Back in the other room, the captain and the doctor stand on either side of the exam table. The pair turn their heads towards Sira with widened eyes, like the two of them were talking about something that they didn’t want their patient overhearing.

That doesn’t help to ease Sira’s nerves.

Next to the doctor is a tall, wheeled metal table with a collection of things on its surface: small transparent vials, a long elastic tube, a few tiny boxes, and a variety of other things Sira either can’t name or can’t make out.

Karim’s brows scrunch together. “Everything good?”

“There was a mirror in there.” Sira swallows, their mouth and throat still dry. Coming up with words is hard again. “I look...wrong.”

He exchanges glances with Dr. Pareira, who wipes the mild surprise off her face, gently clears her throat, and sets a bendy, elongated object she was holding in her gloved hands down on the metal table.

The ‘butterfly’ needle?

“Your appearance is…worrying, yes, but I wasn’t lying when I said there was nothing seriously wrong with you - at least, not in any way that’s obvious.”

Karim rasps something to her that sounds chastising. She sighs.

“Most of your vitals are fine. Some aren’t ideal, but still within a normal range. Doing bloodwork will give me a clearer picture, but if there is more going on than I can assess here, then you’ll be able to get care for it at headquarters’ medical facilities. There probably isn’t anywhere better on this continent, so you’ll be in good hands.”

“She’s correct, and I can attest to that, but are you in a lot of pain right now?” Karim asks, genuine worry on his face. “Do you feel especially sick?”

Still standing in the doorway, Sira has to think about the answer to that for longer than is probably normal.

Their bodily awareness has been up and down all day. There’s the queasiness, but they’re almost certain that has to do with how nervous they are, as opposed to a genuine need to vomit. And they still hurt - a lot - but that has started to come through as knowledge that the pain is there rather than a sensation. They’ve had some brief moments to rest, but whether their pain has lessened at all is beyond them.

At least some of it, they think, is their mind disconnecting from the pain to keep them going, no matter how much it hurts. That’s something that happens, isn’t it? Like what happened when the doctor was giving them their exam. Seeing themself in the mirror was especially jarring; it made that disconnect worse instead of closing the distance.

It’s an unpleasant feeling, but it might be for the best.

I just want to go home, they think. There’s an impulse to say that aloud, but both the thought and the urge behind it perplexes them: there is no home to go to.

On a more basic level than that, they want to lie down, and not on an exam table.

“Yes, I’m hurting. A lot,” Sira finally answers, “but right now, I think I mostly just want to sleep.”

“If you feel like you need them, and if the captain allows it, I could give you something to help. Though of course I’m not going to jump to give you something strong,” the doctor offers.

“No. That’s fine. Don’t think I can handle any pills right now.”

“If you say so.”

The pair step back to give Sira room to sit back up on the exam table, which Sira does with more haste than they did before, thanks to their nervous energy. Dr. Pareira moves behind them to position the back portion of the table in a way that would allow Sira to recline, and they lean back with a breath of relief, arms relaxed at their sides and their head angled towards the ceiling.

Karim comes close to the exam table again, a blurry shadow in the corner of their eye. They jerk when the warmth of his hand unexpectedly brushes against the cold, bare skin on their forearm. They didn’t realize how cold they were until that moment, or that Karim had taken his armored gloves off.

“Oops, sorry,” he says with a low chuckle. “Didn’t mean to spook you like that. Something told me you don’t really like being touched, but the doc here wants me to try and keep you from, well…from destabilizing. Not that I don’t have confidence in you.”

Sira only nods. There's a new kind of uneasiness building within them now. On their other arm, Dr. Pareira presses her gloved fingers in various spots near the inner bend of their elbow. They have to make a conscious effort not to flinch in response to any of it, but it's more ticklish than jarring.

"I'm trying to find a good vein so I don't end up missing and making this process more difficult than it needs to be," the doctor explains. "It seems like you might be a tough stick but I think I can manage."

"I think I see what you mean by not being the best at comforting patients," Karim comments.

"I told them I'd explain what I'm doing if it would make things less scary, so I'm doing that. Is it helping?"

"A little bit," Sira says quietly, "but I think I'll be okay on this one."

Karim chuckles again. At least he finds this situation amusing, but Sira's fingers on the arm he touched are tense as they drum against the surface of the exam table.

The doctor ties something tightly around their upper arm. "Clench your first for me, dear."

