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@kari-karast @naiya-dyani @mayacat @esmeralda-gramilton @kayla-skywriter

@naiya-dyani Okay, here it is. I’m doing Megyn and my newest charrie, Matt Benson, in one post, though it more from Megyn’s perspective. I couldn’t think of how to bring the two of them together. So, unleash the creativity!!

She picked herself up off of the floor, brushing splinters of wood and bits of dirt of from herself. “I’m alright, Abner,” She called up almost brightly,” Just a little bruised.”

Silence.

“Abner?”

Still silence.

“Abner!? Where are you!” Her voice had echoed and reechoed in that tunnel. But it was the only answer she heard. Abner was up there somewhere in that cabin above her head and, by all appearances, couldn’t hear her. She was lost in this tunnel full of shadows.

Actually, it was just one long shadow all the way down, so dark she found herself feeling, searching along the walls for a way out. Anyway back to him. ‘He must be almost killing himself try to find me. Oh, where is he?’

“Abner!?”

Her fingers bumped into something smooth, like steel. She clutched at it. It felt like . . . like a ladder.

Reaching up, she grasped each rung and climbed a few feet, only to knock her head against a very hard ceiling. Ouch!

As she raised her hand to her head, her finger bumped something else. Something rounded and shaped a little like a horseshoe. A handle? To a trapdoor maybe?!

Grasping it, she pushed up the trap door.

“Abner!!?? Can you hear me!?”

“Megyn?”

She jerked and lifted her head. Doctor Matt Benson stood beside her, his hand laid atop her cracked desk. The tunnel, the ladder and trapdoor all vanished from sight. The almost imperceptible stone walls turned into the water-stained walls and cob-webbed corners of her nurse’s office, far brighter and warmer than that damp tunnel. What?-

‘Daydreaming?” he asked as the corners of of his mouth lifted in a slight smile.

She nodded, smiling a little sheepishly. “Yes, Doctor. I’m afraid I was. I’m sorry.”

He nodded but didn’t reply at first. He just stood there, eyes fixed on her face with an expression of concern, almost to worry.

She returned his gaze but with more of a questioning look in her eyes. Why does he look so concerned?

‘Is there something wrong, Doctor?”

‘Are you alright?” he asked.

That wasn’t what I was expecting. Straightening her back, she nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Then why the tears?”

Tears?! She blinked. Her face blushed a little as she felt for the first time the warm drops on her cheeks. I was crying.

Quickly, she wiped them away and masked her face in a bright smile. “I’m okay, Sir.” But behind the brightness she’s forced to her eyes, she wondered How can I explain this ache, this loneliness? I don’t even understand how I was separated from– the world I knew and those I loved. How can I explain all this to him?

‘It’s okay if you aren’t” he said simply. “But don’t feel any pressure to explain.” He eyes still held that same expression. In fact, his whole face held it. Calm. Willing to listen and understand. Caring. Just like the doctor he was.

With that gaze piercing her shield, her heart ached to tell him everything. But she only bowed her head and bit her lip. Not now, she told herself. No matter how much you want to . You have work to do. There are so many suffering.

Lifting her head, she nodded. “Thank you,” She whispered. Swallowing, she reached for her pencil, which in her mind-wandering she had dropped onto the stack of waiting patient records. “I’ll finish these now.”

“No, they can wait.” He picked up the pencil and tucked into his shirt pocket. ‘You may go home.”

“But doctor, I can’t! There are-” she began to protest, then halted. That look in his eyes stopped her words. It’s wasn’t tyrannical determination, now was it faked understanding that shone in those chestnut eyes. It simply said It’s okay. You don’ have to be understood or explained. You can be you and you can be broken. You can have a limit. And I care.

A lump settled in her throat. A look which Hector, Abner and Cade have all had on their faces when I bared my soul to them. A look I’ve tried to live out. Tears spilled from her eyes as though the lump in her throat had displaced them, like the splash from a stone dropped in a pool.

