Chapter Text
Five years ago.
The smell of fire was sharp in his nose.
All around him, buildings burnt. Tendrils of smoke curved around the frames of shaky foundations, lining them, sizing them up. Threatening to crumble them.
There were people, of course, littered around the property like ghosts. Some were standing and watching the disaster unfold. Others were crumbled around, hacking, coughing up their livelihoods like drunkards.
Flashing lights–born from police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks alike–perfected the image of chaos. Spread out across from him, hushed conversations rose in breathless fear. Officers handcuffed some, but most of the people were regarded as what they were: victims.
It was all very interesting to watch. Or, it would have been; his main focus, however, was the figure of the person laying before him. He was sprawled on the grass like a charred corpse, and looked to be the same age as him, but it was hard to tell with how skinny he was. He might've been a child if it weren't for those eyes: deep brown and narrowed with intelligence, staring up at him like he could see right through him.
In his worst nightmares, he still saw those eyes.
********
Present day.
Grian was not nervous.
So what if it was his first day at a brand-new hospital, as a brand-new nurse? So what if it felt like everyone was watching him as he briskly navigated the halls? And what if his scrubs felt too scratchy, so what if they kept getting caught awkwardly on his long sleeves?
None of that mattered.
Because Grian was not nervous.
(At least, that was what he was telling himself.)
The glaringly white corridors were nearly too bright, but he didn’t let that stop him from marching on like a soldier on a mission. It was early morning, not quite seven, but time inside the hospital felt strange. He’d only been there a few minutes, but already, it felt like it’d been several hours.
Maybe that was just nerves. If, you know, Grian was nervous. Which he wasn’t.
Whatever. Grian forced himself to ignore whatever emotion that may or may not have been building in him and continued on. Nurses in varying shades of scrubs and doctors in long white coats rushed around him, hurrying off to whatever room they were called to. None of them were paying him much attention, which suited Grian perfectly fine.
He wasn’t a huge fan of crowds.
Steeling himself, he continued on. He had only been to this hospital a few times. Twice for interviews, and then once for…
He shut that train of thought down as fast as he could. Nope, nope, nope. He wasn’t going to be thinking about that right now, or ever if he could help it.
The point was, he didn’t quite know where everything was located yet. As his first official day working as a nurse, he was supposed to report to a staff room and then accompany one of the doctors on a tour of the place.
He was lucky that finding the location of the break room was easy enough. Hermit-City Hospital was decent sized, which meant that multiple staff areas littered every floor. But Grian only had to find the one on the ground level, which just so happened to be down several hallways and past two sets of double doors. Several signs indicated such.
When he got there, the staff door was closed ominously. Grian slowed his steps, looking around the space. This hallway was nearly completely empty, as the break room was intentionally located in a mostly unused part of the hospital.
Anxiously, Grian brought his hands together, beginning to fiddle with his fingers before he could stop himself. It was his nervous habit, and even though he wasn’t nervous, he still felt the familiar urge to do it.
It was just–what was he supposed to do now? He was officially supposed to be reporting to that room at seven o’clock, which was in three minutes. But was he–he wasn’t supposed to just open the door, was he? Should he knock?
Frustration bubbled in his veins. Grian rocked on his heels, debating. He didn't want to be late, but–what if the staff in there were in the middle of something? Interrupting was never a good idea…
He was musing over this when, all of a sudden, the door handle began to turn. Grian suppressed a flinch as his hands fell straight to his sides. Unconsciously, he shied away. There was nowhere to go.
A moment later, the door popped open. Standing in the frame was a short, redheaded woman wearing light blue scrubs. She had an ID hanging from her neck, and Grian traced the cord to her nametag: Gem. She had drawn a little heart at the end of the ‘m’.
For a second, the two of them just stood there, looking at each other. Then Gem put a hand on her hip, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Can I help you?”
Grian opened and closed his mouth several times. Indignation flared in his gut. “Uh, yeah,” he emphasised. “I’m supposed to meet Doctor…Doctor X-i-suma here.”
Her face twisted. “‘X-i-suma’?” she asked, putting air quotes around the fumbled word. “His name is Xisuma.”
Grian’s face felt flushed at his mispronunciation, but he crossed his arms over his chest to hide it. “Whatever. Is he here?”
Gem looked Grian up and down, scrunching her nose. Self consciousness dug its claws into him and he fought the urge to twist his hands together once again. “Yes,” she finally huffed after a moment. “Come in, I guess.”
Without another word, she turned around, shutting the door behind her.
Grian pinched the bridge of his nose. He could still feel trepidation crawling over him, but more than that was a flush of bitterness. He forced himself not to hesitate as he went to the door and tugged it open.
He had been expecting the room to be mostly empty. Instead, it was littered with nurses and doctors alike. Eyes turned to Grian slowly, taking him in much the same way Gem had. Some bore looks of curiosity, while others had already dismissed him in favour of whatever snack they were fixing.
