Walking with grace
January 3, 2025 at 6:53 PM
Sometimes Nix wondered to himself why the hell he even bothered getting up from bed these days. Sure, one could argue that he kept the place running, if not literally keeping it alive, pun intended, and they would probably be right. It’s just. When you remember that you were a very promising surgeon in your thirties before turning to the newly formed RCM, you realize at one point in your life that tending to the field injuries, illness and the consequences of the stupidest ideas like gluing your eyes shut with superglue of the entirety of Precinct 41 with the occasional autopsy is not the farthest, but still quite far from where you wanted to end up in your life and career.
Sometimes he wondered, on a random rainy Tuesday, why not just retire and leave this shithole of a station to rot with everyone and their insistence on ruining their lives in the most elaborate ways, not at all limited to physical ones. Oh, how much he wanted to turn in that resignation letter with absolutely no warning sometimes just to see the looks on everyone’s faces. Especially Ptolemaios’ on certain days.
Sometimes the exhaustion aggravation from the never-ending mind dulling cycle that was being the station medic saturated his bones just enough to want to make that incision just a touch deeper, set that arm with just a bit less care for how much pain the officer was in, or maybe just straight out send another idiot away before they even opened their mouth.
And don’t get him wrong, he didn’t regret the choices that led him to joining and, more importantly, staying with the RCM and this specific precinct of hell. Most of the time. When people like Du Bois didn’t show up with another hungover, or better, still high on whatever drug he found in some ditch. But sometimes the Dolorian oath can only take you this far when it comes to having your shit together around patients like his.
Nix sighed into his hands, pushing his glasses up to press on the bridge of his nose. Incredibly enough, today was pretty slow, probably because half of the C wing was out. Luckily, that also included a certain lieutenant with his new partner, which, honestly? He didn’t know he needed a whole week without the Du Bois’ breed of chaos until he got it and now he learned to be just a little more appreciative of the rare moments of peace he got now.
Slower days didn’t mean he got that much less paperwork, though, just more time to catch up on the parts he missed before, so instead of stitching a tenth wound of the day or taking time to rest he ended up spending most of the day at his desk. At one point the words started blurring before his eyes, which was probably one of the least subtle ways of his body telling him to take that damn break, except he also knew that he wouldn’t have that much time to finish these if he took long enough with resting.
One could say that the amount of the paperwork in the farthest from the biggest RCM precinct was ridiculous and they would probably be right. Well. That was just Jamrock for you. The regular Precinct 41 bullshit. Everyone’s favorite.
“Why am I not surprised I found you here?”
It was truly a testament of just how tired — or focused. Or both — Nix was if he didn’t even notice the door being opened. Or Ptolemy coming in and coming up close enough to him to speak quietly, probably already knowing that he had a headache coming in. He’d long stopped questioning him just knowing when that happened, even if a part of him couldn’t help but be amazed every time the man pulled one of these little tricks.
“Probably because this is where I work,” he hummed, now half-listening to the captain moving behind him. “Did you need something?”
“Have you had lunch yet?”
Hm. Has he? Nix made the mistake of glancing at the clock before he caught the other’s disapproving glance in the periphery of his vision. Now that he was properly distracted, he was getting a little hungry, but not enough to have noticed it by himself. Which in other words meant it could wait another couple of hours.
Which in other, other words meant it would wait for a better time, probably when his brain just straight out refused to process another word.
“Thought so,” Ptolemy shook his head, now fully coming into his view and placing one hand on his desk, careful not to disturb any of the papers lying around. “Might as well just have a break now with the station almost entirely empty, hm?”
“Just means it’s the perfect time to get these done without distractions,” he shrugged, picking his pen back up. When did he put it down anyway? Doesn’t matter. “Go on without me Captain Pryce, I’ll eat later.”
A part of him knew that it wouldn’t work this easily in a whole lifetime, not when they both knew each other’s habits just as well as their own and that meant that he knew Ptolemaios knew that his later most likely meant “almost time to go home”. Which meant that he wasn’t getting away now. Great.
“I don’t think so, Doctor Gottlieb,” Ptolemy said, shifting his position to cross his arms with an expectant expression, just a small shift away from the face he knew who he picked up from. Predictably, it made him huff out a small laugh and shake his head. Another mistake, he knew that from the way the captain relaxed just a little more, realizing he was close to getting what he wanted. “Come on, Nix. When was the last time we got to have lunch together?”
That would probably be… over a month ago when they both miraculously managed to align their days off for once. Huh. Time sure did fly with the workload here. Fine, fair was fair.
“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, still turning back to his work. “Just give me a few minutes to finish this one and then I suppose you may drag me away.”
He didn’t need to look back to see the smug grin on the man’s face. He would let him have this one. Besides, a lunch with Ptolemy did sound nice.
The captain barely moved in the periphery of his vision as Nix filled the last parts of the report, only throwing rare glances at him. Finally, the pen was put down on the table with just a touch more force than necessary and he got up from his spot for the first time in… hours, probably.
