Synopsis:

I thought I was having my portrait done, I didn't realize the artist could make changes!

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Story:

Drawn To Nursing
By Karen J. Taylor
Based on the characters and universe in Drawn Together, by Paula Dillon.

Original characters and story Copyright 2006 by Karen J. Taylor. Other characters and background copyright held by Paula Dillon. Used with permission.

I doubt this story will make sense if you haven’t read Paula Dillon’s story, which is available here: http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/node/wysiwyg/714/drawn_togethe...

* * * * *

Walking through the mall made me feel tired these days. In my fifties, I wasn't concerned about being made anymore; nobody looked at me that closely. And the fun of shopping for clothes was gone; honestly I didn't know why I even bothered to dress up.

As I approached the end of the mall, I noticed a stir up ahead. Curious, I wandered over for a look. Two pretty young women were doing portraits; at first I thought it was the sort of thing I'd seen at places like Disney World or Six Flags, quick pencil portraits or caricatures. But when I stepped up to the fringe of the crowd, I saw the quality was far better. These portraits seemed to breath life, I swear it looked as if the people depicted could step off the paper and walk out the doors.

The sign said "Portraits By Robbi"; instead of a dot over the 'i' there was a cute little heart. I thought the prices were a bit high, but not unreasonably so, given the quality of the work. Well, I hadn't bought any new clothes for my female persona in months; I decided I deserved a treat.

When it was my turn, I selected a simple head and shoulders portrait, and sat in the chair. The young woman who was the artist looked at me, and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I've been drawing for hours and my hand is cramped, I need to take a break. Would you like to join me?"

"I suppose." I told her. She had a quick word with the young woman who was assisting her; then I accompanied her to the food court just down the way. After we got our drinks and found a table, she leaned across and laid a hand on my arm. "You're a man, aren't you?"

I stiffened at the question. "I didn’t realize it mattered. If you’ll excuse me. . . ." I told her and started to get up.

She grabbed my arm and pulled me back down. "Please, I have no intention of embarrassing or upsetting you. Sometimes I see more than others. What I’m wondering, do you want me to draw you as you are, or as I see you?"

I was puzzled. "How do you see me?"

"I see a young, attractive blonde woman, with a loving heart, who gives of herself to help others." she told me. "I see a healing, caring woman, somebody in the medical profession, who's especially good with children. She can ease their pain; and lighten their hearts."

"I think you need to take some time off, you appear to be hallucinating." I told her, but deep inside me her words touched something, and I felt a warm stirring.

"I can draw that woman if you'd like me to." Robbi told me.

"Yes, I would." I told her, surprising myself. "It sounds silly, but yes."

She broke out in a radiant smile, "You won't regret this!"

We went back to her booth, and she quickly roughed in my figure. "It will take me some time to do this properly, you can pick it up at the framing shop next Friday."

"How much do I owe you?" I asked as I pulled my wallet out of my purse.

"Pay for it when you pick it up, and if you don't like it you don't have to pay. Oh, what's your name?"

"I'm, umm, Karen. Karen Schneider."

"Thank you, Karen. Thank you very much." And to my surprise she hugged me!

I slept soundly that night, far better than I had in months. The next morning I noticed my chest seemed sensitive as I showered, and I seemed to have more hair than the day before. Looking in the mirror, I was surprised to see that not only was my bald spot almost gone; my face was much smoother.

Getting dressed, I found my jeans didn't fit like they had before; they were loose in the waist and tight around my hips. The sleeves on my shirt seemed longer, or my arms were shorter. I'd always had problems finding long-sleeved blouses, my arms were longer than a woman's, but now I had the opposite problem.

On the plus side, I felt better than I had in a long time. I had more energy and more enthusiasm, so I spent the day cleaning and reorganizing my house. It was nice, and I hoped I'd continue to feel this good, at least for a few more days.

Waking up Monday morning, I was shocked at the changes. I had pronounced breast growth, and my waist was definitely smaller! Not only that, my genitals were shrinking! I'd never been well hung, but my penis looked like a young boy's!

Walking into the bathroom gave me another set of shocks. My face was completely smooth; there was no sign of a beard. And my now full head of blonde hair was down to my chin, even though I'd kept it short to make it easier to wear my wig.

