Finally, our last set of new characters!
Hank: He's a doctor that works in the Hamptons, going house to house. His company is called HankMed and was started with the help of his little brother Evan.
Evan: He used to be a CPA accountant, but after Hank was in a bad spot in his life, he took him to the Hamptons and they both started over with HankMed.
Anyway, the action starts to pick up a bit more with the following chapters. This is basically a filler/introduction of Hank and Evan.
"Hello, this is Evan R. Lawson, CFO of HankMed. How can we help you feel better today?"
Hank Lawson, concierge doctor, was finally setting his bag down after a long day of broken arms and jelly beans up noses and scraped knees, but Evan held up his finger in a quick wait-a-moment gesture. He rolled his eyes as his younger brother readjusted the phone to grab a pen and write something down. "Did you grab pizza? I think I'm gonna go grab us some pizza," Hank called out, but Evan gave him an angry look and mouthed "wait a sec."
"Yeah, but that really sounds like he should go to the hospital… Yes, I understand that, but I-… No, yeah, we do do house calls, but-… Look, Ms. Stravinsky… Okay, okay. We'll be there. … Yes, as fast as possible, I understand. … Okay, we're leaving now. Bye."
"No," Hank began. "We are not leaving now. I just got back. It's been a really long day and I just want a couple slices of pizza and TV. Evan, no. I can't." Hank reached for his bag to put it away.
Evan quickly crossed the room, grabbing Hank's bag and holding it out of reach. "Nuh-uh, Hank. This one's important. It's Ms. Stravinsky."
"I don't even know a Ms. Stravinsky," Hank complained, trying to grab his bag back. Unluckily for him, Evan was taller and could hold the medical bag completely out of Hank's reach.
"Don't you remember? Our first summer here, she fell and almost broke her ankle during that giant party at the Fieldstone's place. You ended up helping her wrap it up and told her you'd need to check back on it in a couple days, but she had left by then."
Hank nodded. "Ok, yes, I do remember Ms. Stravinsky. Did she twist her ankle again?"
"No, apparently her boyfriend was mugged and she wants you to come take a look. Make sure he's healing right or something like that. Anyway, she's a whale, Henry. A huge whale. She said she'd double what you expected to be paid as long as we got over there immediately." Evan noticed Hank was considering his plea, so he continued, "Her boyfriend really needs your help. And we can get pizza after giving her boy toy a once over. Come on, Hank, please?"
"Fine," Hank agreed. "Is she back in the Hamptons?"
"Not exactly," Evan admitted. "They're in Manhattan. I'll drive," Evan announced, swiping Hank's keys off the counter before Hank could.
Hank followed his brother outside, slightly bemused. "Manhattan? That's like a two hour drive."
Evan grinned at his brother from the front seat of Hank's Saab. "Two hours, yeah right. Ms. Stravinsky said she'd pay us more if we got there earlier. I can almost taste the money."
"Taste the money? That's disgusting, Evan."
"Whatever," Evan replied, readjusting his sunglasses, before quickly driving the car down the driveway. A rich lady's boyfriend in trouble? This was exactly what HankMed was created for.
"This is the place?" Hank asked, squinting at the well-lit house in the dark as Evan parked the car across from a very nice house.
Evan glanced up at the building, turning the car off. "Yeah. This is the address she gave me." Evan pushed his watch in Hank's face. "See, an hour and a half. Told you I'd be faster than two hours."
"Yeah, well, I'll be driving home," Hank responded, grabbing his bag and following Evan to the door, where his little brother was currently ringing the doorbell.
There was no movement for a minute and Evan had pulled out the address to make sure that they were at the right place, when the door was swung open and Ms. Stravinsky was hurriedly waving them in. "Hank, Edward, welcome."
"Evan," Evan corrected, but followed her in anyway.
"Oh, yes, Evan. My bad. I've been pretty stressed, you know. Uh, Frank's upstairs. I'm rather surprised you got here so quickly."
"Our clients' well-being is our upmost concern," Evan explained. "We get to our clients as fast as we possibly can."
