Adventures of the Intern (satire,drama,medical) complete!

[stormy tom]

Challenge Accepted
draft 1

When she arrived in his room to begin her shift, he was propped a little higher, a laptop on his rolling table, typing away at a reasonable speed. His drug doses had been lowered again, she noticed, and he seemed quite sober, focusing intently on his screen.

Amy strode over and began to take her readings. James let his right arm go limp so she could secure the blood pressure cuff, but continued to type with his left. The intern couldn't help but glance up at the screen. It was a bank site, and he was just finishing adding zeroes to the six in the transfer amount box. Then with a resolute smack, he landed his index on the enter key.

Sixty grand. He hadn't been joking. Amy realized with a sudden jump of her heart that she was sixty grand up. No more cutting back on groceries to make sure she could pay her rent. No more scraping the bottom of her bank account every time fees were due. No more re-used binders. She could afford her car payments now. No more waiting in the cold for the bus. Sixty grand.

The gently tap of the laptop lid closing roused her from her thoughts. James was leaning back, rubbing his eyes as he readjusted to the dim lights of his room, looking tired once again as the focus drained fro his expression.

Amy wasn't sure what to say... this man had just paid for her schooling, and as much as she knew sixty thousand dollars was probably pocket change to him, it still meant a lot. This changed... everything. Her lifestyle, her future... "Where did you get that?" she found herself demanding instead, pointing an accusatory finger as his laptop.

"Bought it," he replied quietly.

"Yes, how." You're literally stuck in a bed. Maybe even chained to it, if you want to think of traction as such a thing. How the Hell did you buy a laptop.

"Borrowed a phone and ordered it," James lifted his credit card from his lap and gave it a little halfhearted wave. But there was the soft glow of victory in his stare as he turned his head to look at her. "Had it delivered." He had won. He had literally bought himself a companion. Well, as much of a companion as Amy would make.

Yes, of course. Amy pulled her steel medical table around to his leg and started opening her equipment, getting clean, and pulling on her gloves to begin the process of cleaning all his pins. She snapped the latex and glanced at James to find his exhausted green eyes staring at the mess of his leg, drained of all color, preparing himself for the procedure he was about to endure.

So Amy began, her touch softening without her even realizing it. With more gentleness than she had ever utilized during this procedure, she began to clean each site carefully and slowly. James was starting to look green, opening his mouth and closing it several times as if he wanted to ask a question or comment about his discomfort, though his medication should be handling enough of the pain to make it durable at least.

Finally, James piped up. "I bought a board game too," he offered, his voice desperate and apologetic as he searched for a conversation topic, trying to keep himself distracted.

His conversational skills are as bad as mine, maybe even worse, Amy thought. I hope he doesn't expect me to play board games with him.

But for sixty grand, could she really turn him down? Did he know that, or was he just that lonely and bored. Yes, perhaps he was, Amy noted from the evidence his expression offered her. And his reply. "It's chess. I've only played a it a couple of times... I thought maybe... maybe it might be fun to... to learn how to play again."

Hell, chess. I'm rubbish at chess. At least he's drugged enough that I should be able to beat him, Amy growled to herself. "Fine," was her reply. "But if you're going to make me play chess with you, we have to take turns. I'll bring a pack of cards and teach you how to play Cheat." Hah, if you're going to make me play board games with you Mr. Hunter, I will not allow you to force me to suffer through my least favorite every time. I bet my career I can beat you at Cheat.

Regardless of Amy's demand, James brightened, his whole face illuminating. He nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Oh honey, you have no idea what you're in for. Amy would totally kick him to Armageddon with her Cheat skills. And James' face had so far proven to be honest, which would work to her advantage. He was going to lose so badly.

"Do you have cards you can bring?" James asked.

"I've got enough cards to build a house," Amy replied with the makings of a sly grin. This might not be so bad after all.