Panicked, I called my doctor and managed to get an appointment right away by pleading an emergency. When I arrived at the doctor's officer, the receptionist didn't recognize me at first. "Have you been working out, Mr. Schneider? You look so much better, like you've lost some weight. And your hair! I thought you said hair transplants were silly?"

The doctor was amazed when I showed him the changes to my body. "How long has this been going on?"

"Just a couple of days."

"Come on, Bill, there’s no way these changes occurred in a couple of days!"

"I'm telling you, doc, I was normal last Friday!"

He took my measurements and compared them to my chart. "You've gained two inches in the hips and lost 4 inches in the waist. Your nipples look like a young woman's and I'd guess your breast size as a 36A, almost a B. Your penis looks like a prepubescent boy's, and your testicles seem to be drawing back up into your body."

"What's happening to me!" I cried.

"I don't know, we need to run some tests. I'll call you when I get the results."

By the time the doctor called me Wednesday, I was thrilled and appalled at my appearance. My penis was completely gone, and there was an opening where it used to be. My waist was smaller, my breasts were even larger, and even my feet had shrunk. Nothing in my closet fit. I dug out a pair of sweat pants and pulled on a t-shirt, then stuffed some paper in an old pair of sneakers so I could keep them on. My golden blonde hair was now down to my shoulders.

When I arrived at the doctor's office, the receptionist looked up at me, "May I help you, miss?"

"I'm Bill Schneider, not a miss! And I'm supposed to see the doctor!"

She looked at me skeptically, and disappeared into the back. The doctor came out a minute later, his eyes widening at my appearance, and motioned me in.

"Bill, is this really you?"

"Yes!" and I was embarrassed when my voice cracked. I cleared my throat and tried again, "Yes, dammit!" This time my voice went up in pitch, and even after repeated tries I couldn't get it back down. "What's happening to me!" I asked in what was now a soft soprano.

"I don't know." he admitted. "According to the tests, your body is making estrogen at levels normal for a young woman, say 18 to 25. And you now seem to have a body to match. Except for a vagina, and that is forming now, your body is almost totally female."

"Will I change back?"

"I don't see how; but then I don't understand how this happened in the first place," the doctor told me. "There's an OB/GYN down the hall, Dr. King; I've made an appointment for you for Friday afternoon. Before then, I want you to have an MRI done, so we can see what changes have occurred internally."

On the way home I stopped at an auto teller and got as much cash out as I could. I suspected it would be difficult to convince anybody I was Bill Schneider, so working and getting paid was going to be a problem.

After that I went by a thrift store where I'd sometimes bought my female clothes, they usually had nice stuff at a reasonable price. When I left I had a sundress, two pair of jeans, several blouses and a denim skirt. I'd also found a pair of sneakers and some low-heeled sandals, as well as a denim purse into which I'd dumped my billfold and all the stuff I used to carry in my pockets.

When I got home, I dug through the female clothes I'd worn when I was Bill. As luck would have it, several of the bras I'd worn were close to the right size. Changing into a pair of jeans and one of the blouses, I sorted through all my clothes, pulling out the few things that I could wear with this new body of mine. Most everything else ended up in some large trash bags in the trunk of my car. I'd take them to the thrift store later.

Friday afternoon I put on the sundress and the sandals, and drove to the medical center. I gave my name to Dr. King's receptionist as Karen Schneider, and something tickled the back of my mind, but I couldn't quite make the connection.

The nurse took me to an exam room and asked me to remove my clothes and put on a gown. As she started to leave I stopped her. "How long does it take to become an RN?"

"You interested in becoming a nurse?"

I nodded.

"There are several ways to become an RN; the university has an excellent nursing program which grants a nursing diploma. If you are really interested, I could give you some names to contact."

"Yes, thank you, I'd appreciate that." I'd always felt drawn to nursing, or some sort of medical career, but when I was growing up, men didn't become nurses, and there was no money in my family to pay for medical school. Instead, I got the usual bachelors degree and entered the business world, where I'd been quietly unhappy for thirty years.

