Chapter 36: I Put A Spell On You And Now You're Mine
"What are you doing?"
A heavyset human female plods into Vlair's private med quarters while he yanks the network of catheters and connections out of his arms. Bloods beads and oozes from the many small wounds he inflicts upon himself. The dark fluid spatters the thin sheets bunched around his waist.
"What does it look like?" Vlair asks and persists with his gory work.
The squeak of rubber soles against tile gets louder. A shadow falls over Vlair's cot. A gloved hand smacks his, shocking him out of his concentration. He's momentarily stunned and unable to move as the woman busies herself about him.
"Are you mad? You were DOA. It took Dr. Psorin twenty minutes to resuscitate you. We all figured you were brain dead and here you are pulling out your life support!"
Vlair stares at the top of this woman's head while she reinserts the tubing and wires he's removed. He winces at the pinch of the needles. Their reapplication doesn't register with the machinery surrounding him.
"How long have I been here?" He asks, affecting a bewildered air. If the staff determined him brain damaged, his feigned confusion will alleviate any suspicions she might have regarding his behavior.
"Coming on two weeks now."
Two weeks.
Vlair swallows the curse that lumps in his throat. Kella has a two week lead on him. The asari might not be on the damn Citadel anymore. He grinds his teeth, twists the crumpled edge of his sheets. With his support connections re-established, his attendant whirls about and checks the levels of the fluids that should be pumping into his body and the machines that should be tracking his vitals. An omni-tool flares around her left arm. The active pane she analyzes contains a digital record of his status over the last twenty-four hours. Her personal tech must synch with all this heavy duty hardware. Putting on his best little-lost-drell voice, he prods the woman out of her silence.
"Where am I?"
The woman glances over her shoulder. Shaggy, red-blonde hair swishes with the turn of her head. Frowning, she swipes a hand across her forehead.
"What the hell am I thinking?" She deactivates her omni-tool and comes to his cot-side.
Med whites stretch over her large chest and cling to her wide hips. Her breasts bounce with her determined stride. A heart shaped face matches her heart shaped mouth. Every bit of her is plump and rosy and a familiar, and not unpleasant, ache intensifies below Vlair's waist. He twists his hips, crosses one leg over the other. The papery gown and thin sheets covering him don't conceal much. The woman lays a soft hand on his shoulder. Concern makes her round, brown eyes watery.
"You're at Open Arms I on Zakera ward. Do you remember anything from…before?"
Vlair's acutely aware of all that transpired prior his relocation to this free clinic. This woman doesn't need to know that. He furrows his brow and strokes his bottom lip. Her eyes track the motion of his fingers. Her tongue darts over her lips, making them shine. An ideal response.
"I think a party, maybe?"
She nods. "Yes. The gala for commander Shepard. Anything else coming back to you?"
Placing a hand on his head, Vlair says, "Lots of noise, I think. Bright lights. It's all murky. Do you know what happened to me?"
The woman draws away her hand. "I wish I did. Treating you would have been a lot easier had we known. I still can't believe you're conscious."
"Are you my doctor?"
The med-whites this woman fills out so well don't have physician patches or pins. She's likely a volunteer or a nurse. Proving his theory, she flicks the tag clipped above her right breast. A picture of her with eyes half-closed and mouth slack is next to her name: Cameron Davis.
"I'm your night cycle nurse," Cameron says.
"Can you tell me what my charts say? How I got here?"
Cameron's lips purse. She scratches the back of her neck and shoots a wary look over her shoulder. Vlair touches her left hand which dangles at her side.
"Please." He gives her hand a squeeze. "Being in the dark…I don't like it."
Cameron's expression warms. "I get that." Her fingers absently twine with his. "Your vitals were non-existent when you arrived. Most of the gala casualties got transferred to Huerta Memorial on the ring, but you had no ID, so C-Sec gave you to us. We're the closest free clinic to Citadel Security's Junction hub."
Stiffening, Vlair grips Cameron's hand a little too hard. She squeaks and slips his hold, massages her fingers. C-Sec can't know he's awake. Not until he secures his data on Kella. They'll have him warming a cell bench faster than he can blink his secondary lids. Cameron's monologue interrupts his thoughts.
"Dr. Psorin brought you back. You were in deep shock at first, then you slipped into a coma. Your symptoms and bloodwork had all the indications of a potent toxin, but we couldn't find any traces of it in your system."
Despite her emotional involvement and carelessness during the Udina initiative, Kella isn't dumb enough to put an altered drug in anyone that can be traced and studied. Not even the AY-Eternity compound can be isolated or identified two hours post injection. All a forensic team would find in a dosed chameleon operative are trace levels of red sand and Minagen X3. Whatever the asari injected him with was potent. Vlair inwardly thanks the hanar. Their toxin immunity training—hanar possess toxin glands in their tentacles and all assassin trainees are regularly exposed to strengthen their tolerance—has ensured his survival. And his revenge.
"C-Sec has been getting daily reports on your status."
