Hospitals, even at the Academy, smelled sterile and chemical, as if the smell was as integral to the building as its foundation. That wasn't Luka's least favorite things about them, even as it made him feel slightly sick. His least favorite thing was that blend of hope and despair that burrowed under his skin whenever he entered one. People dying. People recovering. People on the verge of either. Mages died in hospitals as well as normal people did, even when there wasn't a killer virus on the loose, because sometimes there simply wasn't anything to do. Sometimes things couldn't be Healed.

That was one of the reasons he didn't work as a Healer, or wasn't a doctor like Quinn. Being a lab tech was different, the lab felt less like a hospital even as it was buried within one.

He didn't move yet, even though every fiber of his being wanted to escape this place. His eyes remained closed, even as the images of his dreams — his memories — haunted him, but he refused to open them. He refused to acknowledge that he was in an Academy hospital, and opening his eyes was going to make it too hard to ignore the facts. He thought back to his last minutes, trembling hands reaching for his phone, scrolling through his contacts. He had meant to call Quinn, but had he called Hadley instead? Or Alice?

He was aware of the presence in the room, hovering over him. It was only a matter of time, before he would realize Luka was no longer asleep.

"Ubljudok," he muttered, giving up the pretense.

"Don't do that." Even if he was barely alert enough to recognize Hadley's voice, the sheer tone of it was unmistakable.

He knew very well what it meant. He just hated it whenever Luka switched to Russian, because it made him feel excluded.

"You're a fucking idiot. Is that better?"

Luka opened his eyes to the searing white ceiling. He blinked, and tried to find something not white to look at, but there was nothing. Hadley was outside his field of vision, and he still refused to move. He should test his muscles, the soreness of his body, try to determine how long ago he had been Healed. How long he had been here.

He found that he didn't want to know. His head was aching, but he couldn't determine if it was still the wards bothering him, a product of magic fatigue, or something completely different. If he had known, that might have been some sort of clue. He had entered the restaurant at around midday. The light filtering through the windows now was bright and relentless, and he guessed it was early afternoon. He didn't believe it was still the same day. They wouldn't have taken him to the hospital if it was, so he had lost at least 24 hours.

"Why am I here?" Luka asked. He shouldn't have been here at all, let alone for a full day. Keeping people for observation was normal, but only if they weren't Healers themselves. Healing wasn't just a matter of pouring magic into an other person and hoping for the best. You had to know where the injuries were and how to mend them. Stitching a wound together was different from putting a bone back together, and making an accurate full body assessment took a lot of energy. Healers missed things, and often people were held overnight to make sure everything had been Healed correctly.

Rules were different for Healers, whose magic and bodies were so closely connected, that he would have woken up the second he was sufficiently healed. Even with his magic mostly gone, he should have broken through the unconsciousness earlier. Yet, he remembered nothing. He felt his magic clearly under his skin now, restless energy buzzing through his veins, further proof that he had been here too long.

He tried to sit up, so he wouldn't have to carry a conversation lying down.

Hadley moved over to his side, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Easy," he said. "You've been out for a while."

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Luka growled, pushing himself up despite Hadley's hand on him. He didn't have the energy to tell him to remove it, so it lingered there until Hadley either deemed him steady, or he became uncomfortable with the contact.

"Yours," Hadley said, sliding his hands into his pockets, and taking a step back. "Do you remember what happened?"

Luka frowned. The question of how he ended up here still bothered him. He should have been at Quinn's. He was pretty sure about that. "Did I call you?"

"No," Hadley said. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I remember getting fucking stabbed." And there was something else. Foxes and deer, and something about wonderland? It wasn't clear, but something about it clung to the back of his mind. "How did you find me?"

They had removed his shirt, but hadn't replaced it. He ran his hand across his ribs, feeling the lingering aches where the knife had entered. The scars were raised, the physical reminders of his pain far too tangible. Quinn wouldn't approve, but Quinn was nothing short of an artist, only ever leaving the faintest lines on his skin when he Healed him.

"We tracked you down."

