...

Two soldiers stand behind Reid, pinning his hands behind his head despite the gruesome black bruises running up his ribs. They stormed in. He was about to put a top on after his shower. 

I gape at the expanse of black covering his ribs as he balls his shirt in his fist. Someone kicked the shit out of him. He must've gone through hell, he... The third soldier gains my attention when he waves for his men to stop.

Reid holds his breath, gritting his jaw so hard that he could break his teeth. Then, finally, the soldiers release him, and he grunts in agony as he hunches over, but he keeps his gaze fixed on them. His glare is so threatening that they both grab their weapon belts cautiously.

The Doctor, staring at me, turns to follow my gaze before her pretty yellow eyes widen in surprise. She accidentally stares at Reid's muscular physique and the patchwork of tattoos dotted across his olive skin. The prominent artwork is a giant piece in which two Egyptian gods stand at odds across his torso. Too quickly, she averts her gaze to me, but then she clears her throat and looks at her tablet, "Miss Violet Warrendale. I need to conduct a physical exam. Are you ready?"

"You already checked my wounds." I snap, narrowing my eyes. It's midnight.

Doctor Abigail smiles politely, resting her elbow on the surgical trolly beside her, "This is to make an official application to the board. We have to prove that your wounds are worth subsidy, otherwise, it will cost you money to heal them. I apologise for the late visit but upon observation, your injuries require a second round of review and more detailed photographic documentation, and if I conduct this review after twelve PM the board will dismiss the assessment entirely because the documentation will be too late to be deemed sufficient."

I arch a brow, "Too late?"

"Outside the window of time, that they... consider appropriate to take an accurate assessment." She blinks at me like a little sparrow. The attention of all the men in the room begins to press on my back. 

"You got to take photos?" I don't want them to put this in the database. Permanent records like these could get leaked. 

"Yes. Indeed." She apologises with those yellow eyes.  

I prowl past the soldier to the bathroom, but the man in command clears his throat. He and the Doctor share a look, but she seems defiant. I pause, leaning against the wall, leaving me a few strides from the bed.

"Sergeant I understand, but it goes to her privacy rights." 

"It goes to my orders." He replies, and she sniffs slightly like she's stifling some sort of irritation. 

"Unfortunately, Miss Warrendale, your profile has been flagged as," She looks for the words, "High risk. Meaning when a health practitioner engages with you, two soldiers must always be present."

I blink at her, rage whipping its lash, but I just resort to a cold laugh. "So bring two."

"Your partner is also flagged, meaning it would be a violation to leave him in the room with just one soldier." The Sergeant mutters, but he looks at the floor like he's uncomfortable. 

I look at them, then at the bathroom, "It's the same room."

Silence resounds, making their position clear. Before making any enemies, I swallow meekly, casting my eyes at the floor. "Okay." 

Reid clears his throat, and I glance at him, "Can I sleep?" He looks to the Sergeant, but his glare is as irritated as the doctor's. 

"You may rest. However, I need to administer a vaccination before I go." The doctor answers. She wheels the trolly with her as she approaches me, and her heels click as she scrolls through her device. "Vi, my executive, Doctor Jewel, left some notes for me here. We need to explain how you incurred your injuries to the board because we have to use an expensive machine to fix them." She re-explains like I was too thick to understand the first time. 

Reid approaches the mattress, but I nudge myself upright and turn my back. She's small and meek... she fidgets. It's annoying, annoying and weak. I can all but see what Scorpius would do.

"Okay." I play her game by swallowing, again, to labour the point that my throat hurts. Some strands of her hair appear like liquid gold in the light.

"I'm going to examine your throat," She lifts her gloved fingers to my glands and gently tilts my head to press my bruises. We go silent... Let her take the lead. "Am I correct in assuming these strangulation marks were not from the soldiers, Violet?"

"You can call me Vi." I give her a small, pitiful smile, "And... Yes." Her soldiers did a lot worse.

She beams like she's excited to get through to me, "I'm sorry Vi, I know this is uncomfortable, but I just need a name or at least a brief description." She pushes, and I sigh. 

"M-My mother. The night before the soldiers." I try to lower my voice so Reid can't hear. My little act makes me cringe.

She pulls a pen from the device and clicks it against her hand, shining a light over her knuckles to test it.

