Karim returns to the clinic’s exam room with Lionel’s clothes still tucked beneath his arm, two pairs of boots expertly clutched in his fingers, and a small tray of food in his free hand. The ‘meal’ he scrounged up comprises of a sandwich made with bare-bones ingredients and a polystyrene cup full to the brim with orange juice. Sira is getting their blood taken, one way or another, and while he couldn’t find any cookies like the medical staff at the HQ give him after his own blood tests, he hopes this will be enough to compensate.
His charge remains seated on the edge of the exam table where he last saw them, one knee hugged to their chest as they stare off into space. He can’t help but frown at the sight of the kid. Sira’s expression is vacant, like they aren’t all there, though it’s been that way since he first met them - for the most part.
Dr. Pareira doesn’t notice him come in as she quietly shuffles around with some papers and equipment on the desk with a computer. He takes the lack of urgency in her movements as a sign that nothing is seriously wrong with her patient. Sira, however, perks up, lifting their chin off the top of their bent knee and dropping the leg back down to dangle over the edge of the exam table. Their eyes lock on the tray of food in his hands as he approaches. He puts a soft smile on his face.
“I promise you that this isn’t all that our organization has to offer in terms of provisions, but it’s the best I could find,” he says as he holds out the tray of food, the footwear, and the bundle of clothes, “I might be able to find something more in the morning before we depart, but I can’t make any promises. The clothing belongs to Lionel, but it should hold you over until we get to headquarters.”
Every forward-operating base in the CPC keeps standard-issue gear, but it’s hard enough trying to guess what size shoes would work for Sira, and there isn’t enough time to take their measurements to fit them with a proper uniform and armor. Taking care of that at HQ would be best. Still, he would have to figure something out before they depart, since Sira’s apparent status as immune means that they’ll need all of the personal protection they can get.
On the other hand, he has to resist cringing at his own words. It’s not as if he’s being dishonest, because he isn’t. All the same, his efforts to ease their obvious anxiety make this sound like it’s going to be closer to a stay at a resort rather than being treated like a test subject. Or worst-case scenario: a prisoner, but until he mulls things over with the boss, it’s all he can do to find small ways to take the edge off.
Sira blinks at him, taking their attention away from the food and Karim’s attention away from his pondering. “Headquarters?”
“The CPC headquarters, of course,” he clarifies. “Much more lavish and developed than this place. I believe I mentioned before that you’ll be meeting the Director. That’s where she’ll be--” he drops his voice a little lower, “--I don’t know if you picked up on it quite yet, but you’re a bit of a big deal.”
A short sigh. “Yeah...I kinda wish that I wasn’t.”
Sira accepts the attire and sets it down beside where they sit on the exam table, then gratefully relieves him of the tray of food. Karim returns his hands to his pockets as Sira examines the sandwich with an unexpected level of caution.
Do they think I put something in it? That I - or we - would drug or poison them?
He almost feels insulted by the idea, but it could be that their appetite is in a weird place - or they’re picky about their food - and are on the lookout for anything they can’t stomach. It’s likely, but considering Sira’s mental state and the nervousness that etches itself on their face when it doesn’t have that glazed-over look, he reminds himself that any paranoid behavior shouldn’t be taken personally.
“You know,” he says, keeping his voice quiet, “you don’t necessarily have to come with us, or even be here, for that matter. Well, to be honest, I think I’d be in quite a lot of trouble if I were to just let you go, and I can’t guarantee that what might happen in the future will be...pleasant if you stay, but we’re not necessarily holding you captive.”
Striking a balance in his tone to keep his words from sounding like a thinly veiled threat is difficult. It’s a pitifully weak olive branch, but he’s as honest as he can, and it makes his tongue feel less sour. Although, ‘quite a lot of trouble’ is a massive understatement; he’s certain that the director would strangle him to death with her bare hands and have his body dumped in a ravine somewhere, their personal history notwithstanding.
That’s an exaggeration: she isn’t that cold-hearted, but she would find out about Sira one way or another, even if he tried to cover it up, and the punishment for letting such a significant ‘asset’ run off somewhere wouldn’t be merciful. Besides, she has more than enough means to track Sira down on her own, so the effort wouldn’t be worth it in the end.
Karim has been told he’s charismatic, that he seems to always know what to say to put people at ease or sway them to his side, but this is one of those cases where it feels less like charisma and more like manipulation.