"Of course you did," Luka answered, distracted by the ghosts his own wounds. Things were clicking in to place in his mind. The phone had been in his hand, ready to dial Quinn, but then Alice had been there. "How?"

"That's not important," Hadley said, and the way his eyes shifted; Hadley had broken the rules for him. Oracles, most likely. Luka might have been proud, if he wasn't too busy being angry. Something was wrong. Something important. He shouldn't have been unconscious for this long, unless…

"You drugged me." The amount of effort it took to drug a Healer was staggering. Drugs laced with magic, and enough of it to kill a normal person, administered every couple of hours, or the mage would burn through it. His fingers went to his neck; no suppressor.

"We didn't want to risk the suppressor for the first day, in case the Healer had missed something. If Alice hadn't convinced me to wake you up, you'd be wearing one."

Of course. Because if he was wearing one, he wouldn't be awake right now. The fact that he was awake, meant that they had realized how much they needed him.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, trying to assess his capacity for standing. His pants were also gone, but his underwear remained. Despite his state of undress, he felt lucky that no one had attempted to dress him. Academy hospitals didn't have patient gowns, so at least he wouldn't have to suffer the indignity of that, but usually if mages were kept for observation, they were issued patient scrubs. The thought of someone forcing him into any kind of clothes while he was unconscious made him cringe. He caught sight of a pair of scrubs folded neatly on his bedside table.

"Lavrin," Hadley said, as Luka placed his feet flat on the ground. He pushed his hands into the mattress at his sides, and shifted his weight. "Lavrin."

"What?" Luka snapped. His muscles felt weak. He was physically fine, or at least he should be, but he had been lying down for too long. Between that and the drugs, his body wasn't responding the way it should be. He could stand, he was reasonably sure, but he wouldn't be able to get past Hadley if he tried to stop him.

"You're not getting out of here."

He reached for the scrubs out of spite, and started pulling them on. "You need me, or you wouldn't have woken me up." The scrubs were the same slate gray as the uniform jackets the Academy students wore, and while he could appreciate the muted color, it remained an uncomfortable reminder of his past.

"We need information. We need to know what you know. You're still infected, Lavrin. I can't let you leave."

"Fuck you," Luka said. He pushed himself up, wobbled, grabbed the wall for support. His heart was pounding too hard, and it put him on edge. He hadn't forgotten, hadn't stopped counting, but he didn't know how many beats he had lost.

Beat.

Hadley took a step towards him, as if he was going to do anything to him.

Beat.

Luka held up the hand not currently occupied with the wall, and Hadley stopped.

Beat.

"Back off."

Beat.

Hadley straightened to stand a little taller, and his brown eyes turned steely.

Beat.

Like a drum at the back of his mind.

"I could have you sedated again."

"And I could knock you out before the command even left your mouth."

They stared at each other, waiting for the other to give. Hadley's threat was worthless and they both knew it. He had already admitted that they needed Luka, and even in his weakened state, Luka managed to intimidate him. He could see it in his eyes, the way he studied him, waiting for sudden movements or the glow of magic. Luka stepped around him, and he did nothing to hold him back.

In the door, Luka took hold of the door frame and turned back. His head still hadn't quite fought through the haze, and he didn't trust his coordination.

"How much time did I lose?" he asked, even as he feared the answer.

"Lavrin…" Hadley didn't quite look at him, and he started fearing the worst. How many days lost would it take for his resolve to falter? How much was too much?

"How much fucking time, Thomas?" Luka growled. He needed to hear it now.

"Two days."

He did the math. Two days sedated, plus the hour between infection and losing consciousness, where his pulse had been fairly high. Maybe it evened out, maybe his average would lie slightly below two days. He would know more when he started feeling the effects, but maybe he already was. He couldn't tell the disorientation of recovery apart from the disorientation of the infection. So he had four or five days left. Probably.

"Lavrin?" Hadley asked, and he realized that he had probably been standing still for a while.

"Stay away from me," Luka said wearily. "Until this is over."

"I'm your handler," Hadley said, as if that meant something. What exactly had the Academy done for him? What had Hadley?

