hey I was wondering if you could write a fic about the nurse secretly being a love god or a cupid you don't have to if don't want to no pressure
The asylum was unusually quiet that morning. You dragged your feet down the corridor, pale and sniffling, a box of tissues tucked under one arm. Normally, you were the picture of composure.
But today? Today you felt feverish, and worst of all—your power was slipping.
Because you weren’t just a nurse. You were a god. A love god, hidden neatly among mortals. Normally, your arrows only flew when you meant them to. Normally, you could control who got caught in the shimmering pink glow of infatuation.
But colds did funny things to divine bodies.
Every sneeze was like pulling back a bowstring. Every cough was an arrow loosed into the air. The golden spark shot down the hall before you could even see where it went.
You wiped your nose and groaned, “Oh no…please don’t let that have hit anyone…”
…
But it had.
Pennywise was resting in his favourite rocking chair while Freddy was sprawled on the couch nearby, boots kicked up on the armrest and his hat lowered over his eyes. The arrow struck Pennywise square in the chest. He froze, his yellow eyes widening.
He turned—and saw Freddy.
And in an instant, the world changed.
Freddy—burnt ass, scarred, grinning with razor teeth—suddenly looked, to Pennywise, like the most devastatingly handsome creature in all of creation.
Freddy glanced up at the sudden silence. “The hell y’all staring at, cotton candy?”
Pennywise’s lips split in a wide, dreamy grin. “You.”
Freddy sat up slowly with eyes wide as saucers. “Uh…d’ya hit your head, Bozo?”
But Penny wasn’t listening. He dropped to his knees dramatically, hands clasped. “Take me, dream demon! For I am yours, now and forever!”
Freddy’s jaw dropped. “What in the actual f—?!”
Pennywise grabbed Freddy’s leg and yanked him off the couch. He then nuzzled his face against his chest while Freddy tried to pry him off. “No! Fuck off! Hey! Ya listenin’ to me, ya big fat bitch?!”
But Pennywise didn’t hear anything—he couldn’t. He just kept staring at Freddy with the biggest grin he could muster and heart eyes…also a little drool. “I love you too, sugar.”
Freddy would normally LOVE messing with the clown and get along with the chaos, but he could see that this wasn’t really Pennywise. So he punched the clown in the face, stood up in a hurry and shouted. “FUCK OFF, P! CAN’T BELIEVE I’M SAYIN’ THIS BUT I REALLY DON’T WANNA FUCK YA! YA DON’T EVEN LIKE SEX, YA DUMBASS!”
Pennywise grinned widely before chasing after him in all fours. “For you, I’ll make an exception!”
Freddy’s head *CRAPCRAPCRAP…*
Meanwhile, in your bedroom…
“Oh no,” you whispered, nose already tickling with another sneeze. You tried to stop it—tilting your head back, pinching your nose, praying the fever didn’t drag another arrow out of you.
But it was useless. “—hhhhhhtchooo!”
The golden spark shot like a bullet down the corridor, veering straight into the living room.
Inside, Michael was standing near the window, massive shoulders blocking out half the light. Arthur sat not far away, humming softly as he fiddled with his deck of worn cards. The arrow pierced Michael’s chest first. His breathing hitched.
And then he turned his head. Slowly.
Towards Arthur.
Arthur blinked, mid-shuffle. “Michael? Are you alri—?”
Before he could finish, Michael crossed the room in two strides. His hand clamped around Arthur’s throat, throwing him harshly against the floor. The impact cracked tile beneath them.
Arthur gasped, cards scattering everywhere. “M–Michael!”
His breathing through the mask was ragged, heavier than Arthur had ever heard it. Pinned to the floor, Arthur frowned, utterly confused as Michael held him there. His hand searched for his hidden knife, but Michael stoooed him and instead intertwined their fingers to pin it above his hand. Michael sat on top of him and raised a fist to beat the man to a pulp when Arthur closed his eyes. If this was his end…well, there were far worse endings than being killed by a friend.
But then, pain never came. Instead, he felt a warm liquid drip down on his face.
He slowly opened his eyes to find that Michael’s fist was shaking as his nails dug into his palm. He was desperately trying to hold himself back. Arthur looked up and hesitated whether to laugh or cry. This bloodthirsty cursed killer…held more restraint than most men he knew or had ever known.
He was fighting so very hard against his very nature to protect him…His fingernails digging into his own shaking palm to stop himself.
From your bedroom, your hand clamped over your mouth again, heart hammering.
“Oh god,” you whispered, “it’s getting worse.”
Your nose tickled. Another sneeze was coming. You rubbed your nose raw with a tissue, sniffling miserably. And then—of course—your body betrayed you again. “hhhhh-HhhAATCHHhhhoo!”
Another golden spark shot out like a bullet. You groaned, reaching out helplessly as if you could catch it midair. No chance. It sailed straight across the room and struck Jason next. Jason had been sitting quietly in the corner, hunched and fidgeting with a small carving of wood he’d whittled.
The arrow hit him straight in the chest, and he jolted as though struck by lightning.
His masked head snapped up—straight towards Brahms, who was crouched on the floor nearby, muttering to his doll and humming tunelessly. Jason dropped the carving.
His whole body trembled. Slowly, he lumbered towards Brahms.
Brahms blinked, tilting his head at the towering figure. “Jason?” he asked softly, not understanding why his friend’s shoulders shook so badly.
And then Jason bent down and enveloped him in an enormous, crushing hug.
Brahms stiffened in surprise at first. Jason clung to him tightly, massive arms shaking as he whimpered and panted beneath his mask.
“…Oh,” Brahms whispered, realization dawning. His lips curled into a small, genuine smile. “You want a hug?”
Jason squeezed tighter, pressing his masked face into Brahms’s shoulder.
Brahms’s arms slowly came up, wrapping around the giant. He closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth. “It’s alright. I’m here.”
But then…Jason surprised him by suddenly removing Brahms mask and his own to aggressively kiss him. Brahms was so shocked, he didn’t know how to answer…but Jason didn’t leave him time to process as he suddenly pulled him up to carry him to their bedroom.
Suddenly, Brahms seemed to understand and tried desperately to grab onto the walls around them and door frames to slow him down. “Jason…Jason! No! Wait!”
Jason wasn’t waiting…
He kissed Brahms again and kept walking forward.
From the doorway, your throat tightened as you muttered weakly, “Okay, maybe that one wasn’t so bad…” But then your nose twitched again. “Don’t sneeze, don’t sneeze, don’t—hhhhhHHhhhhhTtTSSSHhhhhhhuuuhhh!”
The golden arrow zipped down the room and smacked straight into Norman, he had been quietly sitting in a chair, hands folded neatly in his lap as he was reading. His eyes glazed for a moment, then flicked towards Jack Torrance.
“Uh…” Jack straightened slowly. “Why are you looking at me like that, buddy?”
Norman’s lips parted slightly. His eyes softened, hazy, but intense. “You’re beautiful, Mister Torrance.”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Norman slowly stood up, the book falling from his lap and his eyes never leaving Jack’s. He took a slow step forward. Then another.
Meanwhile, Jack instinctively stepped back. “…Hey now, I don’t know what game this is, but I don’t like it. Knock it off.”
Norman tilted his head with a dashing smile. “…Such a magnificent man.”
Jack’s throat went dry. “Oh, boy…” He chuckled nervously, hands coming up as Norman inched closer, gaze hungry and trembling.
“Listen, man. I really think you and me is a really bad idea. We’re good friends, but that’s it.”
Norman didn’t answer and Jack ran to the bathroom and closed the door. But Norman didn’t let it deter him. He went to find an axe to smash the door down.
Ironic.
From the doorway, you buried your face in your hands. “This is getting worse by the minute…” you groaned.
And of course, your nose was already starting to tickle again. Your entire body ached from holding back another sneeze. You pressed tissues to your nose, praying for mercy, but your divine cold wasn’t about to spare anyone.
“hhhhhHHhhhttttTSSsshhhhhhoooooo!”
Another glittering arrow shot across the room and struck Chucky this time. The doll froze mid-step, plastic face slackening for just a moment before his stitched features stretched into a wide, unnervingly dreamy grin. His little head swiveled, eyes locking on Patrick who was staring at the reflection in his axe.
“Well, well, well…” Chucky purred, hopping down from a chair. His stubby arms spread wide, voice syrupy. “Ain’t ya a fine piece of Wall Street meat? Forget Tiffany—daddy’s found himself a real man.”
Patrick barely looked up, his gaze still fixed on his reflection in the shiny blade.
Chucky started waddling towards him. “C’mere, sugar. Don’t play hard to get. I’m gonna crawl right into your Armani sheets and—”
The axe came down in a clean, brutal arc.
CRACK.
“Jesus Christ!” Chucky shrieked, dragging himself across the ground with one arm. “What the hell, ya psycho?!”
Patrick wiped the blood from his face and admired the axe’s sheen once more. “You repulse me.”
Chuckled cackled. “Ya lil’ savage. Only makes me want ya more, baby!”
Patrick proceeded to bring the axe down. Multiple times.
Your sinuses were on fire. The tissues were damp and useless in your hands. Every time you tried to fight back the pressure, the universe seemed to conspire against you.
“hhhhhHHhhhhhTTTTTsssshhhhhhuuuuuuh!”
Vincent had just arrived. The arrow hit him square in the chest. He stilled. His head lifted. His eyes locked immediately on Bubba. He was sitting awkwardly on the couch, watching all the chaos unfold with wide, confused eyes.
Vincent froze. His breathing quickened. Then, with the sudden urgency of inspiration, he pulled a small, worn Polaroid camera from his coat pocket. He lifted it to his eye, tilted his head, and clicked.
The shutter’s snap made Bubba jolt. He looked around as if searching for what Vincent had just captured, then pointed at himself—confused.
Vincent nodded. Another flash. Click.
He then lowered the camera only long enough to tilt his head the other way, studying Bubba like he was a statue in a museum. Then—click. Another picture. Bubba blinked rapidly, unsure of what was happening. But slowly, he adjusted in his seat.
He was posing.
Vincent’s chest rose and fell with silent, feverish devotion. Every angle, every gesture—perfect. He stepped closer, crouching to get a lower shot. Click. Click. Click.
Bubba puffed out his chest, cheeks darkening under the mask with pride. For once, someone was looking at him like art.
And of course—your nose started to twitch again. Your body was trembling. Feverish, tissues crumpled in your hand, you tried to stay still, to keep the arrows from flying—but it was too late. The arrow streaked across the room, ricocheting off a light fixture before striking Eddie Gluskin square in the chest.