Vlair comes to attention at this. Cameron goes on.
"Dr. Psorin's been trying to convince them you're a lost cause, a drain on clinic resources. Guess C-Sec knew he was wrong. They've sent over an officer everyday." Cameron tears at her bottom lip. "Something about following up with their investigations." Both hands go to the sides of her head. "What am I thinking?" Activating her omni-tool, she flicks up an active pane, starts typing.
"What are you doing?" Vlair's hands tense on his thighs.
"Alerting Dr. Psorin that you're responsive. If he wakes up to a report of a flatlined patient, he'll have my head."
"I flatlined?"
The night cycle nurse looks at him like she would an idiot. "You disconnected yourself from the support tech. Only the supervising doctor can approve a re-synch of these systems with the network."
Vlair almost laughs. "I'm legally dead right now?"
"Not legally, but data wise, yes," Cameron says and proceeds with her typing.
Hand shooting out, Vlair seizes and twists around the nurse's holo-gauntleted arm.
"Hey!" Cameron jerks against his grasp. As weak as he is, she almost breaks it. Brute strength won't serve him at present. What else can he do?
Unfocusing his gaze, Vlair strains. The backs of his eyes sting. His vision blurs with the tears he summons. The hand with which he restrains Cameron goes slack. The night cycle nurse frees herself, rubs her likely bruised forearm as she retreats to the far side of the chamber. Vlair slumps.
"Please," he begs and from the corner of his eye he watches Cameron. If that omni-tool goes off again she'll give him no choice. Incapacitating her will cost him health and energy wise, but if she connects with that doctor, it's over for him. "I need help. You're the only one I can trust." Tears plop-plop from his cheeks onto the thin blanket draped over his lap. They form wet, gray patches on the white cloth.
"You'll get help." Cameron's voice quavers. "Once Sr. Psorin gets here—"
"No, please!" Vlair contorts his upper body so he faces his nurse and wrings the sheets in his hands. "I can't—No one can know I'm alive."
Mouth agape, Cameron slides along the wall. She's searching for the exit while trying not to alarm him. She must think him mad.
"It's true," Vlair says, maintaining eye contact. He must reach her before she bolts. Thigh and arm muscles tighten. Any move she makes he'll intercept. Doing away with her quietly won't present a problem, but her cooperation serves him more than her death. "I may not remember exactly what happened to me at the gala," he lies, "but I have a pretty good idea who tried to kill me."
A hand rests atop Cameron's chest. "Murder," she whispers and swallows.
Vlair nods. "Some, ah, not so nice people will go a long way to keep my silence."
Cameron's posture eases. Casting off a bit of her reticence, she inches towards the cot. "What people?"
The I'm-in-danger routine has her hooked. Why not bring her into the game? Vlair angles his body away from her for dramatic effect and to conceal his smile.
"I've already said enough. If anything happened to you…I couldn't live with myself."
The nurse's squeaking footfalls make his gums tingle. She's ventured closer. Vlair keeps the opposite wall his focus.
"I can't help you if you're not honest with me," Cameron says.
Honesty. Good idea. Nothing makes lies more believable than mixing them with the truth. Slowly, Vlair repositions himself in Cameron's direction. He lifts his head, but doesn't meet her eye. A spray of freckles stippling the bridge of her nose transfixes him.
"Ambassador Udina," Vlair says and pauses while he brings up phlegm, makes his voice ragged. "Is he…"
"Dead? No. He's been all over the feeds." Cameron, superb source of information that she is, continues her chatter without prompting. "I think C-Sec wanted to keep things quiet about the security breach, but the ambassador's really pounding the war drum, using himself to put political pressure on C-Sec and the Council. He's demanding more humans in C-Sec and more eyes on chemical imports and exports, the drug market." She flaps her hand. "All that." Then her mouth, which has recently fascinated Vlair, opens wide and she covers it, whispers through her gloved fingers. "Are you saying you're involved with the Udina drama?"
Drama. An odd descriptor for an assassination attempt, but Vlair goes with it.
"Not directly. I know the people involved. I've worked for them in the past."
"Worked how?"
Vlair doesn't bother disguising his amusement. "Not how you're thinking."
"Do you know the pretty woman they've been showing on the feeds?"
Vlair's heart gives a loud thump. "Neve's alive?"
"Oh, my God!" Cameron pounces on the side of his cot, fists her hands in the bedclothes. "You do know them. Yeah, the lady assassin's alive. Someone captured footage of a turian officer carrying her from the hotel and posted it to the extranet. She was a club dancer or something. A few people who were at the gala commented on the vid until their sig IDs got blocked. ANN picked up the footage and shotted the comments before C-Sec did a white out on the escaped data. It's still big news in human extranet cliques." Leaning closer to him, Cameron asks, "So, are you like, a C-Sec informant?" She licks her lips, hungry for his response. A hundred better ways she could use her tongue flit through Vlair's thoughts.
"Not as of yet," he says. "But I hope to be."
