Chapter Text
If someone had told you three months ago that you would be performing life-saving surgeries barefoot and in your pajamas, you would have immediately advised that they go and get their mental health assessed by a trained professional and walked away. Even when you’d been a surgeon-hopeful, you would have taken up a weirded out look at such a bizarre hypothetical scenario. If someone were to tell you that now, when you were wearing a bloodstained surgical gown tied over your sleep shirt and your bare feet in doubled shoe coverings… Well, you supposed you wouldn’t have much to say in response considering the situation was now entirely real.
It was truly impressive how much one’s life could change.
Yet another night of chaos had found you starting when you were paged in the early afternoon to come down to your office. There you confronted a man who’d been shot. The bullet had thankfully missed any vital organs, but the gushing jugular was still a sight to behold. You’d never seen so much blood being actively expelled from someone before. Not much shocked you, but this was a first.
Perhaps the most incredibly improbable thing to come out of this was that you actually managed to save the man’s life. You’d never been much superstitious, but all seven stars must have been shining down on the two of you for the surgery to end in success.
The sense of accomplishment that pervaded you was near euphoric. Knowing that however many people told you over the years that you were not fit to be a ‘real’ doctor, you had still saved a life. With skills attained from your years in forensics no less. All the times you’d seen injuries much like this one and deduced why it had ended in morbidity or fatality through various means. You almost thought of celebrating.
Which was when more men burst into your office, one of them being carried on the other’s back with his foot wrapped thickly in a bloody shirt.
You blinked at them through your safety glasses and face shield, fingers hovering over the lever to halt the anesthesia.
“Doctor,” one of them panted, dumping the other onto a free cot. “Can you reattach toes?”
“What,” you said flatly.
The man on the cot groaned and fished a dirty plastic bag out of his pocket. He shook it and out dropped three toes severed at the proximal phalanges.
You blinked several times and then shrugged. “Maybe.”
—
As it turns out, you could successfully pull off replantation procedures as well. Never in all your life had you ever had a day filled with performing tasks so wildly far beyond your scope of practice.
It was all so incredibly illegal it was nearly baffling. If this ever got out you’d probably be thrown into jail and forcibly removed from the board. Part of you almost wondered if you should try to renew your years-expired license to practice if only to satisfy your own moral compass. Of course a pathologist still was not qualified to do surgery in any capacity, but it was better than nothing.
But those were all things to deliberate later. Now, at noon, you were utterly exhausted.
After your grueling day, you were finally making your way back to your room to hopefully get at least a solid five hours of sleep before having to go back down and check on your patients… Which was very much an odd thing for you who had never had any real patients, only decedents.
First on your list of priorities was a prompt and thorough shower. The only other thing on the list was sleep. You tried not to dally in the bathroom as much as possible while still properly divesting yourself of the oils and airborne bacteria and possible pathogens that had stuck to your body. By the time you made it out, the mirror had fogged up even with your sparing usage of lukewarm water.
You wrapped yourself in a towel and twisted your wet hair into a clip. You opened the door, intent to fall into bed just like that and—
You found you were not alone. Jolting, you blurted, “What the fu—”
“Hey, Doctor Jie,” Luke greeted, looking up from where he was lounging on his stomach across your bed. His feet were in the air behind him, swinging back and forth. Casually, he asked, “Did you have a good shower?”
Holding your towel to your chest, you blinked several times. Kieran waved at you from his spot at your desk, turning back and forth in your swivel chair. Both of them were wearing pajamas.
“What are you…” you began very slowly. You tucked the end of your towel into itself and placed your hands on your hips with a frown. “What are you two doing in here?”
“Nothing,” Kieran said easily. He was flicking through the plastic cases on the corner of the table arranged in a stacked tower. “You collect old music like Boss does, huh? Do you have vinyls?”
“No… Only CDs,” you answered. “Seriously. What are you doing in here?”
“Just wanted to check out your room,” Luke chirped. He looked back down at the book he propped open on your pillow. He then placed his chin into his palm with a slight grimace. “Is that what my brain looks like inside my head?”
On the two-page spread was an image of a geriatric skull dissection with a reflected scalp, removed skullcap, and exposed brain.
“No, that brain has Alzheimer’s. You can tell because it looks dehydrated. Yours would be much more filled out and dense…” you said at a glance. You then pressed, “How did you two even get in here?”
You were very certain you locked the door behind you as was habit. And you were very certain that the only people with a key to your room were Sylus and yourself. How these kids had gotten in was beyond you. They did not offer any clue either. Luke merely shrugged and Kieran gave the cryptic reply:
“Tricks of the trade.”
You squinted at both of them before deciding not to debate it any longer. You supposed you shouldn’t put it beyond two boys who’d grown up in the N109 zone to know how to break in without leaving any clues.
“Yeah, ok…” You restated: “So why are you two here?”
