“I got it,” Elethior says quickly and jerks out of my hold. “I’m fine, Sebastian.”
He walks away, shoulders bunching, and I’m left with my mouth hanging open.
“Don’t take it personally, hon.” Nithroel’s sympathetic smile widens. “We see a lot of stress reactions here. It’s not you.”
It shouldn’t be me,I want to say. It should be a friend or a family member, not hislab partner.
Elethior’s gone now, down the hall Nithroel indicated; he didn’t wait for me. I only came so he’d have someone here if his mom wasn’t okay, and his momisokay, so… I should go?
But as I stand in indecision, wondering why tension is still gripping the daylights out of me, Nithroel slides something across the desk. Two visitor passes.
“He’s here so often, we usually let him right on through, but give that to him, will you? And pin yours to your coat or shirt.”
“Oh. Actually, I’m not sure I’ll—”
“You’re the first person he’s brought here.” That smile of hers is too analytical. “I’m sure it was hard for him.”
“It’s not like that,” I tell her. “I’m only here… it was bad timing.”
“These things never have good timing.” Nithroel pushes the badges closer. “Room 125.”
I look toward the hallway again, my brow furrowing.
Gods damn it.
I scoop up the badges, clip one to my coat, and hurry down the hallway.
The door for room 125 is open, all the others shut and quiet. I steel myself before ducking inside.
The room is long and narrow, with a raised bed surrounded by medical equipment. That’s where the similarities end between a hospital and this space; the rest of it is a forest.
Plants are everywhere, potted trees and vines tendrilled around the ceiling, rainbows of flowers in vases on every free surface. The walls are painted a rich hunter green and a brown leather sofa sitsopposite the bed next to a sturdy oak table and chairs. A short bookshelf is stuffed not just with books, but sculptures and picture frames and knickknacks, and the air smells of blossoms and greenery, a quick hit of wilderness in this care facility.
Elethior’s next to the bed, talking with a halfling woman in a lab coat; so, doctor. A human woman in pink scrubs is taking vitals from the person on the bed.
His mom is human, with straight blonde hair cut in a bob around her sunken face, eyes shut. Her chest rises and falls stutteringly.
The nurse turns to enter data into a tablet on the bed when she notices me, clocking my visitor pass with a patient smile. “Are you lost?”
Elethior glances up, his face flipping through a few complex emotions. Like he thought I’d left. Or expected me to.
I hold out the other visitor pass to him. “Nithroel said something about a SWAT team rappelling from the ceiling and arresting you if you’re caught without a badge.”
The nurse flicks her eyes between me and Elethior.
Elethior’s lips form a thin line. He takes the badge. “Thanks.”
“Is she—” I’m not sure what to ask, how to ask it. My shoulders ache with holding still.
“She’s okay. No lasting effects,” Elethior says. He looks at the doctor. “Right?”
The doctor pats Elethior on the arm. “We’ll get her medications balanced so this stops happening, and for now, we’re keeping her under a tight watch. She’ll likely be out for some time, but you’re welcome to stay, as always.”
Elethior’s staring at his mom, gripping the frame at the foot of the bed.
The nurse—whose name tag says Martha—holds the tablet to her chest. “She likes to give us all a good scare. Don’t you?” She drops a fond smile on Elethior’s mom. “Has to keep us on our toes, this one.”
I blow out a long exhale. She’s fine.
