The Sound of One Hand Working

Khaat had been feeling more and more incapable of working anymore. She hadn't intended to ever have to return to St Mungos looking as she was or functioning as she was. Her father, though, wasn't able to return at this point. There was a lot being left undone or inadequately done.

Khaat had taken to trying to work, unseen, in her office at night, but that didn't always work. There were times she ended up being called to help on a case, and she was seriously impaired by not having both hands. Her right hand worked well enough, but the left was still paralyzed. That, and she was appauled by people seeing her face. The photos in the newspaper had been graphic, but they still never quite measured up to the shock value that set in when someone saw the massive scarring in person. She hated anyone actually seeing her.

So far, though, her only course of action to minimize it was to try to wear her long hair over the left side of her face and to constantly wear a cloak while working, with the hood pulled up to try to hide behind. She had tried a veil but it looked more lame and hokey than the cloak. What she didn't like was the distinctive dementor look she had now while she was out of the house.

She also appreciated that Marcus never ever left her. Never. He was a good shield for her, and even if she wasn't in danger, he did understand her fear of being seen and he tried to help her conceal herself.

However, she was afraid that was about to change. She had found the hospital's potions stores far too low for most of the standardly used potions and entirely out of some of the more difficult ones. Her father had always kept those up. That hadn't been the case for some time. And, she had always known his skills were better than her own. She missed having someone to consult with, someone who could do what she could not--especially now.

"You need to hire a new Assistant Director," Marcus had told her. "You need the help. Scour your staff. Surely someone can muster up the skills to hold the fort when you can't be here, right? You'd need that even if your father were up to working again, but you definitely need it now."

She had considered. She had pulled the resumes of the healers, and then, purposely staying a bit later after the start of the morning shift, she sent a paper bird memo to Holland Fox. Fox had come highly recommended, but Khaat hadn't met her so far. It did make her nervous. She would have to face her own fears of her own inadequacies head on, once again, for the greater good.

"Shall I have them send tea?" Marcus asked her.

"Tea?" she narrowed his eyes at him.

"You know what I mean. French Roast for you, and tea for all the normal Brits," he teased.

"Oh. Yeah. Probably should."

"Consider it done," he told her, sending to the chef in the dietary department for the tray.

Holland had never been so thoroughly bored in her life. Ten days after her last case at Kingsway-Oxford Medical, the brunette couldn't help but wish that something would come along to take up her time. Unfortunately, for her to have something to do, that did mean that someone had to become so very ill that no one else could determine the problem. Her last case hadn't actually been one in which she had dealt with someone being sick at all, so much as injured. Stranger, still, was the moment when Holland had realized the woman was a witch herself but had been brought in by Muggles who didn't have a clue about the other options. They couldn't have known, of course, so Holland had simply taken care of it under the guise of suggesting the woman take some time at home to recover from the car accident.

When Richard walked in and handed her the letter, she lifted an eyebrow in confusion. The Director of the hospital never came in with anything in writing unless she was in trouble, or if the letter pertained to things outside of the Muggle bank of knowledge. So she held out a hand to take the note. He didn't say anything but instead frowned slightly before leaving the room. Holland furrowed her brow but opened the note, standing upon finishing a read through of what was written.

Jonathon stuck his head in to ask if she had been given a case, apparently surprised to see her moving about and gathering her things. "No, no," she returned gently, offering a smile. She appreciated his attentiveness as ever, but it wouldn't be the first time that Holland was reminded of the rumors that he had a little bit of a thing for her. It wouldn't happen, obviously, so neither spoke of it in any serious capacity. "Just a meeting. Page me if anything happens, yeah?"

"Sure thing," he agreed, passing her a grin before ducking out of the office.

Walking outside to ensure that someone saw her leave, Holland turned a corner and ducked into the first alleyway in order to apparate to St. Mungo's. It would never be easy for her to explain to her team that she had a second job - especially considering they could never understand the truth about it. Considering that the only person on staff at the hospital who even knew about the Wizarding World was the Director, it was actually lucky that Holland had been able to find a position there.

Landing on solid ground once more, Holland took another look at the letter. The Director of the Hospital wanted to see her. Interesting -- coincidences and all that. Shrugging her bag more fully onto her shoulder, she turned and headed towards the office specified. A double knock later, she bounced on the balls of her feet and waited for someone to call her in.

When the tea tray had arrived, Marcus poured Khaat a cup of French roast and himself a cup of tea. He glanced up at her, setting her cup in front of her.

"So," he asked, "Are you going to be honest with her? Or do you plan to try to keep up this charade with the woman you intend to ask to help you? Seems a bit like shooting yourself in the foot if you ask me...."

"I didn't," she said curtly.

"Why do you get like that?" he countered. "You get sarcastic with me every time I hit a nerve."

"Not every nerve," she defended.

"No, not every one. Just that one. But you are, unquestionably, the most elusive woman in wizarding England. The reality is, though, that you can't do this alone. You need help, and you've sent for it. If you are to lay all the cards on the table, you will have to be willing to tweak that sore nerve yourself. Or, just continue with the line of bullshit, if you prefer."

