Eisheth winced as she finished scrolling down the body of the email, tugging on the leash attached to her badge. Grigori's breath was close enough to almost cascade down the back of her neck as he read over her shoulder, his thumbs tucked into the pockets of his white coat. After a few seconds, he clapped a hand on her shoulder. "I think it'll be great!"

Ah, malignant optimism: thy name is Dr. Grigori, she thought sourly, releasing the badge. It zipped back to its proper position with a click. "I just wanted to work a day shift..."

"Well, you know, needs of the hospital and all that." He smiled with his customary vagueness at her and padded off towards his office, ready to head home. They were almost to the freedom that was shift change.

Before she could answer, the overhead page came on. "Would a nurse from Surgical Floor please dial 9274 for Materials Management? Would a nurse from Surgical Floor please dial 9274 for Materials Management?" Even distorted by the intercom system, there was a strained element to the voice.

"Not it!" Four of her coworkers blurted the two words out almost simultaneously before scattering like marbles.

She sighed and picked up the receiver, hooking her shoulder around it to keep to her ear as she dialed. It was probably just something screwy with supplies again. "This is Eisheth from Surgical Floor."

There was no polite introduction, only an interrogation waiting for her. "Who sent a pneumatic tube of biohazard materials for disposal to us about five minutes ago?"

"Biohazard materials?" Eisheth blinked, and then a slow, horrible realization dawned on her. Those motherfucking leeches. Play dumb, Eisheth, play dumb. "Umm...I would have to ask. Why?"

The silence on the other end of the line sounded suspicious at best. "It showed up leaking blood. Then we opened it."

"Oh?" Eisheth tried to sound interested and not like she was imagining the horror show of the last sixty seconds of tiny, bloodsucking invertebrate lives as they went on the Mr. Toad's Wild Ride of adventures on their way to be executed in alcohol. "I thought those things were sealed pretty tight."

"Look, whatever fucking moron screwed that lid on cross-threaded it."

She remembered the difficulty they'd had in getting the stupid thing together. That meant that the thing had leaked blood all down the tube, from one end of the hospital to the other. This is why we don't work six short-staffed shifts in a row, Eisheth. "I'm sorry. I'll let everyone know not to do that in the future."

"To cross-thread it or send us fucking medical-grade leeches through the pneumatic tube system?"

"Yes." Eisheth rubbed the center of her forehead with her fingers. A medically inadvisable amount of non-narcotic painkillers washed down with a thermos of terrible coffee had done nothing to kill her tension headache. It was an exhaustion not even death could cure. "Look, I'm sorry there was a mess. It won't happen again."

The sound of a smug sort of righteous indignation was like nails on a chalkboard. "We're filing a report. This was a mishandling of hazardous waste."

She almost groaned out loud. "Is that necessary?"

"It's hospital policy. Do you have any idea how much work this is going to be to clean up? Who sent the tube?"

She was done. "Shit, code! I've got to go!" Eisheth slammed the receiver down and then buried her face in her hands. Almost as if she'd willed it into being, a half second later the sound of a shrieking alarm came from down the hall, cascading off the sterile walls.

"Which one's that?" Bel asked blearily, coming from the other direction as fast as his sleep deprived legs could take him.

"Probably Room 12," Eisheth said, checking her watch as she hustled. "It's been a whole fifteen since he tried getting out of bed."

"You think angels ever have this problem?" Bel asked, loping after her.

Eisheth didn't answer as she used her long legs to full advantage, cheap rubber shoes keeping an excellent traction on the floor. In her head, she cussed a blue streak as she reached the end of the hall and shot into Room 12. She slapped on her best smile, hoping her eyes didn't quite promise the murder she was contemplating. "I need you back in bed, sir. You're really not up for moving."

The little old man teetering dangerously on weak legs looked at her, about as awake and cogent as Bel was. Granted, Bel had more practice operating at that level of fatigue. "Where am I?" he demanded, his white hair sticking out at strange angles. His gaze flitted around in panicked wildness. Clearly, he had woken much more than the last time she was in.

"Shit, he's a new one," Bel muttered, only just avoiding a crash into Eisheth's back. "You got this?"

She edged closer, but the man eyed her like a rabid dog when she did. "Look, you're just waking up from surgery," Eisheth explained with the patience of a saint. "I'm sure you had a shock—"

"You put leeches on me!"

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Well, that is a shock, Eisheth reflected. They rarely remembered when she got them, still groggy and complacent. "I understand that you're upset, Mr. Hanover. If you would kindly get back in bed, I'll have Dr. Grigori come in and explain."

The man's face hardened. "I don't know what kind of shit you're trying to pull—" He tried to take a step back and overbalanced.

Eisheth lunged and caught him by his gown before he could do a header into the wall or his IV stand. She turned him like a dancer and plopped him down on the edge of his bed. "I would prefer it if you stayed in bed," she said, glare daring him to defy her. "You're not supposed to be up and moving yet."

Bel hovered next to her, waiting for a signal.

Mr. Hanover hesitated. There was no way she should have been able to close that gap so quickly or catch him so easily. "Are you an angel?" he asked.

