I've got a fic backlog. How'd that happen?
Title: Catharsis
Pairing: Gen. Molly and Sarah
Rating: PG for morbidity
Word count: 1300
Summary: Done for this prompt: I would like a fic which passes the Bechdel Test: I want two of the lovely ladies of the show, having a conversation with each other, which ISN'T ABOUT A MAN. Sarah wants to see the body of the woman who tried to kill her.
"Are you sure about this?" Molly Hooper asked. "It's not pretty."
Sarah gave her a flash of a tense smile. "I'm a doctor, I've seen lots of 'not pretty.'" She then looked away and scanned Molly's office. It was silly not wanting to meet Dr. Hooper -- Molly's face. But there was something so sweet and wholesome and above-board about the woman that Sarah found herself embarrassed even to be there, asking for what she was asking. It was morbid.
And what did she really think she'd get from this exercise?
Molly ducked her head to try to regain Sarah's eyes. "Oh," she gritted her teeth in a cute way. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. It's just that... dead's a little bit different from living. And she didn't die very nicely. She was shot in the head with a hollow point. Her face is mostly intact but the back, not so much."
Sarah felt an inappropriate laugh welling up. "Well, it can't be worse than the a gangrenous penis patient I had last month."
"Gangrenous. Poor man!"
The memory made Sarah's eyes water. "It smelled ... horrible." She put the back of her hand over her mouth because this was definitely one of those things a good doctor shouldn't be laughing over. It had been a terrible case. A terrible case that had nearly cleared the waiting room for the awful, awful smell of it.
"Oh god," said Molly, her eyes bright. "I can imagine. I mean I really can, I've had bodies they dredged up from the river three times. They were a bit not fresh."
"And the worst of it was, he kept asking if I could fix it," said Sarah. "And I had to look him in the eye and find some nice way to say, 'No. No, I'm sorry, Mr. Happy is gone. Mr. Happy's been gone for the better part of a week from the look of him.'" She let the laugh completely out and Molly joined in. It rolled and rolled like a morbid ball between them.
"How did you break it to him?" Molly asked between gasps.
"Oh, I went terribly clinical on him. What else could I do?" Sarah wiped her eyes. "And the ones pulled from the water? How do you deal?"
"The bloaters? Menthol paste's the secret. I may be a wimp for admitting this, and I only do it with the foulest of the lot, but it does make it better when the corpses aren't fresh."
"I wish we were allowed," said Sarah. "There've been a few very living bodies that could use a bit of masking scent. I'd love to be able to say, 'yes, indeed ma'am you have halitosis, now wait a bit while I put a bit of this liniment on my upper lip so I don't have to smell you breath anymore.'"
"Thankfully the corpses don't mind a bit." Molly patted her middle and settled. "Okay, you've convinced me. I don't think you'll have any trouble with this body." She stood up and walked around her desk, "Come along, she's in the cooler. Fresh as a daisy so at least we won't be needing the menthol."
Sarah followed her.
"Honestly, I couldn't do what you do," said Molly after a bit. "Living patients and all. I much prefer the dead. They may smell, and they may be in bits, but they aren't in any hurry and they never complain. They don't pressure me. And they don't hurt, no matter what you have to do to them. I really dislike pain." She brought Sarah to a room filled with metal lockers. Looking up and down she spied the one she needed and hoisted it open with a practiced pull.
Inside was a back bag, that reminded Sarah oddly of her dry cleaning. "You don't find it depressing then?" she asked.
"No," said Molly, brightly. "Not at all really. It's nice here in the morgue. Relaxed. We all chill together. Sometimes, I come in and look at the patients and they tell me little stories of their lives."
Sarah hesitated and turned her head. "Tell you stories? I should think that they'd be beyond such things."
"Oh not at all!" said Molly, playing with her ponytail. "Not at all. The other day they brought a lady down. She told me this beautiful story with her hands. She had big lumpy hands all gnarled with arthritis. But on one finger were these two sweet little rings, a little cheap diamond, barely a chip, and a plain band of gold. She told me this story of a girl who met the man of her dreams in her youth, and had married him, even though he had very little money to give her. But her love was so strong that she kept his rings on, through fortune and age, never taking them off. Until at last her finger grew around them and even in death, no one could take them from her." Molly sighed. "She was very romantic, that corpse."
Both of them looked down at the black bag between them.
"This woman, not so much," Molly said at last.
