2007-08-18: DF: Crazy World


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After (log name that hasn't been posted yet because I'm lazy as hell), Namir follows Samantha up to the pediatric ward. They manage to have a happy conversation, for once. Also, babies.

Dark Future Date: August 18th 2009

Crazy World

Pediatrics, Alliance Clinic

Samantha had walked away, giving her clipboard to one of the aides to take care of checking people in, and gotten into the elevator to ride it up to the floor that holds the pediatrics ward, and more particularly, the nursery. That's where she can be found, body pitched toward one of the incubators - the only one presently in use in fact, her hand pushed through the soft plastic so she can gently massage the baby, humming softly as she does so. Namir will recognize it; a common lullabye sung in Hebrew when words are added.

Babies: one of Namir's biggest weaknesses, though he'd never let on about it these days. He's grown too jaded to let such things show. So when he manages to finally follow Sam up to the nursery, he almost looks afraid to be there. Babies. Or, well, one baby. Still, it is small and precious and adorable, and Sam is standing right there. Steeling himself, the Israeli quietly moves up beside his wife and peers down at the newborn, keeping his expression carefully neutral. "This is the one that was just born, hmm?" he questions flatly.

Samantha's back stiffens, but she keeps her head down and eyes on the baby. It's safer that way. "Mmmhmm." she says. "Not the first camp baby I've delivered, but certainly the earliest. She'll be alright, though. Just a few days in the incubator ought to put her to rights."

"Mm." Namir is also pointedly keeping his gaze locked on the baby, though not exactly for the same reasons. He really does like babies. After a moment's pause, he raises one hand to run his fingers lightly over the glass just above the little girl's head. "She's beautiful." And maybe he's just slightly jealous of that.

Samantha is unable to keep from smiling at that. She reaches and takes his wrist, tugging his hand toward the second glove-hole. "Go on." she says, gently attempting to guide his hand into each of the hollow fingers. "Just be careful."

Namir almost flinches away when he realizes what Sam is trying to do. No, he can't touch the baby. She might … infect him with something. Or he might break her. It's like swinging a bunch of roses close to a brick wall: one runs the risk of bashing them and ruining the bouquet. But he doesn't pull away and relents to putting his hand inside the glove. At first he just lets his hand hover there, unsure whether or not he should, but he finally tentatively rests his fingers on the baby — and smiles. The more he touches and winds up not breaking her, the more relaxed he grows. "She's so tiny," he chuckles.

"I know." Samantha smiles, gently letting the infant curl her fingers around her Sam's larger one. "Look at those tiny fingernails." She sounds completely baffled by her own fascination, completely oblivious to the TICK TICK TICK of her own biological clock. She looks sidelong at him. "Bekah's very good at what she does." she says quietly. "A lot of people depend on her. They see her and they think about how what she can do is a miracle."

"Mm-hmm, and her feet." Namir's all-out grinning now. Babies. Every time he sees one, he wants one of his own. He's wanted one ever since he got to hold his nephew for the first time. But Sam's change of subject causes his expression to fall again, and he finally tears his eyes away from the newborn to land on the doctor next to him. His face is difficult to read. "Is that what this is about?"

Her face has been turned back to the baby. "I guess the miracles I manage really aren't that much in comparison. It's selfish." She states it flatly. She knows it is. And it's not about Bekah. She's never been resentful of Bekah for her gifts.

Namir lets out a quiet sigh and closes his eyes. "Sam." He brings his free hand up in an attempt to take hold of her chin and gently turn her face toward him. Talking to her cheek isn't cutting it. "You are a wonderful doctor. The only reason I went to Bekah was because … we were fighting. It was easier not to come back to see you. It has nothing to do with your abilities or your lack of abilities."

Samantha purses her lips, but it doesn't seem to be scornful. "She's so taxed. I always take care of you, even when we're fighting." The corner of her mouth quirks upward. "Except, you know, when you're pointing a gun at me." Is she…smiling? A little? What this world can do to one's sense of humor. But she quickly turns solemn again and looks back down at the baby. It's easier.

