First Day [Complete]

He didn't notice her focusing on his nametag, instead busying himself with checking his watch. Which was mildly rude, but...apparently the tests for his suspected shigellosis patient should be back, and he probably should pick them up. He honestly wasn't looking forward to seeing yet another victim of diarrhea and vomiting today, but such was life. He did what he had to do.

"I ought to go," he stated, but didn't move, for more reasons than his qualms about filth. He eyed Braelyn again, unconsciously fidgeting, folding and unfolding his hands. Feeling a small stab of pain, he glanced down at his fingers, noting that one of his knuckles was bleeding slightly. Darn it, it was far too early in the day for his skin to be that dried out from handwashing...

His words shook her from her thoughts. A frown threatened against her smile but she fought the temptation. Just as well... she too needed to return to work; a glance at the clock informed her that she should really be returning to her ward soon. “Oh, yes of course” she replied gently, stretching her neck to completely rid herself of any tightness, oblivious of the man’s gaze. Halfway through her stretch, movement caught her attention downwards towards his hands. He was caressing them together, in a nervous manner perhaps, when she spotted the blood.

At the sight it, the nurse in her took over. Reaching inside her pocket, she dew out a small band-aid, a contribution from the stash that she had stowed there that morning. As she removed the paper, she glanced up at the doctor and inquired, “May I?” in a placid tone before she gently clasped his hand and placed the adhesive bandage on the small abrasion.

With her eyes still on his hands, Braelyn said, “You know, doctor, that although hygiene and cleanliness within a hospital is necessary, I can presume just from your hands that you must disinfect them quite a bit. Now, I’m sure that with your field of expertise that you are more aware of microbes and germs present, but I also know that the abuse of antibacterials can actually create drug-resistant strains.”

Meeting his eyes, she smiles and hesitates before she releases his hand and places her own on her hips. Playfulness sparkled in her eyes as she continued, “Don’t think of course that I’m challenging your field or knowledge, I’m just saying… be careful. Also, I suggest the use of moisturizer, doctor.”

His emotions were really starting to become troublesome. He felt a small thrill shoot down his spine as she took his hand and he had to struggle to keep his face from reddening yet again, forcing his attention onto her comments and away from the fact that her palm had been soft and fingertips gentle.

"I'm well-aware," he replied, and it struck him as odd that he didn't have the urge to be curt or snappish. Normally criticism of his habits put him on the defensive, but this time he didn't have the mind to react in annoyance...perhaps because there was some level of caring behind the words? "I do make attempts to wash my hands normally much of the time, without antibacterial soap and in place of using sanitizer. I find overall, though, that my concern about the development of resistant strains is outweighed by my concern about my own health. I can't afford to contract the kinds of diseases my patients have--so many of them are so devastating."

He wouldn't put it into obvious terms, but overall, it was a matter of fear. He'd seen enough and learned enough to be terrified of most diseases, and terror had fostered habits that had turned into compulsions.

"I have some at home," he said as she brought up moisturizer. "I should remember to bring it..."

Braelyn felt warm, even with no sunlight upon her, and she would realize later that the feeling was due to how happy she felt. Her earlier moments of embarrassment and shyness were forgotten; she really, really enjoyed talking with this man.

“Well, I’m glad that you’re so cautious. I do believe that neither of us would like it if you got ill, right?” Braelyn exclaimed with a light laugh after. Her giddiness delighted her and she had to fight the enticement to dance, to flow through the graceful forms of her beloved ballet, right then and there. The impulse reminded her… she had ballet practice that evening. She couldn’t wait to inform Stephan of her day; he had been worried that she might have an asthma attack or something.