The scrutiny seemed to stick to Grian like honey. He stood frozen in the door, unconsciously shying away. He hated attention.
“Ah, Grian,” a voice finally sounded, drawing the attention of the staff. Grian was no different; he turned to see a familiar looking man. Doctor Xisuma, the one who had conducted his interviews.
The professional was taller than Grian by several inches. Sporting a stethoscope around his neck and a long white coat, he looked every bit the cliche movie physician. His smile was warm.
“Hello, Doctor,” Grian said, finally stepping out of the doorway and further into the room. He intentionally excluded the man’s actual name, not trusting himself to get the pronunciation right after his encounter with Gem. He’d have to work on that.
“Welcome, welcome,” Xisuma greeted, spreading his arms out. Grian shuffled awkwardly, wondering if he should shake his hand or not. In the end, his fingers twitched at his sides and he left them there. “Glad you found your way here.”
“It was no trouble,” Grian assured. A half truth.
Xisuma’s smile sat perpetually as he nodded. “Wonderful. Before we begin the tour, I’d like to introduce you to some of the staff.” He gestured to the other workers lounging about the space. A few of them waved or offered polite smiles. Most just looked on tiredly.
He caught the eyes of Gem, who was watching this unfold with a certain amusement to her eyes. She stuck her tongue out at Grian childishly, and Grian suppressed a chuckle. As strange as it was, he kind of liked her.
At least, a little bit.
Xisuma clapped, drawing Grian’s gaze back to him. “Let’s make this quick. Everybody, this is Grian. He’ll be joining us as a bedside nurse. Grian, this is everyone.”
Many people muttered greetings. Grian offered a shy smile, suddenly wishing he could sink into the floor. All the direct eye contact was a little much for him.
He scanned the faces once again, chewing the inside of his cheek. No one looked familiar. Most of them weren’t even very memorable, besides a guy sporting a black mask and another with a very colourfully stained coat. They were all just copy and paste workers, hardly any differentiation–
Stars above.
Grian stilled. More than that, he froze, as if he’d fallen dead. His entire body tensed up, skin tightening around him, spine straightening. His heart was the only thing carrying onward. The thump thump thumping of the organ steadily grew faster until it seemed to drown out all other noise.
Because that person there, that was–stars above–that was–
Grian knew that face. He would never forget that face, never, as long as he lived.
But he never thought he’d see him again.
It didn’t make any sense. This guy had been a paramedic, not a nurse. What was he doing here? What was–what was–
“–should get going,” Xisuma was saying, his words finally fading back into focus. He was closer to Grian, now, heading to the door. “You can make proper introductions with everyone later.”
Numbly, Grian nodded. He was hardly certain of what he was agreeing to, and his eyes remained transfixed on him.
He didn’t even know his name.
“Grian?” Xisuma asked, pausing by the door. His voice pitched in confusion and a hint of impatience. “Coming?”
Grian nodded, absently, again. It was a physical effort to tear his eyes from the man, but he managed to, feeling suddenly foolish for his reaction.
It was just–out of everyone who could be here…
Why did it have to be him?
The scarred skin of Grian’s arms tinkled undercomfortably, hidden beneath the long sleeves he’d worn under his scrubs. For a moment, he was back in that place. Lying on the grass. Staring up at the soot covered sky, wondering if it was finally his turn to die. Hoping for it, maybe.
The unwelcome memory clung to him like the smoke of that day. Grian fought it off, sucking in several deep breaths, the way his therapist had told him to do whenever a flashback tried to come up. He counted to ten in his mind as he followed Xisuma out of the breakroom. The door closing behind him felt like the end to something. It was a physical distance, a barrier between Grian and the man inside who represented his past.
Vacantly, he started to follow Xisuma down the hall. The doctor was talking, opening and closing his mouth and saying something, but Grian wasn’t really listening. He was too absorbed in his own thoughts, too busy rushing to piece together how this could have happened.
It had been five years since that day. Nearly six. Grian had–he’d spent so long putting all of that behind him. All the memories, the sick twisted thoughts that threatened to choke him in the middle of the night.
He’d moved on. He had.
But now–
“This is the elevator,” Xisuma said, loudly, somehow managing to draw Grian from his thoughts. The doctor was gesturing to two sets of sliding doors. “The floor immediately above this one is the ICU. Of course, this floor has the ER, cafeteria, and information center.”
Grian nodded along. Before his interview, he’d been expected to review the layout of the hospital. It had been fairly easy for him, besides some specific rooms, but he supposed other applicants would appreciate the generalised tour as a refresher.
Even so, the information all felt a bit redundant to him. Once again, Grian tuned Xisuma out as he continued to explain the floor plans. The post-surgery unit, the maternity ward, the recovery floors…he was familiar with them all. No sense in learning something twice, not anymore.
Mostly, the two of them walked around the ground floor and that was it. They chatted about mundane things that Grian could have gone over while sleeping. He supposed the punctual conversation and trip were to be expected; after all, Xisuma was a doctor, and he didn’t have all day to be training the new staff.
