Mercy Hospital, Ohio

"Male Caucasian, carjacking victim, early forties, stabbed once in the chest, once in the side through and through, beat all to hell," the lead paramedic yelled as he and his partner rushed a gurney into the small hospital's emergency room. He continued to rattle off the medical stats of his patient to the three person medical team that met them in the hall.

"How long since he was found?" Doctor Anderson, a veteran of more trauma cases than any of them had ever seen due to his experiences as a doctor in Vietnam, demanded as he began his own examination of the victim. Tall, thin and with more grey in his hair than brown, the elderly doctor had the respect of everyone he worked with, as much for his easy going nature with everything un-medical as it was for his expertise in trauma medicine.

"Fifteen minutes from the site the accident to here," the paramedic said as he helped remove the man's clothing. "It looked like he got away from the 'jacker before running his truck into light pole. No telling how long it was before we got there."

Mindy Sterngood, nurse practitioner and Doctor Anderson's assistant, gasped as she cut away the man's shirt. His entire torso was a mass of scars, not counting the two bleeding wounds. Her hands did not slow, having learned through her own survival of traumatic events that slowing down, no matter the provocation, led to people's deaths. The blond woman had begun learning about trauma at the age of eight when half of her home town was killed in a series of wild animal attacks. It hadn't taken long once those animals had made a second appearance for her to decide on her future career.

"Combat vet," was Doctor Anderson's opinion. He glanced at the man's wrists. "And whoever had him didn't jack him. He's been tortured." The flat, unemotional voice of the elderly doctor who was well known for his love of laughter and his upbeat attitude, sobered the already determined medical team. "He needs surgery immediately. Anne, type him up, he'll need whole blood. Mindy, saline until Anne brings the blood." The nurse took a blood sample and Mindy with the help of the paramedics moved the patient to the small hospital's only operating room.

It wasn't until Doctor Anderson was actually operating on the man's lacerated internal organs that he and Mindy (the only two people actually in the operating room) realized that the he wasn't Human. "Mindy?" he asked, his hands not pausing in tying the stitches needed to stop the bleeding.

"My mother taught me that all life is sacred doctor," she assured him. "As long as he isn't actively taking a person's life I'm certainly not going to deny him his rights to treatment and safety."

"Good," Anderson said with a smile. "That's what I like to hear, and even better to see when a person is confronted with the reality."

"My mom lives with some of the most dangerous wildlife on the planet and she practices what she preaches," Mindy said. "She taught me the difference between exploitation, peaceful coexistence, and having your head up your ass."

"She sounds like a strong woman," Anderson mused, tying yet another stitch. He had been wondering what was taking Anne so long with the blood sample, but it was likely that the man simply wasn't compatible with Human blood types.

"Realist with high ideals," Mindy said as she treated the wounds on the man's wrists. He'd broken the skin struggling against some type of restraints. She'd already put a pressure bandage on the side wounds once she'd cleaned them up. This guy couldn't afford to lose another single drop of blood. "She'd tell me, 'Mindy, a gun is the last resort to solving a problem, no matter what Burt says."

"Burt?" Anderson questioned.

"Our local paranoid paramilitary type," Mindy explained. "My mom does admit that there are times when killing is necessary. She simply reserves it for self-defense. That's when everyone in town pushes Burt at the problem." She finished bandaging the man's wrists. "Killing something that's chained up isn't self-defense."

"No, it's murder," Anderson agreed grimly.

Anne ran in with several bags of A positive whole blood. "This is compatible, but for some reason none of the rest of the blood types are," she said as she rushed around setting up the transfusion. "Oh my god!"

"What?" Anderson and Mindy asked.

"I know him. He came to the house looking for my ex, Malcolm." Anne connected the complete incompatibility with most Human blood types with her ex-husband's obsession with aliens. "He's not Human is he?"

"He's a patient!" Mindy snapped.

"He's got a son," Anne said as she waved away Mindy's attitude and connected the first of the blood packets. She'd seen him walking her son's best friend out of the high school one day. "I'm certainly not going to orphan my son's best friend." Only friend was more like the truth and everyone in the room knew it. Anne had been extremely grateful to John Smith for standing up for her son against the bullies at the high school. "His name is Henri Smith." She took over monitoring Henri's vitals.

After five hours of delicate surgery, (mostly due to their patient's unusual origins and the doctor taking the extra time to make certain that he wasn't making things worse) Henri Smith was moved to an observation room. It was as Doctor Anderson was returning to the ER that he learned that his patient was wanted for suspicion of acts of terrorism.

The police officers who had responded to the accident scene had towed Henri's truck and logged it into their impound yard. When Sheriff James had put an APB out on the vehicle, the computer had spitted out its location, which in turn had led James back to Mercy Hospital. "I told you he's in surgery!" the head nurse growled as she confronted Sheriff James and several of his deputies.

"Cindy?" Anderson asked, walking up to the group. "What's going on?"

"These men are here to arrest our carjacking victim under suspicion of acts of terrorism. The high school was blown up and they're blaming him!" she snorted in disgust.

