"A Horrible Idea" for nymphadoraklutz
Title: A Horrible Idea
Rating: PGish
Characters: Sara, Bellick, Sucre, T-bag
Requested by: nymphadoraklutz
Summary: Sara's first day at Fox River
AN: Also written for thelana's first day bunny at pbplotbunnies.
It was the smell that got her the first day. Everyone told her working in a prison would be bad, told her it was a horrible idea, but the smell, more than anything else, was unbearable. There was a stench of unwashed linens, bad food, bad digestion, open toilets, blood, anger, and the sick antiseptic smell she'd never gotten used to. Normally she was in favor of a fragrance-free workplace, but she was desperate for any other scent within five minutes of walking in the building.
She got her wish when one of the guards breezed into her office, smelling like cheap aftershave and stale beer, hat in hand.
"Good morning," she said, looking up from her paperwork and wishing she
remembered his name from her orientation.
The guard laughed a little, awkwardly. "Don't know about good, but it's better now that we got such a pretty doctor," he said, smiling a little and shifting from foot to foot. Sara smiled vaguely, but didn't quite have the heart to shoot him down just then.
"Will you be bringing in my first appointment, Officer . . ." she said, hoping to get him out of her office.
"Captain. Bellick. Bradley," he said, stumbling over the words a little and stuck out his hand. She shook his hand lightly.
"And my appointment?" she asked, trying to wipe the sweat from his palm on her slacks surreptitiously.
"Yeah, uh, yeah. Right away," he said, nodding smartly and stepping to the door. "Sucre! Get your ass in here!" he yelled into the infirmary, leaning out her door.
Another guard led in a Latino by the elbow, but Bellick grabbed the inmate himself and dismissed the other guard. He pushed Sucre over to the exam table roughly, glowering at him.
Sara pulled on her rubber gloves, secretly grateful that Sucre looked as dazed as he did. He had some bruises around his face and she thought maybe he had a concussion. Nothing she couldn't handle.
"I can take it from here, Officer Bellick," she said, taking out her pen light. Sucre blinked at the sound of her voice, rolling his head to look at her, then bringing up a palm to press to his forehead.
"You don't want to be left alone with the criminals, doc, not a lady like yourself," Bellick protested, glaring at Sucre like he was ready to jump off the table and rape her right then.
"I'll scream if I need you, officer," she said, smiling sweetly. The man was unbearably like her father.
"It's Captain," Bellick said. Her father, of course, didn't smell like cheap aftershave or old beer, but they both took up an entire room unto themselves, pressing out every other smell, pressing out all room for disagreement . . .
"I can take it from here, Captain," she said as sweetly as possible while grinding her teeth. Bellick frowned, but pulled his hat on and walked stiffly to the door, leaving it open behind him. He stood rigidly to attention just outside the door, glaring in at Sucre.
"Now," Sara said, taking Sucre's chin in her hand and shining the light in his eyes. He smelled better than she expected, better than Bellick for certain, like oranges and cinnamon. "Where are you from?" she asked, picking up his chart to make notes.
"Chicago," he mumbled, holding his head.
"Habla espanol?" she asked, quietly, not looking up. She doubted Bellick spoke Spanish, but she didn't want to draw his attention to the fact she could.
"Si," Sucre said, suddenly looking at her sharply.
"You've got a fairly minor concussion," she said, staying in Spanish. "I'm going to keep you for observation for a day or two. If you'd like, I could recommend an internal investigation on whomever did this to you."
He started laughing. "You mean investigate the guards?" he asked, chuckling and holding his ribs like they pained him.
Sara frowned. "Did they do this?"
"Nah, doc, nah. I got in a fight with my cellie cause he called my girl a Latina skank, and I said his girl was a skinny white chica." He laughed again, but stopped himself. "Not, uh, not that there's anything wrong with white chicas," he said, looking a little bashful.