The knock came on the door. Marcus looked at Khaat square in the eyes.

"Do both of you a favor," he said. "Know who you're dealing with straight out. Lose the cloak. See if she can cope with you for who you are, as you are. She's a healer, after all. She should be able to stomach the scars. You'll need to tell her about your arm if you're to explain why you need the help. And you'll need to tell her at least a bit about your father. But you won't really know where you stand unless you're willing to take a risk."

"I don't know..." she said softly.

"If it doesn't work out, then no harm, no foul for either of you," he said, seeing that she had a huge case of cold feet about meeting new people. It was part of the reason Fox was so necessary. "Pull yourself up. You can do this."

He went to the door, paused a second and looked back at her. Nervously, she pushed back the hood of her cloak and unfastened it, dropping the cloak to the back of her chair. He nodded approvingly.

He opened the door. "Dr. Fox," he said, "thank you for coming so quickly. I'm Marcus Belby. Come in, and have a seat. She's expecting you."

She really should have expected to find something strange when the door opened and revealed a man who welcomed her in. The letter had seemed urgent, though Holland was not fully confident in what was about to happen, if she were being honest. She did know, however, that the man was not Robert Lupin, so she wasn't sure how to address him. Why the Director of the Hospital needed her help or whatever the case, Holland wasn't quite sure -- but it hardly mattered when she had been requested specifically. That could only mean good things as far as she was concerned, considering she had not done anything that she knew of that would send her through the back door.

Passing Marcus a nod in greeting, Holland stepped through the door and made her way up to the desk to sit across from the Director. It struck her as odd that someone in the woman's position would need to have some man around at all times, but she knew it would probably be best not to question everything all at once. Or at all, probably. Polite, confident and quiet would probably be the best idea.

"Hello," she greeted gently, setting her bag down next to the chair. She nearly offered her name, as was habitually what the doctor was expected to do, but she clearly didn't need it. Clasping her hands in her lap, Holland looked from Marcus to the woman sitting across from her. "What can I do for you?"

Marcus showed Dr Fox into Khaat's office, closing the door behind them.

"Good morning, Dr Fox," Khaat said. Marcus was pleased she had somehow pulled herself into looking composed and in control--at least for the moment. "Your reputation and your dossier speak for themselves--which is actually why you're here. Sit, please. My shadow, Mr. Belby here, has ordered us a proper tea tray. Tea or French Roast?"

Khaat was impressed with Fox. She looked young, well dressed, seemed poised, and Khaat seemed to like her energy and her drive. If it were all true and she in fact was the powerhouse that her dossier seemed to show, then perhaps she was the person Khaat needed after all. And, she saw no reason why she and Robert would not get along well together when and if the day ever came that they could work on potions together. Her father had missed having someone that could work, stroke for stroke, beside him in a potions lab.

"I do know that you've been at Oxford for awhile now, and you seem to be well respected there. I'm finding myself, though, rather short staffed here. Have you ever considered a return to healing in the wizarding world?"

Holland was fairly surprised, admittedly, to be addressed right off the bat about her medical experience, though it was rather unintelligent of her to be so. After all, she was in the Director's office, was she not? Sitting up straighter, she passed a smile to the man in question. "Tea, if you would," she requested gently.

She blinked once at the question, turning over the idea in her head as she sat there. Her lips parted as she tilted her head, a physical show of her consideration. "Well, I still delve into potion-making now and then, though much of what I do must be hidden from Muggles at the hospital. Honestly, though," she mused aloud, "when they come through my department, they're desperate to be healed, so they rarely notice if anything is changed slightly. Even my team isn't aware that the Director of that hospital knows about occasional spells or potions used."

Crossing one leg over the other, Holland continued. "Most of my cases take several days, but the cases only come around perhaps every couple weeks or so - there isn't a typical work schedule for them. I would need to be away for days at a time. In between, however, it's essentially me waiting for a case and having nothing real to do. So if there's a position you need filled which will allow for my odd schedule, I would quite willingly make the time. Did you have something specific in mind?"

"I..." she began and then felt like her words were racing faster out of her brain than she could grasp to make a sentence with first.  There were suddenly no words. She looked up at Marcus, who was pouring tea for Fox and handing it to her.  He heard Khaat pause, looked at her, and nodded slowly.  She looked back at Fox.

"I find working difficult these days," she said, deliberate with her word choice. She avoided talking about the disfigurement on her face like it was the proverbial elephant in the room. "I...don't have any movement in my left arm anymore.  It makes healing tasks difficult.

"We're also short a potionsmaster right now, and an Assistant Director. My father does the potions chores, but he...he has issues of his own right now. Our potions stores are almost completely empty.  I could probably buy the standard things, but my father made the rare things too, and those are entirely gone.  I need a potionsmaster who can also heal and who is skilled enough to take on the running of the hospital when my father or I can't be here."   She paused, gathering her thoughts.

"Under the circumstances, I can't possibly do this alone. I don't care what hours you work, so long as you can do the job," she said. "I...I've been working irregular hours myself."

Liar, she thought. Irregular my arse. You work when you think you can get in and out without anyone seeing you.  Or when you can dress like a filthy dementor to hide yourself.  There's nothing irregular about it.

