Title: HSU Fic: Are You My Sister? 1/1
Author: Laure, Mediator
Rating: PS&S (Pretty Silly and Sappy)
Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Poor, very poor. Would be willing to own one slightly rusty suit of armor.
Timeline: Set sometime in the distant future
Thanks:This is all Judy's idea. She came up with it in the Atlanta airport and passed it on to Darry who told me to
write it. I always obey the Nurse. (G&)
Author's Note:This is quite silly and based on the children's book "Are You My Mother". Unfortunately in this fic the RB does not get treated as nicely as the little baby bird does in the book.

It was a dark and stormy night when the RB was awakened by a huge burst of thunder which sent him flying from his bed--and off of Laure--and crashing to the floor. His head cracked against the night stand and everything went dark.

At some later point, the RB awakened and staggered to his feet, very confused. His head hurt and his thoughts were fuzzy. He dimly recalled that he had been having a lovely dream about a tall, dark haired woman in silks, smelling like lavender.

His sister.

Blinking his eyes in the darkness of the room, he looked down at the sleeping woman on the bed and knew instinctively that she wasn't his sister.

He wasn't so sure that the bed itself wasn't his sister, but, not wanting to disturb the sleeping woman, he didn't ask the bed the question out loud. Instead, he stumbled from the room.

Luckily he wore a pair of purple silk boxers that covered his most private and personal parts.

As he wandered down the stairs, the storm ended and dawn broke.

At the bottom of the steps, the RB met an odd, golden, duck- like creature, and asked, "Are you my sister?"

Crow looked up at the RB and gave him his best evil robot stare. "Do I look like a sister?"

"Maybe."

"Get a life." Giving the RB the Italian finger, Crow stormed off down the hallway.

Shaking his aching head the RB wandered the other direction, reading the signs on the closed doors. At the Office of Student Affairs he stopped and stared at the doorknob for long minutes, finally asking, "Are you my sister?"

The doorknob failed to answer, as doorknobs usually aren't sentient beings, and the RB grabbed it and twisted it, killing it and opening the door. A tiger looked up from its usual position before the inner door and snorted lightly, giving its master a tigery kind of smile.

The RB cocked his head and asked, "Are you my sister?"

The tiger mewled and whimpered at the odd question, and the RB shook his head. No, he didn't think his sister was orange and black and he was pretty sure she could talk. As he left the office, the tiger rolled over on its back and yawned.

A man carrying a large, curved stick was strolling down the hallway and the RB moved to intercept him. They looked each other up and down for a minute, then the scruffy man hefted his stick over his shoulder.

"You look familiar. Have we met?" John asked.

"Are you my sister?"

John's eyebrows arched and slid towards each other as he frowned. "I knew this place was a looney bin," he muttered. "Do you need some help?"

"I need to find my sister. Are you she?"

"Do I look like a woman?"

The RB ran his eyes over the muscular man again, and shrugged, not really sure at that moment what a woman looked like. "You do look familiar. Do you smell like lavender?" As he leaned forward to sniff, John thwapped him with his hockey stick, knocking him to the floor.

When he returned to consciousness the next time, the RB looked up into the frowning face of a brunette pixie.

"Does Laure know you're wandering around in your undies?" Kymira asked.

"Are you my sister?" the RB asked, rubbing the bruise on his forehead.

Kymira frowned more and helped him off the floor. "Maybe you should go to the clinic."

"Is my sister there?"

"Quite possibly." He was freaking her out and she was debating over whether or not to break her Master's cardinal rule--not to wake her before eight--when the RB staggered towards the clinic.

Shrugging, Kymira resigned him to Darry's tender care. Surely there was some kind of nursely Hippocratic oath.

Or was that hypocritic?

Stopping outside the clinic, the RB gently caressed the lovely, etched sign. "Are you my sister?" He sighed heavily as the sign just stuck there on the door, silent and sturdy. It was gold. He vaguely thought his sister was gold...or wore gold or had something with gold in it.

Opening the door--not asking the doorknob as he had learned that lesson--he stepped into the room and saw two people sleeping on top of a table, the woman draped over the man, half covered with a sheet. At the opening of the door, the woman stirred and blinked her eyes open.

"What?" Darry asked petulantly. "This had better be a medical emergency." Her eyes focused on the RB and she raised up on one elbow. "And where the frack are your clothes? Go away, go bother Laure. She likes you nekkid."

As she lay her head back down on the chest of the now stirring man, the RB asked, "Are you my sister?"

With an angry yank, Darry pulled the phone from the wall and flung it at him, then smiled as Cicero pulled the sheet up over them both.

The phone hit the RB in the chest, sending him flying out of the clinic and onto his butt.

Gasping for breath he lay there for a minute, then picked up the broken phone and asked, "Are you my sister?" He lifted the receiver to his ear and waited patiently for an answer.

None was forthcoming and he sighed and pushed himself to his feet. Staggering into the wall, he dragged the phone after him as he walked to the next office.

