It doesn't really matter how you try, you always seem to get a thorn.

PART ONE

"Am I free to use whatever method of correction I choose...in light of your special orders?"

"Those special orders," he informed her sharply, "are from Lothos, himself.  But just so there's no misunderstanding, Jessica, you may correct her as you see fit," now Peter Hugen's tone darkened with a warning.  "Don't overstep those orders, or you may find yourself in a cell. Is that plain enough?"  Seeing the way the TM's dark eyes flashed as she nodded to him was all the answer he got; it was all the answer Peter needed. He glanced once more at Tala; naked and chained facing the back wall of the cell then turned and exited the cell.  As he walked away from the cell, Peter neither hesitated nor looked back when he heard the crack of a lash, followed instantaneously by Tala screaming.  It was going to be twenty-four of the longest hours of her life.

Tala tried to relax herself before Jessica began, but as soon as the whip bit into her skin, the tension flew back into her body with a vengeance and she couldn’t help but scream at the pain of the first bite of the whip.  The pain was the only constant reminder of what Lothos had done to her … what Zoë had done to her… what Edward had done… how everyone had deceived her… keeping her in the dark.  She clamped her mouth shut, grinding her teeth together, not allowing herself to scream any longer.  ‘Lothos has hurt me more than the whip has and if I can bear that hurt, this should be a breeze,’ she thought to herself as the tears began to flow down her cheeks.

Jessica deliberately delivered each lash with a certain precision, overlapping each stroke slightly over the one before as she kept a sharp watch on Tala’s breathing patterns.  She noticed that after the first scream, Tala only whimpered from time to time.  Only the tears falling down her face told Jessica that she was getting the effect that she wanted.

Finally, the first session, save for five minutes was over.  Jessica walked over to the narrow table by the door and dropped the whip.  Getting a cup of water, she took it to Tala.  “You want some water?” she asked plainly.  “How’s your breathing?”

Tala’s head was hanging down, her tears rolling down her cheeks and she finally let her mouth open to release the tension in her jaw.  But when Jessica offered her the water, she turned her eyes to her.  She couldn’t be mad at the woman standing beside her.  She was just doing her job, but the wheezing that was being emitted from Tala’s mouth told her how her breathing was.  “Please,” she requested as she glanced down at the water in her hand.

Jessica assisted her in handling the glass and she gladly swallowed the warm water.  She coughed roughly but turned back to answer the woman about her breathing.  “I’m okay,” she said softly as the wheezing began to get a bit louder.

“Don’t play games with me,” Jessica told her not too unkindly.  “Do you need that inhaler?”  It was in that moment that Jessica saw the stubbornness in her eyes.  “Look,” she told her as she grabbed a handful of her hair and turned Tala’s face to her, “You’ve got twenty-three more hours of correction coming.  Whether you get it all at the same time or spread it out over three days, you’re still going to get it.  Now, let’s save both you and I some time and you two extra days in here.  Do you need that inhaler?”

Tala understood exactly what she was saying and even though she didn’t care to be whipped for the next two days, she knew when and if she needed the inhaler.  She looked firmly into Jessica’s eyes.  “Ma’am,” she began softly, respectfully, “I heard what Dr. Hugen said as well as you did.”  She wheezed softly and cleared her throat.  “I’m not going to get anyone in trouble because of my asthma.  I give you my word that I will inform you as to when I need it.  At the moment, I don’t need it.”  Tala saw the wary look that Jessica gave her and she blinked at the woman before her she said, “I’ve never gone back on my word.  Why would I start now?”

Jessica took a deep breath and slowly let it out.  She had never had any dealings before with Tala, but there was something in her voice that she trusted.  “Very well,” she finally replied to her.  Holding up the cup once more, she asked, “You want some more water?” she helped Tala once again then turned and walked to the table and placed the cup on the table.  She then picked up the whip once more.

For the next hour, Jessica watched Tala ‘dance’ in the chains.  Everybody, men and women, they always danced whenever the tip of the lash bit into their flesh, especially the backs of their legs.  The lash biting into sweat-dampened skin caused a unique sort of pain, and nobody didn’t dance.  Nobody.

As the hour passed, Tala’s thoughts were directed at Lothos-her father.  Reviewing her life, she had come to realize that he had been there for her.  Whenever she had a question, a fear, a need; he was there to give the information, calm her fears and give the undivided attention that she needed.  His words echoed plainly in her mind, ‘I’ve always been here watching you as I will in the future, my child.’  It was as the last lash was given in the session that she realized why Lothos had punished her.   She had been very insolent; and this she accepted.

