I have been in some awkward situations, but a painfully silent ride to the hospital with a girl who thinks I'm supposed to be in love with her probably tops the list.

Casper still can't speak. He rides with the girl, arms respectfully at the sides of her waist as he hangs on. Which somehow left me with tall dark and glaring.

Her male companion is not a brother, I don't think. Their looks aren’t similar enough for that. His skin tone is more caramel than hers. His shaggy black hair is left long, down his neck, and brushing his shoulders. The style is one that most of the men back home in Apparatus could never pull off.

He’s unbothered by his five o’clock shadow, and the Grecian nose red from the chill the cold rain left. Each time I look his way, his equally dark eyes throw daggers. Whatever he is, he's protective. He gave me a spare helmet he had, though he hung onto it a little tighter when I grabbed it and rumbled out:

"Break it, I'll break your face."  Before checking on the girl and ensuring she was ready to go.

Getting into the center wasn't much of a problem, though it took some convincing and flashing of my family crest cuff links. Thankfully, several younger nurses and residents appeared to recognize Caspian and me. Once that was cleared up, we were whisked to a mint room, machines for our vitals unobtrusively settled on built-in white shelves.

Hours later, the primary physician sits down with me. “You’re certain there’s no other ill effects?” he asks.  He finishes his eye examination on me and writes something down.

“Not so far as I can tell. Just what I’ve told you.” He looks over the list of symptoms I’ve given him. “You think it’s something serious?”

“I don’t know that I would go that far. Your anxiety disorder could easily explain all of these- “

“It’s not that.” I cut him off, but the idea is already there, and it’s too late to change his mind. He smiles placatingly.

“We can do more tests if you like.” So, he’s humoring me then.

“That won’t be necessary.”

He nods, that same idiotic smile still in place. I think he’d like to give me a pat on the head.

“Sometimes illness is frightening; it doesn’t always behave how we expect. I’ll make certain your anxiety medication is refilled before you leave.”

 “Thank you for your time, Doctor.” He pats my shoulder as though we’re friends and leaves.

I stifle a groan at the knock on the door. What other cheap platitudes did he forget?

“It’s open.”

The girl, Zara, steps in. She’s showered and changed since I last saw her, and her hair is no longer moving in ten different directions. She’s finally more human than mud, leaving her fresh-faced and pink-cheeked, smelling of soap and the nighttime air.

“You’re still here. I thought you would have left by now.” My surprise is kept deep under wrap. Clans folk don’t exercise the same emotional restraint, however.

“We wanted to wait and find out what the doctor said.”

“We have to stay.”

That should be the end of it. But she lingers in the doorway. I clear my throat; the air conditioning hums briefly. "Would... you can sit. If you want." I don't usually stumble over my words like this, but she doesn't seem to notice and takes the offered brown leather chair.

She folds and unfolds her hands. “Thanks. Um... are you feeling better?” 

“Somewhat.” I settle back against my pillows. “They’ve given me something to assist with my pain levels. Now I require rest.” Miss Rueben squirms. That makes two of us.

“I- I have been informed I handled our introduction poorly.” I was kind of glad Cas couldn’t talk. The long-winded written scolding was terrible enough.  Ignoring him hadn’t worked; he’d thrown tissue and paper at me until I read it all. “Truly, that was not my intent.”

“I figured.” She says and stares at her hands. “The doctors, were they able to uh…” She runs her hand through her curls and tries to pull apart a few tangles with her fingers. Her words come out in a whoosh. “Can they tell why I’m making you sick?”

“It didn’t come up. I’ll probably try and ask the next time they come in to check my vitals,” I decide. I hadn’t thought to ask because my symptoms had disappeared since we’d come together.

“Oh.” She looks around the room, maybe searching for a topic. “At least you have a beautiful view; that’s something, right?”

I look to where she points and must admit, it does have a certain appeal. There are endless paths of gardens, no doubt for the patients to wander in, and the sun has risen into a perfect day.

