Non-crossover Worm fanfiction [crosspost] [
Original]
1.1 (this post),
1.2,
Lavanya Six's
original Pen Pal prompt
Pen Pals (Reaching Out)
1.1
Gravel crunched under the car's tires. It came to a stop at a log cabin with a brightly painted sign on the front - 'Welcome to Camp Chokicko'. The tittle of the 'i' was a smiling sun. I frowned at the cheerful painting.
"You'll be here for two weeks. I've arranged for a bus ticket back to my house after camp is done," Carol said. I didn't want to be here; I wanted to be with my sister at home. I had read fairy tales about people finding their 'true' family to love them after their own had left them all alone. Victoria was my sister and always called me her 'little sis' and shared her chocolate ice cream. I didn't quite feel comfortable calling Mark my dad - I thought of the smell of leather and books when I thought of fathers. Mark didn't fit that, but he was nice. Most of the time. I didn't get why he looked so sad and lost sometimes. Maybe I could call him 'Dad' someday; I'd never had a mother, though.
Calling Carol 'Mom' had been a mistake I wasn't going to make again. After all, it's why I was in this awful place.
"Why do I have to be here?" I asked. I knew why. I just didn't want to give up on the idea that I could make Carol see reason and let me go back to the Dallon house.
"We're going on a family vacation to check on my brother Michael," Carol said, her voice sharp as she stepped out of the vehicle. I reluctantly took off her seatbelt and left the car. Carol moved purposefully towards the trunk and removed Amy's, formerly Victoria's, pink suitcase. A woman walked towards Carol with a smile as bright as her sunflower yellow T-shirt.
"Mrs. Dallon! How nice to meet you! And who is this lovely, young lady you've brought along?" I refused to look up. The woman continued on like she didn't notice. "We were worried we wouldn't have enough room after you called, but there was a cancellation. Shall we check in your daughter now? We don't want to keep her from the fun!"
I cringed a little when the woman called me Carol's daughter. I was starting to wonder if I even had a place in the Dallon family. I liked Uncle Mike from what I could remember of him and wanted to make sure he was okay, too. Why was calling Carol 'Mom' so bad that she couldn't see her Uncle, Mark, and her sister for two weeks? Carol and the woman talked - Carol looking over the paperwork the woman had brought along - and within ten minutes, Amy watched as Carol left without looking back.
"Well sweetie, let's get you settled in!" The woman's perky voice made me frown more. I grew tense at the thought I'd be 'sweetie' the entire time I was here. No one called me 'sweetie' and I didn't want people to start now. It made me feel like a little kid. I pulled my suitcase after the woman. While she was taller than me, I was quick to catch up. "I think I know exactly which cabin to put you in, you'll make some fast friends there!"
"-nd she's just so cute with her curls. I'm sure the two of you will get along great!" The woman's voice was grating on my nerves. No one could actually be this happy. They made it to another cabin with a number six painted in blue above the door. The woman opened the door, then stepped back. "I'll let you get settled in. The PA system will announce when dinner is ready. Taylor here will be able to tell you some camp rules before food time. Enjoy yourselves, girls!"
The woman walked away and I shuffled into the quarters I'd be sharing with three other girls and a counselor for the next two weeks. Three of the beds already had stuff on them, I made my way to the only one without anything on it - the one in the back right corner. Sliding my suitcase under the bed took a few seconds. I flopped down to sit on the mattress. What was I supposed to do now?
I pulled my heels up to rest on the bed frame. It put my knees at the perfect height to bury my face into them. Time slipped by.
"Um, hi?"
I jumped to my feet and spun towards the voice. The girl that had spoken flinched at my sudden movement.
"Who are you?" I demanded. The girl's face pinched inwards and she kept her eyes level with my knees.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just- you were- I mean," she stumbled over her words, fidgeting more and more as she failed to answer the question. I relaxed a little bit. The other girl had darker hair than Amy and her glasses rested on big ears. She was just a teenager, stuck here like me. She was still trying to spit out a full sentence and I felt mean letting her make a fool out of herself.