"We found suspicious equipment at Smith's home," the sheriff began.

"When did Mr. Smith allegedly blow up the high school?" Anderson interrupted.

"Two hours ago," the sheriff stated.

"Well, I'm sorry sheriff, but you're going to have to find another scapegoat for this one," Anderson said sternly. "Henri Smith has been on my operating table for the last five hours. I just finished patching up the injuries he received when someone decided that it would be a good idea to attempt to torture him. He has two dislocated shoulders, all of his ribs are broken - most in several places, numerous contusions in the shape of fists - several of which caused enough rupturing to his organs to cause internal bleeding, lacerations on both wrists from where he struggled against whatever restraints were used to hold him as they were beating him and two large stab wounds, one to his side and one to his chest. It's a miracle the man didn't bleed out before he escaped, much less before he got here."

Sheriff James blanched at the list of injuries. "I guess he did have a good reason for that surveillance equipment," he muttered.

"I'd guess so," Anderson said sarcastically. He watched as the sheriff and his men slunk away. "Cindy, make sure that any records concerning Mr. Smith are lost. I don't want anyone to be able to find out that he was here, ever." The look he gave the nurse was more than enough for her to go along with him.

"Seeing as how we've got two bodies in the morgue that could very well have been our patient, anything that has to be recorded can be listed under John Doe," she said serenely. "It's not like we don't get our fair share of those around here." She handed him the preliminary reports on the two murdered men.

Anderson nodded and walked back towards the ICU. It didn't take a genius to see what was going on, aside from the fact that Henri Smith wasn't from around here as the saying went. He'd been here the night that five football players had come in all banged up from a confrontation where they'd bitten off a lot more than they could chew, including Sheriff James' quarterback son. There had been no doubt among the medical personnel that James would retaliate against the family of whoever it was that had injured his son. Any risk to his son's future career as a football player was unacceptable to that man. It made sense that John Smith had been the one the other boys had attacked considering the rumors that the boy was dating the quarterback's ex-girlfriend, and knowing what he knew about the father, that John had clearly been able to more than defend himself made sense as well.

"How's he doing?" Anderson asked Anne and Mindy, both of whom were standing outside Henri's ICU room.

"He's still unconscious. I'm worried about the medications we used," Mindy said, worrying her lower lip. "I'm hoping we haven't put him in a coma."

"Even if we have, that's not necessarily a bad thing," was Anderson's opinion. "What he really needs is rest, and since we can't give him anything for pain until he can tell us what he can take if we even have it, it's probably for the best that he's out of it for as long as possible." He sighed and turned his attention to another problem that had until now taken the backseat. "Anne, have you heard anything from Sam about his son John?" Who knew what was happening with that poor boy? For all he knew, John might very well think his father was dead. If the boy was very unlucky he was now a target of whatever mad man was going around killing people involved in believing aliens were real. According to the report, those two men down in the morgue had been alien conspiracy theorists.

"Sam texted me while we were in surgery. He and John have taken off to go look for Malcolm." Anne had always believed that her ex had simply abandoned them, perhaps thinking that this way he could have his obsession and that the two of them would be better off without him. Now, with a real life alien who had claimed to be a friend of his laying in her hospital, she wasn't sure what to think. Perhaps Malcolm really had been abducted like Sam had always said.

"At least the boys are out of the reach of whoever it was that decided to torture Henri, and most likely are responsible for killing those two down in the morgue," Anderson sighed in relief.

"If they find out Henri's here," Mindy began.

"Cindy's already fixing the records," Anderson told her. "But we're not going to be able to keep the information quiet for long. The sheriff and his men already know that he's here."

"We need to get him out of here," Anne said firmly. "Both for his sake and for the rest of our patients. Can you imagine what would happen if the killer came looking for him here?"

"One of us has to go with him," Mindy pointed out. "He's no-where near ready to convalesce on his own."

"Too bad we can't just take him home," Anne said wistfully. While there had to be lots of reasons for him to be on their world, surely it would be better for him to be on his own right now!

At that Anderson perked up a little. "Mindy, how isolated is your hometown?"

Mindy, who everyone knew was going to be moving back to her hometown to provide medical care, understood what Anderson was asking.

"My hometown has a permanent population of five people. Tourists, a few scientists and a handful of others blow in and out over the course of a year, but they rarely stay long enough to make a nuisance of themselves. No one who actually lives there would be bothered by our patient's circumstances either. They're all used to weird," Mindy endorsed with a grin.

Anderson pulled his keys out of his pocket and removed a blue key from the ring. "Take this, go over to my place and bring back my RV. We can set it up as a recovery room."

"And I take him home with me with no one being the wiser," Mindy nodded.

"I'll drive your car down to you next week when I go on vacation, so make sure that you leave me good directions," Anderson said.

"And I'll be able to tell Sam so he can tell John about this the next time he calls," Anne said satisfied. "He's getting a new phone," she explained when the other two looked confused. "I'm guessing it's part of the security precautions John is taking."

She turned to Mindy. "You grew up in a town with only five other people? And here I thought Paradise was small!"