I use the quiet as an opportunity to inspect the young woman. I wonder about her ethnic background based on her olive coloring. Her eyebrows are thicker and dark. I’m surprised she hasn’t followed the latest trends and had them carefully shaped and tapered. She has good hips, but her shorter height could still cause birthing complications with my being so tall-

"And a private room too, or mostly,” Zara says. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a private room in a healing center.” The breeze from earlier comes back now and blows a stray dark hair out of her eyes. “Caspian wrote that he was going to explore a little, but I think he meant he wanted to chat up that nurse. You two are friends?"

"He's my best friend." It's funny how those words roll off the tongue when so many others clump together.

“He was pretty worried about you. He seems like a good guy,” She murmurs. But then, girls always like Casper. He’s got the sort of qualities they admire. Like humor. And charm. And one of the most significant bank accounts in the five Districts.

“Yes. He’s a good man,” I offer. She nods and squares her shoulders, turning away from the window.

“We each had our own intentions, traveling. But why did you come out here? I know-” Her voice falters, but she won’t look down. “You said I’m making you sick. But I swear it wasn’t me. I don’t know anything about that. You shouldn’t be sick.”

To find you. I want to say. Because I can't get you out of my mind, I see you whenever I close my eyes. It’s like no sickness I’ve ever felt, wanting to reach out and hold your warmth and sunshine against me.

“It may not be the best term. I don’t know how else to classify what I’ve been going through.” I tell her instead.

“Right. I.. Um. I was thinking about it. Kinda hard not to.” She tries to smile but won’t look at me. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but the doctors here won’t have the answers you want.”

I try to ignore the immediate urge to contradict her since Mother always insists everyone deserves to say their piece.

“A healing center’s purpose is exactly that – to heal.” I remind her. She shifts.

“I know. But I also know that they deal with medicine. Not mates.”

Not this again. “Miss Rueben, I appreciate your bringing us here. And rescuing Casper and me in the first place. But I’ve come on this journey intending to find answers from credible sources and”-

“Would you say that historical documents are credible sources?” She interrupts.

“Yes, generally, but”-

“What about a centuries-old institution that deals daily with the symptoms you’re experiencing?” She presses.

“Yes.” I agree. “But they’re also biased.”

“Then trust in the source of information I’m offering you now.” She sighs. “You can talk to the doctors and have them do tests if that makes you feel better. But if you think it’s confusing now, it’ll only get worse unless you come to Bond Clan with me. This is what they do there every day. No matter what else happens with us, they can help.”

"I think... I don't know what to think. But my housekeeper is from a Clan. Once she heard everything going on, she told me about a place: Himat amour Casa-" She smiles again at her hands.

“Something funny?” I can feel my cheeks heat up and hope my voice only cracks in my head.

"Sorry, it's - I mean, no one calls it that. Like, ever." She grins, shaking her head at me.

"So, I sound like an idiot." Wonderful. Just let everyone know you’re at a disadvantage.

 "No... You sounded ... official. That's all," She hedges.

"Official?" I raise an eyebrow at her and am gratified to see her own face begin to blush.

"Respectable,” she says. “But not from any Clan I'm familiar with."

“I’m not from a Clan.”

The previously open gaze shutters.

“I figured. So, you’re a District Boy.”

I shrug at her and immediately regret it. The doctors warned I would be sore, even after being put through the healing tubes to repair the fractured rib and head wound. Zara moves so quickly that I don’t realize it until she’s by my side, hand on my cheek.

“What hurts? Toren? Are you alright?”

Nobody calls me Toren, I should say. It expresses a familiarity that should be reserved only for a few. That's what my father would say. But maybe that's precisely why I don't correct her. Instead, I brush away her hand.