Sara smiled and made another note in his chart. She gave Sucre some ibuprofen and had a nurse walk him to a bed. "Gracias," he mumbled on his way out. Her first day was going better than she?d expected.
The rest of her patients smelled like delousing shampoo and prison detergent, but every time the door opened for Bellick to walk in a new inmate, all she could smell was cheap cologne and stale beer. Sometime around eleven he grumbled something about all the cons getting into fights just for a ticket to the infirmary. She was forced to be more
selective about whom she gave a bed, as they were rapidly running out of space.
"Should just charge admission to see you instead," Nurse Katie said as she filled up medication cups. "Keep us from running out of ibuprofen this fast, anyway."
He hovered around her office door the rest of the morning, jumping every time she put a clipboard down loudly or closed a cabinet door. When he offered to buy her lunch, she wished she'd thought to brown-bag her own.
She sidestepped the question, and tried to go to lunch with the nurses, but found herself sitting across from Bellick in the staff cafeteria. "He's not that bad," Katie whispered while they were waiting in line to pay and Sara wished looks could kill. She settled for glaring at Bellick's gray banana cream pie instead.
It was terrible. The food was greasy, bland and gray, and she didn't want to think of the state of the inmate-staffed kitchen. She sat on the edge of her chair, certain she could feel the layer of grease on it through her slacks. The reek of old cooking oil would have been unbearable except for the sharp smell of Bellick's aftershave cutting through it.
Bellick was terrible. She spent the whole time staring at her limp salad so she wouldn't have to watch him talk with his mouth full.
She made short agreeing noises as he went on about how odd it was for a nice girl like her to work at a prison, and how dangerous it was for a pretty woman like her, but don't worry, his guards were the best in the country and they'd take care of her. She choked on her pale tomato wedge and excused herself.
*
Sara practically ran back to the infirmary. What a terrible idea lunch had been. She resolved to be more assertive next time, and always bring a bag lunch.
Just as well that she got back when she did. They already had a backlog of patients waiting for her. She grabbed her stethoscope and took the first file from Katie as she walked by. Bagwell, Theodore, multiple lacerations to the hands and arms. Possible need for stitches. Exam room 1.
"Afternoon, Theodore," she said as she walked in, then stopped, frowning at the hand cuffs he wore. They were bloody, as were his arms and shirt, and Sara almost sighed at the familiar smell. At least it wasn't stale beer. She glanced at the guard standing next to him. "You can remove those, officer," she said, nodding at the cuffs. No way she'd be able to treat all his cuts properly with the cuffs in the way.
"I don't think that's such a good idea, doc," the guard said, glancing at Bagwell, who smiled. Were they all Bellick clones?
"Please remove the cuffs," she repeated firmly. She hated doing this in front of an inmate. It undermined both her and the guard's authority, and she was determined to establish her position in this place. The guard grumbled and glared at Bagwell, but took off the cuffs.
"Thank you," Sara said as the guard tucked the cuffs away. Bagwell cracked his neck and leaned back, smiling. "You can go," she said to the guard.
"That really isn't a good idea--"
"Please wait outside." If she had to go through this every day, with every guard and every Sucre, she'd scream.
"Thanks, doc," Bagwell said as the guard left to stand just outside the door.
"I assure you it's more for my sake than yours," she said, pulling on a pair of gloves. She would be compassionate and kind, but she didn't have to be stupid. No telling what blood-born pathogens Bagwell might have.
She pulled her chair close to him and almost gagged on the smell. His cologne was strong, though not as bad as Bellick's, but there was something else, something under the smell of blood that made her stomach twist. Bagwell smiled at her.
"Take y'r time, doc, I'm in no hurry to go back t' gen pop," he said, relaxing back against the incline of the exam table so she had to push her chair closer to him.