Sira does as they're told - as hard as they can, which makes their arm feel funny - and fails to resist jerking when the doctor applies a cold, moist cloth to a spot on their lower arm.

Unpleasant.

"How're you feeling so far?" Karim asks. He leans forward just enough for Sira to see his eyes.

"Not great."

"Distraction is supposed to help, right? Is there anything you want to ask me about? The CPC, phantoms, or anything else. There seems to be a lot you don't know about."

None of those conversation topics are especially comforting. Sira thinks of Rani and her smiling face. I'm hoping to see you later, 'kay?

"Your team," they say, volume more subdued than they want it to be, "tell me about your team."

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

"Ah, yes, how could I forget my pride and joys. Hopefully they didn't give you too much of a hard time after your rescue. What is it that you want to know?"

"Dunno. Give me the rundown."

"Hmm. I suppose you'll be spending a little more time with them." The exam table shifts underneath them as he rests his weight against it. "First and foremost is Rani, my second-in-command. I'm proud of her. She's more capable than she gives herself credit for. She leans more towards tough love when it comes to leadership, but she's passionate, cares a lot about those she works with. It's hard not to love her."

There's a faint click from Sira's right side, where the doctor stands. Prepping the needle, they assume. They try to focus on what Karim is saying. The fondness in his voice helps ground them.

"If anyone's the next in charge, I'd say it's Mikael. You probably picked up on how standoffish he is."

"He was the one who saved me, but then he turned his gun on me,” Sira huffs. “He’s been glaring at me a lot."

Karim laughs. Unconcerned. Sira's mounting anxiety doesn't rub off on him at all. It's enviable.

"That sounds like him. Don't take it personally. I'm saying that as someone who's known him the longest out of the others on the team. He's just not a people person. He’s also probably not sure what to make of you since you’re…special, instead of having anything against you specifically. Aside from his attitude, he's dependable, if a bit headstrong from time to time."

That makes sense. Kind of. Sira can’t understand why that would make him look at them with an expression that screams distaste, but the explanation is probable.

Dr. Pareira places a finger below the spot where she applied the cloth. "This will hurt a little. Ready?"

“Just do it.”

A sharp sting, and for a split second, Sira is gone.

Not ‘gone’ as in unconscious, but something in them shuts down, and in some nebulous sense, they are no longer there.

They retain awareness, but not with their ordinary senses. No sight. No sound. No sensation of anything touching them. But the absence of those things isn’t something they ‘feel’ either. The murky awareness, as difficult to define as it is, is all they have.

If there was any way to ascertain if they still have a body in this place, wherever it is they’ve gone, they don’t have access to it.

The only thing they can sense is the pressure that starts to build up around them. Skintight. Oppressive. Cold, but not in the sense of temperature. It ramps up to a startling intensity and Sira becomes certain they can’t have a body in this place. It would be sundered.

Why is this…familiar?

All that they can compare it to with the limited information in their mind is being deep, deep underwater, if the water were as thick as tar and disabled most of their ability to think.

Or disabled – no, consumed - most of their existence.

Then, Sira comes back.

Their ears are ringing, their stomach churns, and the lights in the room flare to a burning brightness. The splitting headache returns, dialed up enough that it would normally indicate a medical emergency. Pinpricks of burning pain race around their body like sparks from a fire. Nausea threatens to jerk them to the side so they can empty the limited contents of their stomach.

But the suffocating, intangible pressure they felt comes back with them.

There’s no relief from any of it. No movement to snap out of the trance. No ability to speak so they can alert the doctor or Karim. The rest of their body turns as rigid as the clenched fist they hold for the doctor, as if bracing itself. Resisting. Holding its ground.

The two others don’t act as if anything out of the ordinary has occurred, necessarily, but Karim picks up that something is off. He places his hand over the arm he touched earlier. Sira doesn’t mind it this time. It’s not as if they could say anything about it even if it did bother them.

“And then there’s…Therese. And I promise you I’m not giving these in order of who’s my favorite. I don’t play favorites,” he continues, placing his other hand over the first in a reassuring gesture. “She’s not much of a fighter, but she makes up for it with her knowledge of electronics and engineering. Keeps an eye on everyone with surveillance tech she’s tweaked herself, so you won’t find it elsewhere. Her skills would be wasted back at HQ, and I couldn’t reassign her anyway. She wants to be where Rani is. She’s pretty shy. Sensitive, too. If she seems nervous around you at first, don’t take that personally either.”

