Blue Bloods

Angela lifted the damp rag from her face and stared across the break room at Steve. "What did you say?"

"You back?" Steve glanced up from the pile of rubble which used to be a door. Before she could reply, he reached in, grabbed a twisted metal stud and pulled. The beam slid partway out, hooked on another beam, and slipped out of his hand.

"Yeah, but I kinda wish I wasn't. My head is killing me. What's with you playing janitor?"

"Charlie freaked when Drew said she was going to talk to the Feds. He left a note. Troy's supposed to be here later to get things fixed. 'Til then this mess is a hazard, so..." He nodded at a big, thick sided trash can in the hallway.

"Yeah. Who were you talking to a second ago?"

"Oh, yeah. Mercy just buzzed from the ER. There's another wave of folks coming in."

Angela couldn't help herself; a low groan escaped before she bit her lip. She dropped the wet rag on her face again.

"Yeah, I figured you'd feel that way. I told her you weren't up to it."

She pushed herself upright, the washcloth sliding down into her lap. "No. I've got to get down there." She opened her eyes. Light speared in, stabbing at the back of her brain. "I wish I had some aspirin."

The moment the words left her mouth, the air in front of Angela wobbled like poorly set gelatin. Before anything could appear, the chemical formula for acetylsalicylic acid spun past her mind's eye, followed by a molecular model. Interactions with neurotransmitters and binding sites animated before her. Reality firmed without breaking.

"That... that was incredibly strange."

"What?"

Something strange about Steve's voice made her look up; the top of his head and his eyes poked over the top of the trash can.

"What are you doing back there?"

"Last time you wished for something, you got stupid. Last time you got stupid with just you and me around, you tried to practice your walnut cracking on my junk."

She smiled at him, trying to see the humor in the situation. "You'll heal."

"Yeah, well, healing isn't what I'm worried about. I still feel everything that's going on."

"I still know how stupid I am."

Steve straightened up from behind the can and leaned on it. "You mean the whole time you're acting like the next extra special guest star on Romper Room, you're playing?"

"No!" Her own shout echoed inside her head, driving her toward a fetal crouch. "No... I can't control myself. It's like a five year old has control of my body, and I'm just along for the ride. I try to tell her what to do, but she doesn't listen."

"Duh." The cabinets rattled, driving Angela completely into a ball.

"What the hell are you talking about, Steve?" she whined as Steve crunched something against the counter.

"You haven't listened to anyone since you were four years old back in the retard class."

Fury pushed Angela out of her cocoon. She shoved herself upright, only to find a can of soda and a short handful of crushed painkillers six inches from her face.

"Yeah, I kinda figured you'd have that reaction."

"It was a special needs inclusion class, you ass. I got picked as a regular ed kid because the teacher knew me from Sunday school." She wanted the caffeine nearly as much as the painkillers, but at this point wouldn't take water from Steve if she were dying of thirst. Her hands started to lift on their own, but she forced them back into her lap and glared at him.

"I always kinda wondered. I thought you might have had ADD, or Aspergers, or one of those other A syndromes. I had... what do they call it now? Oppositional defiant disorder? Whatever. I was a bad kid, and they thought they could get me to behave by throwing me in with good kids." One handed, he spun the soda around and popped the top. Without breaking eye contact, he held both a little closer to her.

"What the hell are you talking about."

"I was in your class, moron. Damn, you mean I did all this," he gestured toward himself in a vague manner, "for nothing?"

Angela glanced at the ceiling, memories of names and faces from decades before scrolling across her vision. "There weren't any Stevens in my class. No Stephens or Steves either. What the hell are you talking about?"

"That's 'cause my first name isn't Steven, it's Antony. You told me Antony sounded stupid, and Tony was just as bad. You nixxed all my good ideas for careers, too. I mean, you dissed firefighting too, but all you said about it was that I'd get horribly burned and wish I was dead. When I graduated high school, I figured I could go back to using 'Tony Chambers', grow a 'stache, and go into porn, or stick with 'Steve' and become a firefighter." Gaze never leaving Steve's eyes, Angela absentmindedly held out her hands. "God, you listen to a hot chick because she's supposed to be one of the good ones, and she doesn't even remember the damn life coaching. You were even more of a bitch than I thought back then."

Half intending to apologize, she pulled Steve's hand closer and tipped the crushed pills into her mouth. The awful bite of raw aspirin filled her mouth, and she chugged the soda to clear it. Carbonated sugar water hit acidic powder, and the entire concoction turned to foaming fizz in her mouth and throat. She spent the next few seconds gagging while she staggered to the sink, stuck her head under, and turned on the water. Nothing came out. When she jiggled the tap, the entire thing came off in her hand.