"I'm Amy. Are you Taylor?" I asked, wondering if this was the girl the woman had talked about. She had curls, like the woman had said. I guessed that be the first thing someone saw when they looked at her. Most of the girl's features looked like they'd been exaggerated to fit into a cartoon: big ears, big eyes behind blocky black glasses, and a wide mouth. She looked kind of dorky in all honesty. The thick book next to her leg didn't help with that image.
"Er, yeah, I'm Taylor," she said. An awkward silence filled the room and I franticly searched for something to break the silence.
"Oh! Is that Treasure Island?" I pointed at the book sitting next to Taylor's leg. "I've read it before. It was really good."
"Yeah, I'm nearly done," Taylor said, her eyes rising up to my belly button. Closer to making eye contact at least. I searched and wondered how to make the girl smile or even look at me straight on. If Vicky had been here, she could have made this quiet girl smile and become good friends in seconds. I would need a friend while I was here, and Taylor would work just as well as anyone else. I decided to take a leaf out of my sister's book.
I walked over and sat down next to Taylor. "So what other books do you like?"
My actions paid off. Taylor finally made eye contact and looked to have a slight smile. "I really like this one where one of the narrators is Death and-"
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I looked over the list of patients needing my attention at the Sacred Heart Memorial Hospital. I'd been here for six hours now and had handled all the terminal or incurable cases in the building. Normally it would have been too difficult to do that at a large hospital, but Sacred Heart was one of the smallest in the area. It was actually why I chose to volunteer here once a week. It was one of the few times I could feel like I wasn't fighting a losing battle.
It also meant that the hospital could delegate my attention towards people that didn't have the money for hospital care. One quick five minute visit from Panacea and the patient was good as new and could be kicked out without having to worry. I cringed at that thought, but it didn't change the facts. I examined the list to decide which room to visit next. An asterisk caught my attention - 'care paid for by Winslow High School'. That would work. Winslow was a hellhole of a school, so handling that case would free up their funds for something better than hospital care. I checked the room number and patient name.
I froze - 'Room 2114, Taylor Hebert'. I knew that name. I hadn't seen Taylor since the best two weeks of my life nearly a year and a half ago, but we had stayed in contact through emails. I'd never told Taylor about becoming Panacea, but I didn't think Taylor would turn down a visit from a friend or a famous healer.
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I walked into Room 2114. The hospital had designed most rooms on this floor to hold two patients. They gave the illusion of privacy using cloth curtains that could cut off each station from the rest of the room. The first was open to the rest of the room. The female patient was reading a magazine with a bored look on her face. She glanced up absentmindedly, then looked back down at what she was reading. I cringed and tried to walk more purposefully towards the other station.
"Oh my God, aren't you Panacea?!" the middle aged woman said while dropping her magazine. I didn't look up and tried escape into Taylor's curtained off area. "Oh God, this is even better than if you were going to heal me. Please help that girl."
"Er, what?" I stopped and looked at the woman. I'd never had someone say anything like that outside of a case of life or death before.
"That poor girl's been freaking out and screaming for the past day and a half. They eventually just knocked her out to keep her quiet, I think. She left some big, burly orderly limping after he tried to help get her calmed down."
That...wasn't a good sign. I wondered if I had gotten my Taylor mixed up with a random girl with the same name. My spazzy friend didn't give off the vibe of being able to take on someone used to dealing with rowdy patients and winning. If she'd kept the same figure, Taylor would have stayed frighteningly thin and shorter than me. Still, I had to try to help this girl, even if it was just to get her out of the hospital. Taking on an orderly didn't bode well for anybody. I pulled back the curtains enough to walk in, and then closed them behind me.
I turned to examine the patient in the bed. She looked a little like Taylor, if Taylor decided to give up sleep and personal hygiene. Her hair was dark and curly, but it looked greasy and unwashed. Her eyes were closed and there were dark smudges under them. Big ears and wide mouth, too. The teen was thin, but it was difficult to figure out if she was taller than me while she was lying down. I guessed it could be my Taylor, but I hoped not. I looked around for someone to give consent on treating the teen.
