These Halls Are Never Empty

After Tom left, and Bill had cried to Leila, he found himself bored. Rarely did he find this, but nothing he thought about doing seemed interesting.

He was sprawled out on his bed, 'blobbing out,' as Tom called it. And it bugged him.

He suddenly wished that he had a TV in his room. Sure, he'd only watch it on the rare times he was bored (like now) but it would be useful when these times came around.

He twirled a charcoal stick in his hand as he thought. He could always go to the room (could it be considered a rec room?) and mingle with the other patients of the fifth floor. Jack's blood might still be a smear on the floor. But after thinking about it, Bill decided he'd rather eat the roll of white paper.

He yawned widely and stared at the dust motes the swirled in the sun that came from the window. It had always interested him about how dirty the air around him was, and yet never hurt him. One of life's great mysteries.

Bill continued to twirl the charcoal stick when he remembered Tom's statement reminding him of a children's movie. And how he had gone down to pediatric care to watch that.

He suddenly sat up.

Goodbye boredom.

~+~

Tom was chilling on the couch in his family's den, flipping through the TV channels disinterestedly. He was still trying to process things, trying to convince himself that he was not interested in guys.

He skipped past a cooking channel when a large, plastic bag was thrown at his face. He jumped in shock and put a hand on his heart. "Jesus, Gordon! Couldn't you have just said, 'Hi, we bought you some shit'?"

"Hi, we bought you some shit."

Tom sighed, smiled, and dug into the bag. Tom's face lit up. "Aw, hell yeah! I've been looking at this one!"

Tom eagerly pulled his dreads through the hole in the hat and put it on. It was one of his trademark flat-brimmed hats; blue, with the widely-known 'AS SEEN ON TV' logo across the front. Tom had been dying for it.

"What's the occasion?" Tom's face fell a little bit. "Shit, what do you want me to do?" His face fell a little more. "AM I GOING TO BE AN OLDER BROTHER?!"

Gordon gave Tom a weird look. "Why the hell would your mother and I buy you something if we were expecting?"

Tom pondered this. "Fair point, dear stepfather. So, tell me, G-Man, what's this for?"

"Your mom and I are proud of you and how much progress you've made."

"You make me sound like I'm a dog being trained."

Gordon smiled. "Regardless of how it sounds, we both really are proud of you. And if you keep it up..."

Tom's eyes went wide when Gordon mimed strumming a guitar. "No way. You'll get me the Gibson?!"

"Maybe, if you continue at the pace your going and stay on the right track."

Tom jumped up and nearly strangled Gordon with a hug. Gordon was stunned for a moment before hugging back.

"You're both the best, the very best, I promise, I'll keep it up, oh my god, you both rock, thank you!"

He ran upstairs after that, singing awfully the entire way.

Simone walked over to Gordon. "You told him about the Les Paul?"

"In passing."

Simone smacked Gordon's arm. "Gordon! He wasn't supposed to know!"

"I didn't tell him we already have it. I told him that if he kept being a proper human, he might get one."

Simone raised an eyebrow. "And what happens if he becomes a little shit again?"

Gordon smirked. "Then I've got a new guitar and he doesn't."

At that moment, Tom came running back downstairs. "I forgot to tell you - hi, Mom!"

"Hi, Tom. Is that what you wanted to tell us?"

"What? Oh, no, I have something else I need to say. I'm working nights now at the hospital, starting tonight."

Simone's face was indescribable. "Do they understand that you are a teenager who needs a proper sleep schedule? What are they thinking?"

"Mom."

"I have half a mind to call them and complain! Just because you chose to stay doesn't mean that they can screw with your life!"

"I made the choice!"

Simone stopped her mini-rant and looked at him. Gordon was leaning against the wall, watching the goings-on with some interest.

"What do you mean, you made the choice?"

Tom shrugged. "It was my decision to start working nights. The guy they had working them, Seth, he has a family, a little girl and a wife, and the night shift was killing him. He was missing out on everything his kid was doing because he was always sleeping during the day and working at night and I just thought, fuck it, I don't have that kind of family, I'm perfectly capable of working nights and missing nothing, so I offered to trade shifts and we did. I just wanted to let you know."