She glanced quickly at the clock again, before she said,”Well if you need some, moisturizer I mean, I have if you’d like. Also, I have really enjoyed seeing you again and our conversation, but I see that I am near running late and I don’t want to be tardy on my first day. You also need to be places, like you said.” She looked toward the door and started toward it but turned back to smile at him and to say, “And I’m sorry if I acted out of place at times. I suppose I’m just… nervous. Goodbye, Dr. Edelstein.”

~~~~~
For the rest of the day, Braelyn kept busy. Usually, when it came to the duty at hand, she was usually impassive with complete seriousness but today all she could do was smile.

Her behavior must have stood out because another nurse, Maria, who had been helped her establish an IV for a man who had been electrocuted, had said, “Girl, I can’t help myself but wonder as to why you can’t keep that huge grin off your face!” Maria had laughed warm-heartedly; Braelyn liked the woman immediately. They spoke when they could until Maria had informed her that her shift was done. Before she left, however, Braelyn asked nonchalantly, “Maria. Do you know the name of the infectious disease specialist? I had spoken to him earlier but didn’t catch his name.
Maria only smiled and said, “That would be Dr. Roderich Edelstein, my dear.”

Braelyn watched her new friend leave as she thought, ‘Roderich…' and blushed deeply.

The following afternoon, Roderich was in the furthest thing from a good mood. His first call after lunch was to the bedside of the shigellosis patient, an older woman who had met with liver damage from the antibiotics he had decided to administer. Exacerbated by some existing conditions, the damage had soon lead to liver failure and her death, in spite of Roderich and two other nurses working to save her. He'd left the room thoroughly frustrated and disappointed--though, the outlook for that patient hadn't been good from the start, so in that sense he didn't feel quite as bad as he could've--and decided to head right for his office to go mull through mindless paperwork and lose himself in classical music for a while.

Caught up in that, he didn't notice Braelyn as he went by her. Really, he didn't have much of a mind to notice anyone, and was hoping that no one particularly cheerful was going to make an attempt to talk to him. He wasn't sure if he could stand someone else's happiness at the moment...

Leaning against a wall in a hallway of her ward, Braelyn sighed thoughtfully while she looked over her clipboard. It was only by chance that at the precise moment she glanced up that she saw him. He had been walking towards her and immediately at the sight, she had felt a strange and alien shock run up and down her spine; it had made her shiver. Her mouth opened to call out to him but she froze before the first syllable could be uttered.

Roderich’s facial expression countered against any endeavor of friendly social interaction. Thus, silently, she watched him in the corner of her eye until he had completely walked by. Only after that did she finally turn to watch the man walk away. Braelyn couldn’t’ shake the profound curiosity she felt; she wanted to know why he looked so upset. Nor could she abolish the urge to try to make him smile again…

By the end of her shift that evening, Braelyn admitted that she was worried about Dr. Edelstein as she changed into her casual attire. She closed her locker and fastened the last button on her favorite cream blouse and smoothed her light blue neck bow, a match to the bow in her hair. Shouldering her purse, Braelyn began to walk towards the door while she tried to ignore the dull pain every step conjured. Her rear felt like one, large bruise-- she had taken a hard fall last night at ballet and her bottom had received the full blow. A relaxing bath was what she was thinking of as she reached towards the door’s handle.

Then she heard it, a footfall. Barely having time to lift her arm in protection, the door flew open: hitting her arm, sending her backwards onto her already sore buttocks, and causing her to groan in pain and surprise.
Whoever had opened that door, had been in a great hurry…

And indeed, it had been Roderich, who was, yet again, rushing to scrub the crap out of his hands--though, this time, for very decent reason. His gloved hands had been coated in brownish blood, and while he'd already stripped the gloves off, the stains stretched a fair distance up his coat sleeves.

First there'd been the death of the shigellosis patient, and now his yellow fever patient was getting progressively worse, to the point of vomiting blood. (Why that man hadn't been vaccinated before leaving for Africa was beyond him, though if there was one thing to be thankful about, it was the fact that the disease was vector-borne. After all, Roderich was fairly certain no one else on staff had had reason to get that vaccination, aside from himself as a matter of principle, of course.) His hands were outright trembling as he bolted to the sink and turned on the water, not bothering to take his own soap from his pocket this time, just dispensing the hospital's soap and rubbing it all over, focusing on the motions in an effort to stave off the panic attack that his turbulent worries were threatening to turn into.

There was really no definitive cure for yellow fever, but that hadn't fazed him at first--he'd figured rehydration and maintenance of the man's immune system would be enough. Now, though, he had the painful suspicion that the man was going to end up like the shigellosis-laden woman, and he honestly wasn't sure if he could deal with that. He hated the feeling of being stuck, unable to counter a worsening situation, thinking that he must not have been perceptive enough, intelligent enough, a good enough of a doctor to do his job...

Realizing that he was starting to become dizzy and nauseous from anxiety, he paused for a moment to breathe and attempt to calm himself, leaning forward a bit so that his forehead was almost resting against the mirror above the sink, eyes flickering shut. He forced himself to clear his head and listen to the sound of the water, inhaling slowly, only moving again as he heard the footsteps of someone across the locker room. He inwardly winced.

Great. Perhaps that was what had made a noise of pained surprise when he'd thrown open the door...