Well, it's good she can at least almost smile about it now, because she certainly wasn't when it was going down. That at least makes him feel a little better. Not much, but some. It's still not something Namir is proud of. He also returns his attention to the baby, wriggling one of his fingers into her tiny little fist. "If it makes you feel better," he utters, "you can shoot me and stitch me up again."

Samantha looks at him then. It's pretty funny - she looks at him when he's not, he looks at her when she's not. "Promise?" Her mouth curves wider.

Hopefully that changes, if only for a moment, when Namir returns that look with a smirk of his own. "Certainly, if you don't mind getting blood on your carpet, because we are not doing it at my place." His hole in the ground with rats and a lantern, which Sam will never see.

"You're in charge of security here, you should live here like the rest of us." she says, and withdraws her hand from the glove gently before checking the incubator's settings. She begins setting up a bottle.

"And miss my penthouse with the jacuzzi? Don't be ridiculous." Namir doesn't go anywhere. He's pretty much hooked to the baby now, and besides, she's still got hold of his finger. "Besides, other people need the cots here more than I."

"If there's a jacuzzi I totally want my half in the settlement." she kids, and puts the bottle through the seal slider before restoring her hand in the glove and picking it up. Gently, she places it near the baby's mouth, and there's prompt fastening and supping. Hooray, baby!

That's about the time Namir's finger gets released and, not wanting to be in the way, he withdraws his hand from the incubator. Instead of moving away entirely, however, he instead sidesteps to stand directly behind Sam and rest his palms on the edge of the incubator, effectively fencing her in. "Settlement, hmm? Does that mean you're filing for divorce?" It's a lot easier to joke around and be close like this when they're alone, because God forbid anyone get the impression that Namir actually cares about his wife.

"Oh, yeah. I'm gonna get you good. I'm gonna be rolling in the alimony." Sam says with a small smile. As she's well aware that Namir's got zip zilch nada, she's clearly kidding. "There's a good girl." she tells the newborn, as it seems to be doing a good job of getting nourishment. "Tomorrow you'll get fed by your mama, and maybe even out of this thing, hmmm?"

"You know, we can always settle this out of court." Namir rifles about in his pants pocket with one hand and comes up with a grand total of three quarters, four dimes, one nickel, six pennies, a packet of sugar, and some lint. He quickly divides it up into halves as equal as he can make them, then sets one part down on the incubator. He even lets her have the sugar packet and most of the lint. "There you are. That is half of everything I own right now. Start rolling." But then he becomes mostly enthralled with the baby again. It's both painful and heartwarming to see Sam like this, even if the baby doesn't belong to either one of them.

"Well, I suppose that'll have to do. You get the rats, and I got Fiyero." This seems fair to her. Continuing to watch the baby, she notes quietly, "It's the last thing we need in this world and in this time and in this place, but ours would have been beautiful." A pause and grudgingly, "Confused, but beautiful."

Very confused. He closes his eyes and rests his cheek against the side of Sam's head. This is exactly where he didn't want to go with his thoughts, but there it is. "I know," he murmurs simply. "Ours would have been very beautiful." Then, taking in a deep breath and trying to force himself off such a road, Namir adds, "Though alternatively, he would have wound up with my ears and your nose, and then where would we be?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sam replies promptly. "I have a gorgeous nose. In fact, there are women who get rhinoplasty just to get noses just like mine." She turns her head, grins up at him.

Namir can't help but smile back. "Mm, well, not everyone has good tastes." But he obviously doesn't think Sam's nose is horrid, otherwise he wouldn't be angling his head to plant a kiss on the tip of it just now.

He misses, on account of her lifting her chin. He'll just have to make do with her lips. She regards him from that same tilt of her head. "Crazy world." she says matter-of-factly.

Well, lips are much better than a nose, so Namir has no problem with that. Somewhat unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome, and he smirks a little at the statement. "Yes, it is." And he attempts another kiss before he adds, "When does your shift end, Doctor Applebaum?"

"My name's Dr. Dayan." she says ever so innocently. She withdraws the bottle, little Brenna having had her full. "And looks like I'm off the clock."

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