[stormy tom]

Poker Face
draft 1

How did he do it? How on Earth... And Amy had even secretly turned up his morphine just a little...

No matter how disconnected and loopy her patient was, he always beat her at every single game of chess they played. It didn't matter how many secret moves she researched in her free time, or how much practice she had with Rebecca, he always beat her. Sometimes in five minutes, sometimes in thirty. But he always won.

Though today was Cheat day, thank goodness. Amy would not have survived if she was forced to play chess every time she came to see James as part of her agreement. No, they alternated, and James was actually quite happy to learn a new game. He didn't even seem that bothered by losing all the time. And Amy greatly enjoyed reading right through his honest eyes.

Just like today.

"Three fives," James announced triumphantly, placing down his three cards on the little wheelie table.

"Cheat." Amy replied blandly, reaching for the three cards he had just placed down on the pile. None of them were fives. "I have three fives, James. I know you only have one at the most."

James scratched his head as he gathered the pile and tried to juggle his handful of cards, glancing at Amy and the mere four cards in her hand. The game was over in a few more moves, and Amy placed down her final card, a subtle victorious smile ghosted on her face.

"One eight," she said, and began gathering up the cards to put back in the box.

"One more game?" James asked quietly.

"I've got homework to do, James, I can't spend all my free time keeping you occupied." he opened his mouth, and she quickly continued. "I'm not leaving. But you have to be quiet and let me work. There are midterms at the end of the week and I have some papers due soon as well."

"Okay," James sighed with relief and obediently closed his eyes, going slack. Amy swore she heard a mumbled 'good luck' in there somewhere, but she ignored it, and the patient himself as she tucked away her cards and pulled out her books.

Not long later, a slight movement caught her eye. Amy peeled her eyes from her text book and set down her pen. James was staring down at her open book, blinked slowly but with bright interest at the pictures. He realized she was glaring at him and quickly snapped his gaze back to the ceiling. But of course curiosity got the better of him and Amy found herself yet again with an unwanted spectator.

With an annoyed sigh she reached down and pulled out another text book, plopping it in his lap and resting the back against his wheelie table so he didn't have to hold it and could just turn the pages. He flipped it open to the first page and got reading with enthusiasm. Amy shook her head slowly and got back to work.

[stormy tom]

Between the Lines
draft 2

Amy found herself bringing along an extra text book or two. James was tearing through everything he could get his hands on, and she couldn't blame him. He had run out of television channels very early on, and slept less and less now that he was on lower and lower doses of medication.

He was reading her first-aid manual now, and no longer squinting to try to get his blurry eyes to focus on the small black print. No, her patient was reading every word now, soaking in each paragraph and analyzing every picture.

"What's this?" he asked, angling the book so she could see better.

"That's heated saline," Amy replied, glancing up for only moment before returning to her work.

"Why?"

"Well, hypothermic patients need to warm up. And if you send warm fluid through their bloodstream it helps a lot."

James nodded and kept reading, genuinely interested even though this was really the only option of entertainment available right now. Wendy entered the room to find both her intern and patient reading in silence side-by-side, so she didn't say a word and stared to set up her equipment for clean James' pins.

"May I interrupt for just a moment? I have some good news." she said and James' head snapped up. Amy stayed dead still and slowly lifted her eyes to stare at her superior. "We're sending you for more x-rays in a couple of hours. If all is well we'll remove you from traction tomorrow morning and you can wheel around for some fresh air. If the weather is good, of course."

James brightened, beaming like a child. "That's great!" His focus was quickly draw from Wendy's work to what tomorrow would hold.

Well pardon me if I don't spring to my feet and cartwheel out the door, Amy thought sourly. I suppose he'll want out of this bed every second he can possibly get. And I'll have to push him around, make sure he doesn't roll off anywhere, hit anything, get wet, and so-on. Yay.

Then Wendy was heading off to let the kitchen know what James wanted for dinner while the pair resumed reading their respective text books.