Her reply came in a low, almost choked voice. “Thank you, Doctor Benson.” She could say nothing else. The struggle with her rising emotions in her breast was too intense.

He smiled a larger, warmer smile. “Not a problem.” Reaching out his hands, he gathered up the papers and stacked them together. “Besides,” He continued as he tapped the stack on the desk, “You deserve and need a break.

“Not really,” She countered as she rose from her desk and scooted the chair under it. “And no more than you-or any of the rest-do. I can come in early tomorrow compensate for this.”

“Completely unnecessary.” He replied emphatically as he filed away the blank records and snapped the drawer of the musty filing cabinet closed. “Just come in at the regular time and no sooner.”

She sighed. No way I’m bending that order. “Yes Sir, Doctor.”

He turned toward her and looked keenly at her. “You put your whole heart and might into this hospital,” he stated, his eyes still holding that same expression. “I deeply appreciate that, but I will not allow you to exhaust yourself for the sake of my run-down hospital. Please, get some rest.” He held out his hand.

A friend. Taking his hand, she shook his it heartily. “Goodnight, Doctor. But please,” she almost pleaded, a intense look in her eyes,” if a serious emergency arrives, send someone to get me.”

That slight smile returned to his face. “Shall not make any promises.” He face sobered. “Be safe. If the rebels are as dangerous as the Council suspects they are . . .” His voice trailed off.

“I will be careful.” She promised. “Goodnight.”

He nodded.”Good night.” Releasing her hand, he stepped to the door and swung it wide open for her.

Gathering up her backpack and windbreaker, she gave him a final nod and smile as she walked out off her office and into Ward 3.

She sighed heavily. Maybe it was just the stuffy, almost heavy air of the room that made her sigh. But as she walked through the ward, her usually quietly joyful and friendly expression faded into one of sadness and pity. How could her steps not grow heavy as she walked between the rows and rows of beds, separated from each other by only dingy canvas curtains. The bed clothes on the beds were worn thin from many washings and much use and so stained they constantly looked dirty. Some of the beds were cracked or rusted, which some of these were hastily repair by either a wrong-sized board or were precariously balanced on stone and concrete rubble from the crumbling city outside. Some beds weren’t even beds at all but just thread-bare mats, that looked and felt more like rugs, thrown on the floor.

A tear blurred her eye as she passed bed after bed. The saddest part of all was that almost every bed in this tiny hospital was taken. Sick and starving children tossed and muttered in delirium, with glittering eyes and faces flushed with fever. Old men and women lay wasting away from lack of strength, barely able to draw a breath.

A man yelled in pain. Wincing, she forced her strides onward, though her heart tore at her. They were the worst, the violence and fire victims. Sometimes they lay very still, faces gray with pain. Sometimes they writhed in agony, their cries ringing in the ceiling. All of them in their eyes begged for relief from their pain. But the supply of pain killers always dwindled so low-

She bit her lip as she passed from Ward 3 to Ward 2. Lord, give me courage to carry on. You know I love, as much as one can, this work of helping the sick and wounded But how difficult it is when you so little to work with! Jesus, please give us all the strength we need to love and serve in this city of shadows and pain we live in. You see us down here. You know how had it is. Give us the hope to struggle on.

Wards 2 and 1 passed in a blur. Reaching the street door, she turned and cast almost a longing look over the scene behind her. Wheeling, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the evening air.

Her lips trembling as she breathed shakily. Stiffened her shoulders, she shrugged into her wind breaker. She shouldered her backpack as she turned and walked away from the time-worn factory -turned – hospital. She glanced back at it as it melted into the shadows. Every time I leave, I feel like I should go right back. They need nurses so badly-

She swallowed as she walked through the ruined city. Her thoughts settled on the troubling news. The rebels had been found out. The Council was determined to destroy them. The government was planning to somehow rally a force to crush them.

“War is coming,” she whispered to the shadows gathering about her. “And it will worsen the plight of these people. More will suffer. More will die.”