“We told you. We just wanted to check out your room. You’ve been there for a while but you never offered us a room tour.” He gestured around. “Nice set up by the way. I like what you’ve done with the place. Homey.”
“Thanks…” You shifted your attention to the two backpacks propped up by the door. They were bursting with clothes and snacks. “What’s that for then?”
“You can’t have a room tour without a sleepover. It’s the ultimate test.”
“Sleepover?”
“Sleepover,” Kieran confirmed as if it were the most obvious conclusion you could have made.
For a solid minute, you remained in your bathroom doorway thinking about why they would suddenly show up in your room during the middle of the day. And then you decided you were far too tired to question what was going on. You promptly walked over to your dresser and pulled out some clothes, plans of falling asleep as you were now fallen through.
“Yeah, ok,” you said and you went back to the bathroom to change.
—
In hindsight, you probably should have kicked them out because somehow they’d taken your dismissive response as that you were ok with them crashing with you for the foreseeable future.
You hadn’t cared all that much the first night. The second and third nights you were growing increasingly suspicious of their extended stay.
But, to your surprise, they made for decent guests. As decent as a pair of teenaged boys could be, that was. You had very quickly set up some ground rules that they adhered to after a few reminders. They cleaned up their food trash and made sure not to touch your bed or desk chair in their outside clothes; they made sure to leave the seat down on the toilet when they were done, they used their own wash cloths(—although you noticed Luke had taken a liking to your body wash and Kieran had already gone through half your shampoo bottle). If you overlooked the fact that they had no respect for your privacy and were going through all of your things, they really weren’t so bad.
Like now, you thought as Luke rummaged through all the drawers in your dresser. You sat uncaringly at your desk painting your short nails.
“Do you ever change it up,” Kieran asked. He was sitting across from you and watching with interest the process of a mani-pedi. “You never do another color?”
“Not really.” You cleaned up the edges of the milky white-nude polish. “I’ve been using this color for years. I like a very clean look and it’s just easier to do the same thing every time. Plus it’s better to have a color like this because you can easily tell when your hands are dirty. But if it’s an event or something, I’ll do sparkles.”
“Ooh, you should do sparkles.”
“Hm. Maybe next time. I just put the top coat on.”
“You really like white, huh,” Luke observed. He turned back to your dresser. “That’s, like, all you wear. Look, most of your underwear is white too.”
You barely glanced his way, calmly instructing, “Do not go through my underwear.”
“I was just seeing what someone your age would wear,” he explained.
You halted. Eyes sliding over first, you slowly turned your head to follow and pinned him down with a firm stare. “You wanna run that by me one more time?”
He paused. You stared on. Kieran leaned back. Both of them were clearly hesitant. It wasn’t long before Luke silently pushed your drawer closed and went to sit on the bed with his hands tucked in his lap where you could see them.
“Good choice,” you said, looking down at your nails. You flexed your fingers this way and that to assess your work, letting a very long and awkward silence build.
Kieran was the first to try and break it.
“Hey. So, uh, what’s with this box?” He pulled the taped-up shoebox from your bookshelf into his lap. “Looks mega-old—”
He cut himself off when you fixed him with a blank stare. He quickly attempted to correct himself.
“I mean aged— I mean, uhm, vintage…?”
“Mhm.” You watched as the two of them began to sweat. Satisfied with their nervousness, you picked up a small hand held fan. “It’s my box.”
“Your box?”
“Box of what,” Luke asked. He moved to sit beside his brother and when Kieran popped open the lid, his brows scrunched. “Looks like junk.”
You snorted and flicked the fan on, angling the airstream onto your nails. “Yeah, it is. It’s mostly stuff I just picked up over the years.”
He reached over and pulled out the key ring of plastic cards, sliding them to study each. “Are these all the high schools you went to? That’s a lot.”
You nodded. “When I got put into the foster system, I ended up having to move around a lot. I couldn’t keep a lot of things. All I could take with me was whatever I could carry in a duffel bag and carry in my hands. I got that box when I got a new pair of shoes once, I decided it was a good container to keep things like that in one place.”
They started to go through it. Kieran thumbed through more of your CDs and Luke pulled out all the other objects to ask you about the stories associated. You responded with a brief anecdote or a small story to each item. Your nails were mostly dry by the time they reached the bottom where there was but one piece left.
“What’s up with the single left shoe,” Kieran asked. He pulled it out. “Why’s there only one?”
“Ah,” you voiced.
In the boy’s scarred, spindly hands, he was holding an old and worn high-top canvas shoe that had once been black. It had since faded to a dirty sun-bleached brown with a greige and cracking rubber sole.
You flicked off the fan and leaned your elbow onto the desk. “That’s what came in the box. I got those for my fifteenth birthday. I ended up losing the right one somewhere during a move.”
“Why’d you keep it?”
You drummed your fingers idly. “I really liked them. I never got brand new things ever, so they were really special. Also I was always hoping I’d find the right side since I didn’t have a lot of pairs.”