Eddie froze mid-step, wide-eyed and shivering, and then his gaze landed on Bo. The moment was instantaneous, consuming. Bo barely had time to react before Eddie lunged at him like a wild animal.
He darted towards the nearest glass door, locking himself inside the small security room. The sliding lock clicked, and he breathed a sigh of relief—until he saw Eddie pounding on the glass with both fists, wide-eyed and unhinged.
“I’M GONNA MAKE YOU MY NEXT WIFE!” Eddie bellowed, voice cracking with strange, fevered devotion.
Bo leaned back against the wall, eyes wide in disbelief. “…The fuck is wrong with ya, dumbass?!”
Eddie pressed his face closer to the glass, a crazed sort of adoration in his expression. “You…you’re mine! Mine!”
Bo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He usually liked madness, but he had no intention of becoming that fucker’s twisted wife. He knew what that meant and he wasn’t about to let that psycho do something similar to him.
Your nose twitched again, the inevitable looming…You tried to steady yourself, breathing through your mouth. “Okay…just…just hold it…”
But your body had other plans.
The last golden arrow shot across the room.
Penny froze, his infectious laughter vanishing into a stunned silence. His eyes locked onto Eddie Munson—the unfortunate target of his new fevered, unrestrained love. Eddie froze. He had seen how the others had changed because of that weird gold arrow. Then his hand shot to a beer bottle, smashing it against the wall in one smooth, desperate motion.
“PENNY! DON’T!” he screamed, voice cracking.
But it was already too late.
Penny surged forward, mouth gaping wide, drool dripping from the corners, eyes glowing with manic devotion. He lunged towards Eddie with the kind of reckless, single-minded energy that only Penny could muster. Eddie barely staggered backwards, screaming like a child, trying to evade the monstrous clown who now saw him as the object of his all-consuming affection.
The asylum was officially a battlefield of twisted, feverish love—all because of one sick nurse and a sneeze too many.
…
Hours later…
You woke with a start, sunlight streaming weakly through the asylum windows. Your head felt clearer, your nose no longer burning, and your body finally at peace.
Stretching, you rubbed your eyes and stood up. You groaned softly and brushed yourself off. “Okay…time to fix this mess.”
A few careful gestures, a couple of gentle waves of your hands, and the arrows of uncontrolled affection unraveled like golden threads. Finally, you took a deep breath and smiled, exhausted but satisfied. Your power, once uncontrolled by illness, had restored balance.
But then…you heard the slashers scream and yell from multiple rooms. You sighed.
You were spread out on the bed—snoring with drool dripping down your chin. The sun shone through the curtains and hit your face, slowly waking you up. As you began to stir, you heard the familiar sound of a cane thumping against the floor, as well as the sound of a coffee percolator in the kitchen. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sighed tiredly before getting up. You then followed the sound of cabinets opening and closing.
When you reached the kitchen archway, you saw House rummaging around the cabinets, searching for something. You sighed and sat down at the table before laying your cheek on the smooth surface.
“Morning.” You mumbled.
He smirked in response. “Morning to you too, sleeping beauty. You were out like a light last night. I could've probably shot off a gun right next to you, and you'd still be asleep.”
“…Right. Thank you for giving me a place to sleep for the night.” You yawned.
He shrugged as he continued looking through the cabinets. “It was better than letting you pay for an overpriced room at a sketchy motel with some criminal waiting outside to mug you in the middle of the night.”
You smiled. “Would it be possible to have a cup of coffee?”
He nodded and closed the cabinet. “The machine's going, and it's brewing a fresh pot. It should be all ready in a minute or two. I was looking for something edible but…it has been a while since I’ve eaten breakfast.”
You nodded understandingly and your eyelids started falling on their own.
He noticed and smirked. “Still tired, huh?”
You didn’t answer and he hummed before nodding to himself. “Yeah, judging by the drool stain you've got going on, I'm gonna guess that the answer to that is an obvious 'yes'.” He turned his gaze back to the coffee machine for a moment before looking back at you. “Hey, you want cream and sugar?”
Your eyes were closed and you snored.
He rolled his eyes and smirked. “I don't know if that's a feat of sleep deprivation, or proof that you could definitely sleep through any disturbance—” He was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the percolator finishing its brew. He sighed before pinching your nose closed to wake you up.
You opened your eyes, looking around blearily and groggily, trying to process what just happened.
“You were sleeping so soundly, I was afraid you might die on me from lack of blood flow to your brain.” He explained. “Also, did you want cream and sugar in your coffee, or are you just drinking it black like any sane individual out there?”
You hummed, “Cream. Sugar. Lots of it. I need that sugar rush to last the day.”
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Cream and sugar? And you call yourself a nurse?”
You lifted your hands to reach forward. “Come on. Please?”
He rolled his eyes playfully and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. Cream and sugar it is.”
He turned back to the coffee pot and prepared it before stirring it up and bringing the mug over to the table. You smiled and cupped your hands around the steaming cup with a small satisfied smile.
He huffed and took a sip of his own coffee. “You look like one of those weird kids on TV having hot cocoa with marshmallows on a cold winter day. Does a little morning cup of Joe really make you that happy?”
You smiled and lifted your cup towards him. “Thanks, Santa.”
He rolled his eyes. “Please. Don’t insult me. I'm nothing like…that big round-faced jolly man with his white beard who says hohoho. I hate red and I suck at giving presents.”
“But you made me coffee.” You retorted playfully and took another sip.
He rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, and? The man makes toys for children and makes his way around the world every year, giving toys to people who've been nice. Making coffee is nowhere near as charitable.”
“Making coffee is a gift too. You did something for me.” You insisted—but clearly you were having the time of your life messing with him. He rolled his eyes again and took another sip of his own coffee as he watched you finish your liquid dessert and then put the empty mug down on the table.
“We should get ready for work.”
He nodded and stood up. “Yeah, gotta see more of the mad men.”
You both got dressed, went into the car and drove back to the hospital. Once there, he opened the car door and pulled himself out. You then both made your way towards the main entrance.
The moment your foot stepped inside the hospital, you straightened up and your expression changed.
Time for work.
He noticed and smirked. “Ahh, there it is. Nurse mode.”
You nodded wordlessly. “I would advise you to do the same. The patients can be quite the troublemakers. Just do not let your emotions show fear or anger.”
He scoffed. “I’m a doctor. I worked in the ER. You know what kind of people get referred to the ER on a regular basis? Drug addicts, prostitutes, the mentally ill, gang members, criminals, the homeless…I’ve seen and dealt with the worst of the worst, and I’m good at keeping people from seeing what I really think.”
You nodded understandingly and you both rode the elevator up to the right floor.
…
A few hours passed, Dr House was just coming out of one of the patients’ room when he saw you in the hallway, looking into a patient’s file on a clipboard.
He limped over to you and looked over your shoulder. “What do you have there?”
“Brahms Heelshire’s file.” You answered without looking at him. “Yesterday was his third escape attempt this week…”
He scoffed. “Brahms Heelshire? Really? That guy’s been here for what, 4 or 5 years? And he’s still trying to escape?”
You nodded absentmindedly. “I just do not understand…why? He has no family anymore. Nothing to go back to.”
He looked over the file. “Well, there’s usually only two kinds of people who try to escape as frequently as he does: the ones who haven’t come to terms with their current situation yet and the ones with severe mental illnesses. Given the current situation, I’d wager it’s probably a bit of the former and a good bit of the latter.”
You nodded and started walking towards the patient’s cell. He followed you. “Do you really think he’s going to talk to us? I mean…that guy could just decide to kill us both.”
You smiled at him playfully. “Do not speak and I think everything will be just fine.”
He lifted a skeptical eyebrow at you, slightly surprised at your sudden sass, but he still smirked. “Oh, really? Challenge accepted. I’ll be as silent as a church mouse.”
You chuckled before taking out a stuffed bear from your bag. “Cute?”
He gave you a questioning look. “Are you planning on using that to tame Brahms?”
You smiled enigmatically, but didn’t answer before entering the cell. You looked around and found the poor man curled up at the foot of his bed. House followed behind you and took in the sad sight. It really was a pitiful picture: a man curled up like a child with a blank stare. He looked sick and exhausted.
You sat down on the bed and offered him a friendly smile. “Good afternoon, Brahms. Did you sleep well?”
The man didn’t answer at first, but then groaned and buried his face into his arms before muttering an inaudible reply.
You smiled. “Ah. Not so good then I take it?”
He didn’t look up, but he muttered again in response—a little louder this time. “When does it ever get ‘good’ in here?”
You nodded understandingly before scooting closer and taking out the stuffed bear to sit it down on the bed. The man lifted his head and turned to look at the bear, his gaze moving from the toy to you before turning his head back down.
You coughed and made the stuffed arm wave. When he saw the toy wave, he immediately sat up. You smiled victoriously—at least now he was paying attention. “This is Miss Daisy. Miss Daisy wants to know what is going on and what it would take for you to give her a smile.”
He stared at the toy curiously before extending a tentative hand. He eventually touched the toy bear, running his fingertips over its soft and fluffy surface. Meanwhile, Doctor House remained silent as he had promised and observed Brahms’ reactions. The patient seemed happy enough as he squeezed the toy. He then pressed the plushie against his face and inhaled deeply.
“You like the gift ?” You asked as he continued to hug the toy, nodding his head as he buried his face even deeper into its fluff.
You nodded. “Could you perhaps tell me why you have been so eager to leave recently?”
He lifted his face from the toy momentarily and answered in a weak and quiet voice. “I don’t like it here…”
You nodded again. “I see. May I ask why? I understand that there has been some improvements in living conditions…I thought it might change your wish to escape.”
He looked down at the toy bear. “It feels like a prison in here…it makes me feel trapped. I just want to go outside—anywhere else.”
You nodded understandingly. “I see…Well, I cannot promise to get you out of hospital grounds yet but, perhaps would you like to go outside? Have access to the gardens? Would that improve your mood?”
His eyes lit up at the idea, and he nodded vividly, clutching the toy even tighter and bringing it closer to his chest. “Yes please.”
You nodded and wrote it down. “Noted.”
He nodded again, cradling the toy bear in his arms and pressing it against his chest. “If I…” He paused for a moment, looking down at the toy. “If I…behave…could I make a special request?”
You smiled. “Sure thing, Brahms. What do you want?”
He suddenly went silent for a minute. You heard him say something, but it was mumbled into the toy, and too quiet to hear. You leaned forward a bit closer to him. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t catch that. Could you repeat please?”
He moved the stuffed toy away from his face, and he looked away, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I…I wanted to ask…if I could have…” He looked at you and then back down at the toy, then back up at you. However, he couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “…a friend.”