“Don’t.” Her lips quiver, and I try to soften my tone. “You seem like a nice person. And while I’ve done my best to be polite, I haven’t been kind to you.” Her hand falls limply at her side while I lean back with a grimace. “So please, don't jump up when I moan and groan. I've done nothing to deserve that caring from you.”

She doesn't shrink away again the way she did earlier.

This time, she leans in to examine my wounds, her hand taking a light hold of my chin.

“I think it was just some residual bruising, but I can run and get the doctor if it hurts that bad-” She mutters to herself, eyes assessing and distant as she looks me over. This time, I don’t stop myself from yanking back, hurrying out of reach.

“Was I not clear? You can stop coddling me, Miss Ruben. I’m not going to fall for that-” I begin, and she cuts her eyes at me, the glare swiftly shutting me down.

“I heard your little speech, Toren. But you’re right, I’m a nice person. So, when I see a person in pain, even one who's being an ass, I'm going to do what I can to help.” She folds her arms, chin up stubbornly. “Now, you can tell me what hurts, and I can grab a nurse for you. Or you can continue with this obnoxious 'I’m trying to be the good guy here' routine and keep pushing off someone who can put your call button just out of reach." She scoops it up and waves it briefly under my nose.

“What’s it gonna be, Mr. Finch?”

I think I’m impressed. I know I’m impressed. Against my better judgment, I’m grinning.

“You have a fire, Zara Rueben. I’ll give you that.”

She smiles back down at me, her touch gentling until she's cradling my face in her tiny hand, the warmth of it reaching down deep.

"What hurts?" She asks again softly.

"Nothing. I moved too quickly. I'm alright now." I reassure her.

"I'm glad."

She's got the most prominent brown eyes I've ever seen, and even then, they have flecks of gold, and the twilight is catching them in such a way that they seem to glow just for me. My breath catches in my chest. Maybe my anxiety is kicking in because the room feels ten times smaller, and it's just the two of us-

"Whoa, didn't know I'd be interrupting!'" Someone rasps from the doorway. Zara yanks back like she's been burned, and Casper wheels himself in with a smirk.

"You're not supposed to be talking," I hiss. I shouldn't be annoyed by the interruption, but I'm missing the warmth from Zara's hand, and she's now backed up to the door.

"I should let you get some rest. We can talk later." She turns to go, and I feel that awful clench in my gut. The same one that wants her close, wants to breathe in her scent and bask in her smiles. Ridiculous.

"You're leaving?" I sound pathetic. But she turns back to me and smiles shyly.

"I'm going to get something to eat. I'll check in on you later, okay?" And then she's gone. Perhaps I was wrong, and my symptoms have returned. That would explain my loss at her leaving me for the time being.

"She's hot, nice job, buddy! Did you smile and tell her you're sorry, like I said?" His voice is nearly non-existent, but it doesn't slow him down. He rolls over to his bed and climbs in, huffing at the extra blankets the nurse added but stretching out.  His fingers go over the bandages that wrap his throat now.

“I did apologize, yes.” I get comfortable against my pillows and glare as I remind him, “And don’t talk about her like that; it isn’t worthy of a gentleman.” But Casper isn’t paying attention; he writes on his tablet and holds it up for me.

SO, WHEN ARE YOU GONNA MAKE YOUR MOVE?

I bolt up from my bed, grunting in pain when my I.V. pulls and sputters. “I- what is- there are no moves! I was only trying to thank her for rescuing us-” He holds up the tablet again.

THANK HER WITH DINNER

“Caspian Brooks-”

YOU AREN'T SICK, YOU'VE GOT A CRUSH, YOU CROW

If he wasn't already lying in a hospital bed, I might have shoved him, but as it turns out, I don't have to. Someone yelling down the hall interrupts our peace.

"Hey! Who was racing the wheelchairs?!"

We both look at the now empty chair beside Casper's bed, and he calmly writes something down before showing it to me.

I NEED REST, FRIEND, GOODNIGHT.

I'm still laughing when he turns over and puts his head beneath the covers.