Monster's Theory

Alice paused. "Oh."

"Uh-huh."

She took one last glance at the gentleman seated not too far away. He wore faded jeans, accompanied by worn Timberlands. A thick yellow reflective bomber jacket covered a stained white tee. One would think he just got off work, clearly in need of more sleep. Despite herself, the nurse grabbed the cup and headed over there.

Shoes clicking on linoleum garnered his attention. A petite redhead coming his way with what looked like a coffee in hand. She stopped before him and held out the gift. "This isn't healthy," she warned.

Tired eyes rose to look up at her, then at the plastic container. Then back at her again. "You mean the drink?"

"I mean you and your careless habit of waiting up at ungodly hours."

"Oh. That." He grinned thankfully as calloused hands accepted the cup. "I've been told a few times now. But I doubt I could live with myself if I was anywhere else. Home can get pretty quiet lately."

"Being here will frustrate you just as much. Grass doesn't grow if you watch it."

A genuine chuckle escaped the big guy. "That should be on a shirt somewhere," his baritone rang. "But it does grow nonetheless."

"You're a stubborn one."

"Yet there you stand, debating the logic with an old man... One that obviously doesn't know any better." With a grunt, he started getting off his chair. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I've overstayed my..."

"It's not that," she cut in, grabbing the cup and unceremoniously pushing him back down before handing it back to him. "In fact, normally I wouldn't care but..." She observed his bloodshot eyes with disapproval. Then analysed his unkempt beard, dirty shirt and the pale skin tone. "But you'll be surprised what a person will neglect while waiting on someone else."

"You'll be surprised how little those things matter when the one thing you live for is threatened."

"Your child," the nurse stated while crossing her arms.

The gentleman nodded before dropping his head. "That boy... My son, my blood... Literally all I have left. And now to think that someone wanted him dead..."

Alice simply looked down at him, observing his emotional state but failing to relate. "Don't go anywhere," she instructed. "I'll see if I can get you something solid to eat."

And just like that, he was alone again. Albeit, this time with hot cappuccino in hand. He took a whiff, savouring the aroma. A smile broke free. Nineteen years ago, in another state, a nurse had done the exact same thing. Golden hair, blue eyes, also chiding him for his lack of self-regard. Fate must be on a roll lately.

Footsteps echoed once more through the massive reception. The rhythm was off though. Almost as if a third foot was thrown into the mix.

"Well that was quick," he quipped. "Got yourself a crutch while you were at it?"

"Perhaps you should try undergoing a hip replacement at my age and see how well you walk without the assistance," returned an old frail-like voice. It held a British accent he recognised all too well. He didn't even need to check. "Hello Vincent," the butler greeted. "Seat taken?"

"You feel the need to ask?" Vince returned, a touch of ire slipping into his tone. "Your people practically own this Hospital don't they?"

"They own shares. But that's all semantics, really." Charlie sat down regardless and offered the gentleman beside him a friendly smile. It wasn't returned. "I have to say. It costs quite the penny to find you," the elder continued, completely ignoring the hint. "Nobody responds to your doorbell, and apparently you've had a change of occupation. It didn't occur to check here until the young Mistress recalled what happened the last time young Liam got injured."

A scoff broke free at that. "Ah yes. The miracle child. Funny how she would know. That girl has always been a common factor when my son winds up bedridden." Vincent took a large swig of his beverage before asking; "How is Lola's daughter keeping anyway?"

"Honestly? A little worse for wear as of late. She's not too ecstatic about being kept under lock and key either." Charlie laid down the walking stick and sat back with a sigh. "Not that I fault her. At this point, even a convict has more liberties. But one could swear... there's so much less of her with each passing day. I secretly question the ethic behind keeping her alive when it seems to cause her such..." he trailed off, seemingly incapable of finishing the thought.

"I totally understand."

"Erm... You do?"

"Sure. Green-lighting innocent people must be an exhausting pass-time. Maybe it's just taking its toll," Vince mused. He took a sip then chuckled spitefully. "That being said; I'm guessing you're here delivering another victim to the trauma unit? What is it this time? Dog mauling? Excessive voltage...?"