Perhaps that's what it is.
Sira shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go, is it?”
No, not really, he answers in his head. What could he do, hand them off to some faction he doesn't know enough about or even trust when the director would likely end up tracking Sira down anyway?
Not a chance. The best thing that’s within his power is to keep them within the CPC. Additionally, if it comes to it, he can step in if things go in a direction he can’t abide by. That conclusion takes some of the guilt off his shoulders, but only some.
Karim straightens himself and points his thumb toward the door. "Once you're done eating, there's a bathroom down the hall you can use to get changed - and maybe clean yourself up a bit. There's a shower in our quarters that you're welcome to use, but I'd suggest getting some of the gunk off your face with the tap so you can feel a little better before then."
Sira reaches up to touch their cheek, their gaunt fingers brushing against one of the gunk smears in question. A grimace creeps over their face as they silently nod.
He broadens his grin, then turns away from them as they start to pick at the sandwich, shifting his attention to Dr. Pareira. Her body is still oriented towards the counter she stands at, but she’s eyeing him with her head half-turned. She looks back to the papers in her hands as he casually leans himself against the counter next to her.
“How’s it looking doc?”
“Not ideal. Nothing stands out as an emergency, but they need further evaluation. Vitals are all technically normal, though either on the lower or higher end of normal rather than in the middle,” she explains. “They’re roughly ten pounds underweight and I’m concerned about the possibility of muscle atrophy.”
“You said earlier they were walking around just fine.”
"I did because nothing stood out to me, but I've only been observing them for less than an hour. On that basis, you would have more insight than I do, but I strongly advise bringing that up to the staff at HQ. Could also be asthmatic with how their lungs sound. Reflexes are slightly delayed. The hair is...odd, but it's not albinism. On that note, with how pale their skin is, I'd normally want to do a blood count."
Karim raises an eyebrow. “Normally, meaning..?”
She gives him a slightly annoyed sidelong glance. “I don’t think I’m comfortable doing a full routine medical exam on our patient here because me just standing close to them had them tensed up, shaking, and even starting to hyperventilate. It seemed more and more like they were on the verge of having a full-blown panic attack. My nurse would help me with less stable patients, but she’s on leave for a while, so I’m the only one here. If you hadn’t left earlier, you may have been able to keep them distracted. Keep them calm.”
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Guilt seeps back into him again as his gaze drifts to Sira. They remain where they were on the end of the exam table as they pull the sandwich apart into bite-sized pieces, which they stick in their mouth and slowly chew with some trepidation, not at all appearing interested in him and the doctor's conversation. Currently, they look more tired than anxious, but even so...
Aside from wanting them to eat and have something proper to wear, another reason why he left earlier was that physical exams tend to involve compromising tests that he doesn't want to watch someone undergo unless a situation requires it. It's a matter of privacy and a boundary that shouldn't be crossed when it comes to his colleagues and especially his subordinates.
He doubts Sira would want the audience of a stranger for it even if that wasn’t the case, but from the sounds of it, the doctor didn’t tread very far into that territory.
“...sorry about that, doc.” Karim leans one elbow on the surface of a filing cabinet adjacent to the counter. He runs a hand back through his hair. “And that…might complicate the ‘something else’ that I need you to do for me.”
Dr. Pareira taps the small stack of papers in her hands against the surface of the counter to straighten them out. “Wonderful. And would you care to tell me what that ‘something else’ is now?”
Karim takes a look at Sira again. They’re about halfway done with their sandwich but are now looking at it like they can’t stomach any more of it, which isn’t the best sign. He watches them put the sandwich down and wrap their hands around the cup of orange juice. After a curious sip, their eyes light up. That makes him feel a little more at ease about what’s to come.
“Incidentally, a blood test,” he says, returning his attention to the doctor, “but I’m not talking about ordinary labs. This is different.” He wets his lips, and although he’s sure the three of them are alone in the clinic, his next words come out almost as a whisper: “You still store some condensed vials of the mist here, correct?”
Dr. Pareira firmly sets the papers she was holding down - too firmly. One of her hands knocks against a mug that was holding several pens. The sounds of its side hitting the counter and the pens clattering against its surface make Karim flinch.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sira is frozen still, staring at the two of them with concern from over the rim of their cup. As for the doctor, the look on her face is a mixture of personal offense and disbelief.
