Aside from the car they'd arrived in, the parking lot stood empty, which was unsurprising to Ryan considering how late it was. Or early, I suppose... it's after midnight now, isn't it? Nevertheless, Amy had insisted on leading them around the back rather than using the front door. An electronic bell chimed softly as they entered.

Walking down a series of narrow, white-painted hallways, they found themselves in a cramped waiting room with a mismatched collection of well-worn chairs lining the walls. Faded medical prints and peeling flyers for long-passed community events had been plastered across every available surface, even hanging above the doors labeled STAFF ONLY and PATIENTS. An unseen air conditioner could be heard, rattling and groaning fitfully but having no noticeable effect on the heat.

Seated behind a small counter that faced the front entrance, a tired-looking old man watched them approach. In defiance of the summer weather, he was dressed in a wool cardigan over a collared shirt, and wore a pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose with the thickest bifocal lenses Ryan had ever seen.

"Sergeant Reid," the receptionist said, his voice warm but rasping with age. "It is lovely to see you, as always. Have you been well?"

"Can't complain, Claude," she replied in an equally-affectionate tone. "Is Nurse Washington in tonight?"

"She is. In fact, she just returned from her break. Would you like to speak with her?"

"If she's not busy, that would be great."

"She is between calls, I believe. Should I tell her this is a personal visit," he asked, "or does one of your companions require medical attention?"

Despite their wet, muddy and generally-disheveled appearance, Claude had only given Ryan and Syd a brief, professional smile when they entered, and not even a curious glance afterwards. He had to admire the man's self-control.

"It's..." Amy glanced up at the ceiling, hesitating. "Just personal," she lied.

"I see," Claude said, stiffly pushing himself to his feet. "One moment, please."

Setting down the clipboard he'd been writing on, the man shuffled out of view.

A few minutes passed. Ryan lowered himself carefully into one of the scuffed plastic chairs, trying not to get the cheap piece of lounge furniture any grimier than it already was. It creaked dangerously under his weight. Taking the seat next to him, Syd started playing with her hair impatiently until she noticed that Amy was watching.

"Can't believe my phone got disintegrated," she grumbled to herself. "I'm so effing bored right now."

Finally, the STAFF ONLY swinging door opened, and a woman in scrubs who had to be Amy's nurse friend stepped out into the lobby.

If he'd been asked his opinion on the matter, Ryan would have said that medical scrubs were among the most unappealing articles of clothing ever devised. These were a particularly unsexy example of the type: powder blue, loose-fitting, and covered in a repeating pattern of little cartoon rubber ducks wearing shower caps.

Cat's appearance didn't do anything to change Ryan's perspective on nursing fashion. He had, however, discovered that it was possible for a woman to look incredible while wearing them.

Standing an inch or two shorter than Amy, Cat had a coffee-and-cream complexion, with medium-brown eyes and hair a shade darker that was pulled into a casual bun, but those weren't the first things he noticed about her. Even the baggy scrubs could only do so much to hide the woman's build. In a way, the unflattering drape of her clothes actually seemed to accent her figure, making it something just hinted at rather than displayed outright. Calling her curvaceous would be an understatement. Above and below the waist, she was ridiculously well-endowed, with a bust that strained the fabric of her top and a backside to match.

"I know, right?" Syd whispered conspiratorially as Amy practically threw herself into the woman's arms. "Every guy has the exact same reaction when he meets Cat for the first time. It's like –" she dropped her pitch in a comically-bad impersonation of a man's low drawl, "– God damn, son! That ass!" With a wink, she added, "You'd better close your mouth and wipe up the drool before Amy catches you staring, though."

"Cat!" Amy squeaked, pulling the woman in tighter. "I missed you so much!"

"It's only been a few weeks, hon, but I'm glad to see you too," the nurse replied, giving Amy a sunny smile that transformed her already-lovely features into something positively radiant. "You're looking great." Glancing down at her dark grey hoodie and sweatpants, she asked, "Is it casual Friday already? Or did you finally decide to use some of those vacation days you've had building up?"

"Vacation?" Amy scoffed. "Pfft. If I wasn't there to babysit everyone, the whole precinct would fall apart in a week." Breaking the embrace, Amy took a step back. "No, I'm here on..." She'd been about to say business, he figured, but then thought better of it. "...it's complicated."

"Hmm," Cat said, tilting her head curiously. "Now that was an interesting non-answer." Her good-natured grin widened, which took some of the edge off the accusation. "I assume it's got something to do with these two?"

"Hiya, Cat," Syd said. "How's it hanging?"

She returned the cheery wave.

