#scarsdale

"So. You are hungry? Mama left food in your cupboard."

"The DeBukes had food..."

"-Your- food?"

"Earl is a DeBuke. They're all.. " she gestures, indicating height.

"Tall? Strong? Ok. But cooks? So. You eat. Mama says. Then you rest."

Aaron's words are echos of others, but nonetheless meant or heartfelt.

"Can I go see Hirim first?"

"And was Mama okay? I don't like worrying her, but.. but I thought, maybe, maybe if things went bad... "

He pokes around the tupperware food. "Hannah went to take care of Hiriam. She's.... fine?" He seems sure. "I know she wants to see you soon. You and ... Earl. If he can." Aaron clears his throat.

"He's still... hurt." The word catches in her craw. "Healing, but..."

Aaron nods absently, but then checks on Zara. "Good."

"I'll go to the hospital. I can take the volvo, nu?"

"You drive careful?"

"SO careful! Like a Bubbe's bubbe."

"So good." And he kisses her forehead before turning to his warmed up dinner.

A tiny smile, and she heads out to the garage.

Silver volvo goes scoot.

*Scoot scoot!*

*to....?*

Hospital!

BRIGHT...vibrant yet in places static. Well-meaning... and cold. Matter of fact. Business, insurance, bureaucracy.... healing, care, and nurturing.

Zara shrinks, squints... bright lights, loud smells, people everywhere....

But still - to the desk. "I would like to see Hirim Himmelfarb, please? I'm family."

"ID?"

She squints. "We don't have the same last name. He's my uncle." Still - out comes her driver's license.

The nurse takes it, compares... nods. "Room 213."

"Thank you." She whisks away on a mission, using a hand to shield her eyes from the glaring flourescents.

It smells of everything that haunts her; antiseptics, cleaners, things that make everything.....safe.

Still, she perseveres... 209... 211...

213.

The room, from the outside is quiet. Even for her.

She unlatches the door, peeking inside.

The door only needs to be moved; it is not latched. Two old men. One under the blankets in the bed. One sitting by the bedside. The first is tentacled with hoses and needles.

She clamps a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide.

The old men ... one holds hands with the other.

"Ratchet?"

After a long moment .... reluctantly..... the more lively one looks up.

"I thought Mama was here."

"Do you need coffee? Does... can Hehe have anything?"

"No." Hoarse. "No, IV only they tell me."

Zara drifts closer, eyeing the pipes and tubes like some kind of antediluvian abomination.

It is. It is an abomination. She stares... But her uncle is there. "Sssshh."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. Do you need... I was.. I... I was Dreaming, aye? Full up."

"Zara. Is ok. Go home for now. Later? Well."

"But he..." Zara moves to plunk down in the seat beside Ratchet. "It's just the flu...."

"106.8 at the highest. Go now. "

"Zara... you have the moral and the Fae body. So?"

"Go."

Her fingers tangle in a knot, dark eyes fixed on the very small uncle beneath all of that equipment.

....She does not seem to be going.