"I don't care," Luka said. He was leaning against the door frame now, realizing that he was going to have to stop stalling and start moving eventually, but his mind wasn't cooperating.

"At least let me help," Hadley insisted. In his voice, the offer sounded like a command. Hadley might be his handler, but he couldn't tell him what to do. He couldn't force himself on him, unless Luka needed something from the Academy. Every prolonged silence made the drums of his heartbeat sound louder, and he needed to get out of here. He needed to do something proactive, so the beats wouldn't feel so damning.

"What makes you think I would ever want your help?" He said, viciously. "Don’t you ever think that maybe we wouldn’t have lost Abel, if you hadn't been so skeptical? Don’t you think we would have solved this thing by now, if you hadn't confined me here for two days? You can't help anyone, Thomas. You never could."

He didn't bother turning towards him, and the words only cut deeper for it. They echoed in his mind, and tasted bitter in his mouth. It was cruel, unnecessarily so, and he didn’t even mean it. He still blamed himself for Abel's death. He didn't think Hadley's presence had been the one to doom him, that had been all Luka. He almost regretted his words, but shook it off, and focused on finding his way outside. He just wanted to get far away from this place.

The fresh air felt better, made his head clearer, but the sun was jarring. He craved a cigarette, and cursed himself for walking out without getting his possessions back. Now, brilliantly, he had no money and no smokes. Not to mention his keys or phone. He turned a corner and stopped at the sight of Alice, leaning against the wall. He wondered why she hadn't been inside with Hadley, but then remembered his words. Alice wanted him out. Hadley did not, and must have wanted her to wait outside.

He didn't know how to deal with Alice, except that he didn't want to deal with her at all. He never asked to be her mentor, and now he didn’t know how he could stand it at all. He wanted solitude. Besides, he was inclined to blame her for coming to find him, when he was better off not being found. She went to Hadley, she allowed him to make decisions about Luka, to drug him, confine him, attempting to protect him from himself. But Luka didn't need protection from himself. He had survived this far on his own merits, and he would persevere long after he had cut ties with the Academy once and for all.

He stood frozen on the corner, trying to make a decision, and Alice eventually looked up from her phone. She smiled when she saw him. He knew it was too late, but he walked past her, toward the gates.

"Hey," she called after him and followed. "Putting you in the hospital wasn't my idea. I wanted them to take you home. I pleaded with Hadley to wake you."

"I don't want to hear it."

"Luka," she protested. "I'm not happy with Hadley either, but he was only trying to help. We saved your life."

He turned sharply, pinning her against the brick behind her. She winced at the impact.

"I'm done with your help," he said. "I told Thomas to leave me alone, and I suggest you do the same."

"You can't do this alone," Alice said. Her voice turned insisting, commanding.

Anger, impatience and defiance mixed a dangerous cocktail within him. Luka slammed his fist against the wall, and his knuckles split against the rough brick. A stinging pain washed over his hand and he felt blood run down his fingers. Instinct told him to heal it, but he managed to stop himself. Instead, he took a deep breath and slowly let his hand fall away from the wall, ignoring the scarlet imprint it left behind and the blood that continued to flow from his wound. The pain managed to ground him and he saw the world a little clearer. The drumming in his head quieted, the frustration ebbing away.

"Watch me," he said, biting down the response he had ready on his tongue. The response that was designed to wound her as well. He walked away, and this time, she didn't follow.

He let his mind drift back to the problems of the case, and trusted his feet to take him where he needed to go. This turned out to be a mistake when he almost walked into a wall.

He stopped and frowned at it, at the offense that it caused him, to find it unexpectedly in his way. Whether he used his magic or not, it was always at the back of his mind as a presence that connected him to the city. He should be able to walk blindfolded through a crowded street without bumping into a single person, not nearly collide with random walls. The fact that his radar seemed to be malfunctioning was cause for deep concern. He didn't like the thought, that this might somehow be related to the infection, to the erratic magic caused by it.

To ease his mind, he decided to blame the headache pounding against his skull and the general problems his concentration suffered from, at least for now.