Your eyebrows raised in surprise and you tilted your head a bit. “A friend?”
He nodded, but still did not meet your eyes and fiddled with the bear toy. “Yes. Just…a friend—a nice person to talk to and play with. Please?”
You felt your heart go out to him. He seemed so pitiful, and desperate. You reached out and gently placed your hand on his arm. “I’ll see what I can do, Brahms.”
He looked up at you for a moment, his eyes wide and hopeful before he looked down at the toy, and then back up at you. “Really? You can get me a friend? You won’t just say you will and then forget about it, like everyone else…?”
You shook your head with a small reassuring smile. “No, sweetie, I won’t do that. I’ll personally see that you have a nice, kind, and caring friend. I won’t forget about it, I promise.”
He seemed satisfied with the promise, and he hugged the toy even closer, rubbing his face against the bear again. “Thank you…”
You chuckled lightly and nodded, patting his arm gently. “Yeah, of course.”
He let out a breath and closed his eyes, nuzzling his face against the toy once more as a happy and relieved look appeared on his face.
You nodded and then looked at Doctor House. “This is Doctor House. He will examine you now. Would you agree to that?”
He looked over to House and seemed scared for a moment, but then nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s fine…”
You smiled and nodded as well. You kept an eye on Brahms, making sure he stayed calm and at ease as House approached. The doctor looked down at Brahms and nudged his foot with the end of his cane. “Stand up, big guy.”
Brahms slowly stood up from the bed, being careful to keep his toy clutched tightly in his arms as he did. House nodded and set his cane against the side of the bed. He then looked Brahms up and down, looking for anything that might be wrong. He then noticed a small scratch on Brahms’s right arm. “What happened here ?”
Brahms looked down at the scratch and held up his arm, showing it to House. He then seemed to remember something, and his gaze dropped sheepishly—like a toddler. He mumbled an answer, the sound too soft for either of you to hear.
House raised his eyebrow and leaned forward closer to Brahms. “Couldn’t hear you, kid. Say it again, a little louder this time.”
Brahms raised his voice, though it was more timid than anything and replied, his gaze still on the ground. “I tried to escape again and a wire in the fence cut my arm.”
House nodded as he listened, noting the injury. “Well that was a stupid thing to do, wasn’t it? You’re lucky you only got a scratch.”
He nodded, still looking down and holding his toy tightly. “Yeah. I won’t do it again…”
House nodded and sighed, looking Brahms up and down. “It’s really a shame, and you’ve tried it, what—three times this week? Pal. Take a clue.”
Brahms’s shoulders slumped even further downward as he was scolded. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop…”
House shook his head in response. “Well, you’d better, or next time you might actually hurt yourself. You’re lucky you only got a scratch this time. That fence is designed to keep people like you from escaping. What if you hit your head next time you try to escape? Or break something? There’s no point in continuing to try to escape, so I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
Brahms tilted his head. “I just…want to get out.”
House hummed as he proceeded to bandage the wound. “Really now? And where do you plan on going when you do get free? Do you even have somewhere to go?”
Brahms didn’t respond. He just looked away sheepishly, fidgeting nervously with the toy in his hands.
House sighed and rolled his eyes. “Exactly. You don’t have a plan. You don’t have any place to go. You don’t have a job, or money, or anything. You can’t take care of yourself. All you’re gonna do is end up back here, probably with more scratches and broken bones, so just accept it and stop trying to escape.”
Brahms hummed. “My family gave me money.”
House scoffed as he finished the bandage. “Your family might’ve given you money years ago, but it’s 202… now. There’s a very, VERY strong chance that any money you were given is worthless now. And besides, what would you do with it? Build yourself another manor? Keep preying on harmless babysitters? Kill whoever bothers you in your gloomy teenager phase?”
Brahms looked down at the floor and started to get teary-eyed, clearly affected by the doctor’s words and the trauma from his past. “I…I-I don’t…”
“Doctor House.” You intervened with a displeased expression. “A word outside?”
He looked at you and rolled his eyes, but he still hobbled out into the hall. You stepped outside after him and you faced him with a disapproving frown. “We are supposed to help them—not berate them.”
He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. “I am helping him. I’m toughing him up so that he’ll quit escaping and hurting himself.”
“This establishment is about redemption. What message are we sending if you start telling them that there is no escape?” You reminded him.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m telling the truth. And reality doesn’t care about feelings or being ‘nice.’ It’s better to get him used to the idea now that he’s not going anywhere than to keep lying to him and telling him that there's hope.”
You frowned in incomprehension. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head and sighed in exasperation. “Exactly what I said. That kid in there is never getting out of this hospital. There’s no point trying to feed him stories about how he’s capable of going free and living in the world again. It’s never going to happen, and it’s better to get him used to that idea now than to let him continue thinking he has a chance.”
Your jaw twitched. “I BELIEVE in them. I believe in sending them back into society.”
He rolled his eyes again. He put on a fake smile and added a sickly-sweet tone to his voice in an attempt to tease and mock you. “Of course you do, ‘sunshine’.”
Your eyes widened at his mocking tone and you shook your head. “If you do not believe in their redemption, then what are you doing here?”
He rolled his eyes again and dropped the fake smile. “I’m a doctor. I work wherever I’m needed. Or wherever I am paid. I don’t have a choice in the matter, and I’m not here for their ‘redemption’.” He made air quotes around "redemption" to indicate the sarcasm in his sentiment. “I am here to make sure they stay alive. And because I was mildly interested in the special freaks you seem to have locked up.”
You gasped and thrusted a finger into his chest. “We never use that word. Take that back!”
His eyebrows shot up and he looked at your finger on his chest with an annoyed expression, then back up at you. “What ? ‘Freaks’? Why? Can’t handle the fact that that’s what they are? They’re abnormal, and therefore freaks. I’m just being ‘honest’. One of the qualities you seem to value so much.”
You grit your teeth and seethed. “Careful, Dr. House. There is a thin line between honesty and cruelty.”
He rolled his eyes again. “Oh, spare me. They’re in a hospital for homicidal lunatics, and they’ve clearly got severe mental problems. You don’t fix reality by changing the vocabulary. You think they’re gonna get offended about me calling them freaks?”
He turned towards the cells and as if to prove his point he shouted. “FREAKS!”
Your chest heaved and you glared at him. “I obviously made a mistake hiring you…”
He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, you couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried. You do not have any doctors besides me. None of my predecessors lasted. I am here for as long as I’m paid to be here. You’ll just have to deal with me. Besides, you just don’t like the fact that I’m not acting like your perfect ideal of a doctor.”
You looked him up and down. “Obviously not.”
He smirked and shrugged. “So sorry to not fit the job description. I’m so sorry I’m not some cheerful, happy doctor who gets all gushy over people with mental problems and wants to treat them like they’re children…”
“No. I wanted a doctor who I could trust.” You snapped. “ I wanted a doctor who understands my vision. I wanted a doctor who wanted the patients to get better!”
He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t give me that crap about wanting the patients to get better, alright? You may genuinely want that, but you’re delusional for thinking that you can actually get these people to become normal. They were locked away for a reason, and trying to get them to rejoin society is an unrealistic pipe dream.”
“Then this discussion is over.” You seethed and turned around to leave.
He grabbed your arm before you could leave and spun you back around. “Hey, wait. Don’t get all pissy now.”
You glared at him and wretched your arm away. “To be a sunshine takes everything I have. To stay positive and keep smiling are my ways to give the patients something to look forward to. What do you offer them?”
He put his hands in his pockets and glared right back at you. “Realism. I offer them someone to be real with them. Not someone who tries to baby them and treat them like they’re not outcasts, like you do…”
“THEY ARE NOT DEAD YET, HOUSE!” You snapped. ”They can still dream of better things than your cold harsh reality.”
He looked at you with a slight look of surprise as you shouted, but he still answered defiantly. “Don’t you get it? That kid in there,” he gestured towards the cell, “he’s a serial killer. What better things do you think he deserves?”
Your eyes watered. “They deserve a chance, House. An actual chance. They are broken. But they can be fixed. We can glue back the pieces.”
He sighed in disbelief and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “People aren’t like that. They’re not a puzzle to be pieced back together.”
A single tear rolled down your cheek. “…And I thought you’d be smart enough to understand the importance of hope.”
He looked away towards the cells and muttered. “Hope’s for idiots.”
Your heart clenched in your chest and you quickly wiped your tears. “…Right. Thank you for your honesty.” With that, you walked away.
House found himself standing still for several moments before he cursed and hobbled after you. “Y/N. Wait.”
He fell. You did not look back.
“Would you hold on for a second?” But you were already gone. He cursed and grumbled to himself as he sat on the floor. He rubbed at the ache in his leg and sighed. “Great. Just…great.” He tried to stand up, but his leg was feeling worse than usual. He leaned against the wall and tried to get up again.
He finally managed to stand up and stopped next to a cell where a voice spoke up.
“Pff. Way to go, jackass.”
He turned towards the cell and rolled his eyes, immediately recognizing that insufferable voice. “Oh, great. You—of all people…”
Freddy smirked. “Making our lil’ mama bear unhappy? Tut-tut. Bad idea, House.”
He rolled his eyes. “Bite me, Krueger.”
Freddy grinned and suddenly grabbed House’s arm and pulled it inside his cell.“Sure. If you insist...” He then bit it hard.
House shouted obscenities and tried to pull away, dropping his cane as he tried to retrieve his arm. “Let go of my arm, you crazy bastard.” His arm was bleeding now, and Krueger still had a vice-like grip on it. He could see the blood trickling down his arm, and he tried to pry his arm free from his grip, but he was too strong. “I said let go, Krueger!”
Freddy didn’t obey and only sank his teeth deeper as the other patients started making noise or even laughing around them. He tried to pull his arm back again, but it was no use. He punched Krueger as hard as he could in the ribs with his free hand, but he still held on like a rabid animal.
Suddenly, a voice raised behind him. “FREDDY.”
You stood there.
Krueger froze, though his grip was still as tight as ever. He turned to look at you, as did House.
You stepped forward and faced Freddy. “Let go of the doctor’s arm. Now.”
Freddy smirked challengingly and tightened his grip on House’s arm. “And what happens if I don’t?”
You hesitated—reaching for the familiar remote in your pocket to activate the electric collar around Freddy’s neck. You could hurt him. But instead…you asked. “Let us say you break or rip off the doctor’s arm. And then what, Mister Krueger? What do you think will happen?”