"I'm like an angel," Eisheth said. She caught her badge and held it up, a somehow smiling picture. The expression probably existed there because she hadn't known then what she knew now. The large, friendly print that read RN tended to put people at ease. "I'm your nurse, Mr. Hanover. At least until 7."

He nodded hesitantly. "It's 7:05."

Eisheth toyed with the idea of running from the room at the same speed she'd come, screaming her shift report at the top of her lungs at the incoming nurses to get it over with faster so she could go home already. Of course Day Shift is taking their sweet-ass time. "Well, Mr. Hanover..."

"You got this?" Bel said a little too eagerly.

Eisheth gave him a withering glare before turning her attention back to the patient. "You need some rest, Mr. Hanover. We've got to go give the shift report, and then a wonderful nurse will be in here to make sure you have everything you need while you're recovering. Okay?"

The old man nodded reluctantly, getting back in bed, and she pulled the covers over him. With a bit of adjustment of his pillow and the bed itself, Hanover calmed. She estimated she had about ten minutes before he tried again. The others were probably already dumping their own reports on the laps of their replacements. She turned around and scowled when she realized Bel had bailed on her while she was busy.

Everyone crowded around the nurse's station, gossiping in full force by the time she made it back. The only person on the outs looked to be Ruha, the new girl, excluded by a circle of turned backs. Eisheth felt a twinge of pity and sidled over, even knowing it would delay the going home more. "Don't take it personally," she advised. "We eat our young."

Ruha flashed a smile that looked equal parts terrified and relieved to be included by anyone. "I'll try not to."

"Also, about those leeches..." Eisheth lowered her voice. "What happens on Night Shift stays on Night Shift. Got it?"

The tired newbie blinked at her. "Why? Is something wrong?"

Ruha and Bel were the only ones who could roll over on her, and Bel was smart enough not to make a peep, since it had been his idea and she had enough blackmail regarding his practical jokes to end his career. He knew better. "Trust me on this, kid. Your life will be much easier." Eisheth tried to keep her tone diplomatic rather than something that could be construed as menacing.

"I suppose." Ruha blinked and then scrubbed at her eyes, drooping like a neglected peace lily under the weight of her exhaustion. "Grigori said it was your last night with us."

Eisheth sighed. "Yeah."

"You should have said something. We could have had donuts."

One of the Day Shift nurses sidled over, her shoes squeaking on the hard floor. "Hey, I heard you're headed for the snake pit, Eisheth. On a day shift."

Pasting on a fake smile, Eisheth tried not to glare daggers at Chordeva. Maybe it was the headache, maybe it was the coffee, maybe it was the chronic late arrival, or maybe those leeches, but all she wanted was to leave. "Yeah, I guess I passed the sniff test for crazy. Can we just do a shift report so I can have my weekend?"

"You know, they say it takes a special kind to work in Psych."

"Special kind of stupid," Eisheth agreed, letting the condescension roll off her back. In the distance, she heard the bed alarm go off again. This time, she grinned. "You've got a bed hopper in Room 12, by the way. Probably should go help him out. I'll catch Dani up and she can fill you in when you get back."

"You're not off the clock yet," Chordeva retorted even as she glanced over at the board to see which rooms were hers. She scowled when she saw Room 12 on her list.

"Better hustle," Eisheth said with a wink as she headed over towards Dani. "I'm not allowed to accrue any more overtime."

Chordeva darted off to deal with their unruly patient, giving Eisheth a chance to join the huddle. In five minutes, she rattled off everything she'd seen and then left to the dulcet tones of Hanover shouting profanities down the hall. De-escalation wasn't a skill Chordeva had mastered.

Bel and Ruha punched out with her, following her into the locker room. Eisheth slipped off her shoes and pulled a rain-jacket on over her scrubs, too tired to change more than her footwear. Her tennis shoes were pretty ratty, but they slipped on fine and felt heavenly after being on her feet for twelve hours. She didn't listen to the conversation between Bel and Ruha, brain wandering in that way only tired could.

St. Nick's Hospital had a way of using people to the bone, but that was to be expected. When Sartre had written hell is other people, she was pretty certain that he'd had hospital administration in mind. She zipped up her jacket and trudged down the stairs, keys gripped in her hand until it was almost painful. A couple of deep breaths centered her as she hit the side exit door with her shoulder, swinging it open.

Dark clouds swallowed the sky outside, blocking the dull crimson sun. The gentle pattering rain of brimstone and flickering flames gave the world beneath the cloud a strange, reddish hue. She sighed, knowing that she'd have to dig the ash off her car. The concrete jungle of a cityscape was already bustling to life, though rush hour hadn't quite come to life yet. It was still early enough that she could make it to her apartment without too much delay.

"Aww man, I was hoping for some sun," Bel grumbled.

"It's Purgatory, Bel," Eisheth said bluntly. "If you wanted sunshine and blue skies, maybe you should have stayed on the Upstairs side." She turned to face her two companions, making a peace sign with one hand. "See you later, losers."

Deep down, all Eisheth thought she really wanted was a million dollars and a margarita. Things on Surgical had been comfortable in their discomfort, even the leech debacle.

How bad could the Psych ward really be? Eisheth asked herself as she shoveled off ash.

That thought floated off into the universe, which took one look and laughed.