Wanda Maximoff One-Shots

Chapter 11: One Special Night

A/N: This was a request from @joewatt111. It's based off the movie One Special Night starring Julie Andrews and James Garner and is one of my absolute favorite Christmas movies of all time!  For anyone else who has requested something from me I'm so sorry it's taking so long.  I've been working through a nasty case of writer's block.  But I'm planning on having the rest of the requests finished by the holidays!  Enjoy!

Thanksgiving, 5:03 PM

"Any plans for Thanksgiving, Doc?"

"Oh you know, the usual," you replied. "Get togethers with family you don't really like, avoiding conversations that'll spark arguments, and eating too many casseroles of who knows what." You didn't really like Thanksgiving. It held too many memories you'd rather forget: the years of being shuffled from house to house to spend time with your divorced parents, the subsequent arguments that you'd hear between your drunk father and sobbing mother as you buried your head under the covers in a feeble attempt to drown out the screams, endless holiday dinners ruined by shifts in the emergency room treating deep fryer burn victims, people slicing their hands while attempting to carve a turkey, and sprains, bumps, and bruises from people slipping on ice or grease, and, of course, the one Thanksgiving where your fiancée dumped you before the heavy cream could even be whipped. Needless to say it wasn't your favorite day of the year. So instead of subjecting yourself to the horrors of dinner conversation, you volunteered to work the holiday, collect the overtime, and treat yourself to your favorite Chinese takeout and watch whatever football game was on. Most people didn't understand your disinterest in the holiday, so you fibbed and said you had plans. It's not like anyone would figure it out anyways.

"But that's the fun isn't it? It only comes around once a year," the tech posed.

You shook your head as you pulled on your coat. "Yeah, fun. There are lots of things you can classify as fun. I'm not sure this is one of them." Slamming your locker shut, you grabbed your bag and headed for the door of the locker room.

"I don't think it's that bad," the younger man responded. "But anyways, get home safe, Doc. The news was saying that we're supposed to get one heluva of a storm today."

"All the more reason to not go out," you winked. You pushed the door open and trudged down the hall, backpack slung over one shoulder as you ambled down the corridor and towards the main entrance of the hospital.

"Dr. L/N?" you heard a voice call from behind you as you passed the emergency room's front desk. You turned around to see who the voice belonged to and found Janelle, your intern, running towards you.

"Yeah?" you answered, cocking an eyebrow.

"You forgot to sign off on the papers for Mrs. Levin." She handed you a clipboard with a pen clipped to it. You took it from her, scribbled on the appropriate line, and handed it back to her without much thought to what you were doing. "Thank you, doctor. And Happy Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, same," you responded. All you could think about after your ten hour shift was your steamed dumplings and lo mein, not some last-minute paperwork. But as you passed by the desk again something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

"You've got to be kidding me, right? What do you mean there's no tow trucks available?" You saw a fiery redhead who was red in more than just her hair. She was leaning up against the front desk, yelling into her cellphone, a backpack sitting by her side. You watched as she rolled her eyes at whatever response she was receiving. "Well fine, I'll just call a cab if you-what do you MEAN they aren't running the cabs? How the hell am I supposed to get home?"

You eavesdropped on her conversation as you walked by, trying to make sure it wasn't apparent that you were listening in."Please, isn't there something you can do? I've been at the hospital with my father all day and I need to get home." You could hear the desperation in her voice as she pleaded with the voice on the other end. You felt bad for the stranger, but it wasn't your responsibility to make sure she got home. You had no obligation whatsoever to be her taxi driver. But as you neared the door you felt a nagging in the pit of your stomach telling you to do something.