In fact, as they were making their way past the nurses’ information station, one of them called out, “Doctor! We need you in room 127!”
Xisuma’s brisk steps slowed to a stop. He turned to the nurse who had called him, then back to Grian, then back again. Finally, he faced his subordinate with an apologetic look. “Ah,” he muttered. Louder, he said, “I need to go…think you can find your way back to the break room? One of the other nurses will pick you up from there to continue your orientation.”
Grian bobbed his head. He followed Xisuma’s wayward gaze to the desks, where several assistants were impatiently waiting for Xisuma. “Yes. Thank you.”
The doctor regarded Grian with a short look, maybe sizing him up before sighing. He nodded, too. “Right, then. I’ll see you later.”
He turned on his heel. And just like that, he was gone, rushing after those same impatient, flustered nurses.
Grian allowed himself several moments of relief simply standing there. Then he, too, turned around to continue walking.
Basically, the hospital was shaped like one giant square. Hallways and doors verged off the main path, but other than that, if you continued down the largest corridor, you’d find yourself back where you started.
That’s what Grian did. He felt a bit foolish going back to the break room while all the other staff around him began their shifts, but there wasn't anything he could do. It was his first day, after all.
Luckily, it didn’t take too long to find his way back to the lounge. He entered the set of double doors that verged off the main hallway and into the more secluded one.
This time, he forced himself not to hesitate before walking up to the door and popping it open. He shut it behind him and turned back to face anyone still there.
It was…surprisingly empty, actually. At least, compared to before, when it had been practically overflowing. Several nurses still littered the space, but they were casually leaning against spaces and not paying Grian much attention. Grian scanned the group, but he didn’t see the man from before. Relief swam through him like water. He spotted Gem by a table talking to the masked nurse from earlier and made his way over.
“Ah, it’s you,” the redhead said by way of greeting when she saw him. She was nursing a large cup of coffee. “How’d the tour go with X-i-suma?”
Grian crinkled his nose at her teasing. “Fine,” he assured. A pause. “We never properly met before.”
Gem tilted her head. “Right. I’m Gem, and this is Etho.” She gestured to the man next to her.
Grian nodded, studying the other nurse as he offered a shy wave. Etho had shaggy white hair that hung limply over his forehead. Like earlier, he was wearing a black mask that covered the lower part of his face. He had a large scar snaking across his eye, and on anyone else, it would have looked intimidating, but Etho wore it with a certain bashfulness that made it difficult to be concerned.
“Hi,” the man said. His voice wasn’t very loud.
Grian smiled back awkwardly, the expression feeling unnatural on his face. “Ah, hi. I’m Grian.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Etho’s new, too,” Gem jumped in, swishing her coffee in her hand. “He’s been working for about a month or so.”
Grian hummed at this development, thankful. At least he wouldn’t be the only one still learning the ropes.
It was hard to tell with his mask, but it looked like Etho was grinning. “Yep! I’m finally getting used to all this. University didn’t quite prepare me for the craziness of the actual job.”
Grian and Gem both chuckled at that. The conversation lapped into quietness, but it wasn’t awkward.
“Speaking of Uni,” Gem mused after a few moments, offering Grian a glance, “you just recently graduated, didn’t you?”
Grian squinted his eyes at the subject change. Suspicion danced across him and he dropped his smile. “Yes,” he answered flatly.
Gem blinked at his tonal change, glancing at Etho. “I…we were just talking about how it’s impressive you were hired so quickly, is all,” she explained slowly. She sounded a bit lost.
Etho bobbed his head, too many times. “Right, right. Like, I worked at multiple clinics before I got hired here. I’m jealous you were hired so quickly.”
Grian swallowed, flushing. He rolled his shoulders, forcing his instinctual response away. He didn’t like when people asked for details about his life; he much preferred to keep it underwraps. His arms burned. “Ah,” he murmured, letting out a weak chuckle. “Well, I guess I got lucky.”
That wasn’t the case at all. Grian had spent his four years of university pouring over every inch of his textbook. He hadn’t made friends; at least, not any one that he remembered. He gave himself over to his studies and got the highest grades possible. He wanted to be accepted to work at the hospital right off the bat.
He didn’t like clinics. The environment around them was too slow and stiff, too automatic. Grian was well-versed in high-stress situations and he knew enough about himself to know that he would be better suited in that kind of work. Going into the medical field was an effort to ditch his past, but he couldn’t fully escape it, and this was a good in-between.
Of course, there was no reason for Gem or Etho to know that. They could stay curious, for all Grian cared.
Although–and here, Grian subconsciously glanced behind him for the familiar face he’d seen earlier–that might be harder than he thought.
If he worked here, then at any moment, he might tell everyone.
Grian shook his head to clear the thought before it could light him in panic. He would just…have to make sure that didn’t happen. He’d talk to the man, threaten him, do whatever it took to keep his secret.