An exuberant energy hung in the air, and Amy wondered if she should have said something. Oh well, too late now. She stared back down at her completed draft, deciding she would read over it tomorrow when her mind was fresh. So it was onto more practice exam questions for now. A small groan and a rustle broke her focus a few minutes later, and Amy looked up to see James stretching and grabbing her midterm paper draft off the bedside table, then reaching down to her bag for a red pen. His arms were quite long, and he managed to acquire both objects before Amy could bring herself to stop him.

What on Earth... she started, watching him arrange the pages, pull his wheelie table a little closer, then begin reading. Amy could hardly focus on anything else! He was editing her work. She watched him thoughtfully make his way through her paper, marking in the margins, picking out the tiniest flaws in grammar and structure, even leaving notes to himself about anything he didn't understand. Then he placed the pages down and reached for one of her text books, placing it in his lap and looking for anything he needed that would help him understand what she was writing about. Then he added a second set of notes and put the text book down.

James read through her paper several times before he placed it back on the bedside table, pulled up his blankets, and closed his eyes to sleep. Amy quietly tucked her work away, picking up her draft and brushing her gaze across it. There was red everywhere. Never in her life had she found anyone who could pick her work apart like that, or would even take the time. And as she sat on the bus reading through his notes she felt a little glow in her stomach.

Some of this stuff is so insightful... I never would have pinned a hockey player as a philosopher, she tucked the pages away. What amazed her the most, though, was the fact that he had understood what she had written. Sure, James had done a little research in between to help him, but he had gotten through the big words and fancy descriptions. He would make an excellent doctor. He must absorb information incredible fast. I can't believe he managed to get through something like this after just reading a few text books...

And Amy got a shiny A+ on her paper.

[stormy tom]

Finally, and Forever
draft 1

Yes, of course. She knew it.

What an honour indeed, Amy felt her face battling against a scowl as Wendy left her to take her patient for some fresh air while she went to perform some other important duties. Leave me with the most irritating person in this entire building once again.

Almost as irritating as Rebecca. Or Dresden... Okay, third most annoying person in this building.

Amy spun around to find James waiting for her help expectantly, that cheerful glint in his eyes she so despised: it meant he was fully awake and aware, and would probably multiply his barrage of questions ten-fold. The intern allowed her scowl to burry into her face as she came round the other side of the bed. Gracious, did no human alive look good in a gown? Perhaps James came closer than anyone she had ever seen since it looked more like a long shirt on him, and blue was his colour. But other than that... there wasn't much going for the outfit.

"You have a sweater or something?" Amy curled a lip. Besides, it was brisk outside. He might want some extra clothing, even more so considering the weight he had lost.

"All my stuff is in my apartment back in Vancouver or in that bag," James gestured a thumb to the chair where his dwindling fruit basket and a small plastic bag sat.

"Blanket it is," Amy sighed. There was little in that bag. "Wait -- apartment?"

"I did live somewhere before here," James quirked an amused smile.

"Yes. I just thought maybe you would live in a mansion. A town house at least," Amy got him comfortable and pulled his blankets off the bed, tucking them carefully around his body. What was this man made of? He was solid as a brick!

"Ah," James nodded understandingly. "You think me the mansion type. Because I'm a sports star and I make lots of money."

"Yes," Amy replied. "I've heard about the sorts of bonkers things you super-rich athletes spend your money on. Big, stupid cars. Casinos, islands, yachts. Comfortable? Good" She placed her hands on the wheelchair handles and started to push anyway.

"I own a BMW sedan, if you must know," James lifted a finger.

"And a Porsche."

"Just the sedan."

"But I bet it's worth sixty grand at least."

"Forty. It's got five doors."

"Five...?" Amy furrowed her brow. How on Earth could a car have five doors? Surely it was two or four.

"The fifth is the hatch at the back. They call that a fifth door."