“Captain, you cannot possibly be suggesting...”
He holds his hand up. “I know, I know. Now you might be getting an idea of why I asked you to keep this off the record, but I need you to trust me. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d be reporting straight to the Director about this.”
“And you’re dragging me into whatever ‘this’ is, why?” she asks through clenched teeth. “I’m not one of the researchers from headquarters, sir. I picked F-6 because it was small. Out of the way of most of the violence and bureaucracy. I don’t know what it is you think you’re getting at, but it’s not something that I want on my plate.”
Karim understands her frustration. More than she probably knows. As she says, her place of work is small, quiet, and out of the way. Someone in his station has infinitely more tasks and responsibilities on an hourly basis than she does in the span of a week, but that isn't of her concern.
Considering that, she’s jumping to conclusions, and he’s growing irritated himself.
“This isn’t putting anything on your plate, doc,” he says, carefully and seriously enunciating his words while still trying to keep his volume low, “listen to me - I want to have something tangible to show my boss. You’ll be the one to sign off on those documents, but I can personally guarantee you that will be the extent of your involvement. You’re right to dislike bureaucracy, but the level of sway I have in it is more than you might assume.”
Dr. Pareira chews on her lip for a long moment, then sighs as she straightens her glasses.
"I would ask what reason I have to believe that, but I do recall the major describing you as 'one of those arrogant pains in the asses' in a rather informal message he sent out to all the higher-level staff upon your team's arrival."
A grin returns to Karim’s face. “Well, I can’t speak for the rest of us, but yes. As much as I respect his work, I tend to have that reputation among his kind.”
"...fine then, but if it turns out you're wrong, I can promise you that I'm going to headquarters myself and giving you the earful of your life." The doctor places the mug upright again and returns the pens to their proper place inside it. "Now, what is it that I'm doing exactly?"
His shoulders relax a little. Finally, cooperation. At least on Pareira’s end. Sira might be a different story, but he doesn’t get the impression they’re stubborn.
“How much do you know about how the virus, exactly?”
"I know enough to identify infected blood even if there are only trace amounts. That's most of what I do here, with how thick the mist is," she answers, "but since this is so top-secret and you asked about the vials, I'm going to go ahead and assume that's not what you want me to look for."
Karim shakes his head. “It would be nice if things were that simple, wouldn’t it?”
-
After the doctor’s physical exam, Sira feels outside of themself. It’s a hazy sensation, like what they experienced while in the chamber, but without any panic coursing through them. Karim’s return to the clinic starts them on the track to re-entering reality, but it's the food that really brings them back.
Or their frustration about the food, and about the state of their body.
Sira is hungry. For all they know, they could be starving. Their stomach growls and claws at them for something to be put in it, but their appetite doesn’t share the same enthusiasm. They break the sandwich into small pieces to avoid triggering their gag reflex, but it’s still repulsive. Karim going through the trouble of going to get them food and then not being able to finish it makes them feel an unreasonable amount of guilt over a sandwich. They can’t help but put it to the side. Thankfully, the tangy orange juice’s tangy sweetness doesn’t get the same response.
Something about being able to enjoy some juice after the day’s events is...strange to think about, but not unwelcome.
The captain and the doctor talk in hushed voices, but there’s only one thing the two of them could be talking about. It annoys Sira a little. If something is off about their health, they should be the first to know about it of all people, but at this point, Sira thinks people talking about them as if they're not there is something they'll have to get used to. After the exam was over and Dr. Pareira finished what they assumed was recording her observations with pen on paper, the only thing she told them was that nothing was seriously wrong, and they should take it easy for a while.
She had a smile on her face while she said it, and it seemed genuine, but Sira can’t tell for sure with these people. Everyone they’ve personally met comes off as trustworthy so far, even kind, but whether Sira can fully trust these people remains to be seen. The uncertainty isn’t pleasant, but as they voiced to Karim earlier, it’s not like they have anywhere else to go.
At least, not right now.
“Hey, Sira?”
They glance up from their almost-empty cup at the sound of Karim’s voice. He and the doctor are looking at them now from where the two of them stand at the counter. The doctor’s face is inscrutable, but Karim’s expression has a gentle quality he appears to take on quite easily.
“How do you feel about needles?” Karim asks. “If you’re, uh, able to answer that.”
