Chapter Text
Kate was in distress. Maybe that was an understatement.
It had been a few weeks since Milligan was sent home for recovery, but it felt much longer from her perspective. Mr. Benedict had said himself that Milligan was supremely resilient, but he’d been out of commission for nearly a month. A patient with an average healing factor would’ve been royally messed up by injuries of this severity. His injuries were Kate’s fault anyway. Now wasn’t the time for that mental rabbit hole, however. The girl couldn’t entertain that train of thought for more than a few moments without something delicate snapping on the inside. That was not an option she was willing to entertain, and thus the topic was dropped. She was just grateful that her dad was out of the hospital now- that place gave her heebie jeebies she just couldn’t shake.
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The initial hospital visit had been, for lack of a better word, frightening. Milligan had landed hard, that much was obvious, and although he was comically jovial about it at the time he was pretty seriously hurt. The ER doctor had quickly confirmed he would need surgery, and before anyone could say anything, Milligan was whisked away to the operating room. The group had nothing to do but wait. And wait they did- Reynie, Sticky, Constance, and Mr. Benedict stayed with Kate during the entire procedure. Constance didn’t have a word of bad poetry to say the entire time, which was a fine indicator of the mood.
Kate couldn’t sit still- she had never been able to, and she wasn’t about to start now. First, she tap danced from her seat. She came up with a new routine that had promise. I’ll have to show Moocho that one when we get home, she thought to herself. He would help her perfect it. Maybe he’d even join in, add his own steps. The strongman was known amongst friends to be a dancer with delightful agility.
Eventually her hands found a spare piece of rope from her bucket. She practiced a knot she’d been trying to perfect over and over- a cycle of tying it tight, meticulously untangling it, and tying it again. Sticky watched her with growing interest as she made minor adjustments to make the knot more effective, occasionally commenting on these adjustments and suggesting how different types of rope would affect the knot’s efficacy.
Kate welcomed the distraction, but she could only do the same thing so many times before her mind craved something new. Her next choice was a little more chaotic, a little more her style- cartwheeling the perimeter of the waiting room. Not that there were that many people there, but the activity was disrupting enough that she was asked to stop by a secretary of some kind. He was nice enough about it, but Kate was left without anything to do. Right as she reached into her bucket to find another way to pass the time, Mr. Benedict tapped her on the shoulder. “Kate,” he said gently, “what if you and I went outside for a while?”
Kate didn’t hesitate. “Great idea.” She booked it for the front door at top speed, much to the dismay of those in her path.
In the hospital courtyard, the pair found a tree branch that looked suspiciously like a lockpick, so they ran with it. Kate just so happened to have a lockpicking kit in her bucket (and why shouldn’t she, they’re useful), so Mr. Benedict set to work explaining an advanced technique she hadn’t yet tried. Not long after, Kate celebrated her first successful attempt by climbing a nearby tree, hanging upside down off a sturdy branch (seven and a quarter feet from the ground), and trying the lockpicking technique again. Mr. Benedict could do nothing but watch from the ground and chuckle.
The two thoroughly enjoyed their jaunt in the sunlight, but after about half an hour they were both anxious to return to the waiting room. (Mr. Benedict did a good job of hiding it, but Kate knew the dear man too well for it to work.)
Another hour of shuffling distractions later, a doctor informed the group in the waiting room that the surgery was completed with few complications. She explained that Milligan would be in recovery for the next few hours, depending on his response to the anesthesia. At this, each of Kate’s companions felt a weight lift from their shoulders that they hadn’t realized they were carrying, but Reynie couldn’t help but notice how tense Kate still was. He put a hand on her arm. She flashed him a smile.
The doctor informed the group that the patient’s daughter was allowed to accompany him in recovery, but the others were not. Each took turns squeezing Kate’s hands, exchanging hugs, and offering words of encouragement, then she followed the doctor to her father’s room.
As they reached the door, the doctor stopped and turned to Kate. “He should be awake in about an hour, maybe a bit sooner. He was in the operating room for around three hours total." Kate nodded. The doctor smiled gently. “You should know- during preparations, he only had words about you. He must care about you a lot.”
Kate smiled and blushed, fidgeting with her bucket handle. “Thanks for that. Is it okay to go in?”