Grian wasn’t who he had been, and he needed to keep those lives as separate as he could.
“Yeah,” Gem finally said, pulling Grian from his thoughts. “Well, welcome aboard.”
“Thanks,” Grian replied automatically.
Once again, the conversation fell off. Grian shuffled awkwardly, wondering if he should wander away and leave Gem and Etho to it. He had never been good at talking, and it used to never be an issue. After all, when he’d lived there, silence was the default for everyone.
It was different out in the real world. People were expected to make small talk, to keep the discussion from dying. His therapist had tried to work with him at it, but he’d never improved that much.
Luckily enough, Etho was the one to finally break the silence. “Well, at least you won’t have to deal with any clinic patients,” he said, shivering. “They were actually the worst.”
Gem rolled her eyes. “There’s plenty of bad hospital patients, too,” she reminded him.
Etho shook his head. “It’s not the same.” At Grian’s quizzical look, he leaned closer conspiratorially. “One of the patients in the clinic gave me this.” He gestured to his scarred face.
Grian felt his eyes widen. Shock ran through him, then alarm. Would the people in the hospital be violent like that?
All of a sudden, Gem elbowed Etho, hard, in the gut. “Stop messing with him,” she lectured.
Etho let out a loud laugh, and Grian felt an embarrassed flush falling across his cheeks. “Ha, you really believe that?” the masked man got out, in between breaths.
Grian huffed, crossing his arms. “Whatever. It’s possible.”
Gem shook her head. Clearly, after only a month of him working there, she’d already gotten used to Etho’s antics. “He got his scar from being mugged a few years back,” she explained to Grian. “He loves to exaggerate the story.”
Ah. That…made more sense. Hermit-City wasn’t unsafe, but muggings were also common enough to be believable. “I see.”
Etho was still chuckling. “Man, you should’ve seen your face.”
Grian opened his mouth to snap back, indignation bubbling in his stomach, but he heard the sound of the door opening behind him. He turned, curious, eyes latching onto the figure who had just entered.
The world narrowed. Once again, Grian’s entire body shuddered to a stop.
It was him.
The man he was looking at wasn’t much older than Grian himself. Maybe a few years, but even that was pushing it. He was taller, though, and his skin was deeper and spotted with his own collection of scars. His hair was deep brown and pulled back into a low ponytail.
He didn’t look significant at all. But standing there, staring at him, memories flooded Grian’s head like waves.
Fire. Pain dancing over his skin. The smell of smoke. Fading consciousness.
And those green eyes, looking down at him. Grian would know those eyes anywhere, and he felt like the room was spinning when they suddenly turned to look at him.
Horror filled the pit of Grian’s stomach at the direct contact. He wasn’t aware of much of anything besides the person in front of him, whose mouth was tugging into a thoughtful frown the longer he studied him.
Don’t say anything, Grian begged in his mind, unable to speak. He thought he might be trembling. Don’t spoil it. Don’t. Please.
“...do I know you?” the man finally asked, the question traveling the short distance between them. He made his way over, a contemplative look on his face. He continued to scrutinise Grian, raking his eyes up and down his form.
Grian fought to control his expression. His hands twitched at his sides, wanting to be twisted together, and his throat felt dry and scorched. “Ah, I don’t think so,” he managed, somehow. The words were tiny.
The man tilted his head. For a long moment, he looked at Grian, or maybe he was looking through him. “It’s your eyes,” he murmured after a moment. “They look so darn familiar.”
Grian swallowed, thickly. “I don’t think so.”
For a long moment, the words were heavy in the air. Then the man laughed and shook his head as if to dispel thoughts. “Well, then. I’m Scar! You must be Grian, the new hire.”
He didn’t remember who he was.
The thought was like sunshine. Grian nearly melted in relief.
Even so, his high-strung emotions didn’t fade as quickly, and when he swallowed again, it was thick and painful. “Yes,” he answered after a moment. The word tasted like sandpaper.
“Scar here has worked with us for a few years,” Gem sounded, jumping into the conversation easily. She sipped her coffee. “Strangely enough, he was hired right out of Uni, too. I bet it was because he worked as a paramedic in college, so they thought he was, like, experienced or something. Obviously, they missed the mark.”
Grian forced a laugh that sounded fake even to himself, all screechy and uncomfortable. “How odd.”
“Aw, Gem’s just jealous,” Scar teased, poking her in the arm.
She curled her nose. “Yeah, right.” She took another drink of coffee, this time turning it upside down to get the last of its contents. “As if I’d be jealous of you.”
Scar pressed a hand to his chest, mock offended. “That hurts, Gem. That hurts a lot.”
“Deal with it.”
The group let out mixed laughter as Scar mimed a knife in his gut. Grian struggled to join in on the mirth. Any other time, and their conversation might’ve been endearing to him. As it was, as he watched, he couldn’t help thinking, This is the idiot who saved my life.