Tala saw the surprise in Jessica’s eyes when she brought another small glass of water to offer to her.  Tala accepted a small sip of the water but shook her head when she offered the cup to her again.  Tala watched as she turned away and she tried to prepare herself again for the next lash about to be given.  But it didn’t come.  Turning her head, she saw Jessica nodding her head and whispering.

“Yes, Lothos.  It will be done,” Jessica whispered softly as she set the cup on the table once again. She turned around and went to Tala and released her from the chains.  She watched as Tala stood still then slowly turned her head to look at her curiously.

“I’m taking you to the personal facilities,” she told Tala blandly.  As she spoke she turned back around to go to the small locker at the door.  Opening it, she pulled out a length of white cloth and held it out to her.  “Wrap this around yourself.”  Seeing the puzzled look, she responded, “Lothos has ordered that you are not to be taken into the halls naked.”  She watched as Tala’s cheeks reddened slightly as she wordlessly wrapped the cloth around her body.  It covered her from just above her cleavage to about mid-thigh.

“There’s no fastener.”  “Then I suggest you keep a firm hold on it,” Jessica snapped at her as she went to the door and opened it, indicating that Tala would step out before her.

The personal facilities were just down the hall and around the corner, but this section of the correctional facility, where minor infractions were addressed, was busy.  Glancing back at Tala, now walking a couple of steps behind, Jessica noticed that from the way she kept her head down along with the fiery red embarrassment in her face, told her that Tala had never been this exposed in public before.  Now she was walking amongst others in the same state of dress… or total nudity.  Though Jessica was about the same age as Tala, she felt a degree of maturity and acceptance that she obviously never had to encounter.  In the facilities, Tala hastily took care of her business and Jessica returned her to the cell again.

Tala couldn’t help but keep a mental countdown.  She knew that she had been out of the cell for longer than five minutes and it made her wonder if she’d get another break from the next session.  Without questioning it, and as soon as they entered the cell, she unwrapped the cloth from her body, as painful as it was, and placed it on the table then walked over to the wall once more.  Standing there quietly, with her hands down at her side, she felt her breathing slowly begin to calm. Even though she had been whipped for two hours, totally embarrassed in front of others; she was accepting it.  She nodded to her own thoughts, ‘I deserve it.’

By the time twelve hours had passed, Jessica could tell from Tala’s expression and body language that she was beginning to feel like everyone else receiving punishment or correction.  Will this ever end?

Tala’s used the inhaler twice in the past hours.  She was weary from the correction; however, Jessica was just getting settled into a pattern.  Twenty-four hours was nothing to her.  She had learned early on those long hours were a part of her job.  For Tala, and most others, it wasn’t and she was succumbing to fatigue, a little at a time.

        Amazingly enough, throughout the whole ordeal thus far, Tala had found the pattern that Jessica used.  She felt like a roast being turned very two hours, and for two sessions, even though the pain was combining with her asthma, she counted each and every lash given.  Amazingly, she found that it had been fifty lashes each time.

        Tala didn’t want to think anymore, but her brain wouldn’t stop.  IT wouldn’t stop thinking about her parents.  She had been thinking about Zoë: The woman who gave her up in the hour of her birth, not having a second chance to think over her decisions.  Amazingly enough, she found that she was pitying her – especially now that she was paralyzed.

        Even as the correction continued on, Tala knew that she was about to succumb to the exhaustion that was threatening to over take her.  But when she tried to keep herself awake and in control of herself, she found herself in the dark recesses of her mind; and what happened – even she was shocked.  She began to softly sing a song that she hadn’t heard in years.

        When Jessica heard a sound coming from Tala, she didn’t hesitate with the lashes, she just listened more closely.  Upon hearing her singing to herself, however quietly, thoroughly surprised and infuriated her.  ‘The pattern’s too predictable,’ she thought to herself.  ‘I can change that!’

        Throwing the whip aside, she took a ‘little cat’ from one of the drawers on the table by the door.  Tala stopped singing with the first lash.  Jessica had to admit to herself that the touch of her temper was driving her to sing the ‘little cat’ faster, the pattern being less predictable and almost out of control.  She was certain that the only thing was Tala’s mind was, ‘How much longer?’

        There was slightly less than three hours left of Tala’s punishment when Jessica again unchained the correctee and handed her the cloth.  This time though, because she was so tired and every nerve in every exposed area of skin on her body was screaming in agony, Tala kept her head up as she walked through the halls.

        By this time, Tala had walked the brief route a total of five times.  As Jessica walked beside her now, she observed her not only seeing the other correctees she was walking amongst, males and females but also looking into their faces and seeing them.  Jessica also saw in the ‘untouchable one’ that she was learning a lesson about herself.  That no matter how aloof Tala’s been to others, that there are things and times in life… like now… that would remind her that she was not beyond the reach of correction or pain, and that those two items will always be a part of her life from time to time.