At that point, Charlie knew decent relations were beyond saving. The top hat made it off the timer's balding head as he regarded his company remorsefully. "If you should fault anyone Vince, let it be me. The lad was let in on my account. This current tragedy is of my shortcomings. Not the gir-..."

"Oh spare me your diplomacy. This is hardly the first time, damnit," Vincent seethed, not really caring for the genuity. "The pool incident I could understand. Kids in general share a rebellious urge to mess around where they shouldn't.

"But how do you explain the burns, or that two story drop? And as if that wasn't enough, now it's fucking bullet holes?! I swear; it's like you people were just itching for him to dayview." A scorching liquid trickling down his fingers reminded him not to squeeze too hard. A calming breath was in order. "Look. I appreciate your efforts. But I am anything but good company right now. If all you wanted to do was apologise, you should'a just left a message."

"Would that have been as sincere?"

"Who gives a damn? It would have saved me the hassle of explaining to my lawyers why I met the prosecuting party before trial." Vincent took another generous gulp before awarding the visitor his undivided attention. "So. Now that small-talk's out of the way, care to tell me why you're really here?"

The butler nodded his affirmation. "There's something I thought you ought to see. Something rather... anomalous." A gloved hand went into his jacket and pulled out a sealed white envelope. "I figured that you might make better sense of it than I."

Vincent eyed it suspiciously before accepting. He didn't open it though. "What is this?" he asked, still twirling the envelope in midair.

"Video footage of the events leading up to your son's ordeal," explained the caretaker. "However, since no recording devices exist within the young lady's quarters, the feed is strictly limited to the hallway and balcony."

"Leaving out the supposed crime scene. How convenient." Hairy hands tore the seal open. If this was truly as the old man claimed, then his legal representatives should have already obtained a copy. "... And yet here I was thinking there were no recordings at all," he thought out loud, dropping two SD cards onto his palm.

"I understand how deceptive this must all look Mr. Shannon," A handkerchief made its way into the open before Charlie coughed into it. "Especially taking past events into account. But I must stress..." Just then, the coughing began anew. It continued in earnest, sounding as though the senior might actually hack out his lungs.

"You okay old man?"

A gloved hand was held up as Charlie gathered his decorum. "Excuse me," the senior apologised, seemingly drained of breath. "Cold weather... tends not to agree with me." Trembling hands meticulously folded the cloth and returned it. "I must stress Mr Shannon, that the Hamilton's themselves have very little to do with the prosecution. Had it not been for Blackwater's assertive insistence, there very well may not have been a case at all."

A sarcastic snort echoed across the waiting area. "You're telling me that Marcus and Lola would let the alleged soiling of their precious baby girl go unpunished?"

Charlie shook his head. "It's a sham. An offensive cover by the security group for misconduct on their end. Call it public relations."

"And you just let them walk with it..."

"As their clients, we can only do so much," the old man argued. "The matter itself falls under the jurisdiction of the Justice Department. However, if it's of any consolation; the young mistress did undergo medical scrutiny to the effect of the allegations. She is more than willing to put down an official statement should the case ever make it to trial. In fact; Chelsie's the one responsible for obtaining those memory units you hold in your palm."

Vincent popped a sceptical brow. "So should I be grateful? If she's so concerned then why isn't she here? Why didn't she come visit him?"

A subtle smile drew itself across the timers' face. "Who's to say she did not? Who's to say she isn't in the premises right now while I'm here distracting you?"

**********

Act IV

Blue fur as thick as wool littered the hospital floors. They sat scattered across the ICU tiles and continued down to the maternity hallways. Fur lay strewn throughout the stairway leading to the psychiatric ward. They spread themselves towards the paediatric unit then went on to colour the cafeteria tiles blue.

That same fur swirled around a certain redhead's feet with each movement, but she didn't notice. All attention was focused at the vending machine before her. Copper brows furrowed with indecision as her feet impatiently tread from side to side. Would he prefer a sandwich to a steak roll? Burger or hot-dog? What the heck did people his size eat anyway?

With a frustrated groan, Alice banged her head against the glass. In response, the machine rattled and dropped shawarma into the outlet. Her eyes popped open in surprise.

"Note to self. When in doubt, bang your head," she mused while bending to pick up the wrap. She threw it up and caught it with a giggle. "Less money outta my pay slip!"