"Bare feet is an interesting fashion choice even for you, dear. Very fresh." Syd blushed and sputtered at the backhanded compliment, but the nurse had already shifted her attention to Ryan. "Well, hello, handsome. I don't believe we've met. I'm Catalina Washington, but I usually go by Cat."

"Ryan Wright. You can call me Ryan." Taking a step closer, he offered his hand. "I've already heard a lot about you from Amy."

She took it in both of hers, still smiling, and gave him an assessing look.

"Only good things, I hope?"

"Well, she forgot to mention how gorgeous you were."

The words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up. This woman is dangerous, he realized. Fortunately for him, she didn't seem too upset.

"Ha! Flatterer." Her eyes sparkled. "I think I like this one, Amy. Maybe I'll keep him." She swatted Ryan lightly on the arm, drawing a hiss of pain out of him, and her brows went up. "Is something wrong?"

"That's what I was hoping you could tell me, actually," he replied.

"Say no more." The hint of playfulness vanished from the woman's expression like a switch had been thrown, and although the fixed smile remained in place, her tone was now all business. "Let's move this conversation into one of the examination rooms, shall we?"

"I think I'll stay out here," Syd said. "Mind if I borrow your phone, Amy? I've got some calls to make, and mine was in my jacket pocket when somebody," she placed particular emphasis on the last word while shooting a dirty look in Ryan's direction, "vaporized it."

"I guess." Amy handed it over after a moment of hesitation. "Just promise that you won't do anything weird. Or illegal. The unlock code is –"

"Down the right side, then over to the left corner, I know. Thanks!"

"Sydney," Amy began ominously as Syd shooed her through the PATIENTS door after Cat, "why do you know my unlock code?"

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Ryan pointed at his eyes with two fingers, then at Syd.

"We're keeping a low profile," he reminded her, speaking in a low tone. "Be careful what you say, and who you say it to."

"I know, I know. Sheesh. Don't worry about it." She smirked at him. "You'd better get moving. There's a hot lady nurse back there waiting for you to take your clothes off."

"Make sure you give her a good show!" she added in a louder-than-necessary voice as he turned away.

***

They went up a flight of stairs, then along another institutional-white corridor before finally reaching their destination: a small lobby that opened onto four examination rooms. Two had their doors shut, with snoring sounds coming from within.

"In here," Cat said, waving them towards the third doorway, which was appropriately labeled EXAM 3.

Medical examination rooms, Ryan thought to himself as he stepped inside, are pretty much the same no matter where you go. Even the ones on Zorvax warships followed the same general pattern, apart from the noticeable absence of any corners or sharp edges. This example had the usual beige tile floor, beige walls decorated with framed anatomical diagrams, beige ceiling, and lingering antiseptic odor. A padded exam table was placed opposite the entrance, its leather cracking with age along the edges. The roller of disposable sheets to cover the cushion sat empty, which he supposed would explain the bottle of cleaning spray and stack of paper towels placed on the counter nearby.

"Go ahead and strip, love, then you can get up on the table for me."

Is she flirting with me? Ryan honestly couldn't say, and that was an unfamiliar situation to find himself in. He didn't think the command had been intended as a double entendre, despite the way it sounded. But maybe she just has a really good poker face...

Without waiting for a reply, Cat walked over to the basin and began washing her hands. The vigorous scrubbing caused all sorts of interesting movement beneath her baggy outfit. Turning back to face him, she dried them off, then tugged on a pair of latex gloves, pulling down the wrist with one finger before letting it snap loudly into place.

He jumped when Amy cleared her throat a little too loudly behind him. Chastised, he quickly shrugged out of the plain white t-shirt he was wearing. His hands went to the waistband of his track pants next, but he hesitated before taking them off.

"I'm, uh, not wearing any underwear," he said sheepishly.

"You don't have anything that I haven't seen before," Cat crisply informed him.

"And I've already seen it," Amy put in. "So get moving."

A moment later, she seemed to realize what she'd just said. The blonde woman's face flushed pure scarlet, the color sweeping from her neckline all the way to the tips of her ears. Watching her reaction, Cat's eyebrows crept up towards her square-cut bangs, and the corner of her lips twitched in amusement. She gave Amy a look that seemed to promise there would be questions later.

Ryan shrugged, then dropped his pants and stepped out of them. After five years of Zorvax captivity, any hint of self-consciousness that he might have once felt about being naked in front of others was long gone. Folding his clothes neatly, he placed them on the counter, then sat down where he'd been directed.

Amy had immediately turned away, and was now staring intently at the closed door with her arms crossed. The back of her neck, he couldn't help but notice, was still beet-red.