"Look here," She makes me focus on her finger before she shines the light in my eye. "My nurses reported that you had incurred trauma to your ribs. Do you mind if I photograph your torso? You'll have to remove your sleep wear."

I grit my jaw, picking at my fingers. Doctor Abigail hasn't seen my ribs, "Okay." Don't argue, Vi. I grit my jaw as I pull my new hoodie off and wince at the pain that expands through me. I grip the fabric limply, ignoring when the slice in my hand throbs again.

The Doctor actually gasps when she sees the wreck of bruises and grazes all over me, "I," She swallows. Still, I catch the slight tremor in her grip as she places the device on her wheelie trolly again. "Did your mother give you these?"

I grit my jaw, looking away. Cold air snakes around me and my skin puckers into goosebumps. I tremble again, like a damn kitten, but not because of the cold. The room is as silent as a graveyard, but with my back turned, I can't tell if any of the soldiers, or worse, Reid, are looking. 

"No." I reply. She doesn't need the whole story.

"No?" The doctor gulps. "W-." She inhales. "Is it ok if you lift your arms?"

I do as she says, looking anywhere but her as she pokes and prods the wounds all over me.

"These are quite considerable Violet. How did this occur?" For every picture that she takes, my eSight flashes red, alerting me that I'm being photographed. 

I glance in the direction of the soldiers, disliking that one of the men was looking at me in pity, but then my gaze crawls to Reid who glares at the ceiling in boredom. Had I sensed him looking at me?

"I fell." I mutter.

She nods stiffly, awfully pale, "When?"

I can't bring myself to admit anything with Reid listening.

"Please, Vi. I won't hurt you. When did this occur?" Her sympathy is enough to make me sick. Who is this pretty little Newcastle doctor to pity me?

"Last night. I was jumped on my way home." I admit and she nods, lowering the device, "You're lucky, honey. No breakages... I'm assuming you have genetic engineering somewhere in you."

I don't respond—the mention of my father's G.H.O.O.L. genetics is a bitter reminder. I'm a Warrendale. 

"What happens if I can't conceive?" I make sure my voice wavers. "I mean, what if I caught the thing that you have?" The doctor flinches. Her pink lips flatten. Shocked, defensive... she stifles it by smoothing her petticoat, averting her daffodil-coloured eyes. I play meek, pretending to stumble over my words, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean, I just... if the government needs babies, it must've been because of some catastrophe, some disease or something... I didn't mean to offend you, Doctor Abigail. But what if I could catch it?" Off you. I relish when she battles to remain polite, her pretty makeup glittering as she tries to adjust her pretty hair, "I, I mean... Doctor Carden said there was a severe spike in infertility in Newcastle." I repeat myself so that I sound stupid and innocent, "What if I could catch it?" From someone like you, Doctor Abigail. She squirms like I'm twisting a knife in her side.

The doctor grits her slender jaw, looking down at me. "You can't catch this type of infertility, sweetheart." She tries to give me a reassuring look, but her voice just comes out bitter.

"But how do I make sure? Can I get a vaccine or something?" I push.

She stiffens, snapping her eyes to mine, "Vacci-." Doctor Abigail cuts herself off, changing the topic quickly. "You must be cold. Here," She hands me my hoodie and I take it gingerly. Why did she get so jumpy?

She turns around, placing her tablet on the trolley as she types. With her back to me, I can't be bothered to foster the energy to try press for more information. Exhausted, I slouch my back against the wall, the ache in my body and the lack of food in my system making my head throb.

We don't talk for a while as she scrolls through the device. Eventually she pulls her gloves off and tosses them at a waste bin. It reveals a few small rings, but I notice the absence of a marriage ring. She occasionally patters her fingers across the screen before finally she turns back to me, her yellow eyes cautious, "Unfortunately, you don't meet the conditions for treatment." She doesn't notice my fist tighten. "You didn't incur these injuries by a result of our extraction, thereby the government is more so to thank for rescuing you from these brutal conditions. The board won't view themselves as responsible for these wounds."

They killed my mother and ripped me from her corpse. Fed up, I let my back drag down the wall as I shrink to a seated position.