"But isn't that stealing?"

A shriek burst out as the nurse whirled herself around and backed up against the glass. "Jesus! When did you... You can't just... The f...!" A hand came up to her beating chest as she leaned against the machine.

A rather pretty girl stared back her way. Young. Bleach blonde hair. Green eyes. Porcelain skin with a light spec of freckles running across her nose.

She was seated behind a nearby table, dressed in their standard patient regalia. A bored look donned her features. One hand held her head up while the other toyed around with something silver. "Sorry," came the half-assed apology. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"I wasn't scared," the nurse lied, albeit not too convincingly. "You just... you just caught me off guard. That's all."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say," the girl smirked, making known her dimples. "Oh and uh... you may have dropped a little something over there," she added, guesturing lazily with the key.

Alice looked to see the foil wrapped meal resting by her feet. Fur lay scattered all around it. But again, Alice only saw what Alice wanted.

"Say... how is it that you're out here anyway?" The nurse asked while straightening back up. "It's four AM. There's no way your matron would have allowed you down here on your own."

"Matron? I don't think I have one of those. Not unless you classify a seventy-five year old caretaker as a matron," blondie replied. "Your turn. Do your higher ups know that you roam around robbing vending machines in the wee hours of the morning?"

Alice was visibly taken aback. "I'll have you know that; that vending machine over there," she started while pointing a very damning finger in its direction, "has robbed me of enough quarters to start a pension fund!" The redhead turned and gave it a kick for extra measure. "I swear... One of these days Imma walk in here with a crowbar and walk out with a bag full of retribution..."

A lazy smile drew itself across pink lips. "Master of subtlety, this one."

"If you think that's subtle, then you should see what happens when that thing refuses to give back your debit card just before payday." Alice took proper note of the patient toying with her silver key. If she could make it this far without assistance, then that implied no critical injuries. At least none that could be seen.

Her body seemed to lean towards the slimmer side. Light hair density and minor bruising where her forearms touched the table. No viral symptoms. Didn't sound like a nut job either.

If she had to guess, this blondie over here was undergoing chemo. But for what variant of cancer specifically?

"I don't like being sized up."

Alice blinked. "Huh?"

"You're reading me. I don't like it." Green eyes sternly locked her gaze. "If you got questions, ask. Don't microanalyse me."

The nerve on this girl. Alice moved towards the table and inspected the surface. "Alright," she began. "For starters, I see you sitting in a dining hall, but I don't see any crumbs or wrappings."

"Maybe I cleaned up after myself?"

"I doubt that." Alice gestured towards the yellow band around her elbow. "You're on the drip. That already tells me you barely have an appetite to begin with."

The girl looked visibly impressed. "Touché," she conceded. "I actually got lost walking around. I'm trying to find my way back to the private ward." Porcelain hands pushed her up off the chair, taking her key with her. "Care to point me out?"

Normally protocol would dictate Alice take her there in person. Maybe report her as a problem child while she was at it. But this shawarma had to be delivered before a certain father passed out from starvation. A hand ran through copper hair in frustration. "Damnit," she groaned out loud. Why the heck would she be out of bed this early anyway? "Okay. You'll wanna start out those double doors and turn left," she directed. "Head straight down to the elevator lobby. Private ward is on the twelfth floor."

A small smile of gratitude was given before green eyes left without another word. Squeaks echoed with each step, all the way into the hallway.

Squeaks... Alice found something about that awfully strange but couldn't recall why.

The doors swung back and forth, blowing fur into the air. Alice gave the accursed machine one last sneer. But just as she reached the other exit, it hit her. There weren't any squeaks when she walked. She looked down to her slops, did the math, then dashed for the other exit.

She slid out in time to watch the lift bang shut. Perhaps she misheard. Besides; she wore their gown right? So surely she was admitted here. Besides what's the worst she could do?

**********

A sharp repetitive beeping cut through the air, waking the nurse aide with a start. For a moment, the current year was lost on him. God, how he loathed matron duty. Even garbage collection would be a better occupation, solely off the merit of daylight working hours. Drool rolled down his beard as bloodshot eyes blinked the sleep away.