I was dressed in the gown and seated on the exam table when Dr. King entered. “Mr. Schneider, or should I say MISS Schneider, I'm Dr. King. You've got an unusual problem; according to your doctor, you've changed from a middle-aged man into a young woman in the last week."

"That's right, Doctor. I don't know what happened or why."

"Slip off your gown and let me exam you."

Dr. King poked and prodded, feeling my breasts, looking over my body, even examining my scalp. Then she had me put my feet up in the stirrups and gave me a gynecological exam.

"Well, according to your blood work, you have a normal level of hormones for a physically mature young woman of around eighteen, which matches your body. The MRI shows that you do not have any reproductive organs however, no ovaries or uterus. I can't see any sign of any surgery having been performed that could have caused these changes. Frankly, I'm at a loss, Miss Schneider."

"Call me Karen, Doctor. Bill doesn't fit me anymore, and Miss seems too formal."

"And I'm Brenda. I’m curious; you seem to be taking this quite well, all in all. Most men would have been having screaming fits by now."

"Well, Brenda, truthfully, this is almost like a dream, and I'm afraid I'm going to wake up. I've always been a cross dresser; ever since I can remember I've liked to wear girl's and women's clothes."

"Did you ever think you should have been born a female instead of a male, Karen?"

"Yes, many times. I've fantasized about having the surgery; but the money was never there. And I was afraid of what my parents would say; they wouldn't have accepted my change."

"How are they going to take this, then?"

"They're both dead, now. I don't have any other close family."

"Do you still like to wear women's clothing since you've gotten older?"

"Oh yes. It's not as much fun as it used to be; but several times a month I like to put on a nice outfit and go to the mall."

At this, Dr. King's head snapped up. "The mall! Tell me, have you had a portrait done there?"

"Yes. There was a young woman there last weekend, I decided to have her do my portrait as a lark."

"What did it look like?"

"I don't know, I was supposed to pick it up today. She said she needed more time to finish it. That's odd, now that you mention it. She asked me if I wanted my portrait done the way she saw me."

"Did she say how that was?"

"Y-e-s. She said she saw me as a 'young, attractive blonde woman'. And that's what I am!"

"What else did she say?"

"She said she saw a 'healing, caring woman', somebody in the medical profession, who was good with children. I'd always wanted to be a nurse, but that wasn't an acceptable career for a man when I was young. But now, I'm thinking about it again. I even asked your nurse for some information on nursing careers."

Brenda muttered something under her breath that sounded like "that young lady's got some things to answer for!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that, doctor."

"Oh, nothing, Karen. You probably need to do some shopping; would you like to go with me to the mall tomorrow afternoon."

"I was kinda waiting until my body stabilized."

"I think it has. Other than the development of your vagina, nothing has changed since you were measured Wednesday. And we can pick up your portrait. I need to talk to a certain young lady."

Brenda offered to drive Saturday, which I accepted. I'd have some tough explaining to do if I was pulled over; I looked nothing like the photo on my license.

I woke early Saturday morning; I was excited about going out looking like this, and getting some new clothes. After showering and shaving my legs, I sat down and carefully applied my make-up. The colors I had weren't right for my new skin tone and hair color; I'd need to add make-up to my purchases.

I quickly gave up on doing anything with my hair; I'd always kept it short before and worn wigs; now it was below my shoulders. I pulled it into a ponytail and secured it with a bit of ribbon from an old dress I wasn't keeping. The denim skirt, a blouse and the sandals completed my look.

I was waiting by the front door when Brenda pulled into the driveway, as soon as she beeped the horn I was out the door like a rocket.

"Excited, are you?" Brenda asked me.

"Oh, Yes! With this body? If I died tomorrow, I'd die happy! I just wish I had more money to spend. I tapped the auto teller for as much as it would give me the other day. I doubt any store is going to take my checks or credit cards. I'm worried about how I'm going to live after this, but I don't know what to do."

"I can help you with that," she told me. "I know a good lawyer who specializes in gender reassignment cases; he can get your name and records legally changed. In the meantime, I have an idea for some temporary funds."

When we got to the mall, Brenda suggested I pick up my portrait first, to which I readily agreed. As we approached the booth where Robbi worked, she looked up and saw me, her face breaking into a big smile. Then she saw Brenda walking next to me, and a look of apprehension crossed her face. She whispered something to the other girl who was helping her; and they both came towards us.