Amy carefully and slowly manoeuvred James down the hallway and reversed into the elevator. The poor young girl and mother who joined them had never seen anything like an external fixator before. The young girl couldn't help but stare at all the pins protruding from James' leg, lifted right to a comfortable height for her to observe. James hardly seemed bothered. The elevator made its relieving 'bing bong' sound and Amy almost rushed out, pushing James outside and into the courtyard. Even grouchy Amy had to admit it was a lovely sunny day. She parked James in some sunshine by a bench where he had the choice between looking at a tree or some flower beds.

But James didn't care how great the scenery was. He was just happy to be outside, absorbing real sunlight and rich greens instead of fluorescent light and dull pastel blue and off-white. There were singing birds instead of beeping monitors and pumps. Yet his leg was still resting right in front of his field of vision, pointing straight forward no matter where he was or which way he turned. Inside or outside, bed or wheelchair. It was a permanent part of his waking scenery. And so it would stay for weeks and week and as many more weeks as it took for it to heal. Then it would be under him bearing weight, probably with help. And even if he somehow pulled through this and could walk on his own, it would always be reminding him it was there, always aching and hurting with every step.

He would never escape his leg.

[stormy tom]

Marshmallows
draft 1

"So, where is he?" Rebecca asked, arm looped through Amy's as they strolled the courtyard.

"Over there," Amy pointed over her shoulder. A little ways behind them James napping by a tree, head tipped sideways, tongue hanging out of his open mouth.

"Aw," Rebecca fluttered her eyelashes, strawberry blonde hair swirling around her face as she turned around to have a peek.

"More like gross," Amy muttered. "Where are we going." And it was not a question, it was a demand.

"For a walk! You need to stretch your legs instead of sitting all hunched up on that bench. Besides, I want to walk with you." Rebecca wasn't really walking, more like skipping slowly to keep pace with a trudging Amy.

You actually want to physically loop yourself with me and take me for a walk? Either I'm a dog or you actually want to spend time with me. And after all her conscious efforts to rid herself of the bouncy, cheerful blonde. Amy would never understand humans. She didn't even understand herself, or why she was actually enjoying this no matter how hard she pretended to hate it. It seemed thee were some things that were not irritating. Who would have thought?

"So, did you beat him at cheat again today?" Rebecca asked, swooping down to scoop up a forget-me-not from the bush, yanking Amy sideways with her.

"We played chess again today," Amy replied, recovering, scowl freshly painted on her face. She didn't have to like every aspect of this. "It was his birthday."

"Ooh, there is a little bit of squishy marshmallow in you," Rebecca made kissy-lips and poked Amy in the cheek. "I knew it."

"There is nothing remotely squishy about me," Amy growled out.

"I would say otherwise," Rebecca puffed out her chest, skipping becoming marching.

"Oh yeah?" Amy replied. "Would you really? Even after I tell you I've been trying to get rid of you since the beginning of the semester?" Oh damn...

"Especially after that," Rebecca was prancing now, and Amy breathed a sigh of relief. "Because I'm about to ask you if you want to meet me for dinner at seven tonight, in the pub just around the corner from the hospital. And you're going to say yes."

"Am I," Amy lifted an eyebrow.

"Amy, will you meet me for dinner at seven at the pub round the corner from the hospital?" Rebecca asked, triumph already in her voice.

And Amy found her mouth opening on its own and answering: "Yes." Damn again. How does she win every time? I really am going soft. Soft and squishy like a disgusting marshmallow.

I suppose I'm tachycardic now.

[stormy tom]

Surprises, surprises
draft 1

"So basically, you think you're better than us," her fellow classmate challenged, and his Morphine Journal compadres nodded behind him.

"Basically, yes," Amy replied, holding her ground. She didn't care what he or anyone else thought about her. "I get better grades than any of you do."

"Hah, you think that's all that matters," the boy snorted and his friends laughed on queue.