Then suddenly, he remembered what startled him in the first place. Multiple red lights flashed across the terminal. A few extra mouse clicks revealed a warning that medics execrate like the devil.

The chair skid and slammed against the wall as the matron burst into a sprint. Why? Why did this always have to happen on his shift? To think the patient was making such a good recovery too. What could have triggered this?

Blue slippers flew through the corridors, drifting to a near halt before bursting through a door. A persisting flat tone rang throughout the room. The body in question lay silent under the covers, still as a rock.

"Shit."

Blue duvets were yanked off the deceased as he rushed over to the comms unit on the wall. Resuscitation was way above his pay grade. Rather he call a doctor and...

"Man, the hell is wrong witchu?!"

The girliest of squeals erupted from the nurse aide. Alarmed, he stumbled back into the blinds while arms flailed for balance.

The supposed corpse got up off the bed wearing quite the miffed look. He wore nothing else though. That is unless one counted that ungodly mass of dark curly pubic hair.

"Can't a fella get a little sleeps without you punk ass nurses doin' some weird shit to wake his ass up?" started the man. A bandaged hand picked the duvet up off the floor and haphazardly flung it back onto the bed. "It's freaking Jack Frost degrees up in this bitch but y'all jus' gotta have my blankets too?"

"I uh... You're... you're alive?"

An scoff broke free as he pulled the edges into place. "I'm not sure if I should feel some typa way 'bout that remark." The man walked back around his bed and started evening out the other end. "So, tell a brother this. Why the fuck am I awake? And don't tell me it's 'cause you wanna check my prostate. The hot nurse with the banging double D's already gave that excuse. Gave me this shady boner I just couldn't understand."

"Wait. What?"

"Why you wake me?"

"No, not that. The other thing you said. About the nurse checking your pros..."

"Yeah, let's not talk about that. It's a touchy topic," he cut in. "So can I hit the sack or is you still tryna give me pneumonia?"

The accused uncomfortably stepped around the nudist, doing his best to ignore the elephant in the room. "I uh... I got an alert on my computer screen not too ago," explained the nurse while surveying the space. "It claimed your heart had gone into cardiac arrest."

The nudist pushed a few dreadlocks from his field of view and leaned in to read the attendant's name tag. "Jared Freude... Freuden... Freudenbe- Whatever. Freaking long ass surname," his filthy mouth swore. "Jared Freudensomething."

"It's Freudenberger."

"Yeah, I couldn't give two shits," he stated while fluffing up his pillow. "As you can see, besides a little sleep deprivation, I'm fine, ayt? My heart is beating like a motherfucker."

Jared picked up the pulse sensor and held it up. It was his turn to be annoyed. "And how was I supposed to know with this lying on the floor?"

The complainant shrugged. "Last I remember, that bitch was on my finger." The patient pried the covers off and slipped inside. "I don't even know what that shit does."

"You don't have to. You just gotta listen when I tell you not to remove it."

"I didn't!" Two hands came up in a show of innocence. "Look man, I swear on my next blunt. I didn't remove your toy. I use my right hand to play seven a side and that thing was on my left. Me and it ain't got no beef. Maybe it fell off?"

Jared gave it a jiggle, accentuating the miniature belt.

"Yo. You got the wrong person, dude. I seriously ain't done shit. You feel me?"

The nurse aide narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Like hell it wasn't. What could someone else possibly have to gain by detaching another patient's cable?

**********

Back at the matron's workstation, a blonde girl sat. Cupid bow lips pursed in concentration as deft fingers ran back and forth across the white keyboard. She was clearly looking to find something. Patient profiles flashed across the screen, one succeeding the other. Until she paused at one. Her finger traced against the screen, running through the details and pausing at the room number. A second later, that chair lay vacant, swiveling around on the spot.

Down the hallway, a disgruntled Jared stomped back to his station. What did he look like? Room service? Night after night, these people never missed a chance to call him out, no matter of how ridiculous their reasons were. But for one to fake a death... Bastard could have at least had the decency to feign an apology.

His train of thought was momentarily derailed as a patient approached. Eyes narrowed with scepticism. He didn't remember seeing her before. And the daily manifest did not report anyone new within this ward. Perhaps he had not been paying enough attention? Or maybe the last person on shift simply neglected to update it.