And promptly got his cane in his hand before he even had the time to think about getting it. And just in time with the pain just kicking in.
“It’s cold outside, there was a rainstorm just an hour ago and you’ve been sitting for hours now, your leg is bound to hurt right now,” Ptolemy shrugged. “Am I wrong?”
“No. Thank you,” he smiled briefly, allowing himself to be led out of the lazareth and towards the kitchen and now that Nix really paid attention, the station was quiet for once, which was just perfect for his headache.
It was funny how one grew accustomed to the background noise, no matter how annoying and pain inducing at times, to the point where its absence was not only unnatural, but also uncomfortable. Especially if you’ve been listening to it for literal decades.
Dei, he’s been their fucking medic for several decades, now. Time sure flies in the RCM. Wasn’t he actually around the same age half the other doctors he knew retired? Especially the ones who've seen the revolution first-hand. How many of their field medics were still alive anyway? Definitely not so many if he recalled correctly…
He should probably plan a trip to the cemetery sometime. It’s been long overdue, for so many people.
Way more than deserved it, definitely.
“Nix? Is everything okay?”
Huh. Talk about a sudden trip down the memory lane. Nix blinked a few times to clear his vision and looked back at Ptolemy who already held a plate up, the other already warm on the table. He took a moment to unclench the hand on the cane and walk up to him, forcing himself to relax at the worried look on the other man’s face, which quickly changed to one of understanding.
They probably should’ve gone to his office instead. Even with almost everyone gone, the station kitchen was way too open for his liking.
“One of these days, huh?” He asked softly, placing a hand on his shoulder with the gentleness he was still unaccustomed to being shown here even after all this time. Their precinct was simply not the right place for this. And yet. “Come on, let’s eat.”
“Mm. Right,” he sighed, finally sitting across from the captain. Lunch. Because that’s what they were here for. “How did you know to pack some for me too?”
“Thought you might forget again,” Pryce shrugged with an easy smile. “Guess I just know you that well.”
That got a small huff of laughter out of Nix as he grabbed a fork. Out of all the moments to point it out, it had to be his habit of forgetting to eat at reasonable times, really?
“Hmm. I suppose you really do.”
Still, it was true.
He did know him well.
***
“You’re still here.” It’s gotten dark already. He sent Apricot home just a little over an hour ago. There was a bit more noise now that some officers came back in to finish their reports before finally going home, but it still stayed relatively quiet. And out of everyone who was still here, only one person had the tendency of coming into his office without knocking. “And so are you,” Ptolemaios arched an eyebrow from behind his glasses, taking in the figure of Nix who just closed the door behind himself. The surgeon certainly looked more relaxed with most of their station out and enough time alone to clear his head, even if the change was so small barely anyone else would be able to catch it. He also had two cups of coffee in his hand and finished paperwork pressed to his chest. “Did you actually just spend the last seven hours at your desk filling these out?” “No,” he huffed, placing the cups on the desk with practiced ease. “Pidieu also dragged me out for a smoke break after a conversation with McLaine. Then another after Torson took over just thirty minutes later.” “No, he didn’t,” the captain laughed, taking the papers from his hands and placing them on the desk in the usual spot for paperwork from their medic. He was one of the very few who had a semi officially designated place here, just by the lamp to review and put away as soon as possible. Same folder, same place, almost same weight every week or two depending on how many visits he had in a day. Ah, the stability of Gottlieb’s paperwork. “You’re right. He waited ten whole minutes to make sure those idiots didn’t just die as a result of another genius idea just as they got to the actual case, and then he dragged me out on our second smoke break in an hour.” Ptolemaios hummed in amusement, the picture was all too easy to imagine. It wasn’t that much of a secret that some of them had a certain soft spot for various officers for their own reasons, no matter how infuriating they all were at times. It was also not really a secret that Jules’ composure was not a natural talent, but rather a result of seeing — or, rather, hearing enough, ah, bullshit over the years that not much really phased him anymore, which didn’t cancel the fact that it still accumulated, grating on the nerves. It was, in its certain way, funny, how Nix of all people was his go-to person on these smoke breaks, honestly, albeit not at all surprising. There weren’t many people who could match the sheer amount of spite one could have for every person they worked with Gottlieb managed to preserve through the revolution and the decades in the RCM. Dei, these poor fools haven’t seen half of what he was capable of back in the day. “I’ll be done with these in about twenty minutes.” he gestured at the reports nearest to him, still in disarray with a couple case files opened at his sides. He couldn’t help a twitch of his mouth at the medic’s disapproving glance the moment he saw McCoy’s name in one of the files. “You’ll be surprised, this one didn’t have a single kill.” “Mm. Explains the lack of his face in the lazareth today. What’s the special occasion for such benevolence? The idiot finally learned to introduce himself before pulling the trigger on the suspect?” He sneered into his cup of coffee. If only. Honestly, sometimes Ptolemaios genuinely considered offering the lieutenant to transfer to another precinct, if only the man was capable of working