Simone's eyes went glassy. Tom almost grimaced. He didn't enjoy a crying woman.

"I'm so proud of you I'm not even going to get mad at you for your language! Oh, Tom, you've just... You've just..." Unable to find the words, Simone simply ran to her son and hugged him tightly.

Gordon came over and clapped Tom on the back. "You're a good kid, Tom. We're both proud of you. More than we can say."

"Yeah, I kind of figured," Tom laughed, pointing at his mother. She scoffed and smacked him upside the head.

"Excuse me for being emotional over my only son!"

"You're excused," Gordon said, smiling.

Simone rolled her eyes, wiped at them, then pointed at the stairs. "All right, hup-to, mister, I'm doing laundry. Go get your mountain of dirty clothes."

Tom saluted and trotted up the stairs. Simone turned to Gordon.

"When are we giving him the Gibson?"

~+~

"Visiting hours are almost ov- oh. Well, hello."

Bill had never felt more awkward and shy in his life. The woman's sweet gaze of interest made him feel small, like he was seven again. He had his sketchpad in his hands and he shuffled his feet.

"Well I guess a patient isn't subject to visiting hours," she said, taking in his outfit of blue, a color the hospital regularly used for patients. "What's your name?"

Bill was glad she wasn't one of the nurses or orderlies who went around and did everything everywhere when she was needed. It frustrated him because they would see him and then be either scared or condescending because he was a patient of the fifth floor psychiatric ward.

Bill quickly scribbled his name on the paper.

"Bill, huh? Can you speak?"

Bill shook his head slowly, shuffling his feet again. Something about this woman was so familiar, but he couldn't place her. It was driving him nuts.

She pointed a finger at him. He was a bit taken aback. She didn't seem accusatory in her point.

"I know you... you're the little boy who came here once to watch a movie with the other kids!"

Bill's eyes widened. That's how he knew this women. She was there when he last came. And he had been eight at the time.

"My, my, how you have grown up! You're so tall!"

He did tower over her by a good ten inches.

"And you hair was so much shorter back then. Well, how have you been, dearie?"

Bill quickly wrote out how he'd been. Fine. Nothing new.

"In nine years, nothing new has happened?"

Not with me, anyway. Except puberty.

"I should hope so. Now, I know you didn't remember me until I remembered you."

Perceptive. Bill liked her already.

"So I have to wonder why you came down here, because it's obviously not because you wanted to visit me."

I was bored. I hoped that you would show another movie, and I could watch with the kids. Technically, I'm still a child and thus allowed in pediatric care.

"That's right, you're only seventeen. Well, you do have good timing. We're watching a movie today, though I doubt you'll like it."

It still gives me something to do. What is it?

"Brother Bear."

Bill paused. He had no idea what that was, but still, he nodded anyway.

"All right, come on, the kids are getting excited."

How she knew this, he had no idea, but upon arriving inside, he did see that the children were excited. Many of them seemed like they had nothing wrong with them, and they were yelling and bouncing around and just generally being kids. He felt his heart warm. They were so carefree.

Except for one little girl who sat quietly on her bed, white teddy bear clutched to her chest and a padding of bandages around her neck. Bill tilted his head like a curious puppy and looked at her. She seemed forlorn, but hopeful somehow.

It was hard to put into words.

The kids all turned at the same time and looked at Bill and the nurse. They all seemed to get happier, if possible. "Maggie!"

The women smiled at the children who looked genuinely happy to see her.

One little girl jumped off of her bed and stood so close to Bill she had to tilt her head almost backwards to look at him. He tensed up, a natural reaction he had developed when he was six.

"Who are you?" she asked loudly, a smile on her face. She didn't blink, so neither did Bill. They began an unannounced staring contest, one that Bill would have won had Maggie, the nurse, not reached out and placed her hand on Bill's arm, causing him to flinch and shrink back.

"This is Bill, everyone."