"You look lovely!" she told me. Turning to Brenda, she said "Uh, Hi, Dr. King."

"Robbi, you've got some explaining to do!" Brenda told her. Brenda turned to the other girl, "Tiffany, why don't you take Karen in to get her portrait, Robbi and I need to talk, privately." Brenda took Robbi's arm and steered her toward the door.

Tiffany turned to me, "Karen, you're gorgeous! That's quite a change!"

"Yeah, I'd say so. What's up with them?" I asked, inclining my head toward the door Brenda and Robbi had gone out.

Tiffany giggled, "Robbi sometimes does things without thinking, I suspect you'll learn about it in due course. But she's really a good person, and wouldn't knowingly hurt anybody."

"I won't pretend that any of that made sense." I told her. "Let's go see this portrait."

The owner of the framing shop, Alice, came up to us as we walked in. "So this is the young woman who is getting the special portrait! I've got it right over here." She pulled out a frame that was at least two feet by three feet and set it on an easel by the counter. "What do you think?"

I was stunned! The woman in the picture looked nothing like I'd looked the week before; she looked like I did now! She, I, was dressed in an off the shoulder Grecian-style dress with shirred bodice. It was gathered with a ribbon below my breasts and flowed down in layers of fabric to mid-calf. I was wearing impossibly tall sandals with laces that wrapped up and around my legs, the heels had to be at least six inches! Like the portraits I'd seen last week, the woman in the picture looked alive, ready to step off the page.

Looking more closely, I saw details that I hadn't noticed in the mirror. My Adam's apple was gone, and my neck appeared slender and elegant. My fingers were longer and thinner than they'd been. There were so many subtle changes I couldn't track them all.

The woman in the picture was me, but she was far more. She was almost imposingly beautiful, but she exuded a warmth, a feeling of caring, that I couldn't believe. Her eyes were alight with intelligence. If this was me, I was so much more than I'd been.

"That's you." Alice said, as if reading my thoughts. "Like Robbi, the art has chosen you."

"The art?"

"Think of it like a spiritual thing, that inhabits certain chosen ones. Those chosen have special abilities. Robbi's ability is to see what is really in people, and by drawing them she brings that out. You, my dear, are a healer. You have the ability to ease pain and help those that are suffering, if you so choose."

"And if I don't, what happens to me? Will I change back?"

"No, you are like this now, and will remain this way. But the art will not stay where it is not wanted. Think of it as 'use it or lose it', dear."

"You know, I always wanted to be a nurse. Now that I'm a young woman, I've been thinking about that again."

"I know." a voice said behind me, and I tuned to see that Robbi and Brenda had walked in the store. "I saw that in you, I told you that last week. I have another portrait for you; it hasn't been framed yet. Alice?"

Alice pulled another picture out from behind the counter and placed it on the easel. It showed me in a nurse's white jumpsuit, with my hair pulled back in a French braid. Clearly visible on my chest was a nameplate that said "Karen Schneider, RN".

I suddenly felt weak-kneed and sat down heavily in a chair. "You're doing this to me?" I asked Robbi.

"Yes." she replied, "and as Dr. King has pointed out, it was very wrong of me to do this without your knowledge. I'm sorry."

"I'm not." I told her. "Oh, it's been a shock, and my life is going to be chaos for awhile. But this is right, Robbi, I can feel it. I'm so much more alive, I feel as if I've been reborn, and given a new purpose in life."

"Thank you, Karen, I'm glad you feel this way. I can see that you have a role to play in the future, and it will bring you much happiness." She turned to the store owner, "Alice, that picture is on my account. And I'd like to have the other one framed to give to Karen when she graduates from nursing school."

Robbi then turned back to me. "Karen, Brenda pointed out to me that this has placed a hardship on you, I'd like to help you out. Would you care to take a walk?"

"Okay."

Brenda, Robbi, Tiffany and I walked down the mall and entered a bank. Robbi went up to the window, and quickly returned with an envelope, which she handed to me. "Here's some cash to help you until you get things straightened out.