        Back in the cell, Tala seemed to have found somewhere inside herself to grit and determination to endure the last three hours of punishment in silence.  Jessica once again picked up the single lash whip and maintained a steady pattern.  At this point, Tala’s body jerked at each lash, but not a sound, not so much as a whimper passed her lips. 

        At last, Lothos spoke into the room saying only, “Time.”

        Without comment, Jessica put the whip away and then went to release Tala from the chains.  As with every correctee, she had to sign the correction order, acknowledging that she understood why she was punished.  When she laid down the pen, Jessica again handed her the same towel and waited for her to wrap herself with it.  Then, retrieving her uniform, underwear and her boots from the small clothes locker next to the table, Jessica opened the door.

        This time, Jessica took her to the whirlpool area of the infirmary and gave her to the attendant on duty.  Like every other correctee at the end of his or her punishment, Tala would have a medicated bath before being allowed to dress and return to her quarters.  As Jessica left the whirlpool area, she didn’t even turn to look back when she heard Tala’s gasp as she got into the tub. She just went to her quarters and crawled into bed after a long hot shower.  As she fell asleep, her last waking thought was, ‘I’m sure that it will probably be a very long time before Tala sees the inside of a correction cell again.’

PART TWO 

         For a moment he had stood in the doorway leading into the unit, watching the handful of nurses attending to the few unfortunates who needed to be in this place.  When none of the medical staff made any move to order him out, Thames took the chance and moved slowly and quietly further into the I.C.U.  Luck was with him as he discovered when he glanced into the first open unit and saw a familiar shade of red hair against a snowy white pillowcase.  Not wanting to distract the nurse as she finished her duties of caring for Zoë, Thames waited for her to leave, he, too had jumped a bit when at last the woman turned and saw him.  He took a quick step toward her then stopped.

“I just wanted to stop by and see how she... how Z...Dr. Malvison is doing?”  Thames’ dark eyes once more returned to the motionless – save for the ventilator breathing for her – form of the most conniving and skilled leapers and leaping instructors he had ever known.  Shifting his gaze back to the nurse who was now standing almost in front of him, he asked softly, “So...how is she doing?”

Deborah Henderson wasn’t breaking any land speed records getting back from her break even though she knew she needed to get her butt in gear and get to the ICU to relieve Sara Ann Lutherson.  When she finally made it back to the ICU, she saw Sara at the main station desk.  She grinned when she saw the relief on her co-worker’s face then looked closer and saw that the other young woman looked a bit tense.  "Sara Ann what's wrong?"

Hearing Sara rattle off in one long breath, “I'm so glad that you're back.  I don't like it that Dr. Malvison is in the ICU Room.  Thames came by to check in on her... he came with flowers... and you know how Dr. Hugen is about flowers in there,” Deb understood.  Having someone as high profile in the complex as Zoe Malvison in the ICU was enough to make some a bit edgy.  Considering the reason that had landed the demanding, sharp-tongued leaper trainer and observer in the ICU also meant that Lothos’ observation of everything and everyone working near Dr. Malvison was more than likely even more intense.  She just nodded at Sara’s words, guessing at the rest of what her co-worker was about to say.

"Hon,” Deb began, as she glanced down at the open chart on the desk – it was Dr. Malvison’s.  “Instead of going into it about how you had to talk with Thames about how he couldn't take in the flowers and how he took them in anyway along with all the other things, then why don't you go ahead and to get some supper.  I'll talk with him about it.  Okay?"

There was no mistaking the relief in Sara Ann’s grateful smile as she stood up from the desk, saying, "Sure thing."  She reached to pat her friend on the arm as she hurried out of the ICU.

        Glancing down at the open chart again, Deb’s sharp, brown gaze skimmed over the notes the other nurse had just made.  Nodding at what she had just read, she closed the file and looked up and across the way to the wide-open doorway of Unit 2 that Zoe Malvison was occupying.  She also noted the black man standing at the foot of the bed and studying the patient.  Moving around the desk, Deb murmured, “"All right, Dr. Malvison.  Let's see if you are awake, " and started toward the room. As she approached the room, she noticed how Thames moved around to one side of the bed then just stood there, looking down at the sleeping redhead.  Seeing the way he reached out to touch the patient’s cheek so sweetly, Deb cleared her throat a bit to hide the smile that appeared at his action. 