in any precinct but theirs. There simply wasn’t another place in Revachol that would’ve taken him in with open arms because of just how violent he was. His only saving grace was the fact that he did solve the majority of the cases that involved killing people on the job. That, and the fact that internal affairs have long given up on investigating any officer in Jamrock. He would’ve been fired within a week otherwise. “No, I’m afraid it’s just that DeMettrie had gotten to them first,” he sighed, scanning through the text. “Pity.” The rest of the reports have been reviewed in almost complete silence, only interrupted by the ticking of the clock and an occasional comment here and there. There weren’t many, luckily, before all the papers went inside the desk and were subsequently locked. Ptolemaios sighed audibly as he finally got to his feet, throwing a sideways glance at Nix who simply looked back at him with a questioning quirk of an eyebrow from behind his glasses. The captain sighed, shook his head and took their empty mugs to the kitchen, then came back to see the other man already standing and looking out the window disdainfully. “Are you sure you will be fine with riding home today? I can drive us and go back for…” “No, no, don’t bother,” he waved his hand at Ptolemaios. “I’m fine. Taking a walk here helped.” “If you say so.” A sigh. “Shall we, then?” “Mm.” They smile at each other briefly before heading out to the stables. On second glance, Nix did look better now after a rest. He walked more easily and it had just now clicked that the cane was in the office again and not his hand. It was a good thing that there wasn’t another storm, too. “My place tonight?” “Sure.”***
The ride home and the dinner were a quiet affair with just the two of them. Nix was actually pleasantly surprised with how today had turned out despite the little setback with the weather. It’s actually been a calm and productive day for once, which again, he didn’t even realize he needed until now. Hmm. If only he could just take at least a few weeks off without risking their precinct just dying off with their stupid decisions every step of the way. They really needed more people there. But no matter. He was done with work for today, he did not need to think about the fundamental issues with the RCM as a whole and Precinct 41 in particular more than he already had on a weekly basis. Still, the inertia of the thought process still followed him everywhere, he supposed. He sighed, turning his attention back to the book he was reading just a few minutes ago. It’s taken him over a month to get to this one with the workload at the station and he doubted he’d manage to get through more than a half of it before putting it on the back shelf for… another month, most likely. And somehow Ptolemy still managed to keep track of all his books here. “Ah, there you are.” Speak of the devil. “Mm. Finally got around reading The four friends. Quite interesting, this one.” “Oh, one of Kommentaar’s, right?” “Mhm,” he hummed, turning the page. “Weren’t you about to go to sleep?” “Thought I’d actually wait for you this time,” the man shrugged, coming up to him and leaning on the back of the armchair to get a better look at what he was reading. “Hmm, I think I’ve heard Heidelstam mentioning this one a couple times at the precinct. The character names seem familiar.” “Did he, now? Didn’t take him for the type to enjoy the genre.” “Didn’t know you were close enough to know which genres he likes,” Ptolemy quirked an eyebrow with a chuckle. “Hm. Suppose we aren’t.” He continued reading for a while, only barely noticing how the other man left him alone at one point, only returning a few minutes later with another book, heavily annotated from a glance, and two cups of tea and sliding one of them across the coffee table. Nix took it with a smile and a silent nod of gratitude. Ptolemy took the couch for now, getting to his own reading in silence. It took maybe another thirty minutes to finally feel the tiredness from the day getting to him, the text becoming harder to read by a minute. By the time he’d gotten through about a third of the novel, the remains of the tea had gone cold in the cup and Ptolemy… Oh. He was actually asleep. On the couch, with his book covering his face and a pencil still in hand folded on his chest. Well, that just wouldn’t do. With a quiet sigh Nix got up from the armchair and carefully pried the objects from the man’s hands, scoffing to himself when he was met with resistance. Both books went on the table, stacked on top of each other with both their glasses close by, and the cups… no, he could more than deal with those tomorrow morning. He gently shook the other’s shoulder to wake him up, holding back an amused smile at the displeased groan he got in response. “You’ll be all sore in the morning if you sleep here,” he huffed, gaining another groan as he poked the shoulder. “Get to the actual bed, Ptolemy.” “Mmm… are you coming too this time?” he mumbled, half-heartedly swatting at the surgeon’s hand. “Yes, yes, I’m coming too,” Nix sighed, taking a step back. He didn’t even think before following Ptolemy to the bedroom. Ptolemy circled the bed to close the window first before climbing into bed and silently lifting the blanket, inviting him to join. The sheets were a touch uncomfortably chill now, but the warmth of the human body made up for it quickly enough. Nobody in the precinct would believe him if he ever said that the feared and respected captain Ptolemaios Pryce loved to cuddle. Not that he’d ever planned to mention it to anyone, the thought was just funny to him. His hand went to the back of the man’s head on instinct, holding him closer still. He sighed into Nix’ shoulder, finally settling down. His breathing was already slowing down again. “Night, Nix,” he mumbled, slowly drifting back to sleep. Nix couldn’t help a gentle smile that tugged on his lips as he finally closed his eyes too. “Good night, Ptolemy.”
