There was something about the boy that frightened her. Not that he himself was frightening—no, in all ways he seemed to be nothing more than a foreign youth. He was in that mode between child and man; his voice broke when it rose too high and every time they brushed arms he turned beet-red, but he talked her head off nonetheless as they walked slowly to the hospital.

He was currently jabbering about his hat—or more specifically, the team portrayed on his hat. Apparently he was a big fan of baseball, and was filling her in on the teams and championships that played in Germany. He seemed to be very knowledgeable on the subject; he was able to name players and teams all the way from the 1936 Olympics.

As she looked at him, one eye on the streets so that they wouldn't walk out into traffic, she couldn't help the feeling that she'd known him from somewhere before. His voice was familiar; the strange way the words curled as though he were purring them, it was just like a memory sitting on the edge of her mind, teasing her with little glimpses but not letting her see the whole thing. And he looked very familiar, although she counted that towards their striking resemblance. It was uncanny—the only thing he seemed to be missing was boobs; he could easily pass as a doppelgänger in nearly every other sense.

"I'm sorry," she interrupted, cutting off his speech about baseball in World War II. "You said your aunt was in the hospital?" He looked at her blankly before answering, his eyes flitting to the street and avoiding her gaze.

"Oh, ja, she's in there. She's sick," he replied vaguely. She watched him closely, her police interrogation instincts screaming that something wasn't right about the whole situation.

"I see. How long has she been in the hospital?" she asked, her voice lowering slightly. Schrodinger faltered and went into a small coughing fit.

"Ah, erm…" he choked out around coughs, "A while." Seras thumped him on the back and he managed to control his own breathing again. They stopped, waiting for the streetlight to change so that they could walk across. "I'm not really certain, you see—she's been in many hospitals. She just moved to this one lately."

"Uh huh," Seras murmured. "And what did you say she was sick with again?" This time, Schrodinger answered much faster.

"Oh, she's got a knot in her stomach," he said grandly, pointing to his own stomach to show her. "It makes her not want to eat and causes her pain now and again." He adopted what looked like a sad puppy-dog's face. "Of course, I try to stay brave for her, but it's hard when I go to see her and she looks worse each time." He sniffed loudly. "But I make the best of it. I tell her about baseball. Today I'll tell her about you."

"I see," she repeated, motioning as the light changed. They both walked quickly across the white painted lines to get out of the way of motorists and as they turned the corner the hospital suddenly loomed before them. Schrodinger looked up to the roof and gulped, seemingly in awe of the massive glass-plated structure. "Are you alright?" she asked him after he didn't move with her to go in the automatic doors. He nodded dumbly before shaking his head, his hat nearly coming off with the force of it. He straightened it and fell at her heels again as they walked inside together.


The front lobby was spacious, both practical and fashionable. A coffee shop stood in one corner, allowing fabulous smells to drift across the front desk. On the other side, a sign beside the elevator bid them go down for the cafeteria, up for the main floors. In a nook in the wall, souvenirs stood behind plate glass, along with a cute little owl reminding them to visit the second-floor gift shop for get-well cards and various other things.

The woman at the front desk was about as young as Seras, with same stereotypical brown hair/blonde highlights that most seem to view as a must-have for young women to work in the hospital field. She was chewing gum, a coffee shop cup sitting next to her computer, and the newest issue of The Sun in her neatly manicured hands. Seras turned to her young companion and motioned to her.

"Do you need to go ask that receptionist, or do you know which floor your aunt is on?" she asked, intent on delivering on her mental vow to get him where he needed to go safely. After all, she was a policewoman. It was her job to protect the public, even if it was foreign public.

Schrodinger looked a little lost, but he scratched his neck and thought about it. She waited patiently, but was about to ask again when a cold voice cut across the room. It startled the nurse and she jumped, tabloid flying out of her hands and nearly upsetting her coffee. Seras swung around to see a man stalking towards them from the stairwell, his eyes flashing angrily.