Freddy chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “He’ll cry in pain, and I’ll have a good laugh.”He chuckled again, tightening the grip on House’s arm, though not enough to break it, just enough to make it ache a bit more.
You nodded. “Okay. You have a good laugh. Then what?”
He rolled his eyes. “Then I’ll let him go, and I’ll get put in solitary for a few days. Big deal.”
You sighed.
“Freddy. I am going to be honest with you.” You took a deep breath. “I have bet a lot on you and all the patients in this hospital. I have made an important deal with someone to improve you and the other patients’ living conditions. I am not ready to give up. But you need to show that you have improved. I need you and the other patients not to harm or kill any members of staff…I need you to trust me and let go of Doctor House’s arm. Please.”
He smirked before looking at House’s bleeding arm, then back at you. “You’re trying to bargain with me, huh? How cute…but why should I care about your lil’ deal?”
You closed your eyes and thought about it. Telling him about future consequences or rewards wouldn’t help. Slashers are unable to grasp long-term benefits. Then, it hit you. “You asked for a garden, right? I remember. I already made the demand and all the necessary equipment should soon arrive. I am trying, Freddy. But it’s hard when nobody else seems to think you can be or do better. And if you keep hurting or killing staff members then I won’t be able to help you anymore. And that would mean less for you—a lot less than what was granted so far and me possibly getting fired.”
He looked at you curiously for a moment, tilting his head slightly to the side as he thought about it hard, then his grip on House’s arm loosened a bit. He was silent, his eyes glued to your face, trying to discern if you were lying or not.
You opened your eyes—cold sweat running down your face. “Please.”
He looked at you thoughtfully for a moment, and then suddenly let go of House’s arm, shoving him back into the hallway. “Alright, mama bear. I’ll play your little game for a while. Maybe for a few days, or a week or two. But don’t think I’m doing any of this for your sake. I’m doing it for me, and only for me.”
House stumbled back into the hallway and took a few steps backwards, holding his injured arm. He looked down at it, at the bite mark that was inflicted by Krueger. “Great. I’m probably going to need shots now…”
Freddy cackled and flipped him off. You took House’s good arm and dragged him away. He didn’t resist, but as you both started walking, he looked at you quizzically. “You realize what you just did, right? You just made a deal with a homicidal psychopath.”
You glared at him. “It was that or you lost your arm. You should be thanking me on your knees right about now.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Oh, spare me with the self-righteous indignation bit. I’m fully aware that you made a smart choice and that you helped me out. I’m just saying you made a deal with a madman that’s all. The Springwood Slasher? The guy who kills people in their dreams? And you want to trust him? That’s gonna blow up in your face at some point…”
You didn’t answer.
He rolled his eyes again and sighed. “Oh, right, I forgot…you don’t like negative comments about your precious ‘redemptive’ dream, do you? You’re just going to keep ignoring me until I agree that all of your patients are just misunderstood and need help. Yeah. That’ll work out great.”
You reached the infirmary and sat him down on the bed before looking around for some medicine and bandages. He sat down on the bed and rolled up his sleeve, exposing his wounded arm up to his elbow. “That bastard got me good…”
“You’ll live.” You replied flatly.
He scoffed and looked at you with a glare. “Oh, thank you so much for that comforting bit of wisdom. I feel so much better now.”
“What blood-type are you?” You ignored his comment and decided to focus on the most important.
“B/T. Why? You gonna give me a blood transfusion too, Mother Theresa?” He mocked and huffed before looking away.
You hummed. “Guess what? It’s your lucky day. We match.”
“Of course there would be another convenient twist. Of course you just happen to have the same blood type as me…Why am I not surprised?” He sighed and laid his head back.
You smiled. “Relax. It’s just a bite. It’s not like he cut off your arm.” He winced as you touched the wound, his fingers clutching the sheets of the bed. You restrained a laugh.
“Oh, go ahead and laugh. I’m sure you’ll be laughing your ass off if I get blood poisoning and my arm falls off. I’m sure that’ll be hilarious.” He grumbled.
“Do not worry. You know I would never let your arm fall off.” You replied assuredly.
He rolled his eyes again. “Oh, right. Nothing will happen to me because you’re here, my hero.”
“Eeexactly.” You smiled and finished bandaging his arm.
He looked down and lightly touched the bandages, critically assessing your work. “Just a question…have you always been this insufferable, or did you become this annoying after starting this job?”
You smiled again. “It is an innate gift I believe.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I see. So you’ve been born and raised to be a pain in the ass then. Wonderful. You’re the pinnacle of human achievement, truly the best of our species. Tell me, what made you want to work at a nut house instead of a legitimate hospital?”
You smiled—but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “That is a story for another day, doctor.”
He huffed and shrugged. “I’m sure it’s such an inspiring story. Saving the lost souls of the most horrific killers this world has to offer. Aren’t you just a saint?”
You went to the sink and wordlessly washed your hands while he continued to sit on the bed.
“You should go into the Olympics, you know. You’d do great in the self-righteousness competition.” He jabbed.
“Oh? Is that so? Maybe I should…” You replied evenly with a thin smile and dried your hands in a towel. You then turned around to face him and said sarcastically. “But then who would be there to care about the poor little doctor who doesn’t care about his own life?”
He looked up at you with a slight glare, his expression turning to an annoyed one as you smirked down at him. “Don’t try to play the ‘who’ll take care of me’ card. I can take care of myself just fine; I already have, before I met you.”
You hummed. “And yet, you are here. In this hospital. Must mean that your former colleagues didn’t like you very much.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes again, his glare getting even more exaggerated. “Oh, you’re brilliant, you know that? You got me there. I don’t have a comeback for that. How about next you tell me how I’m still single and how I work too much—so you can complete the list of obvious things about me?”
You chuckled. “Why tell you things you already know?” Your eyes met his and you added. “How about being nice to the only colleague who actually tolerates you and wants to keep you alive? And a thanks? That would be a start.”
He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but fine. Thank you for not letting me die. Satisfied?”
You smiled. “Immensely. Now if you will excuse me, I have patients to take care of.” You turned around and left—leaving Doctor House to meditate on your words..
That night
It was late at night and everyone had gone home for the night. However, you had fallen asleep at your desk. House limped down the dark quiet halls. He wasn’t sure why he had had the sudden urge to be up and about, but he couldn’t just stay in his office, staring blankly at the ceiling.
So here he was, wandering the corridors, hoping to just kill time. He slowly walked past your office and noticed that the light was still on. Curiosity took hold of him, and he slowly poked his head through the crack of the open door.
Sure enough, there you were, slumped over your desk—sound asleep. What was it with you and working yourself to death? He quietly walked over to your desk, looking down at you with a bemused smile.
Your cheek was pressed against a list of files with a paper written: POTENTIAL FRIENDS FOR BRAHMS HEELSHIRE…
He picked up the list and skimmed over it, chuckling to himself at the idea of you looking for friends for Brahms, because the little boy man had asked for one.
Five Hargreeves.
Michael Myers.
Penny.
Jason Voorhees.
He shook his head as he read the list you had made. No way in hell would any of these freaks ever agree to befriend that creepy little doll fanatic. He looked down at you and shook his head with an amused smile. You were insane…But then, his hand moved on its own to stroke the back of your head.
He froze as his hand moved across your hair, and he realized what he was doing. What was he doing? What the hell was this?
He snatched his hand back and closed his eyes, trying to regain control of his body. He exhaled and ran his hand across his face instead, trying to compose himself. He needed work. Right. Work. So instead he looked over the files you were looking at. He took one of them and read over it, curious what information you had gathered on the potential friends for Brahms.
Some of the names on the list made sense, but some…made him do a double take. Jason Voorhees was a high-level threat patient. Even he rarely went into his cell…So why would you even think about him?
He looked over your notes. They both had family trauma, they both were rejected as a kid and seemed to share child-like traits…
He put down the file and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was crazy. But somehow it also made a lot of sense.
He shook his head before taking a marker…Time to act like his old jerk self again! He uncapped the marker—ready to scribble whatever on your face—but couldn't bring himself to do it. He looked over your sleeping form once again, then looked at the marker in his hand, feeling more and more frustrated with every passing second.
He couldn't force his mind to think the negative things that were his MO. He leaned against the side of the desk and sighed again. He shook his head. He was behaving like an idiot. Hell, he should be drawing all over your stupid face right now, like his brain was telling him to do.
His fingers slowly slipped to the back of your neck and he frowned a little as he noticed how warm you actually were.
That wasn’t normal.
“Hey, Y/N?” He called you, but you didn’t answer. “Hey, come on, wake up, sunshine.” He called out to you again, a bit louder this time.
When you still didn’t respond, he put down the marker on the desk and moved next to you. He gently shook your shoulder, trying to make you respond with increasing worry. He tried once again to shake your shoulder, and this time, you groaned and slowly lifted your head off the desk, but you didn’t seem aware of your surroundings.
You then noticed Doctor House and smiled—clearly in a daze “Hi…Sorry. I fell asleep. My head is…killing me.”
He sighed with a mixture of worry and relief, seeing that you were at least awake now. “Yeah, no kidding. You’re burning up…”
You scoffed and stood up. “Nonsense. I feel fine…”
You almost fell. He caught you with difficulty. “Right. You can’t even stand on your own two feet, don’t try to feed me that garbage. You’re sick. Take it from the doctor.”
You didn’t move and groaned again. “I shouldn’t be sick. I have work to do. Your leg will give out and then we’ll both fall like two idiots…”
He sighed. “…My leg’s fine. It’s not like I’m gonna collapse if you lean on me. You need to lie down. Come on.” He moved you both to the couch in the corner of the office and laid you down. “….How long have you been feeling sick?”
You sighed. “I don’t know…This afternoon? I went to check on a patient and returned to my office and now my head has a giant hammer inside pounding against my skull…”
He sighed again, feeling your fever once more. “Don’t you know better than to ignore signs of an oncoming illness? You’re a nurse, aren’t you?”
You looked up at him with eyes half closed and a massive headache before seething. “Fffffffffffffffffff—you.”
“You can’t even swear at me properly. You really are sick.” He replied with a smirk.
You sighed and resigned yourself to being a slug. House watched you for a long moment, expecting you to protest again. Instead, you simply curled up slightly on the couch, your eyes drifting shut immediately. It was so unlike you that it bothered him. The woman who spent every waking hour racing from one crisis to another, who somehow had enough energy to smile at every patient she met, had turned into this…over-exhausted pile of flesh.
He glanced back towards the cluttered desk. Several empty coffee mugs sat forgotten among the paperwork, and there was a half-eaten granola bar still in its wrapper that looked as though it had been abandoned hours earlier.
