Never /\ Mildred Ratched x Reader /\

༺Two༻

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As I insert the thin needle of an IV line into a patient's arm my mind wanders elsewhere. Back to those eyes...
Those lips.
I smile vaguely at the patient as I tape the line to his forearm.
I adjust the drip and excuse myself, pulling the door open and emerging back into the expansive hospital halls.

"Miss L/N, how lovely to see you!" Her voice sends chills down my spine.
I look up at Mildred Ratched who smiles brightly as my eyes meet hers.
I clear my throat.

"Hi! How are you?" I grin. She bites her lip as she looks down to press the break on the cart she had been pushing.

"Gosh, aren't you energetic?" She chuckles. I silently wish her presence didn't undo me in this way. Her shoulders loosen slightly and she takes a small step toward me, my heart skips a beat.

"Y/N, I was wondering... Would you like to... Well I was just thinking it would be nice for us to get to know each other?" She asks, I knit my brows together surveying the older woman's newfound shyness. Her usual no-nonsense aura has dissapeared, to be replaced by an awkward, uncomfortable woman.
I smile.

"Of course, I'd love to Ma'am!" I reply, trying not to allow my excitement to show too much.
She exhales quietly, a giddy smile spreading across her lips.

"Wonderful! I know a place, do you like oysters?"

༺❀༻
I shuffle around anxiously on the steps of the hospital where she told me to wait for her shift to end.
Anxiety twists around like worms in my stomach, what if she forgot about me?
Cold winter air brushes my shoulders, I'm suddenly regretting not bringing a coat today.

-Click, clack, click, clack-

My stomach explodes into butterflies at the familiar sound of her shoes against marble. I smile and turn to watch her make her way down the steps of St. Lucia.

"Hello, I'm glad you waited." She smiles warmly. She offers her arm and I take it, we walk arm in arm to a small car I assume to be hers.
She opens my door for me and I plop into the car, as she walks around to her side I take the moment to inhale, the smell of cigarettes and her perfume... Miss Dior.

The engine switches on and as we ride I take a moment to fully appreciate her. There's something about the way people look when they drive, they're not expecting people to be looking at them, their guard is down, they're different.
I survey her, noticing her ever so slightly pursed lips, the way her fingers tap rhythmically against the steering wheel.

As she presses her foot on the brake at a traffic light I notice something.
On the hem of her uniform, the easily recognizable color of blood taints the fabric. I reason that we work in a hospital, blood is everywhere there.
I ignore it and look away quickly.

"How old were you when your mother passed?" She asks faintly.
I look down at my lap, avoiding her bittersweet glance from the road to me.
I scrunch my eyes shut.
My mother is not a topic I prefer to discuss, it reopens painful old wounds.

"Young. She uh- She had Tuberculosis...
She suffered for as long as I can remember." I shudder. From the corner of my eye, Mildred grimaces. Her lips curled into a sad frown, her brows knitted together.
She reaches her hand from the gear stick to my knee, brushing gently with her thumb.
I follow her long slender arm with my eyes up to her face in surprise, trying to read the expression on her lips.
She's smiling kindly, maybe only the type of smile you give to a grieving friend, or maybe the type of smile that says a thousand words that can't possibly be whispered.

The thought briefly crosses my mind as my eyes wander to her left hand, firmly placed on the wheel, guiding us safely to our destination. There is no wedding ring adorning her finger, a somewhat rare sight for a woman of her age.
She's a curiosity that draws me in with every word she speaks, every breath she takes, and every time she blinks.

Her warm hand moves from my knee after a reassuring squeeze, leaving only cold in its place.
I find myself immediately missing her hands on my body. Even with the smallest, most casual intimacy, she has the power to give and take away, and it makes me crave more, as if she were an addictive drug.

I take the time to look back out of the window, dark has long set-in despite the relative earliness of the evening.
The longest year of my life where studying was a constant and nothing else seemed to matter somehow bought Winter on like a freight train.
Dark coming earlier combined with the new strange hours I have now found myself working have wrecked my internal clock.

At only five o'clock we're blanketed in a nearly pitch black sky peppered with white dots almost resembling freckles.
Though hard to make out through the darkness I discern that we're driving along the coast.
The sound of a vast ocean crashing against rocks has always comforted me.
As though even something as gigantic and formidable as the ocean could be controlled by a strong barrier.
A comforting thought I carried throughout my mother's illness, that even something this scary would not destroy me if I was strong enough.

Mildred hums as though she's reading my mind, I pull my gaze from the ocean back to her face.

"I've always loved the ocean." She smiles, glancing over quickly once more.
What an odd coincidence, that she should say that as I thought the very same thing. Maybe coincidence is the wrong term, maybe it's connection.
I smile to myself and look back out of the window.

"Yes, so have I." I sigh.

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