The cuts weren't that deep or that serious, but she was distracted by the overwhelming smell of blood from his shirt and the nearness of his face. She wished he wouldn't roll his lips like that. She made him sit up and lift his shirt, and there were no cuts there. His shirt was red from someone else's blood. "C'mon, doc, I showed you mine, now show me yours," he said, licking his lips and undressing her with his eyes. She caught his wrist and held it down.
"You're going to be fine," she said, cleaning the deepest of the cuts. He hissed at the sting of the antiseptic. It would need stitches. "I hope this is the last time I'll have to patch you up, Theodore," she said, trying to take the tone of her old resident advisor.
"I don't know about that. Doctor as pretty as you, a guy could get to lookin' forward to fallin' ill. I wouldn't mind playin' doctor with you anytime."
She ignored him and got up to get a needle and thread. She fumbled at the cabinet, trying to get the right grade thread.
Just as she found what she wanted, she heard Bellick's voice out in the infirmary. "You left her alone with Bagwell?" Sighing in exasperation, she turned around, and walked straight into Bagwell's chest.
His hands were suddenly everywhere and all she could smell was blood and antiseptic. He was taller than she'd thought, and she knocked everything off the top of the cabinet, backing into it to get away from the hand slipping under her shirt.
He smiled down at her and she couldn't get her voice to work. He licked his lips, glanced at the door and leaned down toward her ear, his breath hot.
Her knee came up to meet his groin as he started to press his hips forward. She didn't think about it as he went down, but her elbow met his nose and was suddenly covered in blood. Bagwell yelped, clutching his nose, and made to grab for her again, but she stepped away from him and left him crumpled on the floor.
Bellick and the other guard rushed in and pulled him to his feet. Bagwell tried to twist away from them, trying to screech through the blood streaming down his face. Sara took a deep breath.
Bellick turned to her and stopped, staring at the blood on her coat. She smiled sweetly at him, tugging her lab coat tight around her to hide her shakes.
"I'm fine, thank you. Put Bagwell on the exam table, please. He may have a broken nose."
Except for lunch with Bellick, her first day really wasn't that bad.
Thank you for participating! :)
Rating: PGish
Characters: Sara, Bellick, Sucre, T-bag
Requested by: nymphadoraklutz
Summary: Sara's first day at Fox River
AN: Also written for thelana's first day bunny at pbplotbunnies.
It was the smell that got her the first day. Everyone told her working in a prison would be bad, told her it was a horrible idea, but the smell, more than anything else, was unbearable. There was a stench of unwashed linens, bad food, bad digestion, open toilets, blood, anger, and the sick antiseptic smell she'd never gotten used to. Normally she was in favor of a fragrance-free workplace, but she was desperate for any other scent within five minutes of walking in the building.
She got her wish when one of the guards breezed into her office, smelling like cheap aftershave and stale beer, hat in hand.
"Good morning," she said, looking up from her paperwork and wishing she
remembered his name from her orientation.
The guard laughed a little, awkwardly. "Don't know about good, but it's better now that we got such a pretty doctor," he said, smiling a little and shifting from foot to foot. Sara smiled vaguely, but didn't quite have the heart to shoot him down just then.
"Will you be bringing in my first appointment, Officer . . ." she said, hoping to get him out of her office.
"Captain. Bellick. Bradley," he said, stumbling over the words a little and stuck out his hand. She shook his hand lightly.
"And my appointment?" she asked, trying to wipe the sweat from his palm on her slacks surreptitiously.
"Yeah, uh, yeah. Right away," he said, nodding smartly and stepping to the door. "Sucre! Get your ass in here!" he yelled into the infirmary, leaning out her door.
Another guard led in a Latino by the elbow, but Bellick grabbed the inmate himself and dismissed the other guard. He pushed Sucre over to the exam table roughly, glowering at him.
Sara pulled on her rubber gloves, secretly grateful that Sucre looked as dazed as he did. He had some bruises around his face and she thought maybe he had a concussion. Nothing she couldn't handle.