"HI BILL!"

Maggie smiled while Bill put a shaky hand up to his temple. "He's a patient from another part of the hospital, and he wanted to watch a movie with us! Is that okay with you all?"

A very loud, echoing 'YES' pounded into Bill's skull. He started rubbing at his temple. He had forgotten how children liked to scream everything. He had never had the opportunity to go through the screaming stage, and these children were really, really, loud.

Except, of course, for that one little girl, clutching the white teddy.

Bill saw a bed, wedged into the corner, sheets clean and made, no sign of life around it (the nightstand was clear of little mementos from home) so he walked over to it, sat down on it, and scrunched himself into the corner of the wall as best as he could.

"All right, kids, get ready for the movie!" Maggie said. She grabbed a remote and pressed a few buttons. A TV on a trolley that had been placed in the opposite corner that Bill was squished in started showing the movie and all the kids seemed to simultaneously quiet down, sitting down on beds, some alone, some with a group of friends, and they all sat and watched.

Except for that one little girl with the white teddy.

Bill was unsure as to why he seemed so drawn to her. He had never seen her before in his life, she had made no eye contact, she seemed reserved, and she was clutching her teddy for dear life.

Bill blinked. It dawned on him. If it weren't for the fact that she was female and a brunette, she could have been Bill's clone.

That's exactly what intrigued him. That was it. She was rigid, scared-looking, silent as the grave, and had what was probably her lifeline clutched to her chest, just like he did with his sketchpad. He did, however, wonder what the bandages were for. Did she get burned? Cut? Maybe she had gotten whiplash and it was like a neck brace...

Bill flipped to a fresh page and glanced over at the TV, snorting when he saw a stern-looking old woman knock some kid on the head for reasons unknown. Her fist hitting his head made a clunking sound, like a small, rounded club hitting a hollow but strong piece of wood.

He smoothed the clean page and looked back over at the brunette girl, who was know gently playing with one of the teddy's ears. He studied her for a few more seconds, then drew a soft, waving line down the page, starting the drawing.

He already knew it wasn't going to be insanely elaborate, like the ones he had drawn when he had hours. It was simply a nice drawing with enough detail to be good but still simple enough that it had an almost cartoon effect.

Bill would chance looks at her every few minutes to see if he got a detail right, and draw the picture accordingly. He wanted to go over and speak with her, or, write to her, whatever it was called when he communicated with his pad of paper.

Wanting to know her story very badly, he made eye contact with Maggie and beckoned her over with a finger. She came over quietly. "Yes, Bill? Is something wrong?"

Who is that little girl over there?

Maggie smiled. "With the teddy bear?"

Bill nodded.

"Her name is Sarah. She's a temporary patient here, only until that wound on her neck completely heals and she can swallow properly again. Poor dear, she has gone through so much."

What happened to her?

"Car crash, poor thing. She was sitting in the backseat with her older sister, and someone ran a red light, slammed right into them. Her mother and sister died almost instantly."

So she's an orphan?

"Oh, no, her father's here too, but he's in the ICU with most of the left side of his body mangled. The impact sent him into his door. She was still young enough to be in a car seat, she's only four, so she would have walked away with only a few scratches."

So what went wrong?

"The window on her sister's side shattered. Pieces went flying and one big one caught her right across the throat."

Hence the bandages, Bill thought.

"Luckily, it missed her arteries, thank God, but it nicked her windpipe and cut through some vocal chords. Poor dear will most likely never speak again."

Bill felt a huge rush of sympathy. This little girl, Sarah, she may have gone through a different experience to suffer her loss of voice, but she would still know what it felt like to not be able to say a word when she wanted to.

Bill pressed the tips of his fingers to his mouth and then tilted his hand towards Maggie.

"You're welcome, Bill. Anything else?"

He shook his head.

"Okay then, I'll be over there if you need me."

She walked back to where she was sitting before and Bill looked over at Sarah. She looked like the saddest thing in the world, and Bill felt like he needed to do something. Quickly finishing his drawing (he had left off her bandages but kept the teddy) he closed his sketchpad and slowly made his way over to her, his dark blue hospital slippers making tiny patting noises on the tile.