The small gathering didn’t have long to stand and chat, though. It was Gem who heaved a sigh and announced, “Augh, it’s time to get moving.”
She flicked her wrist over to check the time on her watch, which triggered both Scar and Etho to do the same. Collective exhales rang throughout the three of them. Gem set her cup on the counter to be forgotten later.
Etho stuck his tongue out. “Time to save lives,” he said, sarcastic. He glanced at Grian. “I almost envy you.”
“Why? What will you be doing while the rest of us head to deal with a million sick people?” Scar asked, suddenly right next to Grian.
Grian fought the urge to back away. Those green eyes were a bit haunting. “I have a ton of paperwork to fill out, and a few training sessions before I’m allowed to work with patients. Orientation crap.”
Scar tossed his head back in a laugh. “Ah, I forgot about that! First week of the job is the most boring part, trust me.”
Grian pressed his lips together. Somehow, with Scar here, he doubted his job would be boring at all.
“Scar!” Etho called out before Grian could think of a response. The masked man was already halfway to the door. “Time to go!’
Scar rocked on his heels, lifting his eyes to the ceiling and down again. “Yeah, yeah.” He glanced back at Grian. “See you later, G.”
And just like that, he was gone.
Grian let his own eyes fall closed. He practically melted into the floor. Any amount of strength that had been holding him upright drained and he sank into the nearest chair, fighting the urge to put his head in his hands.
How was–how was he supposed to do this?
He’d worked so hard to get a job at this hospital, so hard to move beyond the life he’d been raised in.
And now it was like his past was coming back to haunt him, one last time. One last giant joke played on him.
He could never catch a break, could he?
“Um…excuse me,” a small, hesitant voice sounded, and Grian lifted his head. A tall, mustached man stood awkwardly to his side, holding a thick folder in his hands. Grian hadn’t noticed him in the room before; he must’ve just slipped in without him realising. “My name is Mumbo.” He sounded unsure of even that.
Grian rose to his feet, forcing his emotions away. “Hello. I’m Grian,” he introduced, already halfway sick of repeating his name all the time.
The man, Mumbo, nodded. “I’m here to show you to the conference room,” he explained, softly. “We can begin your training there.”
Right. Grian had actual work to be doing. He’d have to worry about Scar later. “Of course.” He made his voice higher than normal, trying to convey a ‘peppy’ feeling. He wasn’t sure he captured it well and cleared his throat to try again. “Let’s head out, then.”
Mumbo smiled shyly and scurried to the door. Grian followed him out into the hall, but instead of going past the threshold that led into the main corridor, Mumbo turned the other way.
Neither of them talked as they walked. Mumbo was a lot taller than Grian, so his stride was quicker, and Grian focused on keeping up with him rather than striking up a conversation. As it was, Mumbo didn’t seem all that apt to talk, either.
Finally, after several turns, Mumbo's quick pace slowed to a stop outside a single door. It was labeled, aptly, as "conference room”, though someone had taped a piece of paper below the title that declared it as the “boring room”. Grian suppressed a chuckle at that.
Inside, the room was clean and white, just like everything else at the hospital. A long table occupied most of the space, with stiff, hard chairs scattered around it. A screen stood idly behind the head chair.
“Take a seat,” Mumbo instructed.
Grian did as he was told, choosing one about halfway down the line. He turned his attention to Mumbo, who was rifling through the folder he’d had tucked under his arm.
“Obviously,” the man began, keeping his focus entirely on the papers, “you can’t begin patient work immediately. It’s standard practice to have you familiarize yourself with our procedures, online equipment, and coworkers before we even think about sending you to bedding floors.”
Grian bobbed his head along. It sounded like Mumbo was reading this from a script, and distantly, he wondered if Etho had gotten the same lecture a month before.
“Your first week will be made up of training videos, paperwork, and shadowing one of the more experienced nurses. Here.” Mumbo pulled a large stack of paper from his folder and slid it to Grian, who managed to catch it before it fell off the table. A pen came shortly after. “You’ll need to fill these out before we begin. It’s information for HR and employers.”
Grian looked down at the work in front of him. Forms, documents…it shouldn’t take that long. Maybe.
Suppressing a sigh, he began to write. None of it was anything he had to think too difficult about; he did, after all, know his birthday and name and address and email and age and–
Tedious information.
The only part that had him hesitating was the section labeled BACKGROUND. To be allowed to even sign up for the interviews, Grian had submitted himself to an extensive background check. He told himself it was procedure, which it was, but-
But that also means Xisuma knew where he came from.
The thought was uncomfortable as Grian signed his name on the dotted line, indicating that yes, he had undergone a background check. It was strange to think that someone else here knew him and what he had gone through. At least, some of it. And even more oddly, Xisuma hadn’t treated him like he was different at all.
He’d acted like Grian was normal.
It was a strange thought. Grian was a lot of things, but he didn’t think normal was ever one of them.