"No, but I presumed that's what you were referring to," Amy adjusted her grip on her bag. She needed to get to work. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to fit my small body past your large egos, so please move so I can do my job."

The group tightened. "Our egos? Pearson, you must be joking."

"Yes, your egos. If they were not threatened, you wouldn't be here bothering me. So please move." Amy took a challenging step forward.

"Boys," came the sing-song voice of a familiar blonde. Rebecca skipped past Amy and gave her a light tap on the shoulder, hopping right up to the lead offender. "I'm sure you all have work to do, lovelies. My squishy marshmallow has a handsome hockey player to look after, and I'm sure he could quite easily judo-flip you if you give his favourite nurse any trouble."

They left. Hurriedly. It wasn't really worth it anyway. They hadn't been looking for trouble. They were just annoyed that Amy was book smart. Maybe they had more friends and happier lives, people never weighed those sorts of things up. All they could see was a girl who was incredibly smart and knew that she was. Amy sighed.

"Thank you," she began, but Rebecca was already taking her by the arm and parading her off toward the bus stop.

"Shh, my marshmallow, just be glad they didn't try to attack you! I would have had to judo-flip them," Rebecca twittered.

"You do judo?" Amy questioned, genuinely curious. She wouldn't have thought Rebecca capable of harming anything, not on purpose anyway.

"Double-black belt judo," Rebecca plopped proudly onto the bench to wait, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she fished a small bag from her purse. "Jellybean?"

[stormy tom]

Cocktails and a Kiss
draft 1

Personally, Amy would have chosen a different restaurant. But Rebecca had chosen again, and she'd just had to swallow her complaints and allow her bouncy blonde companion to drag her along to the Boston Pizza for wings and cocktails.

"You have to try these cactus-cut potatoes, Amy!" Rebecca chimed, pushing the plate toward her. "Come on, have a sip of my margarita. Liven up!"

"There's baseball on the television. I hate baseball," Amy growled. "And it's right in front of my face."

Rebecca leaned forward as far as she could manage without falling onto the table and into the food. "Now I'm in your face," she chattered. "How about you look at me instead?"

Amy felt all the muscles in her jaw go stiff, he stare even. "Rebecca, sit down, your wings are coming."

The blonde plopped back into her seat to welcome the hot plate of honey garlic wings. She got eating without hesitation and Amy watched, mystified by the blonde's ability to consume food as she herself chewed on a potato.

I suppose this is date number two, Amy thought to herself as Rebecca took a refreshing sip of cocktail. How did I even get here? How did this happen? How did I allow this to happen?

Rebecca sighed and nudged the wings toward Amy. "Have some, come on! You can't look after anybody on an empty stomach."

Personally, Amy fancied herself a rice and chicken sort of girl. But the blonde was insisting. And when Rebecca insisted, she usually got what she wanted. Maybe it was her rosy cheeks and big glittering eyes. Amy lifted a juicy, dripping wing from the plate with two fingers and took a tiny nibble. Actually... yum. She licked her lips and finished the piece.

"Told you so," Rebecca crossed her arms triumphantly. "Now hurry up and eat before it all goes cold."

So Amy obeyed, and it was the blonde's turn to watch.

"Wow, you're extra squishy when you're eating," Rebecca sighed, leaning her cheek on a dainty hand.

"I'm not squishy at all," Amy swallowed the food adding volume to her cheeks and scowled as deeply as she could manage. It did nothing to phase Rebecca, who nudged her cocktail over. "I'm driving, Rebecca."

"Then at least get a lemonade or something!" Rebecca dipped a potato into her drink.

The evening carried on similarly, and soon the bill came. Amy picked it up. She was sixty grand up, after all. She could afford to pay for their second date. Then they were walking back to her car and preparing to head home. Amy put the keys in the ignition and paused.

"Rebecca...?" she fixed the blonde with a confused husky blue stare.

"Yes, marshmallow?"