She didn’t speak immediately, instead moving to the other side of the bed.  With a light, sure touch, Deb reached to put her fingertips on Zoe’s wrist, counting her pulse; it was strong and steady.  After a minute, she made a mental note of Zoe’s pulse rate before looking across at Thames. Seeing the small bouquet of flowers in his hands, her tone was pleasant but firm as she told him, "Sir, I'm sure that you're aware that you are not supposed to bring those in here." The way Thames’ expression altered at her words told the nurse quite clearly that he didn’t like what he was hearing.  Ticked off was the even more accurate description that sprang to her mind.

After prowling around the lecture hall for ten minutes after sending Johanna and Vaughn off on their first testing, Thames figured that instead of staying put and going stir crazy for the next four hours bouncing echoes off the walls, he'd go check up on Zoe, see how the aggravating redhead was doing.  He hadn’t seen her since she had been whisked off to surgery that morning and he was genuinely concerned for her.

After leaving the lecture hall, he made a specific detour to Blooms & Things, one of two small flower shops in the shopping mall that took up the entire the second level of the complex.  Thames purchased a small bouquet of the white roses that he knew Zoe loved then continued to the ICU located in the west side of the infirmary level.  At the entrance to the unit, the flamboyant observer was kind of hesitant to enter but when no one tried to stop him, he went in.  Luck was with him when he peered into the first wide-open room door on the right and saw Zoe's sleeping figure.  Stepping quietly, he entered the room, just standing at the foot of the bed for a moment.  His solitary visit was interrupted a moment or so later when a nurse appeared, informing him, “I’m sorry, sir, but flowers aren’t allowed in ICU.”

The look in Thames eyes said one thing even as he said softly in a winning tone, "Honey, you don't know this woman like I do.  If she finds out that somebody brought her white roses and she didn't get them...." then let the sentence trail off.  The brief staring contest that ensued lasted perhaps a minute.  Thames didn’t think twice about grinning triumphantly at the nurse and then after her when she finally left the room in a not so well disguised snit.

"Get used to it, baby," he murmured under his breath then turned back to his partner.  He mused silently that Zoe would likely have clipped his ears for saying that but it was true.  Thames smiled softly to himself as tilted his head slightly to one side as he continued to study Lothos’ chief leaper and leaper trainer as she slept.  You like to think, or at least tell people, you operate alone,’ he thought.  ‘I damn sure want to be there the day you tell that to Lothos.’

Thames was still considering his thoughts and watching his partner sleep when he heard footsteps moving toward him.  'Round two' he thought, shifting his gaze from Zoe's sleeping face to another nurse.  She, like the other before her told the observer the same thing that flowers weren’t allowed.  And Thames rehashed what he’d told the first nurse, smugly satisfied when the second nurse also left in a snit.  A minute later, when he heard footsteps once more approaching him, and by this time, feeling very certain and satisfied that he had the routine and situation in hand, turned, ready to face another sweet young thing to set her straight.  Only it wasn’t some sweet young thing of a nurse.   This time Thames faced off with a dragon he had encountered on a few previous occasions, just not in the ICU.  Glancing at her nametag - Dorothy Hendricks, Senior RN, ICU – he took a deep breath, deciding that he wasn’t going to let her get the best of him.  That’s what he thought, anyway.

"Look," he began, deciding that his best bet was a good offense.  "I just came to bring Dr. Malvison some flowers...."

Dorothy Hendricks had worked, primarily, in the ICU for the better half of her thirteen years as a nurse in the complex’s medical facility.  She wasn’t exactly Vogue cover material to look upon but she had proven her skill and dedication to her chosen profession time and time again, and she was a stickler for rules and protocol.  She had learned to deal with all sorts of people, and when Josie Tanner had reported to her about a “…problem in Room 2” followed by the younger nurse advising, “It’s Thames, ma’am.  He brought flowers to Dr. Malvison….”was all she needed to hear.

Placing the chart for the patient in ICU Room 5 on the central desk counter she gave the younger nurse a firm look.  “You can’t let any visitor, I don’t care who they are, buffalo or dictate to you, Josie,” she reprimanded the young woman.  “Not even senior leapers.  I’ll take care of him this time,” she said point blank.  “But you’d better stiffen that backbone and do this aspect of your job better.”  That said Dorothy walked briskly around the nurses’ station and directly to Room 2.  She didn’t react in any way to the undecided smile Thames gave her.

"Get out," she told him rather plainly.  Glancing at the flowers he held she added, “And take the flowers with you.  If nobody ever told you, Thames, I’m telling you now.  NO FLOWERS OR PLANTS OF ANY SORT ARE PERMITTED IN ICU.”  She didn’t misinterpret the look the man leveled at her that said plainly that there was no way in hell that he was actually going to leave.