"Schrodinger!" he called again, and this time at the sound of his name the boy turned around as well. His indigo eyes became as large as dinner plates and he gaped like a fish, backing away a pace and putting Seras between him and the man.

The man stopped before them, eyeing them both with equal amounts of displeasure. His hair was shoulder length and cut at an angle, looking sharp enough to cut something. He wore a lab coat buttoned up to the top, but in the tiny spot between the collar of the coat and his shirt Seras caught a sight of suspenders. His shoes were polished and gleaming in the fluorescent light. He wore bifocals, but on his forehead was a set of goggles that had different magnifying lenses on it, clearly meant to go over his glasses to help him see things better.

"What are you doing here?" he addressed Schrodinger slowly, choosing his words very carefully. He was making an effort to sound civil in the public place, but Seras could easily see by his body language that he wasn't happy at all at the sight of the youth. He glanced briefly at Seras, making up his mind about something before pursing his lips.

"I hope my nephew hasn't been too bothersome," he said quickly, before Seras could get a word in. "He knows he wasn't supposed to come here… to the hospital." The way he said it, it sounded like he was making it up, almost. But then Seras remembered that if this was Schrodinger's uncle, he was also from another country and maybe didn't speak the best English. He had enough of an accent that she became sure that was the case.

"It's no problem," Seras assured him. "I was on my way here to the hospital and he was lost, so I offered to let him walk with me. He's been a very good companion," she said brightly. "I wasn't bored at all on the way here." The doctor seemed to take that as a good thing, and his face softened some.

"Still, boy, why did you come here?" he said quietly, his tone brooding. Schrodinger looked briefly at Seras before answering.

"You know… my sick aunt." He said just as quietly, eyes narrowing. Seras smiled to herself—of course. It was only boys being boys. If this man was his guardian, then the youth would rebel against him, naturally. There wasn't anything worse going on. She felt her lips go tight for a moment, her smile seemingly frozen on her face. I've got to stop this. There's nothing fishy going on. It's just my imagination.

"Of course," the doctor replied mechanically. "She's in surgery right now. I'm going to see about her in recovery soon. Let me take you to her room." It sounded very nearly threatening, but Seras didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Schrodinger didn't seem afraid, walking around her and letting the doctor put a hand on his shoulder. "Thank the nice woman for bringing you to me," he said, in the way that all adults do when they feel a child is being rude.

"Thank you, Fraulein," Schrodinger repeated in a silky tone. "I was happy to see you." He made it sound like they'd met before, but that couldn't have been the case, could it? Seras nodded in reply and snuck a quick glance at the name badge dangling from the doctor's coat. If anything, she could ask about the aunt before she left, and maybe say a final goodbye to her new little friend. A. Napyeer, Ph.D. She quickly committed the name to memory.

"Goodbye," she said finally as the clock above the front desk struck the hour. She needed to get to her appointment! She didn't want to be late! The two blondes waved and she quickly left for the elevator. They watched her squeeze into one and the doors shut before the doctor lugged the boy across the room by his shirt.

They reached the stairwell and stepped inside, closing the door behind them. The boy was slammed against the wall, his feet off the ground and nose-to-nose with the doctor, who snarled angrily. The doctor's eyes glowed with a strange golden color and the wall behind the boy's back turned mushy and pliable.

"Get out of here," the doctor hissed between his teeth. "And do not return. This is the only warning I'm giving you; next time you come to this place, I will destroy you." It pushed the boy into the gooey wall, the cap falling off in the struggle and revealing two large cat ears on the boys head.

"What do you want with her?" Schrodinger asked the doctor, whose arms had become shimmery and strange as if they couldn't keep themselves together. The doctor smiled, teeth glinting sharply in the light.

"I'm giving her the world she wants. That's all you need to know. Now don't interfere anymore, pussycat." With those words, the doctor shoved the boy through the wall and his arms solidified. The wall bubbled and rippled before becoming solid concrete once more. The doctor adjusted his lab coat, pulling the collar back into place as he stared at the wall over his bifocals.

"Still some holes," he said to himself before looking at the floor above him, several flights of stairs up. "I really need to fix that."