The stork
By Emmylou
PG
Summary; A part time job for a reaper.
Disclaimer; Not mine. Never was.
I turn left instead of right today, only just remembering that I’m going towards the hospital instead of der waffle house. I already got my post-it this morning; Rube brought it around slightly earlier than usual offering me a silent nod of thanks. He gives it to me every time, the ‘it’s a dirty job but someone has to do it’ look.
I haven’t had to do one in a while, Terry Froggam in tickers must have been getting them all, I don’t really get to meet the guy, haven’t seen him since the twins in March actually. He’s good at it, talked me through the first one. Tickers are the nickname for the division that deals with heart attacks. Every time I see the guy he talks about how much he envies my job and all the excitement it brings, I don’t really care one way or the other; I guess at least my job is a bit different. I wonder how many times you can see someone keel over clutching their chest before it gets boring.
He, of course, is much more familiar with the hospital that I am, but they always recognise me when I go. After all, I must have gone there hundreds of times, sometimes even when I don’t have a soul. After all, it gets suspicious that whenever I go in there someone dies.
A nurse waves to me, sending me what she thought was a sympathetic look which just came across as extremely patronizing. I offer a grim smile and head through the doors.
Technically no one is allowed in there, especially members of the public. Thankfully, when it comes to getting into out of bounds places, I can put on an act that would make Daisy feel like an extra instead of a star. The first couple of times I scared the hell out of the orderlies by breaking down in tears, anything that would allow me into that room on a regular basis. The party line is that my baby died of cot death five years ago; visiting the newborns makes the grieving less painful. I don’t usually have to tell anyone now; I’ve just become accepted as a part of the hospital, that’s good, makes everything easier.
The room is full of tiny cots filled with tinier babies, gurgling, crying, sleeping, all little girls wrapped in sugary pink blankets. I can only assume the boys have a similar room in blue, Terry does the boys, so I wouldn’t know.
Everyone just assumes that the baby department has its own reaper, but it doesn’t, after all, not that many healthy babies die so it just comes down to me and Terry. Rube offered me the job, Betty was famously bad with babies, Mason, well, could you see Mason doing it? Rube already had his hands full, and Jamie already helped out at the old people’s home. So I took it. I’m not sure why, I had a choice, and seeing babies die was never exactly a fantasy, no matter what Mason might say when he’s being a dickhead.
Maybe I find it a nice break from External influences, no people to have to put up with, and despite what people might think, it’s much more soothing than the other deaths. These little ones never had to live through the fucking whims of fate, be pushed around by anyone, or have to deal with pain. Their short existence is filled with the knowledge that more milk is on the way and their main worry in life is when Winnie-the-pooh is just out of reach. There are no barriers, they are just themselves. And I find that comforting, makes it a bit easier.
I start my usual round of the room, fussing over each baby as I pass it, leaning in close enough to read the small tag on each wrist. I’m looking for P. Eastbrook, and it takes longer than normal to find her. It turns out she’s in the very last cot I look at. She’s wide awake, gurgling and waving her arms about. I smile down and pull a few faces which makes her smile sweetly. She reaches up and grabs my finger, giggles again at the tingle when I pop her soul.
I smile again at the sweetie and leave the room with a mournful look on my face; I hope the nurse doesn’t see me again. The last thing I want is fake sympathy over a cup of tea.
A startled yell comes from the room and people rush around to help the little might. I stare ahead, not focusing on the sounds of panic as the baby is rushed away.
A minute later a pink blanket appears next to me, a pick it up and rock the bundle quietly, making sure to check that I’m alone so that I don’t look like a total nutcase.
“Hush now, your aunty Roxy’s gonna take care of you.” I tell her.
A minute or so later a glittering stork appears and flies into the room and circles, it has a pink bow tied around its neck and carries a small basket. It hovers few feet in front of me and waits patiently for me to settle the baby in its basket and then flies away, carrying its child carefully.
Once, when I started, I asked Terry why he took on the job, he said it was because he had a heart attack while waiting for his wife to deliver their son. He then asked me. I had no idea what to say. I just do it.
THE END
A/N Thank you for reading, please review. I really wanted to read a fanfic that focused on Roxy, as we see so little of her. Here’s my idea of where she goes when she doesn’t show up at Der Waffle Haus. I wasn’t sure whether he character was in character, and this is my first time writing 1st person. So forgive me if I get anything wrong.