"Perhaps you didn't hear me clearly, Thames,” Dorothy said, moving around the bed to confront him, taking care to keep her voice modulated.  She didn’t, however, change her tone or attitude as she matched stares with him.  “Take those flowers and get out.  Dr. Malvison will be moved to general care when she wakes and then, if you'd like to give her the roses, you may... or you may put them in the general area right now.  I'll make sure that she obtains the roses."  Seeing him open his mouth and shifting his feet as if to indicate that he wasn’t going to be moved before he told her something, Dorothy now wagged a finger at the end of his nose.

 "Nuh uh, Thames.  I said out and I meant out."  Stepping back from him, her jaw set, the floor nurse for the night maneuvered her body so that she could take him down easily if need be.  She was ready for any attack that he could give.   Raising an eyebrow at him, she waited for his response, never taking her gaze from him, watching him glance back over at Dr. Malvison.

For a minute Thames weighed his options.  Should he tell Nurse Hendricks what had dispensed with the others, and risk a scene, which might or might not get him called to Central Control?  The observer didn’t want to think about what such a summons might result in.  Or should he just take the flowers and leave?  Ultimately he opted for the one that would entail the lesser amount of possible physical pain.  Glancing over a Zoe again, Thames turned, giving the ‘dragon nurse’ just a polite smile as he, and the white roses, left the ICU.

Going to the central nursing station nearer the main doors leading into the infirmary proper, he stopped one of the nurses there and handed her the roses to her, saying, "Put them in some water. They're for Dr. Malvison, providing she gets over here before they wither."  That done, he went off in search of a Coke and a stop in the men's room, not necessarily in that order, before heading back to the lecture hall.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Working up in the gardens, one didn’t get much time to gossip about the people in the complex below. But Max Robinson preferred it that way.  He enjoyed his work so much that once into it, he was quite content to stay there.  For him, his work was more relaxing than anything else.  Some might not have thought so but this young man found mowing actually was part of his duties as one of the gardeners that he enjoyed the most.  Being able to walk around all day outside with his shirt off, sweating in the sun... as far as he was concerned, it was the best feeling that a guy could get... well... other than having a beautiful woman under him.  But manual labor of mowing, the sweating, and even better, being out in the fresh air twelve or fourteen hours a day, was something, a sort of penance, if you will, that could take all his "sins" away.

However, ‘penance’ or not, on a hot day like this one, even guys needed a break, and need the sweet refreshment of something cold and wet to keep them blowing and going.  Wiping at the sweat that was dripping down his cheeks, he ran his hand through his hair and started toward the complex entrance where the guards were stationed, and where he always left his daily supplies -- lunch, and lots of cold bottled water.

Entering the door, he saw Senior Officer Kennith Derby. The grin plastered on the somewhat older man’s face was one that he saw often.  To the officer’s smirk and quip, "How's it hanging, sweat-monger?"

Max told him back, "As well as it can be, Kenny.  Give me some of my water will ya?  Or do you really want to smell me up close and personal if I have to come around there and get it myself?"

Kennith Derby’s idea of the ideal day was to come on duty, let a few people in and out of the main topside entrance to the gardens, no hassles, enjoy the sandwich and a couple of soft drinks his wife Judy fixed for him every day, and then check out at six.  And that's what this day had been - as close to ideal as it could get.  After being in security for five years, Kenny had that the duller the day, the better he liked it.

Since about seven that morning he had watched the gardeners, among them Max Robinson, coming and going as they cared for the complex’s impressive gardens.  Max had spent most of the morning mowing the huge yard before the entrance. The gardens and yards of the complex were huge, requiring four gardeners working two on, two off staggered shifts to keep them the way Lothos wanted them kept.  Young Max had been one of those four gardeners for the last six and a half years. He was a likeable guy whom, Kenny had noticed on more than several occasions had quite an impact on the ladies.  What’s more, the young man knew it, but, didn’t, surprisingly enough seem to have too much of a swelled head about it. 

As the day progressed, it had gotten steadily hotter.  By the time Max came through the main entrance, and to his station a few feet inside, the young gardener had stripped off his shirt.  From his head to the low-slung waistband of his jeans, he was dripping sweat; his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his face a bit flushed, he was so hot.  As for his question...

"Here," Kenny said, opening the small cooler that Max usually left by the guard's desk when he went out in the morning.  Grabbing a liter bottle of chilled water, he tossed it across to him, letting the cooler lid drop into place again.  "You and your smell just stay where you are," he grinned at him.  "If I want to smell something bad, I'll take my shoes off."