"Hmm," Cat remarked speculatively, "that part looks healthy enough."

Her purely-professional mask dropped back into place as she stepped beside him and leaned over to inspect the wound.

"Lift your arm, please."

He obeyed.

"Deep partial-thickness burns," Cat observed, speaking to herself in a clinical tone as she gently prodded at the area around the injury with a gloved finger. "No, full thickness. Third degree." She paused. "This is strange, though. Normally, when we see people with third-degree burns, they have second-degree burns around the outer edges. Here it's the opposite. It's almost like whatever burned you was hotter on the outside than the inside." Glancing up at Ryan, she asked, "Remind me, sweetie, how did you say this happened?"

"I didn't."

"It could be important. Were there hazardous chemicals involved? Radiation? Anything you tell me is protected by physician-patient privilege, you know."

"I don't suppose you'd believe that I got shot by a plasma cannon," Ryan ventured, the joke that wasn't a joke drawing a good-natured chuckle from Cat.

"But seriously," she prompted, when she realized he didn't intend to elaborate further.

"He spilled coffee on himself," Amy blurted, still facing away from them.

"I spilled coffee on myself," he agreed.

Cat's eyebrows rose again.

"You got second- and third-degree burns across the side and back of your abdomen..." she echoed in a doubtful tone, "by spilling coffee on yourself."

"...it was a big cup," Amy said lamely.

"It's a good thing you don't lie very often, babe, because you're terrible at it."

"Cat –"

The woman made a dismissive gesture.

"No, don't tell me, I don't want to know. But if it's something you two can't talk about, even with me, then do me a favor and try to come up with a more convincing story before you bring him back for his follow-up, hmm?"

***

Cat had hooked him up to an IV and rubbed a tube of topical anesthetic goop around the injured area.

That part wasn't so bad.

Next, she picked the charred bits of his old shirt out of the wound with a pair of forceps.

That part hurt.

Then she'd needed to do something to it that she called debriding, using a ridged plastic tool that looked like something taken from a particularly sadistic dentist's office.

That part really hurt.

After she'd finished torturing him, she slathered some different goop all over the burn before finally wrapping it in loose gauze. As she worked, she gave him a short, to-the-point lecture on how to take care of the wound. Changing the bandage daily, more goop that he'd need to apply, ways to shower and sleep without making it worse.

It seemed unlikely that he'd be able to avoid strenuous physical activity for the next eight weeks, but in any case, he appreciated the thought.

She'd warned him that it might scar. He wasn't too worried about that. Nobody was going to notice one more.

"I could write you a scrip for an antibiotic ointment, and something for the pain," she said, shucking off her gloves into a red wastebin, "but I have a feeling that you wouldn't use it. The pharmacy would want to see your ID when they fill it. Anyway, over-the-counter stuff should be fine."

"Thanks," Ryan said, carefully pulling his shirt back on. "I owe you one."

"You're a lifesaver, Cat," Amy agreed, echoing his sentiment. "We really appreciate it."

"What are friends for?" the nurse asked rhetorically. "Ah, hon, before you leave, why don't you give me your number?"

"...my number?" Ryan asked cautiously.

"In a few days, I'd like to check in on your recovery. If you need one, we can schedule you a follow-up." The smile she'd worn throughout the visit widened imperceptibly. "What did you think I meant?"

Ryan shook his head, acknowledging that she'd scored another point on him.

"I... kind of don't have a phone at the moment," he told her.

"He doesn't have a place to live," Amy said, "so he'll be sleeping with me for a while. If you need to talk to him, you can call my phone."

Cat looked from Amy to Ryan, then back to Amy.

"On my couch!" Amy quickly added. "He'll be sleeping on my couch!"

Cat made a noncommittal sound.

"It's not like that!" Amy insisted.

"Of course it isn't, dear," Cat reassured her, herding them out of the examination room and back towards the reception area.

What a woman, Ryan thought admiringly. I just hope that she doesn't end up regretting her decision to help us.

Putting himself in danger didn't bother him. He'd made his choices, fully understanding the risks, and he was willing to accept the consequences, whatever they might be.

But he wasn't the only one at risk. Other people could be hurt by his actions, uninvolved people who had no idea what they were getting into. That knowledge was a lot harder to bear.

As they walked, Ryan stared blankly ahead, his mind churning.

"Psst!" Amy hissed into his ear, snapping him out of the brooding funk. "Quit checking out my best friend's... behind, or you're going to be looking for another couch to sleep on."

Ryan's feet halted in mid-step. He turned, bemused, only for her to brush past him and continue down the hall.

"Men," he heard her remark disgustedly.