Luke nodded. “Makes sense… Hey, what’s this?”
He flipped it over to reveal the worn down, paper-thin underside. In the center, sixteen characters in the strokes of your teenaged handwriting were etched in with black permanent marker and arranged in four lines reading as follows:
家
李 徐 何 林
马 棉 韩 远
于 秀 叶 田
仑 虽 罗
“Those are all the homes I stayed with,” you answered.
Kieran read through the list, mildly surprised. “There’re so many.”
“Fourteen.” You reached over and took the shoe, thumbing over the names and tracing a few radicals here and there.
“Damn,” he muttered.
You mooted silently before deciding to share, if only for nostalgia’s sake.
“I was in an orphanage until the Chronoshift happened—I was sixteen at the time. There were a lot of children who entered the system after that, so us older kids got moved to foster homes. I moved homes just about every other month, sometimes twice a month. You couldn’t really help it, there were so many kids who kept coming so they were constantly reorganizing everyone.
“It was such a mess back then. The paperwork would be all over the place so if I had to move, they’d ask me which homes I already stayed with. They tried to get me into places I’d already been for familiarity, but it never worked out. I ended up keeping a list anyway. I would write their surname down and then cross it out when I left.”
Luke frowned. A look of pity crossed his face. “That sounds like it was hella shitty…”
You shrugged. “Mmh. Yeah. It was stressful at the time, but that was my life. I got used to it pretty easily. I don’t really have a hard time adjusting to things.”
He didn’t seem convinced enough by your nonchalance to let go of his sympathy. Kieran, however, was quick to notice something else.
“Hey, wait.” He pointed at the list. “You said you went to fourteen homes, but there’s fifteen names.”
You blinked and then nodded. “Oh. Yeah. Luo. That was my ex-husband’s name.”
For a brief moment, the room was silent. However upon processing the information, both Luke and Kieran’s heads snapped up as they balked. Synchronously, they blundered: “Wait, you’re married?!”
“Was,” you corrected, noting a sense of déjà-vu.
“Was?” “Oh shit, did he die?” “Oh shit, did Boss kill him to get you to come here?” “Bro.”
You shook your head at how easily they’d come to such a terrible conclusion, lips pulling back into a grimace. “What? No! Good grief. We’re just divorced.”
This, apparently, only shocked them more.
“Whaaat?!” “No way!”
Luke butted his shoulder into Kieran to push himself into the center of your attention. “Divorced?! Why? Was he a terrible person?”
“No, not at all. He’s a good man,” you began, surprised to see their investment into your past. “Good looking, worked in finance, kind and honest… Well, for the most part.”
“What do you mean?!”
You dipped your chin slightly. “I mean, he did cheat on me. That’s why I divorced him.”
They both gasped loudly, jumping in their seats and grabbing onto each other.
“Huh?!” “Seriously?!” “Cheated?!” “On our Doctor Jie?!”
Luke fisted and tore at his hair, evidently distressed on your account. “This is unbelievable. Who’d he even cheat on you with? You’re, like, totally awesome! A little scary sometimes and totally weird, yeah. But awesome!”
“Thanks…?” You weren’t sure if you were supposed to take that as an insult or a compliment. You shrugged. “I didn’t really know her. Just some younger, prettier girl who worked with him.”
“What an asshole,” Kieran scowled. “He’s not a good guy at all!”
You shrugged again, unphased. Their reactions were certainly something, you thought, but it didn’t keep your focus for long. You glanced at the time on the wall and sat up. “Oh, it’s late already. I’d better get dinner.”
Luke stood up and waved his hands, “Wait, wait, wait, wait! What the heck? You can’t just drop that kind of monumental lore on us like that and then leave!”
“Why not?” Your forehead wrinkled in confusion. While your marriage had been a large part of your life, you did not exactly consider it ‘monumental’. Flatly, you remarked, “I’m hungry. I wanna eat.”
“You can’t! Not yet! You have to tell us everything!”
You scoffed, getting to your feet. “It’s not that important. If you really wanna know, though, just come down to the kitchen so I can tell you over dinner.”
Kieran’s face screwed up and Luke took on a pained expression.
They had been very adamant these past few days about not leaving the confines of your room unless for very short and deliberate periods of time. It was obvious to you they had gotten up to trouble again and were now hiding from something(—or someone) and utilizing your room as a sanctuary. Of course, they didn’t tell you what happened so you were allowing them to think you were ignorant to their actions. You’d catch them in their lie eventually.
“Uh, I mean… We’re not really hungry right now,” Kieran said. To prove him immediately wrong, his stomach made a groaning noise.
“Hm…” You eyed him, watched him twitch awkwardly, and then decided to pretend you hadn’t heard it. “Then you get to ask me two questions each about it. Go.”
Immediately, he fired, “How’d you meet him?”
