)
He did not regret these thoughts because it crossed some sort of moral or ethical boundary— but if his reaction to her being wronged by someone was to put his own hand on the man’s fate instead of allowing it to be left up to chance. It was that he felt as though he had been wronged as well, somehow, and that his emotions had been stirred at all in regard to this woman’s wellbeing.
Ignoring this for now, knowing he would have plenty of time later to go over this later, he managed to slide her phone across the counter with his elbow and use his fingers to pull it up into his grasp. It did not take long to lay her down in the back seat of the car and return for the weeping child on the ground.
The pool of blood was left behind for someone else to clean up.
He returned to the garage and placed the baby with her mother (as there was no carseat and there was no time to search for one or another vehicle) and got into the driver’s seat. Backing out of the driveway, the tires squealed against the concrete beneath them, Ratigan began the trip to the hospital.
FRANNY:
“Shh, don’t cry, baby. You’re okay. Mommy’s got you; see, isn’t that better?” Franny cuddled Sovanna to her chest and, after whining once in pain, pressed kisses to the top of her head.
Poor baby. She must feel something wasn’t right like babies do and her little body could only cry about it.
“Don’t worry about mama, sweetheart.”
Sovanna quieted down in her mother’s arms and Franny, through her pain, managed to keep her demeanor calm so as not to startle her. If Franny lost it, Sovanna would know something was wrong and cry again.
“Pedram.” She said quietly, suddenly turning her attention from Sovanna. “How bad did it look? As bad as I feel, or do you think my ob is right?”
Surely if he was driving her to the hospital, it was worse than her being hormonal and just spotting or having a heavy period after childbirth.
RATIGAN:
While he knew that talking to a baby was important to the development of their brain, he did not understand the point of telling the child that it need not worry. It lacked the cognitive ability to understand the situation outside of its own needs, why would she say to not worry about her when she was all there was to be worried about?
He said nothing, knowing it best he merely focused on the road.
Someone honked their horn as he paid no mind to the stop sign. (The chances of getting hit had been slim to none due to only one other car pulling up and at their rate of speed he could have dodged them should they have also not abided by the road sign. But it was also a small town, the patrons of it usually did.)
His grip on the steering wheel tightened at her question. “I think that you are in need of a new doctor.”
The trip across town was short— as any trip across Swynlake was, but in a car whose breaks had not been applied through the whole trip until they had reached the entrance of the hospital, it was shorter lived than usual.
Ratigan left Mrs. Robinson and her baby in the car to go inside. It took him little time to rally a group of workers and while they all scrambled (someone calling for a gerni, another for supplies, another to call the attending, and someone to get a room prepped) he returned to the car to open the backseat door.
“I will contact your family.” He glanced back over his shoulder as the group of medical staff came jogging out. “Is there anything else I can do?”
FRANNY:
Franny’s last few logical brain cells kept her calm and she wasn’t sure whose benefit it was for more, hers, or the baby’s. She handed Sovanna to Pedram as the hospital staff filed out of the building and said the most pragmatic, least full of jokes, lacking any sexual innuendo thing she’d ever said to Ratigan in the over a decade they’ve known each other:
“My phone password is capital-B Bitches-aint-shit with the I’s being exclamation points, no apostrophe in ain’t, and dashes between each word.” It was something other than a four-digit code to keep her from trying to unlock it at all while driving. “Call my middle brother first, Art. He’ll leave work early and take Sovanna. Tell him not to tell Wilbur, I don’t want him to worry, and tell him to call Lucille. She’ll handle my husband, I won’t put that on you.”
She nodded to her phone. “One of my bank cards is in the phone case. The PIN should be 5739 but if that doesn’t work, try my wedding anniversary...it’s on my Wikipedia page...give the card to Art to give to Dimitri to pay for cleaning my blood out of his car. Shit, that’s probably a lot to remember…”
RATIGAN:
It was— but for a brain like Ratigan’s the amount of information could easily be acquired and remembered. “I can manage.”
He was surprised to realize he would have done far more had she asked it of him, her saying that she would spare him the experience of telling her husband what had happened having made him want to protest against it. But why? While the words would not be hard to say nor the answering questions hard to hear, it would have been more time out of his day that could have been spent elsewhere. She had given him an out and yet his first instinct had been not to take it.
Before he could say anything else the hospital staff was nudging him out of the way of the door, pulling the stretcher closer in order to transfer her from one surface to the other. Ratigan watched, now off to the side, while the child lay restless in her bundle. The changing scenery and noises most likely disorientating enough to aggravate her.
The lost comfort of her mother also taking its toll— reflected both in the cries of the infant and the rigid posture of the man whose arms she had been entrusted to.
Ratigan watched as Mrs. Robinson disappeared into the hospital, the wolf clawing whining within in the want to follow. When his attention turned back to the baby so did the wolf’s, knowing that she was now in his care until her family could arrive. He only allowed himself another moment to reign in the wolf and the emotions that had begun to cloud his judgement.
Then, he pulled Mrs. Robinson’s phone from his pocket, and got to work.
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