Judging from the state of the office alone, you hadn’t been taking particularly good care of yourself.
His eyes narrowed. “No wonder.”
He pushed himself upright with his cane and limped over to the small cabinet in the corner of the office that served as your emergency medical supplies. He opened it without ceremony, rifling through its contents. Thermometer. Blood pressure cuff. Disposable gloves. Antipyretics. Oral rehydration salts.
He grabbed what he needed before returning to the couch.
You didn’t even open your eyes when he slipped the digital thermometer beneath your tongue. “…Don’t chew it.”
You gave him an incoherent grunt that sounded vaguely offended but obeyed nonetheless. The thermometer beeped and he pulled it free to look at it. “One hundred and three. What an idiot…”
You frowned without opening your eyes. “I heard that.”
“I’m counting on it.” He reached for the bottle of fever reducer, shook two tablets into his hand, then filled a paper cup with water from the cooler in the corner. “Sit up.”
He slid one arm carefully behind your shoulders and lifted you just enough that you were sitting against the armrest. Your head immediately lolled sideways until it came to rest against his shoulder.
He placed the tablets into your hand. “Medicine.”
You looked down at your own fingers as though they belonged to somebody else. “…How?”
He sighed tiredly. “You put them in your mouth.”
“…Oh.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Medical school. And yet here we are.”
You swallowed the tablets with the water he held for you before immediately allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder again. House found himself sitting there far longer than he’d intended. His original plan had simply been to confirm you weren’t dead. Then it had become making sure you took something for the fever. Now…he was apparently functioning as furniture. For the first time since he’d met you, you looked genuinely at peace. His eyes drifted back toward the files scattered across your desk.
Every page was covered with observations written in your handwriting—not about what crimes they’d committed, but about what made them laugh, what frightened them, what foods they preferred, which staff members they trusted, how they reacted to praise, and which patients might calm each other instead of provoking one another.
You stirred against him. “House…”
He looked down immediately. “What?”
“…Don’t…forget to feed the Penny Brothers…”
He blinked. Despite your fever, despite barely being conscious, you were still worrying about the patients. He sighed and closed his eyes. “Right…”
“I’m terribly sorry, dear. Mr. Wayne is in a meeting, and he is not to be disturbed until it is over. Would you like to leave a message for him?” The voice on the other end replied.
Your smile twitched. “Yes. Could you tell him that St Louis Mental Hospital’ head nurse called?”
The intern was quiet for a moment, the sound of typing audible in the background as she began writing down your message. “Yes, of course. May I ask for your name?”
“Y/N L/N.”
She was quiet again for a moment, as if she were writing it down. “Head Nurse Y/N L/N from St Louis Mental Hospital…I have that noted. Is there a number where he may call you back once his meeting is over?”
“The same one than I called you from.”
She wrote it down. “Alright…and may I ask what this call is about, ma’am?”
You hummed. “The fundings given to St Louis and the lack of medical staff.”
She was quiet, seemingly taken aback by your response. “Err- I’m terribly sorry, ma’am. But why are you calling Wayne Enterprises about that? We don’t handle hospital finances…”
“Mr. Wayne personally sent funds to keep the hospital running. It is the reason for this call.” You replied evenly.
Again there was an awkward confused silence on the other end of the line as the intern struggled to find words. Her voice was uncertain when she spoke again. “One moment, please…I’ll transfer you to his private secretary.”
You hummed. “Thank you.”
You were placed on hold, and after a few moments of listening to generic hold music, a man picked up the phone. He had a formal, upper-class voice, and he spoke with a smooth and cold, professional manner. “Secretary to Mr. Wayne. How may I help you?”
“Right. This is Head Nurse Y/N L/N from the St Louis Mental Hospital ? I would like to speak to Mr. Wayne.”
The secretary gave an emotionless hum of acknowledgment. “Yes, I received a message from one of our interns. Mr. Wayne is in a meeting as we speak. May I take a message?”
“Yes. Please. Tell him I need to speak to him urgently concerning the hospital’s conditions and the treatment of patients.”
The secretary was very quiet for a moment, and you could hear the sound of a pen quickly scratching across some paper on his end. “I’ve made a note of your message, ma’am. I will inform Mr. Wayne of your wish to speak with him when he is done with his current meeting. I assume he will try to return your call as soon as he is available.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
He hung up. It seemed that you now had to wait for Mr. Wayne to return your call. You sat for a long while and kept working. Eventually—after what was almost fifteen minutes of waiting—the phone rang. You picked up the receiver, not expecting to hear the cool, collected voice of Mr. Wayne on the other end.
He spoke in a polite, professional tone. “Good evening. This is Bruce Wayne. I’m guessing you’re the head nurse trying to contact me about St Louis Mental Hospital?”
“Indeed.” You replied.
He was quiet, and you heard some papers being shuffled on his end of the line. “Yes. I see one of my secretaries wrote down a message from you. So you said you wished to talk to me about the hospital’s funds, is that correct?”
“Yes. I couldn’t help but notice how most of the funds was given to the armed forces keeping the patients and that almost nothing was left for the medical or other members of staff. Also, when I first came in the hospital, I saw how many of the patients suffered from mistreatment and malnutrition due to terrible living conditions. I am now contacting you in the hopes to convince you of sending more money in order for the hospital to provide the necessary care for the patients.” You exposed your arguments and Wayne was quieter while you spoke.
He eventually sighed. “I’ll be completely honest with you, Head Nurse L/N. I am…well aware of the hospital’s conditions. You’re not telling me anything new.”
You frowned and clicked a pen. “I see…Then I suppose you understand the seriousness of the situation.”
“I understand. Believe me, I do. I suppose I’ve just been hesitant to give them a larger sum of money. The hospital is good, but they’re…expensive. And I’m worried that I may be giving more money than I should be to keep things running.” He explained.
You nodded. “I see. But those patients need help. Not only guards to keep them away from society, but a way to move forward. They need hope, Mr. Wayne.”
He was quiet for a moment before he responded, his voice low and soft. “I understand that, but you have to understand that I’ve tried to help. We, Wayne Enterprises, have sent over millions of dollar in funding; not just to St Louis, but to other similar facilities as well. And I’m…well, I’m a bit tired of feeling like I’m throwing money into a fire. I’ve given the hospital a good sum of money, and yet I still get reports of the patients being as violent and deranged as ever.”
You closed your eyes and sighed. “Sir…I want nothing more than to help them. The patients. But I need you to help me save them. Be the hero they need. I beg of you. I just know that they just need someone to believe in them.”
Wayne was quiet for nearly an entire minute, but you could vaguely hear him tapping a pen as he thought. He exhaled deeply, his voice tired and resigned. “I understand what you’re saying, but I simply do not see how it’s possible. Every psychiatric facility I’ve given money to has been just like this one. The patients don’t improve. They don’t get better. I am starting to believe that they are…untreatable.”
“They are not untreatable.” You immediately disagreed. “They just need a slight push in the right direction. They need…to believe they can do it.”
Wayne sighed again. “Do they really? You’ve read their files. You know what they’ve done. You surely can’t think that most of them would ever get better. You understand how unlikely real reform would be, right? Can you truly imagine somebody like Arthur Fleck ever getting better?”
You frowned and closed your eyes before sighing. “Might I share a personal story with you, sir?”
Wayne was quiet for a moment, a curious note in his voice. “I’m…listening. Go ahead.”
You looked up at the ceiling. “When I was 11, my parents got into an accident and they both died. I thought I would never get over it. But then, I met someone. A man who gave me a home and a life where I thought I would find neither again…”
Wayne was quieter now. He didn’t speak to interrupt you, and only let out a soft hum that signaled for you to continue.
You smiled. “Do you know what the name of that man was ?”
He remained silent.
You smiled. “Norman. Norman Bates. One of the few slashers who was deemed safe enough to come back to society.”
You could hear movement on Wayne’s end, as if he were sitting up straighter. “Norman Bates? You’re…joking, right ? The man who used to dress as his own mother and kill his clients in his motel?”
You chuckled. “Surprising, right ? And believe it or not…I spent the best years of my life with that man.”
Wayne was completely taken aback. He let out a sigh that sounded almost like a laugh. “Forgive me, but that’s…quite surprising. I’m supposed to believe that you, an educated head nurse in a mental institution, was raised by a slasher ?”
You kept a smile on your face. “Believe what you want, Mr. Wayne. I told you my truth. I do not expect you to understand. But I ask you to take that example and think about the patients under my care. Think about how wonderful it would be to give them the chance to have a life again.”
Wayne was quiet for a long time, truly contemplating your story. He sighed once again, and you could hear him shift in his chair and rubbing his temples. Finally, after over two minutes of complete silence, he spoke again, and his voice sounded even more tired than before. “Alright…alright. I’ll give the hospital more funding. I’ll give a larger sum, just for now. But I’m not doing it lightly. I’m taking a huge risk.”
You grinned and stood up. “Thank you ! Thank you so much, Mr. Wayne !”
He hummed. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m doing this under one condition; I will pay the hospital a visit in three months and if I see absolutely no signs of improvement in the patients, I won’t fund the hospital anymore. Do you understand? Even if you haven’t ‘reformed’ them, I want to see something. I won’t give a single dollar more if I see that the entire place is still a hellhole like it was. If this fails, then Wayne Enterprise will cut off all support. You’re running on borrowed time from the get-go.”
You nodded. “Yes, sir !”
“Good.” He inhaled deeply. “Alright…I’ll have 5 million transferred as soon as I hang up. And…l’ll see you in three months, head nurse.”
Without waiting for a reply, the phone line cut off. But, you were still feeling ecstatic. You ran out of your office and jumped up in the air. “YES !” You had a reason to celebrate, but you still needed to be careful. Now that you had the extra funding, you needed to use it properly and use it right.
And you had the next three months to do it.
….
You got to work immediately, starting with sorting the budget in the order of importance.
First, you needed to hire competent doctors and more nurses. And the cooks were necessary to ensure the patients all ate properly and that they didn’t all end up malnourished. You started making a list and couldn’t help the smile from spreading across your face when you received a message to confirm the transaction.
You could not help but feel overjoyed.
You continued making a list and sorting out the budget as you tried to determine exactly how much the hospital needed.
You stood up and called Nurse Sandra in.
Nurse Sandra stepped inside and shut the door as she walked towards your desk, looking perplexed. “You wanted to see me?”
You smiled at her. “Yes! I need your help, Nurse Sandra. I have just received funds for our medical and non-army staff. I need you to help me make a list of criteria for our future doctors and nurses.”