I quickly counted the contents, "Robbi, there's $1000 in here! I can't accept this! I don't know how I could ever repay it."

"Yes you can. I insist; I owe you for what I did. Sometime in the future you may have the chance to help somebody else; that will be all the payback I need. Now, we have one more stop to make."

We walked down the mall to one of the nicer clothing stores. Robbi was evidently well known there as she was greeted by name. She pulled a charge card out of her purse and handed it to one of the sales girls, "This is my friend Karen, she needs a complete wardrobe, and I do mean complete! Head to toes, from the skin out! Put everything on my card."

"Robbi!" I protested.

"Karen, I can easily afford this. In a way, I'm responsible for you; this is the right thing for me to do. I've got to get back to the booth, but Tiffany's going to stay and help you shop."

Help me was an understatement; she buried me in clothing! Once my sizes were determined, Tiffany insisted I get proper undergarments. I selected a couple of pairs of plain white cotton panties and a bra, the next thing I knew Tiffany was loading me with lace undies, thongs, underwire bras, demi bras, bras I didn't even know the names for, in all colors. She loaded two sacks just with bras and panties. "Trust me, you need these."

Next she grabbed an assortment of camisoles, slips and half-slips. "We may need to get some more, it depends on the dresses and skirts you select." Along with these, she also slipped in an assortment of sleepwear, including some fairly risqué nighties. I blushed just looking at them; and Tiffany winked at me. She also loaded a whole sack full of stockings and pantyhose, chucking one pair to me. "Here, put these on."

When she came back, she had an armload of jeans, in various sizes and colors. Tiffany treated me like an animated doll, handing me things and telling me to put them on. Invariably she chose the ones that were the most daring and revealing. When I said so, she laughed. "Karen, you're not a middle-aged man anymore; you're a lovely young woman. You need to dress the part." Ten pairs of jeans joined the pile at the register.

About then, Robbi came in. "Are you done yet?" she asked after she and Tiffany exchanged a kiss.

"Not hardly, Hon! You got here just in time," Tiffany told her. "Skirts, blouses and dresses. You're lucky," Tiffany told me. "Robbi coordinates better than anybody I've ever seen."

Robbi came back in and handed me a leather miniskirt and aqua crop top. I put them on and found there was a serious gap between the top and the skirt. "That's the way it's supposed to look, Hon." Tiffany told me. "Now come on, Robbi wants you out front."

When we walked out, Robbi was waiting by a rack of clothes. She started pulling items out and holding them up against me. Some ended up back on the rack, the rest she handed to Tiffany. Back into the changing room we went, where I was required to model everything. A few items were rejected, but the rest joined the growing pile at the register.

Next came the dresses. Short, medium, and long, modest, low-cut, long and short sleeved, I tried them all on. Last was the infamous Little Black Dress. This one I didn't fight at all, I'd always wanted one, but I didn't have the look or figure as a man to pull it off.

This one was sleeveless with a keyhole neck, beaded appliqué and an asymmetrical skirt. At it's longest it came to just above my knees, the skirt tapered to eight inches above the knee.

"Ooh, that's scrumptious!" Robbi told me. "Keep that on and let's go look at some shoes." The first pair of shoes she handed me were black strapped with a five-inch heels.

"I can't wear these, I'll break my neck!"

"Did you see the shoes in your picture?" Tiffany asked me. "You'll be able to wear these just fine."

And she was right! Seconds after slipping them on I was walking around confidently. Not once did I stumble.

After that came more shoes: high heels, low heels, sandals, pumps, and wedges, in a rainbow of colors.

By the time we were all done, it took the four of us half-dozen trips to carry everything to Brenda's car. Again I protested at the amount Robbi was spending, and again I was told not to worry. Before we left the store, I changed to the leather miniskirt and an electric blue top in a more modest length, which meant it only showed a couple of inches of my belly. I selected a pair of three-inch sandals to wear; even though Robbi wanted me to wear a pair of five-inch heels she called "FM" heels.

Brenda and I went out to eat after we left the mall. Once we were seated, we discussed what I needed to do to get my new life on track. “First we need to get you a new birth certificate.” Brenda said. “There’s no way people are going to believe you’re in your fifties. I believe we can get away with you being twenty-two, that will make you old enough to have graduated from college.”