"Oh honey, don't fret." She smiles down at me and tenderly crouches to give my arm a reassuring squeeze, "I have a feeling Dr Jewel will push you through anyway." She winks and my brows shoot up. He'd do that? Lie to get me treatment? "Anyways. This is a high-cal liquid meal." She twists in her crouched position to collect something from her trolley, massaging a sachet of pink liquid before she hands it to me. She gently takes hold of my forearm, as though she's trying to comfort me. Her cold fingers are soft and smooth, "You should be able to tolerate it but if you feel queasy, take a break and revisit your meal in the morning." She gives me a small nod, finishing up. "Okay, that's all for now. I'll get out of your hair, and come check on you in-."

I take her hand when she starts to stand. "Doctor?"

She smiles at me obligingly, despite a flicker of shock, "Yes?" Even Reid is looking now.

"How long do I have to get pregnant, before Dr Carden gets angry with me?" Fück I sound like a child. It's disgusting.

The skinny doctor frowns, though I notice when she casts her gaze at the Sergeant in charge. She adjusts so that we're eye level again, her petticoat scrunching, "What gives you the impression that Carden would get angry with you?" I look down, pretending that I might cry. She pushes my wet hair aside and tucks it behind my ear, "You can tell me." She looks at the Sergeant again.

"Jennings," He suddenly interrupts, scrolling his phone, "I'm getting an alert from two doors down about a violent patient. Can you take Henderson, the Sergeant in command is putting out a red."

Jennings, I presume, splutters, "Now?"

"Hurry, it's a vio for me to be in here alone. Room fourteen."

Jolted, the two of them hurry to the door, "Sir," Jennings closes the door.

Reid, who'd been sceptically watching, snags my eyeline. His cool exterior seems to be a permanent fixture. "I work for Jewel. What did Carden say?"

Why did she say it like that? "If I fail, she'll let Sergeant Wilkes do it." My glare leaks through.

Her cheeks flush and she gasps in horror, "Is that so?" She looks to the Sergeant in dismay, and his grey brows furrow.

"How long do I have? Before Wilkes?"

Doctor Abigail blinks rapidly, looking at me with those unnerving yellow eyes. She surprises me because for once her sweet little persona dissipates. She hardens her jaw, glaring at me like she's about to tell me news I don' wan' hear. "They're going to switch your partner after one month... Violet. You need to make them believe you're trying until then."

"Why?" I cough. "How?"

She looks at Reid, "They couldn't pass the laws to put cameras in your rooms, and daily tests are too expensive, so they're going to check your rooms at random times. Mostly mornings. Make them believe for a month. Those will be the first round of tests." She nods at me curtly, standing before I can quiz her anymore. "Now, Mr Myers," She stands up.

Knowing that's the end of that, I slouch and rest my elbows on my knees.

A month. Twenty-eight days.

I jam the spout of the pink drink between my lips, glaring at nothing in particular... however, after a moment, my gaze finds it's way to Reid.

The doctor rolls her trolley toward him, "You okay with needles?" She smiles, acting like she and the Sergeant didn't just conspire to remove the other men so she could serve me a warning like that. I could hang my head and groan. What is going on?

Still lying back, he looks up at her through dark eyes, arching a brow, before he pushes himself to a seated position. "Can be."

She takes his prickly regard as answer, placing a Petrie dish on the bedside table. The Sergeant rounds the bed in silent threat. 

"So this is just to fix up your vaccination record because there's a few missing from your history. You may feel a little under the weather for the next few days, but that's normal." She wipes his arm with an alcohol swab but when the distance between them squeezes, Myers pressures it by letting his gaze trawl the side of her pretty face. She notices his attention, and tucks her hair behind her ear with a gloved hand, swallowing slightly. 

"So you put self defence or murder on my transcript?" A dark glare cracklse across his features. 

My brows shoot up. He killed someone in the abduction? 

The Sergeant adjusts his position, clasping his wrist as he straightens his back. "Murder." He snaps. 

The Doctor prepares to put the needle in his arm, "Ready?" She interrupts, glaring at the Sergeant.

"Mhm," Myers nods, just as the doctor injects him.

Unbothered, Reid's lips tug up at the side, revealing a cruelly sarcastic grin and a line of perfectly white teeth, "Makes two of us, right?"

The Sergeant grits his jaw, but then the door opens. 

"Serg, fourteen was empty."

"Sorry boys, must've been room fourteen upstairs." He mutters.
...

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