She nodded, her expression changing as her interest increased. She took a seat across from you and took a notepad out. She looked up at you with a bit of excitement in her eyes. “And just how much money did we receive, if I may ask?”
“5 million.” You replied with a small smile.
Her eyes widened, and you could’ve sworn her eyes shone at the news. She scribbled something down on her notepad, before looking at you again. “5 million, you say? Good lord, that’s a lot of money…that’s fantastic news!”
You smiled and nodded. “I think so too ! Now, we must work even harder. We cannot let Mr. Wayne’s generosity go to waste.”
She nodded and looked at you with a determined expression. “Right…So how will we begin? Shall we start with the doctors first?”
You nodded. “We need doctors who are…brave?”
She chuckled softly. “Yeah, I know what you mean…How about we also add ‘calm in the face of danger’ to the list?”
You nodded. “Who is used to extreme cases ?”
She nodded as well. “Yes, definitely. I’d say a solid background is a necessity…Perhaps we should also add a requirement for ‘good with traumatized patients’?”
You nodded. “Also, ready to work 24/7 ?”
She nodded in agreement. “Of course. All of our staff have to be ready for anything. Oh, and we should definitely add ‘willing to work under an ungodly amount of pressure’.”
You nodded. “Definitely. And hum…what else?”
She chuckled and smirked a bit as she scribbled down some more notes. “Oh, you’re forgetting another one…‘Not a total dick’.”
You gasped. “Nurse Sandra!” But then laughed.
She grinned and laughed along with you. “I’m just saying, head nurse. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not work under some jerk.”
You nodded. “Right right…”
And with that, you sent out applications for doctors.
A few came but…it was a disaster.
Some of them couldn’t handle the pressure and left as soon as they started. Other people tried to work here for only a few days…before they were forced to leave after getting into an incident with some of the more unstable patients.
This continued for over a week with no sign of stopping, leaving you and everyone else still in the hospital at your wit’s end…You were almost out of options when you heard a cough.
You looked up and found a man with a cane standing there. His icy blue eyes almost staring straight into your soul.
You then sighed and begged. “Please. Tell me you are a doctor.”
The man chuckled and took a few steps forward. He stopped at the desk, leaned on his cane, and looked down his nose at you with a smirk on his face. “Well, I wouldn’t describe myself as simply ‘a doctor’…”
You frowned. “Well, are you licensed ?”
His smirk widened and he chuckled again. He slowly hobbled forward a bit more, standing beside your desk now.
He held out one of his hands. “Yes. I am most certainly licensed.”
“Thank god!” You let out a sigh of relief and shook his hand.
He grinned. “Don’t thank god. Thank me.” He sat down in front of you next. “So…I assume you’re having trouble hiring?”
You frowned. “Who told you that?”
He chuckled again, looking very smug. “It’s written all over your poor, tired, stressed-out face. It doesn’t take an expert to recognize someone who’s at the end of their rope.”
You smiled weakly. “Fine. Good guess. Now…Tell me. Name. Experience. Career. Medical school. Go.”
He smirked. “Right to the point, aren’t you? No small talk. No foreplay.” He let out a small sigh, shifted his weight and leaned back in the chair. “Let’s see…well, my name is Dr. Gregory House. I went to Johns Hopkins medical school. Graduated top of my class. I was chief of diagnostic medicine of internal medicine at Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital. Is that enough to get the job?”
You hummed. “Yes. But I’m not impressed. Tell me. Why should we hire you?”
He raised an eyebrow, a look of surprise flashing across his face. “Oh? You’re not impressed, huh? I’ve got one of the most impressive medical histories of any hospital in the country, and you’re actually asking why you should hire me? I’m sure you don’t want an entire list. I mean, you would have to clear almost an hour’s worth of time for me to tell you all the reasons why you should hire me.”
You smiled and crossed your fingers over your desk. “I am all ears.”
He let out a tired groan. “…really?” He gave you a long, hard once-over and sighed before sitting up straight. “Alright…well, to start with, I’ve personally solved tens of thousands of medical cases. There’s a medical textbook in my name. My success rate in curing the ‘terminally ill’ is nearly a hundred percent. I’ve got the medical history and the experience to back me up, and I’ve even solved extremely rare diseases that any other doctor would’ve written off and called ‘incurable’.”
Your smile stretched as he started talking more and more. You then whistled. “Okay. Impressive. Now…I would like you to answer me honestly. Just one question and you will have the job.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a rather tempting bet, head nurse L/N. Alright. Go ahead. One question. Ask me anything.”
Your smile disappeared for a moment. “…Doctor House. What happened in Princeton-Plainsboro? Why did they decide to let you go?”
House’s expression froze for a moment. “That’s…an unexpected question.” All the arrogance and sarcasm that had been dripping from his words vanished for a moment, replaced instead by a sort of numbness in his voice. “You…did your research on me, huh?”
You smirked. “I like to know all my options. Besides, it allows me to know and perhaps bond with the staff before they even get to work here. Now, talking time.”
A grimace twisted his face as he stared at you, his gaze intense and focused. He nodded slowly, his voice even and unemotional. “Fair enough. I was let go from Princeton-Plainsboro on the basis of me overprescribing opiates…and a minor drug abuse problem.”
You hummed. “Is that so? And is that still a problem?”
He rolled his eyes and gestured to his cane. “This isn’t a prop, you know. I had to have an extremely painful operation done on my leg. And they had me on high doses of very powerful pain medication to keep me from screaming in agony 24/7. Of course I needed more than the average person. I wasn’t abusing it. I just needed it to function like a normal adult. And I still need it. Vicodin makes me focus.”
You stared at him.
He shrugged, his expression defensive as he stared you down. “What? I need it. I use it to keep my mind clear and my brain healthy. I’m not an addict. I just…have to be on it all the time.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Huh-huh.”
He frowned, his expression hardening as he leaned forward in his chair. “Oh, don’t give me that. You’re looking at me like me taking a little Vicodin everyday is going to impede my ability to be a capable doctor.”
“Is it?”
He rolled his eyes and gestured around. “Do you see any shaking? Do I sound nervous or tired to you? Have I given you any indication whatsoever that I am not in full control of my mental and physical state?”
You hummed. “Not yet. But I will be honest with you, Doctor House. This hospital is nothing like the one you used to work in. The patients are…special. Dangerous. They can be cunning and manipulative. They will take every opportunity to mess with your head and if they see a weakness…they will take advantage.”
He let a small smirk cross his face, his eyes taking on their smug glint once again. “Oh? And you’re scared they’ll be able to get into my head? Really?”
You didn’t smile. “Only yesterday, two of the doctors I hired were seriously injured, Doctor House. The patients here are notoriously hard to deal with. I would advise you to think very carefully.”
His smirk widened, and he was clearly amused. “Oh, I am thinking carefully. In fact, I’m thinking that whatever patients you’ve dealt with so far cannot compare to what I’ve dealt with before.”
It was your time to smile before you stood up.“Follow me.”
He looked surprised for a moment before he rose with the faint ‘tap’ of his cane, and he followed you silently. You both walked out and started walking towards one of the cells.
“In this cell we have Michael Myers. I want you to do a checkup on him.” You told him.
House was mostly expressionless, other than the slight raise of one eyebrow. “Michael Myers? The one and only Michael Myers? The guy who supposedly killed his family on Halloween in 1963? That Michael Myers?”
You smiled. “Ah. So you’ve heard of him?”
House grunted, the hint of a smirk on his face. “The story of Michael Myers is infamous. A young man who snapped and killed his own family for what seemed like no reason at all. I’m…well, curious to see him in person, if you want to call it that.”
You hummed understandingly. “Well, it is your lucky day.”
You then opened the door. He nodded and stepped into the cell, his expression growing more serious. He carefully made his way into the cell, stopping to stand in front of Michael Myers, who remained sitting on the floor.
He leaned on his cane and slowly looked the man up and down. You entered next and smiled.
“Hello, Michael. I’ve brought a friend with me. Is that okay?”
Michael simply sat there, staring at the floor and didn’t speak up.
House let out another chuckle from beside you. “Oh, he looks like such a social butterfly.”
You smiled at House and shot back. “Then you two will surely get along.”
He smirked, and his gaze didn’t even stray from Michael. “Oh, I look forward to this.”
He began stepping closer to Michael, though the man still didn’t move or even look up at him. House knelt by his side and looked him over intensely.
You then sat in front of Michael and smiled. “I know you do not like people invading your personal space, Michael. But this gentleman is here to examine you. Make sure you are healthy. Is that okay? I will need your consent.”
House looked irritated by the fact that you were talking to Michael like he was a child, but he said nothing and waited to see what the man would do. Michael was still unresponsive for a moment, until he slowly turned his head and fixed his gaze on House for the first time. House returned the stare for several seconds, before letting out a low huff of air in mild amusement at the sight of Michael’s blank, cold gaze.
But Michael eventually slowly nodded.
House immediately began looking over his physique, his gaze still trained on the other man’s blank face. He chuckled softly. “Looks like a very healthy specimen. No injuries, no rashes…not so much as a single bruise or scab on him. Not a lot of muscle or body fat on him, but I suppose I can’t blame him for that. He’s been in this hospital for, what, the past 40 years?”
“50.” You corrected him. “The first slasher to ever be admitted.”
House let out a low whistle. “50 years? That’s a long time.” He looked closer at the man. “Still…he’s in good health for someone who’s been locked up for five decades.”
You smiled and nodded. “Michael is a very strong man.”
House hovered his hand a few millimeters above Michael’s biceps and gently grabbed his arm. He pulled on the end of Michael’s right arm like he was pulling a rubber band, testing the mobility in his muscles.
And all throughout, Michael remained emotionless and stared directly at House, his gaze unfaltering and unmoving.
You could see Michael tense up, you scooted closer to him. “Hey, Michael. Look at me. You’re safe. Doctor House is a friend. He won’t hurt you.”
Michael continued staring at House, his gaze remaining focused on him as he continued his examination. House noticed it as well, and he remarked. “Don’t like having someone touching you, huh big fella?”
Michael stared at the doctor before taking out a notebook you had given him.
He showed House a page where the word NO was written.
House looked amused at his little notebook as he smirked and spoke again. “You don’t have any problem with making it clear what you want, huh? Not much for small talk?”
Michael held up the same page.
House chuckled again, raising his hands in a sort of mock surrender. “Alright, I can see that you just get straight to the point. No need for idle conversation or pleasantries. You’re to the point. I respect that.”
Michael stared at House for a moment before turning back to you and changing pages in his notebook to READING TIME?
You blinked and nodded. You then began to open your mouth to agree, but House cut you off. “Reading time? Are you serious? You have ‘reading time?’”