“We were taking the same train every day when I was in residency. He said he thought I was pretty and asked me out to lunch,” you answered. You turned to Luke who was practically causing an earthquake with the impatient bounce of his legs. “Next.”
“What’s his name and how long were you with him?”
“His name’s Jesse. I started dating him when I was twenty-two; we got married when I was twenty-four; I divorced him last year; and that was two questions. You’re out, buddy,” you said succinctly.
Luke groaned, grabbing the sheets between his knees and leaning backward. “Awh, man! No fair!”
“Way fair,” you said. “Kieran, last one. Make it count.”
The younger twin was quick to close his mouth at your warning and covered it with a fist. He thought very deeply before questioning. “How’d you find out he was cheating?”
“I saw weird texts on his phone,” you answered. You stood up. “Ok, that’s it. I’m getting food because I want to go to bed.”
“Wait,” Luke begged. He jumped onto his gangly legs and grabbed your shoulders, shaking you back and forth with such force your head flopped forward and back. “What did you do after?! Please, you gotta tell me you beat his ass or burned all of his things or kicked him out or something!”
You promptly batted him away so as to avoid whiplash. Sighing, you stepped away and crossed your arms. “I mean, I did confirm it while he was on a business trip. Since he was gone, I just decided to move out right then. I blocked him on everything and then emailed him the divorce papers. It was pretty smooth, actually. He knew we couldn’t come back from that, so he didn’t fight it at all. We settled out of court.”
Kieran appeared surprised. “So he went on a trip and just came back to find all of your stuff gone and that you filed for divorce?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Huh.” He gave an appraising dip of his chin. “That’s actually kinda awesome and really hilarious.”
Luke only frowned deeper. “But also that means he didn’t try to work or grovel at all? Just like that he let you go? What kind of lame ass man…?”
You curled your fingers into your sleeves. Luke had pointed out the very thing you’d thought back then. While you never cared all that much about men fighting for your favor, to have your ex-husband not try one bit to keep you… it had spoken volumes.
“Hm. Yeah. I guess he didn’t feel like it,” you said evenly. You had figured Jesse might have responded better with a stronger element of surprise and firmer confrontation at the time. But looking back, you don’t think you’d have done it any differently if given another chance. Your own stomach growled, reminding you of your mission. “Ok, that’s it. Both of you got more than two questions, conversation is done. I’m starving.”
“Eh?! But we still have more to ask,” Luke protested.
“Nope, I’m out.” You quickly made your way to the door. “I want to eat and then sleep. I have to check on Rai’s toes first thing in the morning. He keeps ripping the stitches.”
“Jie,” he whined. “I just— I mean if you dumped him like that, wasn’t it actually pretty hard for you? If you married him, didn’t you love him? I’d be pissed.”
You stopped with your hand on the doorknob. There was no denying that at first you’d been very upset. That was a natural reaction to finding out your spouse of several years had been having an extramarital affair. You hadn’t been angry, though. In your head, it was all too easy to intellectualize your husband’s choice. You looked at it from a super-logical perspective and in the end received it with a soul-deep disappointment and resignation—but entirely calm as you did with most every disappointment in life. The only thing you thought to do then was to move on immediately so as to not hold anyone back. There probably wasn’t anything worse to do than try and hold onto someone who didn’t want you.
“Yeah,” you agreed finally. “But I’ve never really been in the business of begging people to love me back. If someone gets tired of you, shouldn’t you just let them go and move on?”
What sense was there in trying to stay in a place where you weren’t wanted? To do that would be in complete contradiction to everything your life had taught time and time again.
Washing these thoughts from your mind, you tugged open the door while Kieran and Luke exchanged silent words with one another.
“You guys want anything from the kitchen,” you called over your shoulder. You were already completely settled back into the present.
“No,” they answered quietly, giving you an identically strange look.
Oh well, you thought. Their loss.
—
A few days later, another rainstorm came and went. Luke and Kieran were still having their sleepover in your room, making it nearly a week. You didn’t mind them much at all now, assimilated to their brand of chaos. You were, however, beginning to find yourself slightly overstimulated with the constant chatter and their incessant questions about your failed marriage.
They were curious and young, you couldn’t fault them for that. But did it really matter so much? You hadn’t even really thought about Jesse after signing the last papers that split your assets.
Shaking your head, you focused back on the task at hand.
“Looks like you’re healing well,” you said. “How’s the pain?”
“Nothing like when it first happened,” Jin Xiufa said. He was sitting up with his head tilted slightly to the side so you could study the wound on his neck. “I’m just grateful to be alive right now, Miss Doctor. I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”
“Don’t sweat it, this is what I’m here for,” you said.
Jin Xiufa, who went by Seamus, waved you off. “You saved my life, Doctor. No matter what, I’m gonna owe you. Thanks to you, my boy still has a dad. A shitty dad, but an alive one.”