"The hell?" she gasped. "The soda is warm, and the sink is busted."

Steve finished around on the top shelf of the cabinet and walked over to the door, a roll of yellow plastic tape in hand. "Yeah. We're not sure, but we think you busted it when your inner child threw a tantrum."

"I busted the refrigerator?"

"No. Jeez, are you sure you didn't make yourself permanently stupid? You busted the sink."

Angela shook her head and ground her teeth while she counted silently to ten. "Are you sure you don't have adult onset Tourette's? Why the hell is the soda warm?"

"Because I figured you'd want the samples kept cool."

"What samples?" Another drink of soda to clear her mouth of the awful, bitter taste of foaming painkiller wound up with fizz filling her throat again.

Steve rolled his eyes and walked over to the 'fridge. With a theatrical flourish, he swung the door open and waved a hand at a row test tubes and orange lidded sample cups. Her gaze swept over the sample cups and came to rest on the row of glowing blue test tubes, each with a neatly printed name. Without thinking about it, she found herself kneeling before the open door, running a finger down each name.

Jesse didn't have a blood sample, just a urine cup with a bit of beige ooze in the bottom. When she lifted it and tipped the container a little, it humped its way to the spot her fingers touched the outside of the container. She set it back on the rack and went back to the blood samples.

"How... how did you get Jack's sample?"

"Yeah, you owe me for that one. I take cash, credit, or unspeakable acts of carnal depravity."

"Seriously, Steve, I tried for weeks to get a sample, but trying to get a good draw from him is like trying to get a sample from a dash board. The needle just won't sink in."

"Yeah, I kinda figured. That one might have some impurities. Spit. Snot. Maybe some skin."

"What?"

"The spit and snot is from him. The skin is from my fist. Don't worry about it, he's had a broken nose before, and I'm sure he will again. Besides, you should have seen the other guy."

She glanced up at him. Other than the dust worked into every crease in his skin, he looked fine. "Weren't you the other guy?"

"Yeah, but as has been noted, I heal quick. You were drooling and staring at the... staring at something the whole time."

She narrowed her eyes, imagining the worst. "Staring at what, Steve?"

"The... the thing. Oh, hell no. I'm not going to be responsible for another session with Mega Moppet when the ER needs you."

A few seconds thought and Angela had it. "You mean the mirror? The one I..." hesitance not unlike his own filled her, "summoned?"

Steve winced, trying to sidle away without looking like it. "Yeah. that."

When the wall of gray dust didn't slam down, she exhaled. "Yeah. I think that's done. I'm not sure what happened, but I wish I knew."

Steve didn't try to hide it this time; he dove for the remains of the couch fort. She stared at him until he uncurled.

"What the hell, Steve?"

"Every time you say 'I wish', shit goes down. I don't want you going down on me." He stopped, thinking about what he'd said. "I mean..."

"Can it, Steve. I wish I had a stick to beat you with." Reality wobbled before her eyes. The mechanics of simple handheld levers filled her mind, along with a précis on the parts of a human body where a simple stick could inflict maximum pain with minimal long term damage. "That is really weird."

"What's that?"

"I didn't get a stick. I got the idea of a stick, in excruciating detail."

"Yeah. Weird. That's not the idea of a mirror."

Angela looked at the full length mirror leaning against the wall. A bit of pictographic graffiti, maybe Chinese, marred one corner near the bottom. "No... it's not... and I studied optics as an undergrad. I thought about going into astronomy for a while, actually."

"Yeah. Well, when you're done reminiscing about our school days and fondling the samples I sacrificed myself to get you, Mercy's screaming bloody murder to get a doctor down in the ER."

"Where's everyone else? I'm not the only doctor in the hospital."

Steve pushed himself halfway up, caught the twisted frame of the couch, and pulled himself the rest of the way upright. "Yeah, well. Ward is up working one of the tent clinics in Newark. Sanderson went with him, not that she's much of a loss. Gardner and West called in sick today. All the specialists who hadn't gone to their vacation homes before the Rain high tailed it for their survival cabins. Damn preppers."

"What happened to Wilson?"

He just stared at her, his eyes going wide. After an uncomfortable silence, he finally spoke. "You really were out of it when I brought you up here. Wilson is in ICU. You sent him there about four hours before you collapsed."

"Who's been treating patients while I lay around here?"

"Mercy and the rest of the nursing staff. You mean you think they really need you here for anything but liability?"

Angela stood, brushed herself off, and started looking for a clean lab coat. "So why are they yelling so loud for me now?"

Steve picked up an old style pinstriped lab coat. A quick snap got most of the dust off, and the stains were dry and old. It would do. She held out her arms and he helped her into it. "Hey, liability's a serious thing. Nobody's gonna take a fall for you, y'know."