"You know she tried to kill me," said Sarah. "She didn't even talk to me. I was like a thing to her. Something to hold over someone else's head. She didn't even look me in the eye. She tied me up and aimed this circus stunt lance at my chest."
Molly nodded and swallowed. "I'd heard."
"I froze," said Sarah. "I completely froze up and did nothing. I was lucky I had friends to bail me out, because in that moment, I was the most helpless, useless person I've ever been in my life."
Molly reached out a tentative hand and patted Sarah's shoulder. "But you weren't. I mean, you aren't a useless person. You're alive and she isn't. And I think you were very brave. I'd probably have fallen to pieces under the circumstance. Wet myself or something. Scream."
Sarah shook her head. "You don't know, do you? How you'll be when things get rough. When that moment comes and you know your next breath depends on luck and grit. I guess, I'm kind of disappointed that I didn't do more. But rationally, I should be happy that what I did was enough."
She looked down at the black body bag again. "I guess that's why I'm here. To look her in the eyes and know that I'm still a person and she isn't. I survived. She died. Tomorrow I'll go to work, and she'll still be a corpse, rotting in the morgue."
Molly nodded. "She was bad person. Good riddance."
"She was a bad person. Who made bad decisions and had bad friends. And so what if she was rich and powerful. She's dead."
"And you are alive."
Sarah pulled down the zipper and looked at the face. Molly was right. It wasn't pretty. The woman had been shot through the eye. The back of her head was mush. Her skin was pale and pasty and oddly hard looking. It seemed like more like wax than human.
Sarah zipped the bag up again. She wasn't sure what she expected to get out of the exercise. Catharsis? Glee? She didn't feel either of those things. Instead she felt a kind of tiredness of the soul. She didn't regret coming down, but it really hadn't been worth the anticipation either.
"Okay," she said more to herself than to Molly. "I'm done."
Molly pushed the corpse back into its locker. "Listen, Sarah," she said. "I can take my lunch anytime now. Would you like to go someplace and talk about it a bit, friend to friend? You could have a drink. I could watch you drink. We could reminisce about bad smells?"
Sarah let out a little snort. "Yeah. Yeah," she shook her head with surprise and then put a hand on Molly's shoulder. "Thank you. I think that's what I really need. Screw the dead. Let's go be alive together. My treat."
Pairing: Gen. Molly and Sarah
Rating: PG for morbidity
Word count: 1300
Summary: Done for this prompt: I would like a fic which passes the Bechdel Test: I want two of the lovely ladies of the show, having a conversation with each other, which ISN'T ABOUT A MAN. Sarah wants to see the body of the woman who tried to kill her.
"Are you sure about this?" Molly Hooper asked. "It's not pretty."
Sarah gave her a flash of a tense smile. "I'm a doctor, I've seen lots of 'not pretty.'" She then looked away and scanned Molly's office. It was silly not wanting to meet Dr. Hooper -- Molly's face. But there was something so sweet and wholesome and above-board about the woman that Sarah found herself embarrassed even to be there, asking for what she was asking. It was morbid.
And what did she really think she'd get from this exercise?
Molly ducked her head to try to regain Sarah's eyes. "Oh," she gritted her teeth in a cute way. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. It's just that... dead's a little bit different from living. And she didn't die very nicely. She was shot in the head with a hollow point. Her face is mostly intact but the back, not so much."
Sarah felt an inappropriate laugh welling up. "Well, it can't be worse than the a gangrenous penis patient I had last month."
"Gangrenous. Poor man!"
The memory made Sarah's eyes water. "It smelled ... horrible." She put the back of her hand over her mouth because this was definitely one of those things a good doctor shouldn't be laughing over. It had been a terrible case. A terrible case that had nearly cleared the waiting room for the awful, awful smell of it.
"Oh god," said Molly, her eyes bright. "I can imagine. I mean I really can, I've had bodies they dredged up from the river three times. They were a bit not fresh."
"And the worst of it was, he kept asking if I could fix it," said Sarah. "And I had to look him in the eye and find some nice way to say, 'No. No, I'm sorry, Mr. Happy is gone. Mr. Happy's been gone for the better part of a week from the look of him.'" She let the laugh completely out and Molly joined in. It rolled and rolled like a morbid ball between them.
"How did you break it to him?" Molly asked between gasps.
"Oh, I went terribly clinical on him. What else could I do?" Sarah wiped her eyes. "And the ones pulled from the water? How do you deal?"