You snorted a bit and worked on disinfecting the area to reapply a bandage. “How old is your son?”
“Eleven, gonna turn twelve in the fall,” he answered. “His name’s Danny. Haven’t seen ‘im in a bit. I was supposed to go and visit before I got hurt. He lives by himself out in Linkon.”
“By himself,” you asked, peeking up with a curious glance.
“Yeah—ouch.” He winced as you applied the iodine. It shouldn’t have stung, but the area was likely still tender.
“Sorry,” you offered.
“It’s all good. I’m a man, I can take it,” he joked. Indeed he was very much a man and a large one at that. His height was not outstanding, but his breadth surely was. Big and burly shoulders like a bear and hands like boxing gloves. With his shaved head, the several scars cross-hatching his face, and the tattoo above his brow, he looked like a stereotypical gang lackey. Yet, you couldn’t help but think there was a fatherly sort of softness in his eyes when he smiled.
“No need to be tough, you can tell me to be gentler. I’m still learning, all feedback is good,” you assured, patting his shoulder.
He nodded as much as he could. “Ah, well, yeah. A lighter hand might be better.”
“Got it,” you said, adjusting your grip. “So, your son lives alone?”
“Yeah. I just figured it’s better for him, y’know? ‘S not easy livin’ in this shithole. Didn’t used to be such a bad city back in the day. Not that I would really know; I was a lowlife from the get-go,” Seamus mused. “It’s not like I’m not involved in his life it all. I call him every week and try to visit once a month. I’ve got a deal with Mr. Sylus too. He helps me take care of my boy.”
You paused in outlining the gauze with medical tape, glancing up. “Sylus helps you with something like that?”
“Mhm. He owns a motel up in Linkon. Mostly as a safehouse kinda thing, but Danny gets to stay there for free. He just has to keep an eye on the front desk sometimes and makes pocket change doin’ that too. It’s easy money. Mr. Sylus checks in on ‘im too when he’s in the area. Reminds him he needs t’ study.” Seamus laughed fondly, breaking into a smile which revealed a gold tooth. “Kid tells me he studies when he’s on the clock, but I know he’s just messin’ with his video games. Little shit. But if that’s his only real problem, I can’t say nothin’. He’s already doin’ way better than his old man.”
You carefully applied the bandage, somewhat thoughtful. “That’s good, then. He sounds wonderful.”
“He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m grateful for Mr. Sylus pickin’ me up and helping me out with him too.” He looked at you, turning a bit more solemn. “I know you probably don’t think he’s a great guy, but Mr. Sylus knows how to do right by his people. Out of everyone you could’ve ended up working for in this place, he’s not so bad.”
“I think most people would’ve been turned off from offering this kind of position to someone like me in the first place,” you quipped.
He snorted. “That’s true. Who would’ve thought to turn a morgue lady into a surgeon? Clearly he’s got a good eye, though. You’re not half bad, Doctor.”
You shook your head and stepped away. “I’m hesitant to ask about the kind of medical treatment you received before me to think I’m doing so well.”
You finished up redressing Seamus’ wound and soon found yourself listening to the stories he had about his son while he proudly showed you photos on his phone.
“He’s been into ping-pong since he was little. This was at his last tournament, he got second place.”
You took in the happy smile on the boy’s face as he held up a silver trophy, nodding. “That’s awesome. He’s so young too. He could really go somewhere if he keeps up with it.”
“Whatever he wants to do, as long as it’s a good, steady income I’ll be happy,” Seamus said.
You smiled softly.
—
Out on the fire escape, it was dark. This was nothing notable, neither was the lingering smell of wet metal. There was the crackle of another storm in the air but the day thus far had proved to be mostly dry. The streets and buildings were still damp and the moisture in the atmosphere was hindering the evaporation. You’d set out a towel to prevent water stains from reaching your white jeans but you could feel the slight feeling of wetness under your legs.
With a web of cord in your hand you’d been trying for the past half-hour to focus on weaving the ends, but your mind continuously wandered elsewhere. You were thinking of Sylus.
You’d been contemplative after hearing the good things Seamus had to say about him. It didn’t quite fit into the image you’d pieced together. Then again, you weren’t really sure at all what the image was supposed to be. Logically so. You’d never been good at art.
Following that night in the kitchen, you couldn’t help but think there was something more to him. He was cruel and unafraid to kill, yet also wanted to engage in philosophical discussions about life. He spoke to you in vague threats and allusions to consequence, yet turned around and shot a man down and dead just to preserve your safety. He criticized you for treating Mephisto with tenderness and then went on to care for a child that wasn’t even his. A man as terrifying and seemingly self-fulfilling as him having such a contradictory side of arguably benevolent character…
There’d been a change in Sylus since then as well, you’d noticed. It was subtle, but you were sure he was pinning you with more attention. When he passed you in the hall now, his eyes would follow you the whole time. Where once you’d been a pebble on the side of his road, now it felt like you were a bird with clipped wings occupying the territory of a lazing beast whose eye you had caught. He wasn’t hungry now and with a wide choice of more appealing game, he’d overlook you. But you were not beyond his radar. And the irrefutable fact of an appetite was that if circumstances provoked him, he’d have no issue hunting you. If that ended up being the case, you were very easy prey…
“So annoying,” you mumbled, tugging the knot into secure place.