"Are we --?"

"Dating? Yup," Rebecca proudly buckled her seatbelt and yanked Amy toward her by the front of her shirt, planting a firm kiss on Amy's lips. Amy felt her yelp get cut off as Rebecca unabashedly kissed her, and ungracefully as well, though that may have been a shocked Amy's fault.

Then Rebecca was pulling away, leaning back in her chair like a person who had just won a country in a war, and Amy was burning in the darkness as she pulled form the parking lot and into the street.

[stormy tom]

Can I Get Your Autograph?
draft 1

"What colour do you think he would like?" Wendy asked.

"I don't think he cares," Amy replied as she pulled her hair into its usual ponytail. "I think you could make it vomit green and he wouldn't care so long as he knew that he'd get his leg back."

Wendy sighed. "Alright then. He won't be done until you're on break, so you can come and work with me with some other patients for a while."

So James was leaving soon. Now that there were no more pins and rods sticking out of him he would soon be free to go home. Amy could say goodbye to his barrage of questions and endless games of chess and cheat that always ended with the same results. She could say goodbye to his fitful sleeping and strange indecipherable muttering. She could say goodbye to pushing him around the courtyard and waiting for him to wake up from his nap while she sat uncomfortably on the bench.

Was she relieved? Amy couldn't say she was. Yet, as she entered his room after break, her usual scowl etched itself into her face. Oh, he looked so smug as he lay there typing away on his laptop again.

"What are you buying this time?" Amy asked.

"A house," he replied, patting his casted thigh. "Pretty nice, huh? Catch."

Amy looked up just in time to see a pen flying toward her face and catch it with a swift hand. "What do you expect me to do with this?" she waved the black sharpie pen at him, unimpressed.

"Sign it," James ordered and pointed at his leg. "I hear your semester is almost over, and I'm out of here in less than a week. I might never see you again."

"Good," Amy was replying without hesitation, but already she was ripping the cap off the marker and standing by his knee. she knew exactly what to write. Well, you asked for it, Mr. Hunter. And she proudly wrote in bold letters just above his knee, facing the right way around for him to read, 'get well and get out'.

And he laughed, squeezing his chest with a hand as his body shook with the reaction. Amy smashed the cap back on the pen angrily. It wasn't meant to be funny. She genuinely wanted him to leave. And... and to get well. She almost wished they could keep him here for a couple more months and that semester would last that long as well, just so she could see him place both feet on the ground and walk out of here. Walk to the door, down the hallway, to the elevator, into the street, and all the way home. Walk with his own legs and his own strength.

And as he laughed she knew that eventually he would be capable of such a thing.

[stormy tom]

And Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite
draft 1

Amy didn't mind night shift. But this was different. This time she had actually fallen asleep next to James' bed in her chair, text book still open across her lap. And no-one had woken her up. The intern rubbed her eyes and tucked her book away, squinting at the clock through the darkness of the room. It was one in the morning. She might as well just go back to sleep until morning.

But James had other plans for her. He stirred beside her, eyebrows furrowed deeper into his face than Amy herself was capable of accomplishing. Now that was something... she had met someone who could out-scowl her. His forehead and eyelids were shaking with the tensed muscles. And he was muttering something unintelligible. Great, not another restless night. I'm never going to get any rest now.

Though, from what she had heard, James was never peaceful sleeper. Not after his medication had been lowered enough, at least. He was moving now, gripping his blanket, clawing at his chest, good leg twitching and jumping occasionally.

Amy stood up and stood threateningly next to him, tapping her toe on the floor in time with her rising heart beat. If he didn't stop, she would make him stop, and that may entail a quick slap. She didn't have any other ideas. And of course he did not stop. He just kept squirming and twisting and mumbling things she couldn't possibly understand. But she did hear one name repeated over and over again.