Max couldn’t help but grin at Kenny and chuckle.  "So a hug is out of the question, huh?"  The look on the guard’s face was priceless.  Twisting the cap off the bottle of water, Max chuckled then put the bottle to his lips and took a long drink from it, draining almost half of the water before he lowered the bottle.  "Ohhh... that's some good stuff..." Glancing over at Kenny and seeing him smiling, Max shook his head.  "So... what's been going on down in the salt mines while I'm out in the heat?"

"Well, you heard about Dr. Malvison…right?" the guard began, glancing at him.  Seeing him shrug and shaking his head and saying, "Should I have?"  Kenny got up from the desk and walked around it to stand near the gardener.  "You don't know, then?"  He watched Max shake his head again.  "Boy, where have you been in the last thirty odd hours?"

Max frowned at his last question.  Setting the water bottle down, he shrugged, saying, "Asleep.  And then out here at the break of dawn, mowing, and keeping the yard."  Tilting his head back slightly, he asked, "What's up with Ms. Zoe?"   Just from the look the guard’s face, Max knew that whatever that something was, it was bad, something really bad.

        Officer Derby didn’t waste time with further inane comments, instead getting to the heart of the matter.  Fixing the young gardener a straight, no bullshit look, he told him, "She's in the ICU, fighting for her life," nodding when Max's mouth dropped open.  "Yeah, that's what I a lot of people thought when they found out."  He shook his head, thinking about it. "I got it from one of the interns yesterday morning in the cafeteria.  She was shot while on a mission.  In the back, can you believe it?"

        Max’s thoughts were in a whirl.  Zoe Malvison - shot in the back?  He vaguely considered that he was giving the guard one of the wildest looks in my life.  He blinked as he worked to get his mind around the information, then immediately pulled his shirt from where he’d stuffed it partially into his back pocket and shook it out as he started toward the door back out the way that he had come in.  Hearing, "Hey, Max, you forgot your water!" he called back over his shoulder, "Put it up for me, will ya... I've got an errand to run."

Max knew that Officer Derby was probably thinking that he was totally nuts but that didn’t matter to him.  What mattered to Max Robinson was that if Zoe Malvison was still fighting for her life, she was going to do it with something that he knew she adored near her.

Outside again, Max went to one of the many rose bushes that he tended to, especially the ones that he had planted especially for Dr. Zoe Malvison.  Grabbing the clippers from his other back pocket, he glanced at them as he knelt down beside one of the two rose bushes – one a creamy white, the other a deep blushing pink – that he had surprised Zoe when he had planted them just for her three or four years before. Placing the clippers down for just a moment, Max pulled his shirt back on and shook his head.  'You'll fight and win, Ms. Zoe,' he thought as he picked up the clippers again.

Looking at the softly fragrant pink flowers, Max touched one of them softly before carefully clipping it from the bush.  As he selected and clipped only the best blooms, Max thought about his friendship with Zoe Malvison.  They had first become acquainted some six and a half years ago. He smiled as he thought about how every time that he saw her, she always hit on him... not that he minded, always giving her a hug after the ‘hit.’

Reaching through the bush and not caring that he was getting scratched up pretty badly, Max counted out 14 of the most beautiful, full pink roses and carefully gathered them together.  Standing up with the flowers in hand, he started toward the complex with the purpose in mind to take them directly to Dr. Zoe Malvison. 

When he hit the door, Ken Derby was behind his desk, his feet up on the desk as well.  "I'll be back,” Max called, never breaking his stride as he headed for the bank of four elevators about a hundred feet directly across from the entrance.  “Consider this part of my lunch break."

Ken Derby had followed Max to the door when he went charging back outside just after telling the young man about Zoe Malvison tragic situation.  His only thought as he watched the younger man marching off through one of the entrances to one of the gardens was, 'So how did you get to be on a first name basis with the queen bitch of mean, Max?'  Of course, that thought had never touched the air, but Ken knew good and well that were a whole lot of people who privately referred to the redheaded spitfire by that title.

The guard waited a couple of minutes to see if Max was coming back.  When he didn't, the guard returned to the desk, dropped into the chair behind and proceeded to prop his feet on it and get comfortable again.  Lothos didn’t mind the guards being relaxed when things in there assigned area was quiet. Just so long as they didn’t get too comfortable.  So, when Max returned a few minutes later and headed for the elevator, a bunch of pink roses in one scraped and scratched hand, Ken Derby just waved a hand to acknowledge him.  "I'll mark your card for you," he called out.  Doing as he had said, the guard resumed his relaxing.