“But how can you do that. You can’t just make a new one up.”

“Actually, you can. That’s probably the easiest part. With everything being on computers these days, inserting a new record is simple. Associating all your old records with the new birth certificate is the tricky part.”

“That sounds expensive!”

“It would be. But I helped a young woman last year, she’s a whiz with computers, and she owes me a favor.”

“I’m surprised, Brenda.” I told her. “Granted, I haven’t known you very long, but faking records doesn’t seem like the sort of thing you’d do.”

“It’s not. Ordinarily, this sort of thing appalls me. But your case is unique. I don’t know of any way we can do this within the system without exposing both you and Robbi to a lot of danger. I like that even less. Think what would happen if certain parts of the government learned about Robbi and you.”

I thought about it, and my reaction must have been visible on my face.

“Exactly. So, what we need to do first is get your name and sex legally changed. That part’s straightforward. Then I’ll have my friend change a few records, alter a few dates.”

“How long will this take? $1000 won’t last forever.”

“It will only take a month or two at the most to get your name and sex legally changed. Then you’ll be able to use your bank account and credit cards. Getting your records changed to reflect your new age will take longer, but we won’t be under as much pressure then.”

“Okay, I can make the money last that long. How do we start?”

* * * * * * * * *

In the end, it took six months for everything, but I was finally able to get on with my new life. All my educational records were in the name of Karen Ann Schneider. My retirement fund from my old job had been converted into a trust fund that I could draw on while attending nursing school. With my bachelor's degree I was able to leapfrog many of the required courses; and start immediately on my medical classes at the teaching hospital.

Two years later, I had my nursing diploma and was immediately hired by the hospital to work in their pediatrics ward. My hiring was strongly supported by several of the pediatric doctors, as well as the nurses already working in the ward. They were amazed at my ability to help the children I was assigned to. Even the most uncooperative child seemed to settle down when I was with them.

I was amazed, but for different reasons. Everything Robbi had told me was coming true. Sometimes all I had to do was brush my hand across a child's forehead for them to start getting better. Some of the staff started calling me the pediatric angel; my patients always seemed to get well.

I teamed up with another nurse, Sherri Munck. We seemed to be two halves of the same coin. At times it was as if we were telepathic, if one of us needed something the other would hand it to her without a word being said. The rest of the staff called us the Angel Twins, for our ability to help even the sickest patient.

Then the flu epidemic that had been predicted for several years finally occurred. Within a few weeks the entire continent was paralyzed, medical supplies became almost impossible to get, and healthcare workers were dropping as fast as the patients they were treating.

Our ward overflowed with children, and we worked 20 hours a day trying to take care of them. We didn't even go home, when we couldn't keep going we'd find a place to curl up for a few hours, and then it was up and back to the battle.

* * * * * * * * *

I found Sherri curled up on the couch in the doctor's lounge; she was burning up and shaking.

"Stay back Karen, I'm afraid it's too late for me." Sherri said through clenched teeth.

"No, Sherri, it's not too late!" I cried. I started rubbing her shoulders, stroking her hair, anything to keep a physical contact with her. "Take my strength, I have all you need." I told her. She tried to push me away, but was too weak to shift me.

"Karen, if I don't make it. . . ."

"Hush, Sherri, don't talk like that!"

"If I don't make it, I want you to know, I love you, I have for months." she told me.

"Now you've got to make it, honey, 'cause I love you too." I told her.

"Wish I hadn't waited to tell . . ." and the rest was lost as she passed out.

"Sherri! SHERRI!!" I checked her pulse; it was slow and weak, but she was still alive.

~~ Oh, Robbi! If I can do what you say, let me do it this time, please! ~~

I placed my hands on her chest, and willed myself to give her the strength she needed. Something seemed to flow out of me and into her, and I passed out.

That was where we were found several hours later, both of us unconscious; I was lying on top of Sherri. The doctors feared the worst, but neither one of us showed any signs of illness, and it was dismissed as being due to exhaustion and hunger.

Both of us were ordered to take some time off; go home, and get some badly needed rest. When I got home I crashed for thirty-six hours straight; ate a meal and slept for another eight hours. Returning to the hospital, it was like I’d never left; I hit the ground running, with no time to see how Sherri was doing.