The sharp sting from the needle hasn’t gone away. Sira hears another click from the direction of the doctor. Unfortunately, it isn’t from the needle. They are acutely aware of the tiny piece of metal in their arm, how it punctures their vein, and the blood pumping into it. Is that normal? It makes their head swim.

“That’s one tube done. Two more – two and a half.”

“Last but not least, there’s Lionel. He’s pretty…difficult, but like Mikael, he’s someone you can rely on. He just might complain about it. Probably the most extroverted, but I wouldn’t say he’s good with people, exactly. I’d call him a combat medic but he hasn’t had much opportunity to use his knowledge. It’ll be helpful if someone twists an ankle or fractures a bone, but with the mist…well, anything involving an open wound poses a problem. Even if our gear isn’t punctured, it’s not like impromptu wound care can be done out in the mist.”

The doctor sounds like she’s grimacing as she adds, “I’ve had personal experience with that. Even the smallest cuts can be a direct route for the virus to enter the bloodstream. It’s...not pretty when I’ve had to explain it to patients.”

“Yeah.” Karim’s voice is quieter than it was a second ago. “It never is.”

“That’s two.” Another click. “Just need one and a half left.”

A droplet of sweat slides down their forehead. God, Sira just wants this to be over with. The headache in the chamber felt like knives in their brain; this feels like their nerves being put in a blender. The rigidity in their body isn’t due to the pain or anything physical, not really, but due to a mental block.

Like the slightest movement would be letting the walls down. Ceding territory.

Ceding territory to what?

“Anyway, we’re supposed to have a fifth member, aside from myself, but I haven’t found anyone I like yet. I’m a picky man.” Karim’s grip on their arm tightens a little. “Spoken to a few candidates, but none of them have the ‘spark’ I’m looking for. You should get to talk to them yourself here in a bit, once we’re through here. I’m having you stay in our quarters, where you can shower and have a proper rest, and then we leave for HQ first thing tomorrow.”

His tone is comforting, but Sira feels very little comfort through this kind of pain. It’s like trying to punch through a brick wall. The physical contact helps more than the chatter, keeps them tethered to the real world, but not fully.

One foot in reality, one foot in a nonexistent space that presses around on them with an insurmountable weight.

“And…there. All done.”

The needle recedes, and with it, the strange pressure.

As quickly as it came.

Sira takes in a gasp of air that’s louder than they mean it to be. Whatever just happened, they don’t want to make it too obvious. They’re not sure why. The pain doesn’t leave as quickly, but it decreases enough in its intensity.

What the hell was that?

The doctor removes her hand. The needle site still stings, but after a final clicking noise, she presses something soft against the puncture point, then wraps something else tightly around it.

“Still alive?” Karim asks. It’s mostly lighthearted but underlined by genuine concern.

Sira sits up too fast and Karim pulls his hands back. They clutch their head with one shaking hand and grasp the end of the exam table with the other as dizziness washes over them.

They feel hollow, like their vitality was sapped from them. The pressure left only enough for them to walk and talk. And just barely that.

“Um...I think so.”

“That’ll have to do. You didn’t seem to eat much, so let’s take it easy on the way back to the quarters. Think we’re good to go, doc? Until I come back later for the additional matter we discussed.”

Sira glances at Dr. Pareira. In her gloved hands, she holds three and a half tubes of the blood that came from their arm, which looks like a lot. She eyes Sira warily. Odds are that she noticed something was off too, but doesn’t look keen on commenting.

“Yes, provided our patient here doesn’t experience any new problems, they should be fine - just make sure to escort them there safely,” she says, turning away from the two of them and heading to one of the counters on the other end of the room. “You mentioned a shower - just take the bandage off, tie it back on when you’re done, and don’t strain that arm too much. I’ll send the results to headquarters once I have them.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Karim smiles as he offers a hand for Sira to take.

It’s probably a good idea, but for the second time that day, Sira disregards that offer of help.

They carefully slide off the exam table, bracing their feet against the floor before putting their weight on their legs. Standing feels strange. Unsteady. But their leg muscles aren’t threatening to give out on them. Karim doesn’t comment on it. Arms wrapped around themself, Sira avoids looking at his face for any nonverbal reaction and starts to head to the door before he does.

Whatever else he has planned with the doctor, they don’t want any part in it.