“You can go in for about ten minutes. Nurses will be in and out to monitor his vitals and recovery progress, but you should be otherwise undisturbed.”
After a little more debriefing, Kate thanked the woman and entered the recovery room. It was small, with white walls and white floors. A clock was mounted near the door. A few monitors were bolted to the wall near the bed, displaying a variety of lines and numbers. Kate could only guess what they meant. Sticky would probably know, she mused. A long wooden table at the side of the bed held a few manila folders and papers, presumably charts and medical history. A lone chair sat on the other side of the bed. A long curtain was pushed back on a track on the ceiling, which if needed could be pulled down the track and around the bed, giving the patient some privacy.
The patient in question was looking hopelessly vulnerable. An oxygen mask obscured his face. His torso was tucked into the blanket on the wheeled bed, arms laid outside of it on either side. His blonde hair was splayed messily on the pillow under his head. A small display to the left of the bed beeped in time with his pulse.
For the first time in three hours, Kate felt entirely still.
Her father, the infamous government agent responsible for nabbing some of the most menacing criminals of the modern age, lay prone on a hospital bed. He was alarmingly still.
Suddenly, a nurse entered, and Kate quickly moved out of the way for her arrival. She brushed past Kate, offering a greeting smile, and approached Milligan’s bed. She checked a few papers, read a monitor, checked his IV. She wrote something down on a chart, then left as quickly as she’d arrived.
Kate approached the bed, pulling the chair up. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her father’s sleeping face. He looked peaceful. If she didn’t know any better, he could have been taking a nap. But he wasn’t, and she was painfully aware. She reached up, brushing a wisp of blonde hair off of her father’s forehead. “I’m sorry, dad,” she whispered.
This was her fault, she knew. If she had just escaped the first time, if she had just run faster, if she had just backed him up…
The nurse entered again, snapping Kate out of her rumination. She checked a different chart this time, briefly read both monitors, and turned to address Kate. “He seems to be progressing fine. He may even wake up earlier than expected.”
Kate nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you!” Heaven knows she couldn’t read those charts, let alone interpret them. The nurse wrote something down and left the room.
Kate stood, stretching. What was she doing? She couldn’t be such a downer! If Milligan was going to recover quicker than expected, she was going to need to fix the vibes she was giving off, and fast. Milligan thrived on playful energy. She stepped away from the bed and jogged in place, cracking her neck. A few handstand pushups later, she was effectively distracted enough to smile naturally and give off her usual energetic disposition.
Just as she righted herself from a handstand, the nurse poked her head into the recovery room. “I’m sorry, but it’s been ten minutes. I’m to escort you back out to the waiting room.”
Kate nodded, following the nurse into the hallway. “Sounds good.”
“Like I said before, he seems to be recovering ahead of schedule. He’ll be in PECU a while after he wakes for monitoring, and once he’s more stable, he’ll be moved to an inpatient room. He probably won’t remember the recovery room at all. Once he’s settled, we’ll let you know, and you can visit then.”
They’d reached the door to the waiting room. Kate turned to her escort. “Thank you!” she said, emphatically shaking the nurse’s hand. The nurse winced. Weird, she thought. Reynie does the same thing when I shake his hand.
In the waiting room, she was greeted by four friendly faces. Well, three and a half, unless you counted Constance’s raised eyebrow as particularly ‘friendly’. The faces had questions for Kate, but they waited until they had made it outside to ask. She was grateful for that- outside, she could jump and tumble her nerves away to her heart’s content.
Her heart was heavy with guilt and self doubt and fear and all the feelings Kate the Great Weather Machine didn’t feel. She was independent, she was brave, she was daring, she was strong. She was not a shriveling child.
With the sun on her back, her friends nearby, and her father in capable hands, she could push those feelings away for now. She could tease Constance in the ways she knew the younger girl secretly loved and relish in their bond. She could climb a tree, give Mr. Benedict the most aggressive noogie he’d ever gotten and laugh at how his hair would inevitably stick out in every direction. She could answer the questions about Milligan’s condition and dodge the questions that hit too deep. She could, and she would.
Because she was fine. She was. She had no other option. She had to be.