Nothing immediately comes to mind, but the question makes Sira gulp. Their throat is getting tight again. "Um...I'm not sure."
He turns away from the counter and stands up to his full height. His face is still gentle, but there’s a hardness in his posture. This is serious. “Do you remember Lionel mentioning bloodwork on the way here? Well, we’re going to have to figure out how to do that, one way or another.”
They dig their teeth into their lower lip as their gaze drops to the floor. This is another thing they can’t let themself pass up or run away from. The way he and Lionel have talked about it, it’s important. All of this is important, right?
“...what is it like? Taking blood, I mean. Will it take long?”
“Not even a few minutes, dear,” the doctor answers as she stands upright, “but I’ll need at least a few tubes. My assistant isn’t here right now, but I can promise you that I’m trained just as well as she is. I can use a butterfly needle, which hurts less, and Karim will be here for support this time.”
A few tubes of blood? That sounds like a lot. Sira doesn’t know what a ‘butterfly needle’ is, but the name does little to ease their nerves. But this is another thing that needs to happen before they can be free from this clinic. It might even be easier than the physical exam. Or it won’t be. They just need to get it over with, and the soon that it’s done, the better.
They let out another short sigh. “...okay, fine. That’s it though, right?”
Karim nods, looking a little sympathetic. “If you’d like, you can go into the bathroom down the hall to do what I suggested earlier while Dr. Pareira here prepares everything she needs.”
Sira looks down at themself and the state of their clothes again. Being free of the threadbare rags and some of the grime might help keep them calm enough to do whatever they’re about to do. They look back up at Karim and give him a quick nod, gather up the shoes and bundle of clothing from where they set them down earlier, then slide from the exam table to the floor. Unsurprisingly, their legs still hurt. Neither Karim nor Dr. Pareira say anything else as Sira exits the room.
The clinic is as silent and empty as it was when they first arrived. There are a couple of other doors in the hall, but only one of them - on the opposite end from the exam room - has a black placard with ‘restroom’ engraved on it. It opens to a small room that’s only lit by the light from the hallway until Sira feels around the wall next to the doorway for a light switch.
Flicking it on, the fluorescent ceiling light reveals a toilet with support bars and an industrial sink that has a mirror mounted above it. Otherwise, the bathroom is sparse and clean. Sira shuts and locks the door behind them, then starts stripping off their dirty, tattered clothes.
As they pull one of threadbare excuses for a garment over their head, they catch a glimpse of themselves in the mirror, and pause.
Oh.
Sira knows they don’t look good. They only need to look down to see their scrawny limbs, in addition to the way everyone keeps asking if they’re okay or if they need help, but this is the full picture.
Just as the forest they wound up in after their escape from the underground chamber, everything about their physical features - their facial structure, skin, hair, and the rest - looks as if it's been sapped of life. Sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, and too little color where everyone else has it. Sira already knew about the wiry state of their arms and legs, but the prominence of their collarbone and rib cage beneath their skin unsettles them even more.
An unpleasant coldness washes over them. They would say that they don’t recognize their own reflection, but that feeling doesn’t make any sense, since they don’t have anything to compare it to. Even the smattering of freckles across their cheeks and over the bridge of their nose is unnaturally desaturated. The only thing that looks alive, looks human, is their eye color: a gentle, pale blue. It’s pale, yes, but in a soft way, not a ghastly way.
Bemused, part of them wonders if the casket they remember seeing in the place they awoke in was for them, and they somehow rose from the dead. Even if that were possible, the name engraved on it was Ethan, which wasn’t familiar to them at all. ‘Sira’ has a strangeness they can’t place, but Ethan definitely isn’t their name.
They avert their eyes from their reflection, finish getting undressed, and change into the clothes Karim provided. Too big, but they serve their purpose, and the material is unexpectedly soft. The boots are only a little big on them by comparison, but they’ll make do if it means the soles of their feet not getting any more scratched up than they already are. Once the laces are tightly tied, they turn on the sink and hastily scrub their face. Without looking at it.
As satisfied as they’ll get, Sira leaves the bathroom, bracing one hand on the wall to take some of the weight off their aching legs. They don’t feel any more at ease than they did before going in. The doctor must be lying. They can’t imagine looking like this if something isn’t seriously wrong with them.
If there’s going to be blood tests, maybe they’ll find out.