He knew his sister had to be here somewhere. She had such lovely curls and he loved to bury his face in them...

The next door was cracked open and he shoved it wider, then walked into the office. A woman, yawning and stretching, and wearing rumpled velvet walked out of the inner office. Something glittering dangled from one hand. She stopped and stared.

Then her eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" Emmy barked.

She had curly brown hair...

The RB smiled, sure he had found his sister. Dropping the phone and opening his arms, he asked her the all important question, "Are you my sister?"

Fast as lightning, Emmy zinged the tiara at him. It neatly creased his brow and sent him toppling back out of the office. She kicked his feet out and slammed the door, before deciding that only another appointment with the General would get the icky images out of her mind.

Luckily he was still sprawled on her bed in all his nekkid glory.

The RB returned to consciousness slowly and rolled onto his stomach, the world spinning. Walking seemed to be out of the question, so he began to crawl down the hallway. The sound of glasses clinking lured him past the Clinic to the one door that was open, light spilling from within. He used the jamb to pull himself up and staggered into the pub.

"Why are you bleeding all over my bar?" Judy asked as she put clean glasses away. The RB raised a shaky hand to his forehead and it came away bloody. He swayed and his vision blurred. The light brown hair on the woman behind the bar darkened and curled and the scent of lavender filled the air.

"Are you my sister?"

Judy stared at him and shook her head. "No more merlot for you."

"Do you know where my sister is?"

"Uh...no."

"Thank you for not throwing anything at me or hitting me," the RB mumbled as he staggered from the bar and collapsed in the hallway.

A squeaky noise gradually filled his ears and he blinked his eyes open to find a red wagon stopping next to him. Rolling onto his side and reaching out to touch a rusty wheel, he asked tiredly, "Are you my sister?"

"Um, it doesn't talk."

Squinting up at the voice, the RB saw a scrawny young man wearing ill-fitting garments standing over him. "Are you my sister?"

"No sir." Cal recognized the barely dressed, bruised and bleeding man as one of the mediator's regular patients. Smiling, he jumped to the conclusion that if he helped her patient, she'd be so pleased that she'd give him more appointments.

Grunting a lot, Cal managed to get the RB into his wagon, and using both hands and walking backwards he managed to tug him to the elevator. By the time the elevator doors closed behind them Cal was sweating profusely and shaking from the strain. "Gosh, you're a big man. I hope Miss Laure can handle you okay."

"Miss Laure?" the RB muttered. "Is she my sister?"

"No, I don't think so. Maybe she can help you find your sister. She's really good at helping people," Cal gushed.

The elevator doors opened and Cal resolutely grabbed the handle to the wagon and pulled. The doors banged repeatedly against the sides of the wagon, then hit the RB several times in the head, but finally they were all in the second floor hallway.

Cal looked down the long hallway, judging the distance to the mediator's office, then bit his lip and dropped the handle to the wagon. "You just stay right here, sir. I'll go fetch Miss Laure."

Unconscious again, the RB failed to answer.

Cal ran down the hallway and went through the outer and inner offices, then knocked on the door which he knew led to Miss Laure's bedroom. He'd had many fantasies about passing through this door and showing her his manly swagger and stance. He'd been practicing so hard, and he knew how much the ladies liked that sort of thing.

He wasn't sure what else might happen behind the closed door to her boudoir, but he knew it had to be great. After all, the General always seemed to smile a lot when he exited that room.

Laure heard the knocking, but ignored it. Her alarm hadn't gone off, so it was way too early to get up. She didn't smell smoke, so the damn building wasn't on fire. If Darry had killed someone, she'd deal with that at the reasonable hour of nine o'clock.

The knocking persisted and she rolled over to boot the RB out of bed to go answer it, only to find the other side of the bed empty.

Perplexed and pissed off, Laure rose and wrapped a robe around herself before stomping to the door. She flung it open and glared at Cal.

"Do you know the penalty for awakening me at..." She glanced at her watch. "Six forty in the freaking morning?"

Cal flushed and his braid fell off and down the gaping front of his tunic. Laure rolled her eyes.

"Um, it's your gentleman friend. I found him laying in the hall downstairs and he's hurt."

"Gentleman..." Comprehension filled her as well as concern and she shoved past Cal, hurrying from the room and calling out for her beloved.

He wasn't in the inner office, or the outer office, or the immediate hallway. Looking both ways, she spied a slumped form in a wagon at the far end, and sprinted lightly towards him. When she reached the RB's side, she dropped to her knees and took his hand in hers.

He was so pale and bruised, and a gash on his head was bleeding.

"Commo," she murmured, stroking his hair off his forehead.

His eyes opened slowly and he blinked, his breathing increasing to a slight pant. "Are you my sister?" he mumbled, his voice slurred.

A defiant retort was on her lips, but Laure bit it back and stroked his forehead gently. "Yes," she whispered, and kissed him tenderly.

End