Getting to the elevator and punching the few buttons to get to the complex’s medical facility that encompassed the entire twelfth level, Max was a bit unnerved that he hadn't found out sooner about the woman he always fondly addressed as Ms. Zoe.  As the elevator descended toward the twelfth level, it occurred to him that he should have known something was up when she hadn’t come to see him yesterday or today. If pressed, Max couldn’t really point to a date when the slender, lovely red-head with a tongue as sharp as a razor and a fondness for roses had begun paying a daily visit to the gardens to see him, even if only long enough to chat for five minutes.

The several times that the elevator stopped and stopped, Max politely stepped back, trying to keep his distance from the ladies of different calibers that entered then left elevator.  The few that were going to the twelfth level where the infirmary was, he was sure that they were tired of smelling his sweaty body.  When the car finally arrived at the twelfth level, as they all exited the elevator, he shook his head.  "Excuse me ladies. Sorry... I just heard about someone laid up."

A few tsked and looked sad while the other two seemed ready to put their fingers over their nose.  It was a good thing that they restrained themselves. Max, raised by his Aunt Josephine and because of such, well steeped in good manners, would have hated to have told them where they could stick they’re bad manners.  It was a good thing that Aunt Josephine didn’t know how certain aspects of her nephew’s manners had acquired a definitely more modern attitude.

Walking into the waiting area and up to the nurses/information station was located near the elevators Max asked the woman behind the desk, "Has Dr. Malvison been moved out of ICU yet?”  When she looked up at him, he continued.  “I know that ICU can't have flowers, but if she's in the general ward, I'd like to give her these.  Please... Ms..."  I stop to look at her nametag.  "... Baker.  Any help would be...wonderful."

Nurse Hazel Baker had just stopped by the reception/information desk a couple of minutes before she heard a polite, somewhat deep voice asking about Zoe Malvison.  Looking up, she couldn’t help smiling at the very easy on the eye young man watching her with the dark blue eyes she had ever seen.  She also didn’t miss the roses he held.

"Well you seem to have excellent timing, young man," she told him when he finished.  Glancing at the perfectly gorgeous bouquet of deep pink summer roses, their soft perfume reaching her, for a moment Hazel had to envy Dr. Malvison’s acquaintance with this man.  Shaking that notion off, however, she told him, "She's being settled in a semi-private room as we speak."  Seeing how the young man's dark blue eyes lit up at that, she was glad he had no way of knowing how his smile caused her heart to skip a beat.  ‘Some women have all the luck’ she thought enviously, then brushed the thought aside, and finished her answer to him.  "But visiting hours aren't for another four hours.  However, if you like," she offered, "I'll put the roses in a vase and put them in her room for you."  Casting another appreciative glance at the lovely flower, the nurse then took a closer visual inspection of him.  'Forget the flowers and the Red Witch’ Hazel thought to herself.  ‘I'll settle for you, hot stuff.'  As the young man responded, she thought it was good that mind reading wasn’t a common trait.  "That's the best I can do for you at the moment."

        Hearing that he wouldn't be able to give them to her himself, at least for another four hours, Max’s shoulders dropped slightly as he leaned toward the desk.  Nodding at her comment he said, "I was hoping that I'd at least get to give them to her today myself.  I have to be back up in the gardens in about 20 minutes, and I'll be up there until dark."  Carefully he placed the roses on the countertop, a frown of disappointment creasing his brow. Lightly Max ran a finger over one of the blooms.  "Thank you," he said at last, lifting his gaze to the woman watching him. Turning, he started to walk away from the nurses’ station, wondering how Zoe would know that the roses were from him, but at the same time, he knew that it didn't matter.  Her favorite flower would be there to brighten her room and that's all that mattered, right?  With that thought uppermost in his mind, Max straightened up his shoulders and cleared his throat as he started toward the door that opened out into the hall and the elevators situated there.

The moment the good-looking young man began to speak, Hazel had prepared to be firm with him but didn't get the chance.  All she had to do was watch as he placed the roses on the counter, thanked her politely and turned to go to the elevators.  A thought occurred to her and she toyed with it for about twenty seconds.  Then gently scooping up the lovely roses - and pausing to take a deep breath of their heavenly perfume – she turned to Judy Stevens, the receptionist.  "Judy, do me a favor, put these in some water then keep them here on the desk till later."  Seeing the girl’s puzzled look as she agreed and took the flowers.

Moving around the desk, Hazel hurried after the young man with the come hither dark blue eyes and a body that was killing her to look at; never mind where her imagination was at that moment.

"Sir," she called out, keeping her voice quiet yet clear.  Seeing him pause then turn back, she offered him a small tidbit.  "I was just about to go in and check to see if they finished settling Dr. Malvison.  It would only be for a minute, but...you're welcome to come in with me."

Max didn’t need a second invitation, wheeling around to face the nurse.  “Thank you,” he said, a grateful smile on his lips.  “A minute is about all I can stay anyway.  I just wanted to see for myself that she’s…okay.”