For just a brief moment, his thoughts brought him to Scar. The nurse was certainly…exeburent, but he hadn’t recognised Grian. At least, not enough to place him.
It both was and wasn’t a miracle, both was and wasn't something he hated to think about. If Scar had recognised him, would Grian finally atone for all that he had done in his youth?
He supposed it made sense that the nurse didn’t know who he was. It'd been five years, after all. Almost six. Scar hadn’t even seen him for that long, and it had been nighttime, and Grian had certainly never spoken to the man before today. They’d shared one fleeting moment, an ambulance ride, and that was it.
Nothing to it.
But Scar would never understand the impact of that moment. He would never understand how, years later, Grian was still trying to repay a debt that he felt he never could. Scar would never understand the countless hours spent in therapy, countless hours trying to shove everything deep down below his skin so it wouldn’t bubble up again.
And now, his first day at the hospital, all he could think about was them.
Shaking his head, Grian swallowed thickly. He cast a glance at Mumbo, but the man was still sorting through papers and hadn’t seemed to notice Grian’s rising panic.
Sighing to himself, Grian shoved his thoughts away as hard as he could and continued on with paperwork. There was no reason to be thinking about anything other than paperwork.
Just. Paperwork.
As the minutes ticked on, his muscles gradually relaxed into something softer. Easier, at least. He filled out his paperwork and tried not to think about anything. It halfway worked.
By the time he was done, Grian’s hand was sufficiently cramped and his legs were hurting from sitting so long. He stood, stretched, and pushed the papers back to Mumbo.
The man blinked, surprise flashing across his face. “You’re…done already?”
It was Grian’s turn to blink in confusion. “Yes,” he confirmed hesitantly. He’d thought that had taken him way longer than it should have. It’d been at least an hour, maybe more.
Mumbo smiled slightly, the expression growing across his face with ease. He let out a disbelieving laugh. “Well, then. Most people take much longer on this.”
Grian felt relief swim down his back; he wasn’t in trouble. “Ah. Well, I guess I’m a fast worker.”
“No kidding. I’m starting to see why we hired you right out of Uni.”
The praise felt awkward to Grian. His face flushed, but goosebumps shivered down his arms. He shoved it away. “What’s next, then?”
Mumbo hummed, turning back to his folder. “Well, now, we would get you up to date on the software we use for records and pharmaceuticals. But since you finished so early, our trainer isn't supposed to be in here for a little longer…” He trailed off.
Grian swallowed. Oh, had he messed them up? He told himself that he didn’t really care, but he forced out a, “Sorry.”
Mumbo waved him away. “No matter. I’ll just go get him and see if he can come now instead of later. Yeah?”
Grian bobbed his head, returning to his seat. Mumbo stood there awkwardly for a minute, as if he were going to say something else, but he didn’t. He left a second later, leaving a sort of heavy silence in his wake.
Grian watched the man go, considering. Mumbo was definitely a strange guy, that was for sure. He seemed altogether much too anxious and nervous to be in the medical field, but here he was, and he must've been a longstanding worker if he was allowed to monitor Grian.
He thought back to what the taller man had said. His first week…he’d have to shadow someone? Who would that be?
Anyone but him, his mind begged without his permission.
Grian crinkled his nose, disgusted at his own emotions. What was his problem? He didn’t need to be thinking about that, and he certainly didn’t need to be pleading with himself over it. If he had to shadow Scar, he’d do it quietly and proficiently and he wouldn’t complain.
None of it mattered, anyway. Scar didn’t know who he was, and he probably never would. After all, it had been so dark that night, and Grian had looked very differently than he did now.
He was fine.
He clung to that false hope, using it to sink farther down in his chair until his head was resting against the table. He realised how tired he was, sitting there. He didn’t usually get much sleep, but last night had been worse than normal.
Even so, he forced himself not to doze off. Mumbo and the tech could arrive back at any minute, and it would look very unprofessional if he was sleeping. He lifted his head and set to counting the number of chairs, anything to keep himself distracted.
When that game inevitably ended (there were sixteen chairs, eight on one side and seven on the other, with the last one occupying the head of the table by Mumbo’s folder), he turned to counting the lights. Six of those, evenly spaced throughout the room. He counted the windows, but it was difficult because the wall behind him was made up almost entirely of the glass.
Counting things was boring, but it was one of the things his therapist said would help when his mind was rushing. Grian didn’t know how true that was, (his therapist tended to miss the mark on a lot of things, considering he lied to her often), but it was a good way to pass the time. At least, it was good to be able to sit here and pretend that he was distracted.
Finally, the sound of the doorknob turning interrupted him, just as Grian was beginning to recount the chairs. Mumbo appeared first, a sheepish smile on his face. Behind him was a shorter brunette with a bright streak of green in his hair, wearing dark burgundy scrubs and carrying a black satchel. He was scowling.
“Hi, Grian,” Mumbo greeted, as if they hadn’t seen each other moments before. “This is Joel.”