He straightened, trying to adopt his usual straight posture, fully intending to pretend that his moments of obvious weakness hadn't just happened. Hopefully the person wasn't someone that he knew well or chanced to normally run into, so he wouldn't have to deal with inappropriate teasing or excessive concern...

Braelyn just sat there for a moment or two, slightly dazed and wallowing in throbbing pain. Not only did her derrière hurt, but now her arm was the origin of pain as well. Under her breath she muttered a constant stream of curses in rapid, elaborate French, rubbing her bruising arm thoughtfully as she did. She had seen who had knocked her down, a fleeting glance as he had rushed by. ‘I don’t not even think he knows that he hit anyone…’ she thought, shaking her head.

Rotating slowly onto her knees, wincing as she did, Braelyn began to gather up the small array of items that had fallen out her purse. She was irritated, to say the least, though it was at herself of all people. She felt foolish and for that, she chastised herself though she felt no embarrassment or anything of the sort. That bath, however, was looking more glandulous each minute-- that or a good drink. She rose slowly, and began to double-check her purse to see if everything is accounted for… “Merde! Mon téléphone portable!”

Looking about she spotted her phone-- it lay a few feet away from her. Walking towards her Blackberry, Braelyn forced herself to ignore the sound of running water, the heels of her boots thudding softly against the floor. Crouching to pick up her phone, she raised her eyebrows in surprise to see that see had a missed call. Distracted as she was, Braelyn was oblivious to the eyes on her. She stood and began to turn away, her focus still on her phone’s screen, when she failed to see the lip-gloss container she had failed to pick up. Her boot stepped on the cylinder, and within seconds, Braelyn found herself lying on her back.

“Some graceful ballet dancer I am…” She mumbled sarcastically; her eyes closed in irritation and hurt. Through her lids, she saw a shadow suddenly past over her and all Braelyn did was mumble, “If you’re having as bad of day as I feel physically, then I do offer to buy you a drink.”

Fate had a nasty sense of humor, Roderich thought. Of all people, of course it was Braelyn that he'd smacked with that door. And they had been getting along so well the previous day, too...

Feeling ashamed, he hastily bent and reached for her hand to help her up, not bothering to dry his hands first. "I'm so sorry, I--"

Her proposal gave him pause. Really, that...that sounded quite good right now. He'd been planning as usual to just head home and play his instruments for a long while, but he could use a drink after everything that had happened.

Stifling the little voice in his mind that was making much more of the notion of going out with her than it should, he said, "I would like that very much."

She took his offered hand and even though it was damp, it was warm. He pulled her up, and she winced from the movement, though she smiled warmly at him. “It’s ok. The door hit me, not you.” She couldn’t help but giggle at that; she sucked at jokes but it must’ve been the fact that she sill held his hand that made her laugh.

Releasing his hand, hesitantly, she walked over to retrieve her purse and looked back at him, raising her brow. “Don’t worry about it, it was an accident, it happens.” She said, subconsciously rubbing her sore arm. She glanced down again at her phone, and promptly dropped it into her purse.

Upon hearing his response, her smiled broadened. “Great! I’ll umm… wait here. Hurry up and change, then we’ll go!” Besides, she thought, what’s wrong with going and having a few drinks with a colleague… who happens to be very handsome and makes me smile?

He was half-inclined to make a retort to that and assert that it was still his fault, but the germ-conscious part of his mind started ticking again and sternly reminded him that keeping his hands wet was practically inviting bacteria to reproduce on them. He turned, quickly rinsed them again as she went to retrieve her things, and was wiping them off with paper towel when he noticed her rubbing her arm.

"You're bruising," he observed, frowning. "I should get you an ice pack...goodness, I'm deeply sorry..."

And with that thought, he strode out of the locker room, leaving her there and returning a few moments later with one in a thin cloth bag. He gestured impatiently for her to extend her arm, then, after inspecting the wound, laid it on there, letting her hold it in place.

After that, he went to change, stripping off his scrubs and and coat and donning a white dress shirt and gray slacks. He applied a bit of hand sanitizer after touching the scrubs, then put that bottle, his personal soap, and his communicable diseases manual in his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Ready," he said, walking back to her. "Where exactly do you want to go?"

She tried to tell him that I was fine, it was just a bruise after all, but he was already walking away only to return with an ice pack. Again she tried to wave him off, but he insisted so she consented and showed him her arm. He inspected the darkening area and he placed the pack gently, she mumbled a “thank you” and laid her hand on the pack and watched him walk away again, leaving her perplexed.

What was with this man? Braelyn couldn’t figure it out, nor could she even begin to distinguish her odd feelings she felt around him… but at that moment, she didn’t really care. Leaning against a couch, relaxing as the ice pack numbed away her bruise’s throbbing, she let her thoughts wander.

Jumping slightly when Roderich spoke, breaking her out of her daydreaming, she smiled at him as she said with a raised brow, “You’re more familiar with the area than I am. Know a good bar that’s nice to just… hang out and chat with a fellow colleague, Roderich?”

Roderich put a hand to his chin, considering the question. He didn't go out very often, aside from his practices with the orchestra, because frankly, he didn't hang out with too many of his colleagues outside of work. He saw them enough during the day to usually deem that extra social interaction unnecessary.

"Well," he said, "there's a bar about two blocks from here, within walking distance. I haven't been there in some time, but I recall it being nice, and I know a lot of people that go there after their shifts..."

He shrugged. "We could try that place."