"The bloaters? Menthol paste's the secret. I may be a wimp for admitting this, and I only do it with the foulest of the lot, but it does make it better when the corpses aren't fresh."
"I wish we were allowed," said Sarah. "There've been a few very living bodies that could use a bit of masking scent. I'd love to be able to say, 'yes, indeed ma'am you have halitosis, now wait a bit while I put a bit of this liniment on my upper lip so I don't have to smell you breath anymore.'"
"Thankfully the corpses don't mind a bit." Molly patted her middle and settled. "Okay, you've convinced me. I don't think you'll have any trouble with this body." She stood up and walked around her desk, "Come along, she's in the cooler. Fresh as a daisy so at least we won't be needing the menthol."
Sarah followed her.
"Honestly, I couldn't do what you do," said Molly after a bit. "Living patients and all. I much prefer the dead. They may smell, and they may be in bits, but they aren't in any hurry and they never complain. They don't pressure me. And they don't hurt, no matter what you have to do to them. I really dislike pain." She brought Sarah to a room filled with metal lockers. Looking up and down she spied the one she needed and hoisted it open with a practiced pull.
Inside was a back bag, that reminded Sarah oddly of her dry cleaning. "You don't find it depressing then?" she asked.
"No," said Molly, brightly. "Not at all really. It's nice here in the morgue. Relaxed. We all chill together. Sometimes, I come in and look at the patients and they tell me little stories of their lives."
Sarah hesitated and turned her head. "Tell you stories? I should think that they'd be beyond such things."
"Oh not at all!" said Molly, playing with her ponytail. "Not at all. The other day they brought a lady down. She told me this beautiful story with her hands. She had big lumpy hands all gnarled with arthritis. But on one finger were these two sweet little rings, a little cheap diamond, barely a chip, and a plain band of gold. She told me this story of a girl who met the man of her dreams in her youth, and had married him, even though he had very little money to give her. But her love was so strong that she kept his rings on, through fortune and age, never taking them off. Until at last her finger grew around them and even in death, no one could take them from her." Molly sighed. "She was very romantic, that corpse."
Both of them looked down at the black bag between them.
"This woman, not so much," Molly said at last.
"You know she tried to kill me," said Sarah. "She didn't even talk to me. I was like a thing to her. Something to hold over someone else's head. She didn't even look me in the eye. She tied me up and aimed this circus stunt lance at my chest."
Molly nodded and swallowed. "I'd heard."
"I froze," said Sarah. "I completely froze up and did nothing. I was lucky I had friends to bail me out, because in that moment, I was the most helpless, useless person I've ever been in my life."
Molly reached out a tentative hand and patted Sarah's shoulder. "But you weren't. I mean, you aren't a useless person. You're alive and she isn't. And I think you were very brave. I'd probably have fallen to pieces under the circumstance. Wet myself or something. Scream."
Sarah shook her head. "You don't know, do you? How you'll be when things get rough. When that moment comes and you know your next breath depends on luck and grit. I guess, I'm kind of disappointed that I didn't do more. But rationally, I should be happy that what I did was enough."
She looked down at the black body bag again. "I guess that's why I'm here. To look her in the eyes and know that I'm still a person and she isn't. I survived. She died. Tomorrow I'll go to work, and she'll still be a corpse, rotting in the morgue."
Molly nodded. "She was bad person. Good riddance."
"She was a bad person. Who made bad decisions and had bad friends. And so what if she was rich and powerful. She's dead."
"And you are alive."
Sarah pulled down the zipper and looked at the face. Molly was right. It wasn't pretty. The woman had been shot through the eye. The back of her head was mush. Her skin was pale and pasty and oddly hard looking. It seemed like more like wax than human.
Sarah zipped the bag up again. She wasn't sure what she expected to get out of the exercise. Catharsis? Glee? She didn't feel either of those things. Instead she felt a kind of tiredness of the soul. She didn't regret coming down, but it really hadn't been worth the anticipation either.
"Okay," she said more to herself than to Molly. "I'm done."
Molly pushed the corpse back into its locker. "Listen, Sarah," she said. "I can take my lunch anytime now. Would you like to go someplace and talk about it a bit, friend to friend? You could have a drink. I could watch you drink. We could reminisce about bad smells?"
Sarah let out a little snort. "Yeah. Yeah," she shook her head with surprise and then put a hand on Molly's shoulder. "Thank you. I think that's what I really need. Screw the dead. Let's go be alive together. My treat."