Ms. Stravinsky nodded. "Yes, well, thank you. Frank is starting to look worse, so if you could-?" She gestured to a room up a flight of stairs. "He's in there. A… a couple of our friends are up there, too. Just ignore them. I'm going to go make some tea. You want any?"
Hank smiled obligingly. "I'm good, but thank you." He made his way up the stairs, Evan trailing behind, admiring the fanciness of the house. Hank opened the door, fully expecting to see Ms. Stravinsky's Frank laying on the bed, healing perfectly well, besides having a very pushy girlfriend who was overworried about a few minor injuries. What he didn't expect was the African American man (Stravinsky's boyfriend, presumably) with blood streaked down his side and what looked to be a very nasty broken nose. Hank immediately went into what Evan liked to call "full doctor mode."
The people in the room—a young blonde girl clutching Frank's hand, a man angrily pacing the room, two men quietly conversing in the corner—looked up upon Hank's entrance. "Who are you?" the blonde asked.
"I'm a doctor, so if you could excuse me?" Hank asked, making his way to the injured man. He quickly examined the man's injuries. A mugging, Evan had said. A very bad one, by the looks of it.
"Will he be okay?" the pacing man asked, his voice gruff.
"It looks like he has a couple broken ribs. His nose is definitely broken. What I'm most worried about is whether his broken ribs have punctured anything internally, such as his lungs or any arteries, blood vessels. How long has he been unconscious?"
"Uh, almost two hours. He hasn't woken up since the… mugging," the blonde whispered.
Hank looked up at that. "Okay, about that. What really happened to Frank?"
The blonde gave him a weird look, but quickly responded. "Uh, Frank? He was mugged."
"I'm not going to go to the authorities, if that's what you're worried about. But as Frank's doctor, I need to know exactly what happened to him."
The blonde glanced at the man who had been pacing. The man shrugged, before beginning. "He was attacked. One of the guys beat him up pretty badly."
Hank nodded, glad they'd told him the truth. "He needs to go to the hospital."
The man shook his head. "It's not safe there. You either need to help him or he's going to die. We don't have another option."
"Okay, okay. I'll do my best, but I'm going to need some space and time. Do you mind?"
"Of course not." The pacing man gestured for everyone to leave, gently putting his arm around the shoulders of the blonde girl and leading her out of the room.
"Okay, what do you need me to do?" Evan asked, coming to Hank's side.
Hank glanced over at his brother. "Nothing."
"Nothing? But Divya's always helping you. So, just pretend I'm Divya, only I'm male and less-educated and super hot and also your brother."
Hank shook his head. "As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I don't really need your help. I'm just going to wrap his ribs, reset his nose, and make sure he doesn't have a concussion."
Evan nodded slowly. "Sounds good." Evan stood there for a moment, nodding, as he watched his brother pull the man's shirt up. "Are you sure?" he suddenly blurted out. "Because I have literally nothing else to do."
"Yes, Evan, I'm sure," Hank responded, slightly exasperated.
"Okay, fine. Fine. I'll just go somewhere else. Somewhere where I'm actually wanted."
Hank didn't even bother responding, quickly finishing setting up an IV for Frank. He heard the quiet snick of the door being softly shut behind his brother, but turned his attentions back to his patient. He really wished they would take Frank to the hospital, but he'd have to make do with what he had here.
Evan slowly went down the stairs, heading to where he assumed the kitchen was. Ms. Stravinsky had said she'd be making tea and maybe he could get a cup. That would at least give him a reason to see if Ms. Stravinsky would be interested in supporting his company. She was the reason he had decided to come, he might as well work his magic. He was about to step into the kitchen, when he heard his name. Evan quickly stopped, leaning up against the wall to hear what they were saying about him. Maybe that pretty blonde girl thought he was—
"Do you trust the brother, Edward?" a man's voice asked.
"Evan," Ms. Stravinsky corrected, much to Evan's pleasure. "And, frankly, I didn't expect him to come along with Hank. Hank, I trust. Evan… I'm not so sure about him."