A man was sitting in a nearby chair with his arms crossed and his head leaned backwards to rest against the wall. His slow, even breathing gave away the fact he was sleeping.
"Sir?" I called out. I winced as he flinched forwards. "Sir?"
"Yes, what's wrong?" He asked, trepidation in his voice as he reached up to fix his glasses. They had slipped down his nose when he had jolted away from the wall.
"I need permission to wake up Ms. Hebert and heal her, I'm going to need to touch her skin to do so. Are you her primary guardian?" I asked. I hated needing to get permission. A lot of the time it would take twice as much time as just healing someone would because of stupid questions. I could get so much more done if a nurse would just ask before I got there. Walking in, healing someone, then moving on would cut out time wasted on reassurances and explanations.
"Yes, I'm her father and of course. Do you really need to wake her up, though? I don't want her to hurt you. They had to put her into restraints to keep her from taking swings at people."
I gulped a little. That really wasn't a good sign. "It's fine. My sister's a Brute, so it should be okay," I bluffed. He gave me a strange look.
"If you're sure," he said. The man got up and walked to the other side of the hospital bed. Now that I was looking for them, I saw the black padded restraints holding the girl's wrists to slats on the rails of the bed. He nodded at me. I walked up and grabbed the girl's hand. It took a few moments, but the numerous bruises, small cuts, and lingering infection were easily handled.
"I've healed her injuries, but I'd like to wake her up to check to make sure she's alright. Is that okay?" Mr. Hebert nodded again.
I took a deep breath and started to slowly decrease the amount of sedative in her system. It was easy to tell when it stopped being effective enough to keep her asleep. Her mouth tightened and it looked like she had started to clench her jaw. I quit using my power in hopes she'd be too drowsy to fight her hands out of the restraints.
"Taylor," Mr. Hebert's voice was cautious. His approach didn't give me a lot of faith in my ability to control this girl if she lost it. I kept my hand in hers. If she did flip out, using my power was going to be my only bet on putting her back down. My breath caught in my throat when she opened her eyes.
This was my Taylor. Spazzy, book worm Taylor. The only person besides Vicky to ever consistently care about me. What had happened to her? She looked bedraggled and like someone had kicked the fight out of her. My hand tightened around hers.
Her eyes jumped over to the hand I was holding. She stared for a second, blinked, and then looked up at me. I could see her confusion. She probably didn't recognize me since it had been so long.
"Er, not to be rude or anything, but what are you doing here and why are you holding my hand?" Apparently she didn't recognize me as Panacea or Amy. That kind of stung. It may have been due to her lack of glasses, though. I remembered her as being as blind as bat without them and sometimes even with them. Her dad - Danny, she had told me before how much he hated being called Mr. Hebert - cut in.
"She needed to hold your hand to make her power work, kiddo. And we're both very glad you took time out of your busy schedule to help us," he said, trying to cover Taylor's bluntness. It was funny how some of the little things didn't change. I waved off his thanks and grinned a little. Not that he could see it with my scarf in the way.
"Where are her glasses?" I asked. "Being able to see may help a little with her disorientation."
Danny reached over to the rolling table behind him and grabbed her glasses. They were the same blocky frames she'd had before. He tried to pass them to her until he remembered her hands were still bound. He unfolded them and slipped them onto her ears. It took him a little bit of effort to get them settled properly.
"Why are my hands stuck?" Taylor's voice was panicked and she started tugging against the restraint on her left hand. She kept the one I held still, though.
"Calm down. You're okay," I tried to reassure her. I squeezed her hand. She stopped tugging and looked back over at my hand.
"What's going on? Why are my arms tied down?" She was starting to breathe more quickly and she started tugging her left arm again. Her right stayed still. Her eyes were frantically bouncing from me to her dad to the rest of the room and then back to me. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
I had to stop her from panicking. I reached up with my left hand and pulled at my scarf and hood. "I'm Panacea, the healer from New Wave, but you know me as Amy."
Taylor went still. My power told me that despite appearances, she was in fact breathing. Her voice was small, "...Amy? You mean, my Amy?"
"Yeah...your Amy."
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