“What is?”
You froze, turning slowly to find the object of your thoughts manifested at your back. Sylus towered over you with his hands in the pockets of his slacks.
“…The humidity,” you said.
He hummed, not betraying whether he’d bought your bluff or not. He looked out toward the cityscape and nodded. “Yes. There’s supposed to be another storm soon.”
You nodded along, fiddling with the knot to even out the loops. Sylus drew closer, leaning into the railing.
“What are you making today?”
“A round six-flower knot,” you answered, smoothing out the last bits. You swung your legs where you’d threaded your knees through the narrow gaps in the iron. Your shoes were dangling freely over the sheer drop.
Sylus reached down to pluck the tassel from your hands, the size of it immediately appearing smaller in his hold. “You’re getting quite good. This is a step up from the one you did the other night.”
“Thanks…” You slid your palms together in your lap.
He allowed the cord to dangle from his fingers as he continued to scrutinize it. “Does it mean something?”
“Sort of,” you said. “That one is supposed to mean something like reunion. Or a favorable future with endless possibilities. Or so I read.”
“I see…” He twisted it back and forth before sliding it out of sight into his pocket.
You frowned. “Hey, I didn’t say you could have it.”
“Oh?” He gleaned down at you. “Why, I thought we could trade.”
“Trade,” you repeated.
He pulled his hand back out and offered you a piece of silver. The hoop earring you’d lost to Mephisto. You blinked and reached out, taking it from him.
“I don’t see how it’s a trade when this was mine to begin with,” you said flatly, pulling the earring over your hand. It was big enough for you to fit around your wrist like a bangle. You glanced up at him.
“I never said it would be a fair exchange,” he relayed.
You pursed your lips and gave him a quizzical expression. He tilted his head in response. After rapping your fingers on your thigh twice, you looked away in indifference.
“Whatever,” you said. If he wanted a piece of string tied into a lopsided knot, by all means it was his.
Sylus looked you up and down. He then lifted his jaw. The dim light and dark shadows cut and contoured his sharp features. A thick breeze swept some of his pale hair across his forehead. Plainly, he noted, “You come out here often.”
“Yeah. It’s nice here,” you said. “It’s quiet… Normally.”
He smirked a bit and didn’t bother to acknowledge the jab you’d tacked on. “Do you enjoy the view?”
You smoothed your hair back. “I guess. It’s different from Jialian, but pretty in its own way. I’m sure it was an incredible sight before the Deepspace tunnel opened.”
“I’m sure it was,” Sylus agreed. His crimson gaze like the thin moonlight swept toward the tunnel in the distance. A hole torn through space and time, reaching somewhere beyond what you would ever know. For the slimmest of moments, he too seemed far away.
Your curiosity was piqued. “You didn’t live here before?”
“No, I didn’t.” He didn’t glance away from the sky.
“Where did you live before?” You leaned forward slightly, reaching out to grasp one of the railing columns as you scrutinized his features.
Pale, dimensional, foreign, near inhumanly beautiful. You thought again he couldn’t be from here. Something about the air around him too seemed quite different. A certain sort of energy seemed to linger like a veil around him. Almost musingly he replied:
“Somewhere very far away.”
Your brows twisted and a slight downward pull touched your lips. You then huffed, wondering why you expected he’d actually answer. However, you were still curious about many things.
“Why did you decide to move here? This kind of place couldn’t have offered much.”
His jaw tightened just the faintest amount. Visible only to you because a slight shadow flickered at the hinge.
“I was looking for something,” he responded belatedly—near begrudgingly.
“You haven’t found it yet,” you surmised.
“No,” he admitted. “But I’ll find it soon.”
You nodded. You then asked, “What is it?”
“Something I lost…” Sylus put his hand into his pocket again, seeming to fiddle with the knot placed there. “I truly admire you, Doctor. You are what I could never be. I’m bound by greed and want for more. If I misplace something, I’ll stop at nothing to get it back… What do you think of that, Doctor? Do you find me impractical?”
You stared up at him, blinking slowly. You leaned your head toward the side as your brows came together. Were you supposed to answer honestly?
“Yes,” you allowed slowly. “That’s an incredibly impractical way to live your life. That kind of thing would only end in dissatisfaction.”
A crooked smile bent the corner of his mouth. “It would, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t think it’s unnatural though,” you added. “A lot of people are like that. Especially in this day and age people always feel like they’re missing something. Recognition, love, acceptance, a homeland, a person they used to be. I think the mind tends to do that. It’s natural to want something that left you before you were ready to let go of it. It’s hard to have everything and lose it all. It’s easier to have never had anything at all.”