You glanced at House. “Now, manners Doctor House. He did not attack you and that means he is allowed to be read to.”
House rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking a bit put out. “Oh, he gets rewards for behaving. How fun.”
You ignored Doctor House’s obvious sarcasm and got out a book from your bag.
House snorted. “What is that? A children’s book?”
You glared at him. “Alice In Wonderland is a perfectly acceptable book for any age.”
Despite your glare, House smirked. “Oh, please. I doubt he’s even capable of understanding anything more complex than Goodnight Moon.”
You rolled your eyes and only started reading to Michael. Michael listened intently as you began to read, his demeanor shifting suddenly as he instantly started listening.
House raised his eyebrow at this. “Huh. Guess he’s more capable of understanding than I thought. Unless he just likes the sound of your voice.”
You kept reading and Michael imperceptibly scooted closer to look at the images while you read. House watched him intently as he moved closer to you, clearly still somewhat taken aback by this development. He refrained from making more comments.
Once the chapter over, you closed the book and smiled at Michael. “Thank you for your cooperation, Michael. I will come back later to read some more.”
Michael still hadn’t said a word, but he nodded slightly. House looked between the both of you, clearly having gone from being amused to intrigued by this development. You then stood up and were about to step out when you suddenly remembered.
“Ah! Before I go. Michael. Would you perhaps have any special request? Something you would like to change in your current living situation?”
Michael thought about it for a few seconds. He reached towards the notebook he had used before and flipped through it, looking for something. House looked even more intrigued by this, his eyes fixed on Michael as he waited for his response. Michael finally stopped flipping through the pages of the notebook and showed you a specific page.
MORE READING TIME
You read and nodded. “Of course. But I was wondering…maybe in terms of living accommodation, dear?”
House interjected again before Michael had the chance to write anything, his smirk still in place. “Oh? Maybe a king-sized bed? Some nice, satin sheets?”
You glared at House. “Those are patients. Not prisoners. If they wish for a king-sized bed and satin sheets, then I will do my best to provide them with that.”
House rolled his eyes, but he said nothing in response. Michael seemed to think for a moment, before turning another page and showing you another note.
RADIO.
You smiled. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do. Thank you, Michael.”
House raised his eyebrows again as he heard your response. “Really? How kind. If you just add a refrigerator, he’ll be able to live like a king in here. Why not give him a jacuzzi tub while you’re at it?”
Suddenly, Michael seemed to pick up on your growing frustration about the doctor. He wordlessly stood up and faced the doctor. All hints of mockery instantly disappeared from his expression, replaced by a blank, slightly anxious face. Michael was a huge man—two or three heads taller than Dr House. He stared down at him before you came and smiled up at Michael.
“Michael. It’s alright.”
Michael stared blankly at you for one more moment, before his expression grew cold and he turned back to stare at House. House didn’t look away from the imposing figure in front of him. He said nothing and simply stood there, wordlessly staring back at Michael…
You put a hand on Michael’s. “Hey. Look at me.”
Michael immediately tore his gaze away from House and looked back at you, his expression softening the second you put your hand on his.
You smiled at Michael. “It’s okay. Doctor House is a friend. Just a friend with a…very big mouth.”
Michael’s gaze went back to House for a moment, and it seemed he was considering whether to do something about him or not. However, the moment quickly passed, and he turned his gaze back to you as you continued to hold his hand.
You used your index to trace soothing patterns on his inner wrist. “Calm down. Everything is just fine.”
Michael was clearly taking note of your gesture, his gaze locked on your hand as you traced those soothing patterns on his wrist.
He was now entirely focused on you, and the tension in his body lessened significantly.
House was still silent at this point, quietly watching the entire interaction.
“Everything is fine. Now me and Doctor House will leave the room, alright ?”
Michael frowned deeply but nodded. He still hadn’t taken his gaze away from your hand, but he simply stood there and waited as you took a step back. House hadn’t moved an inch, anxious about setting Michael off again.
You slowly released Michael’s hand.
“Good.” You then started to back away slowly and gestured for Doctor House to follow you.
House got the cue and slowly followed you, keeping his back to the door and never turning away from Michael, in case he decided to rush suddenly to attack.
He waited until both of you were completely outside the cell again before speaking. “Well, that was certainly an experience…”
You let out a loud sigh of relief and lifted a hand to your chest.
House leaned against the cell door, looking relieved but also stunned by the entire experience. He let out a long sigh and shook his head. “I can’t believe you actually got him to turn away from me…If you hadn’t been there, I’d probably be a dead man right now. Or at least, I’d be seriously injured.”
You looked at him and asked with a small hopeful smile. “Still interested by the position, doctor ?”
He chuckled. “Honestly, part of me wants to just leave and never come back…but the other part of me is just too damn curious. This hospital is like a zoo. It’s a madhouse in here. And I am curious how things would work if I decided to stay. I mean…I never worked with patients like that before. It wouldn’t be boring. That’s for sure.”
You beamed at him. “Really ? You are willing to stay ? Oh thank you ! Thank you…”
He nodded, raising a hand to motion for you to calm down. “Yes, I’ll stay. Don’t get too excited though. I’m still reserving some of my doubt, so don’t go celebrating just yet.”
You nodded. “Of course. I am just happy we finally have a doctor !”
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, before pushing himself off the wall and straightening up. “Well, I’ll need to sort out some things first, but I can start as soon as tomorrow, assuming you want me to be here that fast.”
You nodded. “Of course ! Living accommodation will be given to you. And also I would need you on the clock 24/7. Could you handle that?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously expecting me to be on the clock 24 hours a day ? No time off, or anything like that ? I’m not a machine, you know.”
You started thinking about it. “That’s right…I should probably find a second doctor then. Maybe a third ? It has already been hard finding you…”
He nodded. “You’ll probably need at least two others besides me. There is no way I’m working 24/7. No one could do that. I’m willing to come here almost everyday, but I’m not looking to work to death. I’ll be here from 8:00 AM to 6:00 PM every day, and no earlier and no later. I need time for rest too.”
You nodded. “Right.”
He nodded as well. “I’ll also need all the medical files you have so I can look through them. I need to know everything I can about the health of these people. And I’m guessing the majority of them haven’t had any real medical exams done in the past 10 years.”
You winced. “That’s exact. I was actually surprised when I looked into the files. But, you will have access.”
He hummed and walked away. “I’m surprised you even have files at all, given how disorganized this place is so far.”
You sighed and shook your head. “Not my fault I’m afraid. I was hired only a month ago.”
House rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I can tell. You’ve cleaned the place up a bit, but you’re nowhere near done yet. You need more doctors. You need better record keeping. You need better staff and better equipment. And even the staff you have now are still nowhere near competent enough to keep this hospital in one piece. You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you, and you’ve only made a dent so far.”
You winced at his bluntness. “Hurtful, but fair. I already hired more nurses. And a cleaning crew. I will also ask for a common room for physical exercise and perhaps for patient interaction.”
He nodded. “That’s good, but you’re still going to need a lab and a pharmacy, and you need better equipment. You have anything even remotely resembling an MRI machine in this place?”
You closed your eyes. “Listen. Before I came along, the hospital barely had money for anything other than guards and weapons to keep the patients out of trouble. I received funds from a benefactor only a week ago. I am already working as hard as I can, but I am still struggling.”
He sighed. “Well, good for you. You’ve been dealt a shitty hand. I get it. But I’m gonna be real with you…I don’t know how long this hospital is gonna last if you just keep limping along with your current team. This place is gonna fall apart if you don’t start doing more and get a better team. You’ve just been putting bandaids on bullet wounds without treating the real issue.”
You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. “And what do you suggest ?”
He shrugged. “First of all, I suggest you start looking for other doctors. You need at least two more besides me. And you need better medical equipment. Everything in this hospital is in a sorry state, and you can’t treat your patients well with the limited bullshit you’ve got right now.”
You nodded. “I’ll look what I can do. Could you perhaps help me with the equipment choice ? Did they have good equipment in Princeton-Plainsboro ?”
House smirked slightly, a hint of mocking pride evident in his tone. “Of course, they did. And I can help you pick out some new stuff, but you’re still gonna have to spend a lot of money. New equipment isn’t cheap, you know.”
You nodded and were already typing on your phone, but your typing was extremely slow. M-E-D-I-C-A-L E-Q-U-I…
At seeing this, House rolled his eyes again, his expression becoming more and more exasperated. “Are you…seriously googling ‘medical equipment’?”
You looked at him. “…No ?”
House pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “You are, aren’t you? What are you, like, 10 years old? What kind of hospital manager googles ‘medical equipment’?”
“I am not a hospital manager. We do not have one. I am a head nurse. This is my first job. Give me a break.” You huffed then faced away from him to slowly type in peace.
He let out a sigh. “Of course. Of course you’ve never done this before. Why am I surprised?” He ran a hand over his face and started muttering under his breath. “What the hell am I getting myself into?”
You finished typing. “Okay so hum…Any suggestions ?”
He sighed again and leaned back against the wall, running a hand over his forehead. “Are you asking me to give you specific names of companies? Because that’s not something I can just do off the cuff. There are dozens of reputable medical equipment manufacturers, and they all make things that are useful and necessary. It’s gonna depend on what you want most.”
You started thinking about it. “I already asked for more pills. I asked for the usual hospital staff needs based on the nurses’ requests. Like bandages, creams, casts…”
He nodded. “And that’s a good start. Those things are definitely gonna be needed. But a lot more is going to be necessary. You’re going to need more medications, more tools, more medical and surgical equipment…you’re going to need a lot, and it’s gonna cost a shitload of money.”
You nodded. “We received 5 million. For everything I did so far, I’d say we’re good on the money. But I think we’ll need a hospital manager. Because frankly ? I think I cannot do everything myself. I did not even have the time to get some sleep in the past two days…”
House chuckled humourlessly and shook his head in disbelief. “Not only are you completely inexperienced, but you’re also trying to do a job that would require three people on your own.”
You sighed and rubbed your eyes. “Yeah. I know. I just…We need more. So far this hospital has been a prison more than an actual health care facility. When I first came, half the patients were ill or malnourished. I had to pay for the food out of my own pockets…I cannot stop now.”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression becoming slightly more serious. “You…paid for groceries for your patients…out of your own pocket? You’re telling me that before this place had any funding, you personally, as a nurse, bought food for the patients that the hospital couldn’t properly take care of?”
You hesitated. “…Yes. Because the cooks were serving them rotten food and tins. I saw one spit in their soup.”
House actually looked surprised by this, his smirk disappearing for a few seconds. “Wait…you’re serious? Who has been taking care of the patients so far then?”