She knew Marcus wasn't entirely approving yet. She hadn't laid her cards all on the table for anyone--not even for her father. She knew the time was not right for him to heal her., but the lasting damage in her left shoulder was so severe that nothing cut it. Standard pain potions and pain spells didn't touch it. It had been that way for almost a year now. Marcus made sure she got firewhiskey, and she knew he added pain potion to it most of the time. Her use of the combination was getting heavier because as she forced herself to try to resume what she had done before, the pain was getting out of control. Marcus had made it clear he wanted her to tell Fox everything. She had no doubt that he hadn't meant for her to leave that little detail out.

Holland’s eyebrows lifted, looking between Khaat and Mr. Belby as she tried to figure out what exactly was being asked of her. It amazed her that someone in the Wizarding World had some idea of what she was doing at her other hospital. Or, did she? Perhaps the director of her hospital had mentioned her, though Richard had not said as much. Holland couldn’t say. Either way, she most certainly wasn’t going to turn down the option that had been handed to her.

“Well, I certainly appreciate the offer. It’s really flattering,” she admitted, surprised that her cheeks hadn’t colored. Compliments weren’t always sent her way, because of her serious nature and the fact that she could just look someone’s way and silence them. It wasn’t very often that people would actually make comments for or against her.

“It wasn’t…” she started, hesitating for a moment before letting her shoulders fall in a show of concern. “It wasn’t your wand arm, was it? I mean, if you still meet with patients I’m sure we could organize it so that, even if you go about and diagnose them, either myself or someone else can actually come in and fix it up. They do that all the time in the Muggle hospital. The person who determines the problem isn’t too often the same person who solves it.”

She wasn’t entirely sure that her commentary was helpful – or even wanted – but Holland felt she had to give some sort of input if she wanted to appear helpful and appreciative. Because, appearances aside, Holland truly did try to be that way. She could seem abrasive or could make people believe she wasn’t concerned, but that was more her way of ensuring that she could focus without feelings for the people in question.

Yes, she was of the belief that everyone should be remembered and affect those who knew them. But it didn’t mean that Holland could afford to get attached to each of her patients. Even better, then, if Khaat or someone else could do the diagnosing and getting to know each person, then bring Holland in to deal with it.

Khaat saw Fox's surprise. She should have expected it. After all, it was catching the witch out of the blue. She was entitled to feel a bit blindsided. Fox wasn't already on the St Mungo's employee list. She was working in a muggle world. To be drawn here had to be an obvious shift in her plans.

"Perhaps I should back up a step," Khaat said. "Your reputation does precede you--both in the muggle world and in our own--in the circles of fellow healers. We all tend to try to know our colleagues, I think. What I do know is that you are well respected as a potions maker and as a healer in our world, and you have an even better reputation in the muggle world. That's an interesting combination. One I never really thought about, but that would surely give you some flexibility to be able to use the best of both worlds. Impressive."

She paused and took a sip of her French roast. Collaboration? She hadn't considered that idea. It wasn't that she wasn't used to collaborating. She often collaborated with either her father in getting his knowledge about a case or a diagnosis. Or she often collaborated with other healers who were looking for her assistance. This was refreshing, though, because it sounded much more like a partnership. More equality to it. That appealed to her. And, she guessed, it might work well for both their schedules.

"But you asked about my arm. No, its not my dominant hand, but for me, it is a massive inconvenience. My wand has not ever been my primary skill in healing. I diagnose and heal by touch. Something I guess I inherited from my father. Or at least I presume so. And to heal by touch, most often I need both hands.

"I like the collaborating idea. That, I think, would work very well. Am I correct in presuming you can deal with magical surgeries as well?"

Holland was vaguely surprised to know that people in the Wizarding World knew of her, but she would blame that on the director of her hospital, because she had no doubt that he was interacting with others of 'their kind.' Her teammates certainly weren't wizards or witches, and certainly didn't know that such people even existed. But at the same time, Richard would certainly be the sort to brag about how well he was doing now that he had another person to help cover up their saving Muggles as often as they could.

Admittedly, it felt strange to 'fix' them with magic, but Holland had something almost worth calling a complex. She didn't want to interact with patients in the Muggle world, because it was less likely that she could fix them. Getting to know them meant getting attached, and in that world it wasn't something she could afford. But here... Things could be different at this new hospital. She could have just bounced in her chair out of excitement, but wisely held it in.

"Understandable," Holland nodded -- though, in truth she didn't actually know too much about the way Khaat seemed to work. It was interesting, admittedly, and Holland had a feeling she would end up looking into it later. "And, to answer your other question, I have some experience with it, though I would ask for a few observation days to be sure."

Lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug, Holland added, "I mean, I've always been better at solving the weird problems that others can't figure out. That may or may not be the case in this world, but I see no problem with experiencing new sides to our career path. Ravenclaw, after all," she jested, smiling at Khaat gently. "But, in all seriousness, I've always been open to new sides to all of this. Diagnostic Medicine may be my forte, but I'm not unexperienced with the other types, to say the least."