"I can take it from here, Officer Bellick," she said, taking out her pen light. Sucre blinked at the sound of her voice, rolling his head to look at her, then bringing up a palm to press to his forehead.
"You don't want to be left alone with the criminals, doc, not a lady like yourself," Bellick protested, glaring at Sucre like he was ready to jump off the table and rape her right then.
"I'll scream if I need you, officer," she said, smiling sweetly. The man was unbearably like her father.
"It's Captain," Bellick said. Her father, of course, didn't smell like cheap aftershave or old beer, but they both took up an entire room unto themselves, pressing out every other smell, pressing out all room for disagreement . . .
"I can take it from here, Captain," she said as sweetly as possible while grinding her teeth. Bellick frowned, but pulled his hat on and walked stiffly to the door, leaving it open behind him. He stood rigidly to attention just outside the door, glaring in at Sucre.
"Now," Sara said, taking Sucre's chin in her hand and shining the light in his eyes. He smelled better than she expected, better than Bellick for certain, like oranges and cinnamon. "Where are you from?" she asked, picking up his chart to make notes.
"Chicago," he mumbled, holding his head.
"Habla espanol?" she asked, quietly, not looking up. She doubted Bellick spoke Spanish, but she didn't want to draw his attention to the fact she could.
"Si," Sucre said, suddenly looking at her sharply.
"You've got a fairly minor concussion," she said, staying in Spanish. "I'm going to keep you for observation for a day or two. If you'd like, I could recommend an internal investigation on whomever did this to you."
He started laughing. "You mean investigate the guards?" he asked, chuckling and holding his ribs like they pained him.
Sara frowned. "Did they do this?"
"Nah, doc, nah. I got in a fight with my cellie cause he called my girl a Latina skank, and I said his girl was a skinny white chica." He laughed again, but stopped himself. "Not, uh, not that there's anything wrong with white chicas," he said, looking a little bashful.
Sara smiled and made another note in his chart. She gave Sucre some ibuprofen and had a nurse walk him to a bed. "Gracias," he mumbled on his way out. Her first day was going better than she?d expected.
The rest of her patients smelled like delousing shampoo and prison detergent, but every time the door opened for Bellick to walk in a new inmate, all she could smell was cheap cologne and stale beer. Sometime around eleven he grumbled something about all the cons getting into fights just for a ticket to the infirmary. She was forced to be more
selective about whom she gave a bed, as they were rapidly running out of space.
"Should just charge admission to see you instead," Nurse Katie said as she filled up medication cups. "Keep us from running out of ibuprofen this fast, anyway."
He hovered around her office door the rest of the morning, jumping every time she put a clipboard down loudly or closed a cabinet door. When he offered to buy her lunch, she wished she'd thought to brown-bag her own.
She sidestepped the question, and tried to go to lunch with the nurses, but found herself sitting across from Bellick in the staff cafeteria. "He's not that bad," Katie whispered while they were waiting in line to pay and Sara wished looks could kill. She settled for glaring at Bellick's gray banana cream pie instead.
It was terrible. The food was greasy, bland and gray, and she didn't want to think of the state of the inmate-staffed kitchen. She sat on the edge of her chair, certain she could feel the layer of grease on it through her slacks. The reek of old cooking oil would have been unbearable except for the sharp smell of Bellick's aftershave cutting through it.
Bellick was terrible. She spent the whole time staring at her limp salad so she wouldn't have to watch him talk with his mouth full.
She made short agreeing noises as he went on about how odd it was for a nice girl like her to work at a prison, and how dangerous it was for a pretty woman like her, but don't worry, his guards were the best in the country and they'd take care of her. She choked on her pale tomato wedge and excused herself.
*
Sara practically ran back to the infirmary. What a terrible idea lunch had been. She resolved to be more assertive next time, and always bring a bag lunch.