A deeper, growlier man's voice broke in, "So, we're going to have to find a way to get rid of him without Hank realizing what we're doing."
Oh. Bad. Bad. Evan quickly backed up, stopping when a voice whispered in his ear, "Eavesdropping, huh? I'm not a huge fan of eavesdroppers."
Evan whirled around, coming face to face with the man who'd been pacing earlier. "Uh, I wasn't eavesdropping. I was just, uh, tying my shoe!" To prove his new lie, Evan quickly bent on one knee and reknotted his shoelace. "See, all better now."
The man gripped Evan's arm harshly, dragging him into the kitchen, before announcing, "Guess who I found listening in on your conversation."
"Please don't kill me," Evan whimpered. Well, not whimpered, because Evan didn't whimper. But, it sure was close to a whimper.
"Seems like we need to trust him now," a man with curly brown hair commented. He stood up and approached Evan. "Can we trust you?"
"Oh, yes," Evan agreed, nodding emphatically. "I won't tell a soul your secret. Or secrets, you know, if you have more than one."
The man with the curly hair nodded. "My name is Nathan Ford," he introduced himself. Evan noticed a couple of the people in the kitchen were shooting him unsure looks, but Nathan Ford continued on. "And this," he gestured to Ms. Stravinsky, "is Sophie Devereaux."
"No," Evan interrupted. "That's Ms. Stravinsky. We've met already."
"Actually," Ms. Stravinsky replied, "my real name is Sophie Devereaux."
"O…K…" Evan responded.
The man still gripping Evan's arm released it. "I'm Elliot Spencer." He pointed to the blonde that had been sitting with Frank earlier. "That's Parker. And your brother is upstairs helping Hardison."
"So… Frank was a made-up name, too?"
"Yes. We didn't want the wrong people to find out who we were or where we were," Elliot explained.
From across the room, a black-haired man rose from the table he was sitting at. "My name is Neal Caffrey. This, here, is Chuck Bartowski and his wife, Sarah Bartowski. Morgan Grimes. And Casey." He shrugged his shoulders. "And that's the team."
"Team?" Evan asked.
Neal nodded. "My best friend, Mozzie, was abducted a couple days ago. I asked Chuck's team to help me. Casey got Elliot to bring in his team and now you're here and it's all an effort to get Mozzie back safely."
Evan was about to comment on that, when Hank walked into the room. "Frank's going to be fine," Hank announced. "He'll just need to stay in bed for about the next week. After that, he can get up and move a bit, he'll just have to be extra careful."
"Hardison," Evan corrected.
Hank gave his brother a strange look. "What are you talking about?"
"Hardison. The man's name is Hardison. Not Frank."
Before Hank could call his brother an idiot or anything of the sort, Nate spoke up. "Your brother, Evan, is right, Hank. We weren't completely honest with you up front."
"I'll explain," Evan announced. "See, Hank, this is Neal. His best friend goes missing. He calls in these guys to help him find his friend, Mozzie. Hardison, the guy upstairs gets hurt, so now we're involved. And, we're not allowed to tell anybody. In other words, we've joined the team to find Mozzie." Evan turned to Neal. "I'm totally psyched to help you find your partner in crime!"
"Literally," Neal replied, smiling a bit.
"Uh, what?"
"We're art thieves," Neal expounded.
"Art thieves, huh? That's, uh, that's—" Evan quickly turned to Hank, whispering, "Hank, we've gotta get out of here. These are criminals!"
Neal grinned. "We don't kill people, if that's what you're worried about."
Evan crossed his arms, unbelievably. "Yeah, like that's true. When I, uh, wasn't eavesdropping, you said that you were going to get rid of me. That sounds a little murderous to me."
"We meant we were going to figure out some reason why you would head back to the Hamptons; we weren't going to kill you," Nate explained.
"Yeah, right."
"Look," Neal began, "We need your help. Both you and Hank. Would you be willing to assist us in rescuing Moz?"
Evan shrugged his shoulders, speaking for both him and Hank. "We don't have anything better to do."