The hospital cot jounces when Cameron pushes herself off it. She paces at Vlair's bedside.
"Then we'll contact C-Sec first and they can secure you or whatever it is they call it. Dr. Psorin can't fire me over that, I don't think."
For fuck's sake.
Vlair closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. Steering this woman tests his patience. This espionage fantasy he's spoonfed her has obviously gone down well, but C-Sec go-fer isn't the role she should play.
"C-Sec can't know. Not yet."
"Why not?" Cameron asks, obviously irritated at her plan being put out of its misery.
"The…organization I worked for has agents within C-Sec. If the wrong officer gets to me first, it's over. For both of us."
"Shit."
Vlair nods.
"It really is some ginormous conspiracy, isn't it?"
Again, Vlair nods.
"I don't know what I can do to help."
And now she's right where she should be.
"Keep me dead," Vlair says.
Cameron's face blanks. She starts shaking her head.
"Listen to me." Vlair grips the edge of his mattress, leans towards her. "Your life is in danger as long as I'm alive. I know too much and anyone who's had contact with me will be regarded as a loose end."
The nurse's pink cheeks whiten. Her eyes get big while her mouth puckers.
"If I'm dead, you're safe."
"But you're not dead and I'm not a killer." Cameron sneaks a peek at her feet and toys with her fingers. "Well, not IRL, anyway."
A coughing fit shakes Vlair when he chuckles. The violent tremors make his insides ache. Breathing is painful. He thumps his chest with his fist. A gentle hand covers his own while another cups the back of his neck. Cameron eases him onto the cot.
"Fuck approval," she says. "Once I get your support system back online you'll have access to your painkillers."
"Wait." Vlair grabs Cameron's wrist. "Re-synching them will log my vitals. There's something I need you to do before activation."
"What?" Cameron's right brow hooks up.
"I need you to bring me a few items from the pharmaceutical storeroom."
"I can't just lift drugs out of storage. They're monitored and I'd like to keep my job."
Vlair props himself on his elbows. "A job is useless when you're dead. Are there security cams in the storeroom?"
Snorting, Cameron says, "Security cams? Are you kidding? This is a free clinic. Any tech we don't need to save lives we don't get. The supervising nurse on the unit keeps a tally of commonly skimmed drugs."
"Nothing we need will be missed."
A few relatively benign chemicals introduced in a drell's system induces a deep paralysis. Vital signs seemingly shut down. Without performing a specific test for the condition, no one would know Vlair still lived. And why would a xeno-internalist at a free clinic order a costly test on a brain dead, resource draining drell with no res-ID when they could simply declare him deceased? A crease forms in the middle of Cameron's brows.
"You want to fake your death. If you do that you'll get transported to a temporary stasis center for post mortem dissection, you know."
"The death paralysis will have lifted by then. I can get myself out of a stasis ampoule." Vlair groans at the memory. The last time he did this on Illium he didn't wake up until the stasis ampoule got through half of its chill protocols. He shivers, recalling how his numb hands and feet had gone a shade of green so dark he thought they'd turned black. Even now when he gets too cold his extremities twinge.
"There's an awful lot that could go wrong with this plan," Cameron says. "What if Dr. Psorin figures out you're not dead or you don't wake up before they starting cutting on you?" She nibbles at her gloved fingertips like a duct mite would a piece of metal.
"Then I pray I survive and throw myself on C-Sec's mercy. As long as an enemy agent doesn't get to me first, I should be able to bargain my knowledge for their protection."
Fear makes Cameron's dark eyes vacant. If she doesn't stop gnawing her fingers she'll bite through her glove. Snagging the rubbery material with his fingers, Vlair jerks her hand from her mouth, sandwiches it in his palms.
"I'll keep your involvement a secret."
Cameron squeezes his bottom hand. "And if this works? What then?"
"Then I will meet you on Zakera point. Wait for me there."
"Wouldn't it be bad if someone saw us together?"
"Only if that someone recognizes me. I have ways around that and we'll need each other."
"We will?" A strange, hopeful smile quirks one corner of Cameron's mouth.
"I'll need a place to hide for a few days," he takes her other hand, massages each of her fingers. No rings. No husband. Judging by her response to him, her gentling and receptive attitude to his touch and proximity, she has no one in her life she finds particularly meaningful. No rival stands in his way. He can set up a safe place for a while where he'll have time to figure out how to retrieve the information Kella stole from him. Without it, his grounds for negotiation with Citadel Security aren't as solid. "And you'll need my protection until I get our situation settled with C-Sec."
Blood colors Cameron's cheeks. Her lips redden, pupils dilate. The thought of time alone with him obviously pleases her. Vlair will make her assistance worth her while. Should she agree.
"This is insane," Cameron mutters, then nods. "Al-alright. I'll do it. I'll help you."
Softening his features, Vlair gives her his best vulnerable impression. "Thank you." He slides his hands up her arms. "I knew you wouldn't abandon me." He rests his head between her breasts.
Why did these women make it so easy?