The tech’s scowl deepened. He looked to Grian as if he had just noticed him. “Hi.” His voice was flat and scratchy. He sounded like a smoker.
“Hi,” Grian replied, sliding his lips into a too-wide smile. He relayed the same tone Joel had used with him and relished a bit in the way the other nurse’s eyes widened a bit.
Mumbo cleared his throat awkwardly, walked back to the head of the table like he'd been born to be there. He grabbed his folder and tapped it with his other hand. “This has notes for both of you,” he asserted, looking at Joel, like he was worried the trainer would scurry off. “The videos are already uploaded and ready to go. I have a feeling that Grian will make quick work of this training, too, but try to make sure he absorbs all the appropriate information.”
Grian pouted while Joel nodded. What, did they think he wasn’t going to take this seriously, or something?
Mumbo clapped his hands, nodding to himself. “Well, I must be off,” he concluded, making his way towards the door, like he was backing out of a cage. “Have fun!”
He was gone a moment later.
Grian sighed, turning to Joel, who looked less-than-thrilled to be doing this. He crossed towards Mumbo’s folder and agonizingly flipped it open, taking a long look at the contents. The silence was heavy and bothersome.
Grian drummed his fingers on the table while he waited. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound was light, but it took up a lot of space in the otherwise quiet room. Tap. Tap. He wondered how long this would take. Tap.
“Can you quit that?” Joel finally asked. He glared at Grian.
Grian sighed again, drawing his hands to his lap. He twisted his fingers together, the action hidden by the table, feeling a bit guilty by the relief it brought him.
Joel continued looking in the folder for several more minutes. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slid some papers over for Grian. They were extensive paragraphs filled with information on the EMR, the electronic medical record system that the hospital used. While Grian studied those, Joel turned to the screen behind him and switched it on. A video came to life with a catchy little song.
…And for the next several hours, all Grian did was sit there and watch videos on how hospital procedures worked. A lot of it was stuff he’d learned in nursing school, but every hospital had differences in how they ran things, and so he was expected to listen to it all anyway.
Boring. Whoever had amended the “conference room” sign on the door had hit the nail on the head.
The hardest part was, of course, the EMR, which was Joel’s specialty. The man went on a long lecture explaining it all, from how to catalogue patients to how to digitally record symptoms and the like. At some point, he produced a computer from his bag and passed it to Grian, and the training became a bit more hands-on.
Even though the lot of it was tedious, Grian listened to everything intentionally, following along with his own notes. He hated to admit it, but he did need to know this information, and so he forced himself to remain an active audience.
At some point, they took a break for lunch. At least, they were supposed to take a break. But Grian simply got his food (a singular, simple sandwich) and went back to the conference room instead of the cafeteria so he could keep working. Joel had sighed at this, but followed suit, not protesting. The man ate pizza while he continued teaching.
The day went on. As the hours progressed, the more extensive the material got. Some of it was difficult to understand. Grian underlined the sections he would have to review later tonight when he got back to his apartment.
By the time all the videos and lectures and notes finally came to an end, his hands were sore from typing and his tiredness had doubled. He put his head on the table and groaned, loudly, as the ending tune to a video played in the background.
He was starting to hate that stupid jingle.
Joel had warmed up to him over the long hours of training. His gruff exterior had melted into something a bit more prankster-ish. He reminded Grian of the classic high-school punks from movies. “Yeah, I know,” he sympathised, leaning back into his own seat and stretching. “It’s a lot.”
“It’s gonna take me years to memorise all of this,” Grian whined. It probably would take him a few days, tops. But it would be a lot of work, so he figured he had the right to complain.
“That’s why you’ll shadow someone for a while,” Joel told him, sitting up straight again. “Say, do you know who you’ll be following?”
Grian lifted his head from the table and shook it. “Not sure.”
Joel hummed. “Well, it won’t matter for a couple more days, anyway. You have a lot more training to do before you take care of patients.”
“So everyone keeps saying,” Grian grumbled under his breath. He tapped his fingers once again on the table, amused when Joel cringed at the noise.
The man shook his head, as if to dispel the sound from his mind. He glanced at his watch. “I think we’re done for today,” he mused. “We’ll pick back up again tomorrow.”
Relief sloshed over Grian. “Thank God,” he emphasised, standing up. His legs were wobbly beneath him as he gathered his notes.
Joel let out a chuckle at that, also standing. He stretched again. “At least you get to go home. I have another few hours in my shift.” He stuck out his tongue.
Grian allowed himself a small, lighthearted laugh. “Don’t worry. Soon, we’ll all be bonding over twelve hour work rotations.”
Joel offered him a weary smile, rolling his eyes lightheartedly. “Can’t wait.”
They said their goodbyes and Grian slipped from the conference room. The hallway outside was busy, but not terribly so, and he followed the trail of workers to the main corridor.