Sylus twitched and you nearly startled as his attention fell upon you in full. You faltered, fingers clenching. You felt as if you’d unknowingly given up something else to him and that if you said anything more, he’d know too much. To defer the conversation again, you asked:
“Is it in Linkon? What you’re looking for, I mean.”
The air shifted. A prickly feeling that cut through the humidity like a blade. Although your tone was light and purely inquisitive, it seemed to capture Sylus. An oppressive sharpness brewed in his gaze.
“Wherefore would you come up with an idea like that?” His voice was careful and low, coiled with unseen danger.
You were suddenly overcome with hesitance. It felt like you stumbled upon something you shouldn’t have. Your stomach gave a nervous flutter and you found him at once doubly intimidating with how largely he loomed.
Pulling your legs back between the bars, you shifted onto your feet and gathered the towel you’d been sitting on. You cleared your throat and stood, moving away. Sylus watched your every move.
“It seemed like a reasonable conclusion. You came back from Linkon the other day and the boys got in trouble for trying to follow you there, didn’t they?” You fiddled with the hoop around your wrist.
He maintained a pause, letting the wind blow and wrap thickly around the two of you. He then spoke, “I didn’t think you paid such close attention to what I do. I’m surprised, Doctor.”
You scoffed and leaned onto the adjacent railing to watch as a car raced down the connecting street. “You directly affect me, why wouldn’t I pay attention to what you do?”
He remained relaxed in posture, a show of faux boredom. Contrarily, you felt as though you were carefully navigating a labyrinth constructed by his words. “You are far more clever than I thought. The slightest thing is ever so plain in your eyes.”
“Are you saying you thought I’d be stupid?” You slid a thin look in his direction, mouth pursed in distaste. One of the things you hated most in the world was being thought of as anything less than intelligent.
“Not at all. I anticipated genius. I merely underestimated what that really meant,” Sylus placated. “I’m just not used to someone picking things up about me so easily.”
“Then you must have spent your life around very stupid people,” you remarked. You folded the towel to your chest. “I feel like you know everything about me already. Isn’t it only fair for me to try and get a read on you?”
“Is that what you think? I’d argue the contrary.” He straightened. “I feel as though I don’t know nearly enough about you.”
You were unsure of what to say in response. For the umpteenth time, he seemed to search for something in you with his intense stare that threatened to split you apart at the soul.
“I should go check on the boys,” you said evasively, moving away. You turned toward the door. “Make sure they’re not tearing up my room.”
You felt his eyes on you all the way up until the door fell shut.
—
The rain, as predicted, returned within a few more days. It wasn’t so much a torrential downpour as it was last time, but rain nonetheless. You were currently working on a set of stitches, hunched over as you used your forceps to pull the needle through the skin of a man’s fourth toe.
You were very focused, glaring at the appendage through your face shield, using all your dexterity to mend the wound—
“Doctor Jie!”
The door to your office burst open and Luke leapt into the room with a betrayed horror coloring his face. You glanced over and the man on your exam table jolted in surprise.
“What the fu—”
“Oh, hey,” you greeted. You then grabbed the man’s ankle and put him back into place. “Rai, stop moving. This is the third time I’ve stitched you. If they come out again I’m gonna let your toes fall off.”
“Sorry ma’am,” Rai said sheepishly and doing his best to remain still.
You continued on your task. “What’s up, Luke?”
“You told on us,” Luke whined, shutting the door behind him. He walked over and plopped himself into an empty stool and scooched over, face pressed into a pitifully sad expression of hurt.
“Told what,” you asked calmly, tying down another stitch. Your suturing had improved since you took up knotwork.
“You told Boss where we were hiding,” Luke accused.
“Were you hiding from Sylus?” You took on a surprised expression. “I thought we were just having a sleepover.”
He slumped forward and whined, “Jie.”
“Hm… Maybe I mentioned it to him on accident…” you uttered thoughtfully.
“You were the only person who knew where we were,” he frowned. “How else would he know?”
You only shrugged.
Luke seemed to be at a loss, baffled by your oblivious act. Flatly, he said, “Wow. You’re, like, actually totally evil.”
“Really? But you’re the ones with the ulterior motives to our bonding time,” you replied. You then added, “And also my room is starting to stink. I need you to get your dirty laundry out of my room, it is not my job to wash it for you.”
“We were doing the laundry! That’s where he caught us,” he said defensively. “Ugh, now we’re stuck cleaning up the store room again.”
“And switching all the cornstarch in the bullets back to gunpowder, I hope,” Rai added, glaring at Luke. “Mack said that he nearly got killed because he took some ammo from the fifth floor.”
“Who even takes ammo from the fifth floor, that’s his fault,” Luke scoffed. “The good stuff is in the basement.”