Sherri came to me privately several days later, "We need to talk."

"Yes, I guess so." I told her.

"I was sick, wasn't I?"

"Yes, you were."

"I thought so. I'd taken my own temperature, it was over 105 degrees."

"You were burning up." I agreed.

"So what happened? I seem to remember you touching me." By now, she wouldn't look at me; her head was hanging down.

"Do you remember anything else?" I asked her.

"yes." she mumbled.

"What?"

"Yes." she said in a firmer tone. "I remember us talking."

"And?"

"You're not making this easy!" she flared, looking up at me. "I told you I loved you!"

"Do you remember what I said?"

"I . . . I'm not sure." she admitted.

"I said you had to make it, 'cause I loved you too." Then Sherri was in my arms, and everything was all right.

"I was frightened, I wasn't sure if I'd heard you or not. I was afraid I'd scared you away,” Sherri told me. “The last time I told a woman I loved her, she couldn't get away from me fast enough."

"Well I'm not going anywhere, you're stuck with me." I told her. " You'd better get used to it." I gave her a hug. "Now let's get back to work."

"Karen?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Honey! I like that! Karen, why didn't I die?"

"Honey, when this is all over, I've got a story to tell you, about a middle-aged man who always wanted to help people."

* * * * * * * *

A couple of days later, I heard Sherri calling me. "You need to come see this." She had a very strange look on her face.

"What is it?"

"Just come look."

I walked into the room, and immediately recognized Robbi and Tiffany. On the bed was a little girl, maybe six or seven. It was obvious she was extremely sick.

"Show her what you showed me." Sherri told them.

Robbi held out a piece of paper, which I unfolded and looked at. It showed them gathered around the little girl's bed. I was leaning over the bed, my hands on the girl’s chest.

"Show her the other one!"

Tiffany handed a second sheet to me. On it the little girl was sitting up, but I was lying apparently lifeless on the floor.

"Who is she?" I asked.

"My sister, Tracy." Robbi told me.

"I guess it's time to pay my debt, then." I turned and hugged Sherri.

"Karen! No!" Sherri cried.

"Sherri, it's something I have to do. You remember that story I said I'd tell you?" She nodded. "Ask them to tell it to you. Maybe then you’ll understand why I have to do this."

I sat on the bed and placed my hands on the little girl. She started to stir as I felt the energy flow out of me. Right before I blacked out I cried "Goodbye Sherri!" in my mind.

* * * * * * * *

It was like coming up out of huge black pit; something kept trying to suck me down; but another force was pulling me up. Finally I burst up into the light, and the drag on me stopped. I opened my eyes to see Sherri's face inches from mine; she was crying, great sobbing cries. "Hey." I managed to say.

"Karen!" and Sherri cried even harder. "You were gone!"

"I know, I could feel myself sinking, then something pulled me back. You pulled me back!"

"I couldn't help myself, when you collapsed I gathered you up in my arms, I couldn't lose you!"

“You gave me the strength I needed to live!”

Over her shoulder I could see that Robbi was at the side of the bed, but Tiffany was looking at us. "Robbi didn't know about your friend when she drew the first picture. Saving Sherri’s life drained you, and you hadn’t had enough time to recover. We only found out how dangerous it was for you after we got here, when she drew the second picture.”

“She . . . we never wanted to hurt you. But that's our sister; you were the only one who could help her. We didn't know what else to do. We're both so sorry." Tiffany told me. "Here." and she handed another drawing to me. "It's not her best work."

I took the picture, which had been quickly sketched on the back of a medical chart. It showed Sherri and me at the nurse's station with our arms around each other. Sherri had the pin on her collar that identified her as a senior nurse. The love in our eyes for each other was obvious.

"Well, I think it's beautiful!” I told her, and then I turned to Sherri. “Give me a hand getting up, honey. We need to get back to work."

The End

Notes:

My Thanks to Paula Dillon for allowing me to set this story in her universe as told in Drawn Together. Thanks also to Joni W. for proofreading, any mistakes left are solely mine. My apologies to my regular editor, whom I sidestepped for no particular reason.

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