"Alex..." the name pushed its way from James' lips and her patient grabbed at his chest again. Amy held her slapping hand poised. Alex. Alexander. Alexander Jackson Striker. The man from the letter. The player who's fault it is that he's here. And she could not bring herself to smack her hand against his scrunched up face.

But she couldn't let him keep escalating like this. So she grabbed James' shoulder and gave him a hard shake. He woke up with a start, staring up at her with confused and panicked eyes, and she held him still until he realized he was still in the hospital, and the person looming over him was Amy.

James groaned and went limp under her gripping fists. He rubbed his face. "What are you doing here?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Trying to sleep," she replied. "And so should you."

"I was trying...""

"And unsuccessfully. So if I'm going to get any rest, you need to be quiet." And with that Amy swiveled and stamped out of the room. She returned a few minutes later with a paper cup in her hand, which she thrust toward James. He furrowed his brow as he took the steaming cup, staring into it with confusion. "It's warm milk, you dummy. Just drink it."

"I thought people just gave this stuff to their kids," James mused but he took a sip anyway. Then another, and another. Soon to cup was empty and he was slicking his lips, eyelids heavy.

"I bet parents don't give their kids a sedative," Amy smirked, taking the cup from him as his arm fell back and his face went slack. And he was deeply asleep in seconds. She tossed the cup in the trash and sat back, curling up to get some rest of her own.

[stormy tom]

Say My Name
draft 1

What a difference a shirt made. It was just a black t-shirt, but it changed his whole appearance. And pants. Those helped. Somehow he looked taller dressed a bit more like a sensible human. Though certainly a tired human, with his weary stare and loose checked pajama pants.

"Slow. If you go faster than a snail's leisurely stroll I'll break your other leg," Amy threatened, narrowing her eyes and placing her finger between his eyes. "And I'll have you sent to another hospital, because I'm just sick of you. The sooner you're out of here, the better."

James lifted his hands defensively and leaned back from his position on the edge of the bed, unfazed by her blatant threat. "You got it."

"Good. Now let's go to the cafeteria and get some breakfast." Amy passed him a pair of crutches and very slowly led him down the hallway to the elevator. She was very hungry, after her night in that chair, not to mention stiff. A walk would do her good.

It was slow going, but they made it to the cafeteria, and Amy shoved James into a chair then went to get them some breakfast. She returned with a slice of cold pie, a couple of oranges, a couple of muffins, and two cups of tea. "Tuck in," she invited, snagging the blueberry muffin for herself. Mmm, that was actually pretty good.

James dove for his tea and an orange, savoring the fruit with a look of contentment on his pale face. This man really needed some sun... He had darkened considerably since being allowed outside, however. Amy had to admit, he looked much healthier with a little sunlight on his skin. Though his shirt was loose on his body, where she would guess had been snug around thicker muscles. But he had lost enough weight that the garment sort of hung off him.

"You need some protein," Amy muttered around her muffin, washing it down with some tea. If he heard her, he paid the comment no attention. At least he did eat the pie. It was cherry, and he certainly looked like he was enjoying it.

Then breakfast was over and she was taking James back up to his room in time for his checks and consultations. The big day had to be soon. In fact, she knew it would have been sooner if anyone had come to claim James. Since he lived by himself they had to make sure he would be able to take care of himself before they sent him home.

"Are you ever going to show me your name tag, or am I going to have to guess?" James waved a finger at her name tag flipped the other way and tucked into her pocket, as she did every time she was with him.

"Guess if you like," Amy replied, feeling a smirk trying to work onto her face. James might have won against her in many ways, getting her to stay with him, play board games with him, and reading her text books, but he would never know her name. It was a strange satisfaction. But also a confusing impulsion. Amy wasn't sure why her hand reached to her tag every time she entered room 200, but she let it happen.

"Patricia."

"Nope."

"Emily."

"Come on, you can do better."

"Um..." James scratched his head. He had run out of names. And Amy couldn't help but laugh.