“Sounds like you have a lot to do then.” You carefully brushed some hair away with your bicep, minding the… You turned to Luke and used your foot to push his stool back. “Stop breathing over here, you’re compromising my sterile field.”
“Are you saying I’m dirty?”
“You’re a seventeen year old boy. Am I supposed to infer otherwise?”
“Cold, Doctor Jie. Cold.”
You were unphased. With the end of your forceps, you gestured to your counter. “Mask, unless you want to be a toe donor. You and Rai have the same blood type.”
“Put on the mask, dude,” Rai said pointedly. “I don’t want your damn toe.”
Luke puffed his cheeks in petulance and grabbed a face mask from the box near the sink. “What’s wrong with my toes?”
“Everything,” Rai quipped. “I’ve seen ‘em.”
“Rude!”
You tied off another stitch. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be downstairs helping Kieran?”
“No! That jerk. He ditched me to go help Auntie Dai with shopping. Can you believe that? The disrespect he shows to his older brother…”
“I wonder where he learned to be so insolent…” you murmured.
“Hey! I’m way better at respecting my elders than him! He was born like that!”
—
In the end, you sent Rai away with very explicit instructions on how not to rip his sutures open again. You also managed to scare Luke away with threats of making him a test subject for blood drawing practice. Thus you managed to find yourself a moment of unbothered silence. No matter what, you had been assigned a job and you’d be damned if you didn’t do it well.
You were currently going through your stock to see what you might need more of. With a clipboard hooked into your side and the capped end of a pen tapping rhythmically against the side. You’d gone through a considerable amount of monofilament and surgical glue these few months. The same thing with saline among the other more basic medical provisions.
Listing these down, you slowly worked your way through your catalogue before moving to your computer. You opened up the spreadsheet you’d made to keep track of your supplies and updated on the weekly. Going down the line and inputting the numbers. You’d programmed the file to ping with certain numbers read to low and saw there were several this time round, namely the supplies already outlined. These you would have to order and then request for someone to pick them up.
You leaned back into your chair with one knee crossed over the other, clicking around as you fiddled with your earring. You were squinting slightly at the fine print on the order page when the door moved. Peering around the edge of your monitor, you watched as Sylus stepped into the room.
You instantly sat up. “What’s wrong?”
He tugged the door closed and asked, “Does something have to be wrong for me to be here?”
“Generally, yeah,” you said. That was mostly why people sought you out. Even when you’d been a coroner, the typical circumstance of necessitating your help was that something had gone terribly wrong.
“Then I’m sorry to disappoint.”
Sylus moved across the room, encroaching until he came to your desk. He dragged his fingers across the surface, rounding the side and then picking up the pen from the clipboard. He sat and kicked one leg back and the other out, claiming the whole room as his in a single move.
“I’ve a bit of a different task for you,” he said, twirling the pen back and forth.
“What…” you asked with a dubious dip of your chin.
He offered you a charming and observably fake smile. It was an unnatural expression to see. The same one he’d given you that first night when he’d been lying in wait at midnight to take you down into this world. Sylus flicked the pen into the air and caught it again. “I’m in need of a date.”
Your brows rose promptly and you blinked several times wondering if you’d heard him right. “What?”
He dipped forward slightly, prompting you with his brows. You grappled with the request. You pointed at yourself.
“Me?”
“Is there anyone else in the room with us,” he questioned.
“No, but…” Your face scrunched in confusion. “What?”
“A partner of mine has invited me to the symphony for the day after tomorrow. As much as I love music, playing at frivolities with someone I couldn’t care less about sounds less than ideal. I then thought perhaps the experience would be much more enjoyable with the company of a beautiful woman with who shares an appreciation for music,” he said all too suavely.
You pursed your full lips into a flat, unimpressed line. “And I’m sure you know many.”
“I do,” Sylus agreed. He lilted his head toward the side and looked at you appraisingly, “In fact there is one right before me.”
You gave him a narrow look of deep suspicion. “Are you trying to flirt with me?”
“Would you like me to be,” he asked. His handsome smile twisted into a much more befitting smirk.
“Absolutely not, don’t even joke about that,” you told him bluntly. You crossed your arms and leaned your elbow into the armrest with a wrinkle on your nose bridge. “But I’m getting the impression I don’t actually have a choice in this.”
“Your shrewdness is truly refreshing. I really appreciate that about you, Doctor.” Sylus placed the pen down, appearing quite pleased. He stood up and nodded toward the door. “Then should we get started?”
You faltered again. “Wait. I thought you said the day after tomorrow?”
“We’ll need time to get there,” he said. Mischief and ill-intent shone brightly in the depths of his glowing eyes. “You expressed before you were feeling, what was it… Ah, ‘cooped up’ and ‘bored’ here. It’d be terrible to let my employee go on feeling so listless.”
You felt a curl of dread.