        “Come with me,” Hazel said and turned to re-enter the main doors leading into the vast medical unit.  Without hesitation she turned left, moving briskly down the hall, making a couple turns, one ear tuned keenly to the sound of the steady stride slightly behind her.  Reaching a ward door marked ‘Rooms 12-55 through 12-75’ she opened it, turned to the right and went to the end of the hall to the last door on the right – Room 12-59.  Reaching to push the door open, Hazel stopped short, surprised when the door opened of it’s own accord.  Seeing a couple of orderlies maneuvering a gurney, Hazel, and Max a couple of paces behind her, stepped back out of the way to allow the orderlies to exit with the gurney.  Another man, a nurse she recognized as Damon Beechwood, followed them out.

        “Hey, Hazel,” he greeted her.

        “Hey, yourself,” Hazel responded.  Glancing at the door, she looked back to him.  “Did they just put someone in the other bed in this room?”

        Damon, a big man with dark hair and brown and who looked like he would’ve been more at home on a football field or wrestling bears, confirmed his colleague’s question.  “Yeah.  A Miss Tala,” he said, opening the chart he held to scan it.  “She had a twenty-four hour correction and ended up with temporary hysterical amnesia.”

        Hazel frowned.  “So why not keep her downstairs in the overnight ward?” she asked.

        Damon didn’t need to look at the chart for that bit of information.  Meeting her gaze, he said, “Lothos ordered that she be admitted overnight….and specifically,” he added when he saw Hazel’s lips pursing as if to ask a question, “that she be put in this room with Dr. Malvison.”  There was no such thing as Damon not noticing the puzzlement in Hazel Baker’s eyes.  “Go figure,” was his only comment as before stepping around her and starting toward the exit.  “I better get back to ER,” he called back.  “Take it easy.  Oh, I’ll leave her chart at the desk with Lynda.”

        “Okay. You take it easy, too,” Hazel just did remember to respond then just stood, a musing expression on her face.

        During the exchange between the nurses, Max had remained quiet and out of the way.  However, once the male nurse had left, he expected that Nurse Baker would continue on inside the room.  He tried to be patient and not interrupt her thoughts but a glance at his watch told him he had about eight minutes of his break left.  Softly he cleared his throat and then cleared it again before deciding to speak.  “Excuse me…ma’am?” he said, keeping his tone even.  “Nurse Baker?”

        Hazel started at the sound of someone speaking to her.  “Hmm?  What?”

        Politely Max reminded her, “I don’t mean to rush you, ma’am.  But you said I could look in on Ms. Zoë for just a minute.”

        Annoyed with herself for allowing herself to wonder why Lothos had ordered a correctee to be placed in the semi-private room now occupied by the highest ranking woman in the complex, Hazel brushed a hand lightly over her eyes before looking at the young man waiting patiently nearby.  “I’m sorry.  Of course, come in, but don’t say anything.”  Pressing the door open, she entered the room that, except for the ceaselessly low sound of the ventilator that was breathing for Zoë Malvison, was quiet.  Glancing back at him, she whispered again, “Just for a minute.”

        “Yes, ma’am,” Max barely breathed his response as he stepped carefully into the hospital room.  Noticing that the nurse was drawing the curtain between the two beds, shielding the newest occupant from his sight didn’t bother him in the least.  Having set his eyes on his friend, a ventilation tube down her throat and several monitoring leads attached to her body, Max didn’t see or care about anything else.

“You can come closer,” Hazel said, motioning for him to join her at the bedside.  When he came to stand beside her, she stepped back.  “Soon as I finish checking these,” she indicated the monitors, “you’ll have to leave.”

Max nodded his understanding. Then for the minute that he had in here, forgot about the nurse and focused solely on Zoë’s face.  The paleness of her skin was made more starkly evident by the contrast of her dark auburn hair against the pillow.  Noticing a strand of hair that had fallen over her brow, Max started to brush it back then saw his hand, scratched and a bit dirty from his work, and drew it back.

“Don’t you give up, Ms. Zoë,” he whispered under his breath.  “You’re strong. I know you can beat this.”  Max held his breath, afraid he had disturbed his sleeping friend when he noticed her eyebrows furrowing slightly.  But the frown faded away and he decided his minute was up.  Without any prompting he turned and started for the door.  But as he reached the foot of the bed, something prompted him to pause and turn and glance around the divider curtain at the room’s other occupant.   His only thought was, ‘Wow…two redheads in the same room!’  A few minutes later as he rode the elevator back to the surface, Max wondered idly if the young woman sharing Zoë’s room liked roses, too.

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