Getting to the exit from there was easy. Grian waved goodbye to the nurses at the check-in station. Only a handful noticed, and even fewer waved back.
Peachy.
Outside, the afternoon air was warm against his skin. It was later than Grian expected; he’d been in the hospital for nearly eight hours.
The thought had him feeling more tired than he had been before. He started down the street, trudging miserably along the sidewalk. The sun beat down on him, but Grian didn’t roll up his sleeves. He just kept walking.
He was lucky his shabby apartment was pretty close to the hospital. Grian didn’t own a car, and while he could take the train or the bus, he preferred to walk. Public transportation could be so crowded. He liked the solitude that came with his commute.
Even so, he found himself wishing for at least a bike. He was exhausted despite the fact that he’d hardly worked at all today.
Stars above, he’d have to start getting some actual sleep if he was going to keep this up.
He forced himself along. When his apartment complex finally came into view, relief swam through his blood, sweet and cold. He typically avoided using the elevator (there were always people waiting outside it, and it was constantly breaking down) and would usually take the stairs instead, but he was too tired this time. Instead, he rode the shaky lift to the fourth floor and tiredly unlocked his apartment.
His home wasn’t magnificent by any means, but he supposed it could have been much worse. In fact, Grian had lived in worse, before all this. The government had helped fund his rehabilitation into society, and most of that money had been used to find suitable housing for him. Now that Grian was officially working, he’d be weaned off of that support and left standing on his own.
Part of him couldn’t wait for that. It was like proof that he was leaving everything behind him.
Still, observing his space had him sighing. A small, tight kitchen that led into a tiny living space. Two doors off the side, one a bedroom, and the other a bathroom.
Home, sweet home.
Grian tossed his bag onto his couch and made for the bathroom. He turned his shower on, putting the nozzle almost halfway between the red and the blue indicators, but leaning towards blue.
He never showered in hot water. Only lukewarm. Sometimes even that was pushing it.
Grian peeled off his top scrubs. Underneath, he had on his typical long-sleeved shirt. He stared at himself in the mirror, gathering his courage, and then he took that off, too.
Grian’s torso wasn’t a pretty sight. Somehow, the fire that ended everything had spared his face, but the rest of him hadn’t been so lucky. Warped, marbled flesh raked over him, disappearing under his waistband and trailing down his arms. They stopped right before his wrists.
All things considered, he was lucky. The trauma was perfectly able to be hidden under his clothing, if he was careful. Which he always was. No one but him had seen the damage in at least three years, and that had been someone back in college when they walked in on him while he was changing.
Of course, Grian had other scars, too, some that weren’t related to the fire at all. But they were hardly noticeable if you weren’t looking for them, and Grian never was. No one else would be, either.
Keeping the marks under wraps was easy enough in the winter, but it was hot out now, and Grian’s choice of long sleeves would likely be questioned more often in the coming weeks. It didn’t bother him; he’d been doing this for years. He was lucky the hospital was kept cool. His sleeves wouldn’t be as conspicuous there.
Shaking the thoughts away, Grian continued undressing and bathed himself. Afterwards, he changed into light clothes. His apartment was practically the only place where he didn’t mind wearing short sleeves, and he walked around with his scars on display pretty much all of the time. He never got any surprise visitors–Pearl and Jimmy, firefighter friends of his, only came when invited–so it didn’t matter if they were visible.
Dinner was a quiet, solemn affair. Grian scrolled on his phone while eating a small serving of microwaved noodles, bored but not upset. It was even pleasant, if he didn’t let himself think about the quiet too much.
He had work again tomorrow. More training, more videos, more paperwork. All bothersome and tedious, but it was nice to have something to look forward to besides schooling. He could throw himself into it and resurface only when he needed a breath. It would be wonderful.
Urged on by this, he took out his notes from the day and reviewed them for a long time. Extra studying never hurt.
The rest of his day consisted of this: sitting at his table, pouring over notes, eating the occasional chip or biscuit. Nightfall approached quickly and drenched the room in darkness. When Grian's eyes began to cross and letters imprinted on his vision, he figured he'd studied long enough.
He stood, stretched. His hair was tousled and tangled from his shower–he'd forgotten to brush it–and he raked his fingers through it as he headed towards his room.
Grian's room was scarcely decorated, a consequence of times past, when he hadn’t been allowed to decorate. The only part that was cluttered was his bed; he slept with about a million blankets and pillows.
Sighing to himself, he collapsed onto the mound. Inevitably, his mind wandered to his day at work, wandered to him.
Scar. His name was Scar.
Grian shivered sharply at the reminder. Why did this have to happen to him? Hadn't he suffered enough already?
Five years. All he wanted was to leave it all behind. Everything that had happened lived like a monster beneath his skin, a sort of storm that he barely managed to keep weathered. He'd shoved it all away, and he'd done a good job of it.
He'd just–he’d have to avoid Scar. That was the only way this was ever going to work out.
Avoid. Him.
Grian fell asleep thinking that.