Just as well that she got back when she did. They already had a backlog of patients waiting for her. She grabbed her stethoscope and took the first file from Katie as she walked by. Bagwell, Theodore, multiple lacerations to the hands and arms. Possible need for stitches. Exam room 1.
"Afternoon, Theodore," she said as she walked in, then stopped, frowning at the hand cuffs he wore. They were bloody, as were his arms and shirt, and Sara almost sighed at the familiar smell. At least it wasn't stale beer. She glanced at the guard standing next to him. "You can remove those, officer," she said, nodding at the cuffs. No way she'd be able to treat all his cuts properly with the cuffs in the way.
"I don't think that's such a good idea, doc," the guard said, glancing at Bagwell, who smiled. Were they all Bellick clones?
"Please remove the cuffs," she repeated firmly. She hated doing this in front of an inmate. It undermined both her and the guard's authority, and she was determined to establish her position in this place. The guard grumbled and glared at Bagwell, but took off the cuffs.
"Thank you," Sara said as the guard tucked the cuffs away. Bagwell cracked his neck and leaned back, smiling. "You can go," she said to the guard.
"That really isn't a good idea--"
"Please wait outside." If she had to go through this every day, with every guard and every Sucre, she'd scream.
"Thanks, doc," Bagwell said as the guard left to stand just outside the door.
"I assure you it's more for my sake than yours," she said, pulling on a pair of gloves. She would be compassionate and kind, but she didn't have to be stupid. No telling what blood-born pathogens Bagwell might have.
She pulled her chair close to him and almost gagged on the smell. His cologne was strong, though not as bad as Bellick's, but there was something else, something under the smell of blood that made her stomach twist. Bagwell smiled at her.
"Take y'r time, doc, I'm in no hurry to go back t' gen pop," he said, relaxing back against the incline of the exam table so she had to push her chair closer to him.
The cuts weren't that deep or that serious, but she was distracted by the overwhelming smell of blood from his shirt and the nearness of his face. She wished he wouldn't roll his lips like that. She made him sit up and lift his shirt, and there were no cuts there. His shirt was red from someone else's blood. "C'mon, doc, I showed you mine, now show me yours," he said, licking his lips and undressing her with his eyes. She caught his wrist and held it down.
"You're going to be fine," she said, cleaning the deepest of the cuts. He hissed at the sting of the antiseptic. It would need stitches. "I hope this is the last time I'll have to patch you up, Theodore," she said, trying to take the tone of her old resident advisor.
"I don't know about that. Doctor as pretty as you, a guy could get to lookin' forward to fallin' ill. I wouldn't mind playin' doctor with you anytime."
She ignored him and got up to get a needle and thread. She fumbled at the cabinet, trying to get the right grade thread.
Just as she found what she wanted, she heard Bellick's voice out in the infirmary. "You left her alone with Bagwell?" Sighing in exasperation, she turned around, and walked straight into Bagwell's chest.
His hands were suddenly everywhere and all she could smell was blood and antiseptic. He was taller than she'd thought, and she knocked everything off the top of the cabinet, backing into it to get away from the hand slipping under her shirt.
He smiled down at her and she couldn't get her voice to work. He licked his lips, glanced at the door and leaned down toward her ear, his breath hot.
Her knee came up to meet his groin as he started to press his hips forward. She didn't think about it as he went down, but her elbow met his nose and was suddenly covered in blood. Bagwell yelped, clutching his nose, and made to grab for her again, but she stepped away from him and left him crumpled on the floor.
Bellick and the other guard rushed in and pulled him to his feet. Bagwell tried to twist away from them, trying to screech through the blood streaming down his face. Sara took a deep breath.
Bellick turned to her and stopped, staring at the blood on her coat. She smiled sweetly at him, tugging her lab coat tight around her to hide her shakes.
"I'm fine, thank you. Put Bagwell on the exam table, please. He may have a broken nose."
Except for lunch with Bellick, her first day really wasn't that bad.
Thank you for participating! :)