He swallowed thickly and approached her slowly, a little wary. He did want to meet her, but her reaction to him might be something totally wild. He was, after all, over six feet tall, a little over a hundred pounds, his hair was just past his shoulders and a hot mess, he was gaunt, thin as a rail, and looked like he hadn't slept in years.

He looked like a walking scarecrow bent on murder, with his wide, bloodshot eyes, and who knew how Sarah would react to that.

Bill gently shuffled over to her. The sound of his hated slippers (it was nearly common knowledge that he preferred bare feet) finally alerted Sarah of his presence and she looked at him, starting at his feet and slowly going all the way up to his face.

Bill thought he was prepared for anything the girl might do. Try to scream, throw things, cry, beat him over the head with her teddy, but when she slowly raised her left hand and gently waved at him, he was at a loss.

So he waved right back.

They stared at each other for a long while before Bill opened his sketchpad, tore out the page that had her picture, something he had never done before unless it was a caricature, and quickly scribbled a very elaborate B on the bottom right hand corner. He gently handed her the picture and she cautiously took it from him.

She studied it, then pointed to herself. Bill nodded slowly, nervously. Sarah stared at it for a few more moments, then smiled. It was small at first, then grew wider and wider until her small baby teeth were showing. Bill tried to smile back but couldn't find it in him, so he merely tried to look happy.

She put it gently on her nightstand and looked back up at him. His eyes darted around, unsure what to do, so he started to walk off.

He jumped a little when he felt a small hand around his wrist.

Sarah gently pulled him back, then patted the bed in front of her. He sat down on it cross-legged, his sketchpad clutched to his chest, her teddy clutched to her's. They stared at each other for a long while before Bill wrote something simple, hoping she could read minutely. He used shorthand, hoping she would understand.

ok?

She stared at it for quite some time before she finally looked up at Bill, nodded, then pointed at him, like she was asking if he was okay.

He nodded back. He pointed at the picture he had drawn of her, then made a heart with his hands. Do you like it?

She nodded excitedly, bouncing a little.

He blinked and gave her the thumbs up. She smiled widely, then jumped off the bed. She opened what looked like a decorated shoe box and rummaged through it for a moment, then procured what Bill thought was a beaded necklace. She hopped back onto the bed, clutched her teddy, then held the necklace out to Bill.

He took them from her hands, and his heart jolted. They were a set of beautifully made wooden rosary beads with the letter S carved onto the crucifix.

Bill blinked several times, opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, then shook his head, handing them back to her. He couldn't accept such a gift, especially when he had only drawn her a silly picture.

She shook her head right back, then pointed more urgently at him. Again, he tried to decline them, a natural modesty overtaking him. They were just too personal to her to take.

She sighed, then took them back. However, before Bill could draw his arm back, she grabbed hold of his wrist and looped the beads around it. She crossed her arms and stared at him, almost daring him to give them back.

He held his wrist up and watched the way the crucifix spun around with the momentum of his movement, slightly transfixed. He felt a bit odd wearing the beads. He hadn't ever been in a church before, and he wasn't taught any religious beliefs. He knew they were Catholic, but he didn't know their use.

So he asked. He pointed at them, then shrugged like he was confused.

Sarah put her hands together. That made sense. You prayed with rosary beads. He could understand that.

So Bill put his hands together and pretended to pray. He must have done something wrong, however, because Sarah wagged a finger at him. Bill's eyebrows furrowed. Was praying with rosary beads really that elaborate?

She held her hand out and Bill gave them back. She bowed her head and ran her finger over every single bead, mouthing words with each passing bead.

Bill wished dearly that she could teach him. He'd like to know a rosary prayer.

She tilted her head back up and handed them to Bill. He nodded and twisted them around his wrist again, clutching the crucifix in his palm.