You smiled weakly. “Me and like three brave nurses. Very good women. They lasted more than most.”
House sighed and shook his head. “I…I have to admit, I’m actually…impressed. That was a stupid decision, and I have no idea why you would actually do that, but…it shows that you care. That’s admirable, I suppose.”
You smiled hopefully at him. “Does that mean you’ll still stay ?”
His smirk returned. “We’ll see. You’ve actually…managed to impress me, in a way. I thought you were incompetent, inexperienced, and completely unqualified at first sight. Now…I think you’re incompetent, inexperienced, and somewhat what this hospital needs.”
Your smile brightened. “This hospital needs you too, doctor. What do you say?”
You extended a hand. He chuckled softly and shook your hand. “Don’t get too excited. I’m only agreeing to help this place because I’m mildly interested in how it’s going to operate. This is just…a work opportunity and a learning opportunity. Also, I will need a weekly income.”
You nodded. “Of course. What amount would you deem satisfactory ?”
He thought for a second, tapping his chin with his hand. “I’d say…roughly ten thousand dollars a week. I mean, I’ll be handling not only basic things like check-ups and prescriptions, but also more difficult patients. I’ll also be overseeing other doctors, and providing medical advice. My help isn’t gonna be cheap.”
You nodded. “Done.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really? That was…surprisingly easy. I’d expected you to try and bargain the price at least a little.”
You chuckled. “Doctor House…You are the only doctor who came into a patient’s room and managed to get out without a scratch. Even when I entered with the other people trying out for the position, they would usually end up injured or psychologically unstable. I would have accepted any price”
He blinked in surprise before snorting. “Really? They must have just been incompetent rookies then. I’m probably the most capable doctor you could have picked.”
You smiled. “Let’s continue our tour first, shall we?”
He nodded and followed you. "Lead the way."
You started walking around the right-wing and introducing him to the other patients.“Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Jack Torrance, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Five Hargreeves, the Penny Brothers, Arthur Fleck…”
House looked interested in each patient, but he didn't appear surprised or even disturbed by their presence. In fact, he looked…curious. "Hmph. You've certainly gathered a variety of people. Not what I expected."
You smiled and noticed. “You aren’t scared.”
"Scared?" He asked and thought about it. "No, not really. Intrigued, maybe. But they're just people. Psychopaths, sure, but just people nonetheless. Nothing to be afraid of.”
His answer pleased you. You stopped and turned around to face him fully and beamed at him. “I believe you will make a great difference here, Doctor House.”
His smirk grew, and his expression shifted into something resembling a self-assured grin.“You think so? Well, I am the best in my field. I doubt there’s a single person in this hospital, patient or staff, who’s more qualified than me.”
You nodded. “Then welcome aboard.”
He nodded as well, and he gestured for you to continue. “Alright. I believe now we need to discuss my living arrangements, yes?”
Your eyes widened. “Right. I usually sleep in the hospital. But the staff are allowed to go back home once the day over. You can do the same.”
He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Wait…you choose to sleep here?”
You winced. “Some of the patients have night terrors. And Michael sleepwalks. I do not understand how he manages to get out of his cell, but he does.”
House’s smirk returned. “You’re telling me you’re staying here all day and all night just to look out for the patients? That sounds like a recipe for disaster…and extreme exhaustion.”
Your smile faltered slightly. “I know. But I have no choice.”
His smirk faded, and he let out a sigh. “You’re going to run yourself into the ground at this rate. You need a break. And you need a life.”
You hesitated before wordlessly gesturing for him to follow you. He raised an eyebrow, but he decided it was best to just comply. He followed you silently, his cane tapping against every step he took.
You stopped in front of Arthur Fleck’s cell and stepped in.
House raised his eyebrows, as if surprised by your choice in destination. However, he said absolutely nothing and simply followed you into the cell.
You both stepped in and you found Arthur hunched over on the bed.
“Good afternoon, Arthur.”
His head was bent, his chin resting on his chest. However, upon hearing your voice, he lifted his head and looked up. His lips broke into a wide grin as he saw you. “Head Nurse Y/N. What a lovely surprise…”
House watched with interest, examining the man’s behavior and mannerisms. You didn’t hesitate before taking a few steps forward. Arthur wordlessly stood up and took your hand to kiss the back of it.
His gaze remained locked on you even as he began kissing your knuckles. “It’s truly wonderful to see you, my dearest.”
You nodded in kind. “Arthur. How have you been? Did you receive the new green hair dye products you asked for? I did try to find the right brand.”
He smiled warmly as he gently released your hand. “Indeed, sweetie. And I thank you for bringing it for me. It’s absolutely lovely. You’re a lifesaver.” He chuckled softly, continuing to smile at you. However, his gaze suddenly shifted to House as he slowly seemed to remember that he was no longer alone in the cell. “And who might you be ? Another recruit ?”
House was staring at Arthur intently now, still leaning on his cane, and he responded to him immediately. “You could say that. I’m a doctor. Doctor House.”
Arthur gave him a quick once-over. “I see. Have you met the others yet?”
He shook his head. “Just one. I’ve only been here for a few hours now.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Only for a few hours, and you’re already checking in on patients? Either you’re very dedicated or very curious.”
He chuckled. “You could say that. Or both, either one is technically right. I enjoy learning things…and I’m always up for a challenge. And this place looks like it’ll certainly provide that.”
Arthur huffed out a laugh. “You’d be right about that. But a man like you doesn’t look like the kind to take a big interest in patients like us.”
Doctor House raised a quizzical eyebrow at his comment. “A man like me ?”
Arthur chuckled softly. “Yes. A man like you. You strike me as someone who looks down upon the mentally insane. Just another stuck up doctor who only cares about a good paycheck.”
House smirked, seemingly amused by this. “You’re not too far off on the second point. I’m certainly here for the money, but I don’t necessarily look at my patients as ‘below me.’ That’s something I find far too annoying to deal with. But I like to learn, and I like a good challenge…and that’s what I intend to get here.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Well, I suppose you’ll definitely find that here. But if I may, Doctor…what do you think of me? I am curious.”
House smirked, now seeming far more interested in the conversation. “Oh, this should be good. Alright then, why not. You do strike me as interesting. Your general demeanor is far different from any other patients’ I’ve ever seen. You’re calm, almost friendly. You can definitely be hostile, but you seem far more civil than most. And honestly…you sound fairly rational. I wouldn’t have even guessed you were a patient if I saw you outside this cell.”
Arthur chuckled but his laughter sounded hollow and suddenly it broke into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. House raised an eyebrow, his smirk slipping at hearing his laughter. However, he had seen things like this before, so he simply waited for him to finish.
After a little bit, Arthur stopped and wiped his eyes. “Sorry, sorry. But hearing someone say that I sound rational…never fails to sound hilarious to me.”
House simply let out a snort. “Well, you certainly don’t seem rabid or completely out of your mind. That’s more than it can be said for some.”
“You haven’t read my file. It shows.” Arthur told him honestly.
House chuckled. “That is a fair point. But honestly, it doesn’t really matter to me what your official diagnosis is. Diagnoses are usually a load of crap anyway.”
Arthur smiled and got out a cigarette. “Do you mind if I—?”
House shrugged, a smirk returning to his face.“Go ahead, I don’t mind. I don’t care if you smoke in here. This is your cell after all.”
Arthur smiled before looking at you. You nodded in agreement and then you lit up his cigarette. House leaned his cane against the wall and crossed his arms loosely as he spoke.“You two seem awfully close.”
You looked at Doctor House and immediately knew where he was going with this. You were quick to explain. “Arthur Fleck was the first patient I had to treat urgently when I first started working here.”
House raised an eyebrow. “Oh, was he? What’d you do, fix him up after he had a temper tantrum?”
Your eyes darkened. “No. He was being beaten up in his cell and I decided to intervene since the guards didn’t.”
His smirk disappeared, and he frowned. “Wait. The guards…let him get beaten in his cell by another patient while they just stood and watched?”
Your jaw twitched. “Not a patient.”
House’s frown deepened, and he now looked mildly disturbed. “Not a patient? Who the hell was it, a guard? A visitor?”
You sighed. “His name got Bat and man in it.”
House’s eyes widened and he looked stunned. “Wait. Wait a minute. You’re telling me it was the Batman in here beating this guy up? Seriously? Who is he, the Joker?”
Arthur burst into laughter. “You REALLY didn’t read my file.”
House rubbed a hand over his forehead, and let out a sigh. “Jesus. Just when I thought this place couldn’t get any crazier. This is insane. But…how is this even possible? Batman isn’t supposed to beat people up. That’s the whole goddamn thing with him. He doesn’t kill people.”
Your smile didn’t come back as you told him. “Yes. He doesn’t kill. But he does beat up and leave scars. This is why I stay at night. I can’t leave the patients.”
House didn’t respond, for once he seemed utterly speechless. Finally, he ran a hand through his hair, closed his eyes, and exhaled again. “This….is insane. No. This is beyond insane. I can’t even imagine…a freaking superhero in a psychiatric facility who beats up patients.”
You sighed. “This is why we need you. The patients are resilient and strong but…they can still be hurt. They can be injured and in pain. And we are the only people who can stand between them and the world.”
He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose, his smirk now completely gone. “Yeah. I can…can see I’m gonna be needed here a lot more than I expected. I mean…a vigilante just comes in and brutalizes the patients…and none of you have any way to stop it? You really do need me or at least someone like me here.”
You smiled before looking back at Arthur who was wordlessly smoking and looking at Doctor House. “I like you already.”
House looked back to Arthur, who was still smoking his cigarette. His expression was neutral as he looked right back at House, but his gaze was fixed and unwavering.
House just stared back for a few seconds before letting out a snort. “I’ve got to say…I’m starting to understand why this place is underfunded. All the money needed to keep this place up and running is probably going into defending against future lawsuits. The hospital can’t afford much security, but it’s probably spent a fortune in legal fees.”
You looked at House. “The guards are not underfunded. The rest of the staff is.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Wait. The guards are getting more funding than the rest of the staff? No wonder the guards are so incompetent. You put money into them and they still don’t do their goddamn job.”
You nodded. “I talked to General McCain. The head of security but…his hands are tied. They are paid to make sure the patients stay inside. Not to protect them from outside threats.”
He huffed out a half-laugh, clearly still in disbelief at this entire situation. “This just gets crazier and crazier. You’ve got incompetent guards who aren’t paid to protect anyone but themselves, the local goddamn superhero beating up patients, and you’re the only staff member here who actually cares about any of them. This hospital is insane.”