They stared at each other for a minute or two, then Sarah scooted up to Bill and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him. Bill tensed so tightly he was shaking, but eventually he wrapped his arms around Sarah to return her hug. She had just about broken every rule he had and he wasn't exactly bugged by it.

She finally let go and scooted back to where she normally sat, clutching that teddy. Bill bit his lip and thought for a moment. He wanted to see her again, that much was certain, but he couldn't exactly waltz around the hospital whenever he felt like it. He was cutting it close by coming here. He was lucky no one had seen him.

So, he opened up his sketchpad and wrote out a message on it. Since she was only four, he doubted she could read it, but he knew that someone else would know what it meant.

He handed it to her, and she looked at it.

Whenever you want to see me, ask for Bill on the fifth floor. I'll be there.

She looked at it for a very, very long time, Bill's hands folded neatly in his lap, before she looked up and nodded slowly.

He gave her a kind look before gently petting her hair then standing up off the bed, gripping the crucifix in his hand. He made a mental note to find out any rosary prayers he could.

He walked up to Maggie and pointed at the door. He'd had enough of the mundane children's movie in the background of his day and he was letting her know he was leaving. She nodded and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be a stranger, sweetie. You come and visit these kids, and me, whenever you want to."

He nodded, then headed for the door. He poked his head out, looked around, and then almost ran for the stairs. He was nearly there when...

"Bill? What are you doing down here?"

Bill cursed every deity he could think of and then turned. He looked straight at the shrink and pulled himself up to his full height.

"You know you aren't supposed to wander around unsupervised. You could hurt yourself."

Ah, yes. The strange, universal belief that Bill wanted to commit suicide/liked self harm. He had scar-free skin that said otherwise. But, there was no changing the mass belief, so he was getting in trouble. Stuff like that happened.

I was visiting Maggie.

The shrink's eyebrows furrowed. "Maggie? Is she... A friend? Relative?"

She's a nurse in pediatrics.

"I didn't know that you knew anyone outside of the fifth floor."

I've known her since I was eight. I wanted to see her and I watched a movie with the children.

This was apparently not the right thing to write.

"You were amongst children? Bill! I know you think that you're as normal as anyone else, but your demeanor is anything but. You could have scared the children!"

Bill wasn't expecting this at all. The shrink thought he was terrifying? How? Sure, he was a bit paranoid, but given the circumstances, Bill thought that he was within every right to be paranoid. And the children weren't scared of him. If anything, they liked him. Their screaming enthusiasm had told him that.

"I will just go have a talk with this Maggie and see if the children are okay. You stay here until I get back."

For having a PhD, the shrink sure was a moron. As soon as the shrink turned around, Bill rolled his eyes, shook his head, and started walking up the stairs, glad that the shrink didn't see his rosary beads and take them.

After all, Bill thought with a snort, he could try and strangle himself with them.

And God knew that Bill was about as suicidal as they came.

~+~

"Hey Bill!"

Bill jumped and looked at the doorway, his head tilted to the side. It was eleven thirty at night, what in the world was Tom doing here?

Bill blinked, then rubbed his eyes. He was hallucinating. For some reason, he was hallucinating.

Better leave that detail out of the therapy session.

"Stop rubbing your eyes, I really am here. Look." Tom walked forward and held out a hand. "I'm tangible!"

Bill looked down at Tom's hand, then barely tapped it with the end of his finger.

"Well, jeez, hit harder, why don't you? Think you broke my hand." Tom smiled and then sat down by Bill. "I switched shifts with another janitor so he could spend more time with his family without being tired all the time. Am I noble or what?"

Or what.

Tom laughed. "There we go! Bill's back with the sarcasm. Nice to see you, dude."

Bill nodded, then began twirling his charcoal stick. He cross his legs almost femininely and then stared at his roll of white paper, thinking hard.

"Calm down, I think I see smoke coming out of your ears."

Bill looked up, hoping to see smoke, but there was nothing but the ceiling. He almost glared at Tom.

"It's an expression, calm down! Jeez, you're out of it. So, what's with the brain mechanisms going into full gear? What are you thinking about?"

Would you like to learn to draw?