Chapter 3
Claire gave a loud exasperated sigh as she unhooked a scowling Darien from his IV line, then stood aside to watch anxiously as he struggled up unaided off the bed and made his way slowly and laboriously across to the bathroom. The male nurse who had unwittingly caused the current squabble between Keeper and Kept wisely kept out of the way, standing clear across the room.
Deep down Darien knew Claire only fussed because she cared so much and that none of this was her fault, but he wasn't a complete invalid…not yet anyhow…and he'd be damned if he was going to just lie back and let them give him a freakin' BED BATH, or let that…that nurse follow him into the bathroom to keep watch in case he expired while taking a goddamned pee. He was of the firm belief that a persons private functions should be…well, private…so bringing in someone to help him with his most basic of bodily needs was one compromise too many as far as Darien was concerned.
As he finally entered the bathroom he flashed another defiant glare as a warning to Claire and the nurse to back off and leave him be, slamming the door behind him with a resounding thud for good measure.
The lovely doctor paused until she felt it was safe to creep towards the bathroom door, but was halted mid-step as the clearly not-amused voice drifted through from the other side. "Keepie. Go away!" The sound of the shower suddenly drowned out any response she was tempted to make.
Claire dismissed the nurse, and after a another minute or so of clandestine eavesdropping to make sure Darien hadn't passed out on the floor she made the decision to return to her own Lab, giving it a decent interval before coming back to check up on the stubborn fool - that's if her already fragile nerves could stand the wait.
Mentally ticking off her 'things to do today' list, it took Claire a moment to take in the deserted hallway and the fact that for the middle of the morning the building was eerily quiet. There was no sign of any of the medical staff brought in to help with Darien's care, or of his personal protection team - at least two of them were usually posted outside Lab 3. The only conclusion she could come up with where security was concerned at least, was that perhaps they'd been called upstairs for an emergency briefing. But she had every intention of checking this with Eberts; the directive from on high was that Darien was never left unguarded at any time these days.
The door to the Keep slid open, but with her attention temporarily distracted Claire wasn't prepared for someone to be standing right the other side.
"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed loudly, pressing a hand over her mouth until she could recover her wits. "Oh, Wesley, " she gave a nervous giggle,. "you gave me a bit of a sho…Oh!" her words trailed off into a gasp the moment she caught sight of the three bodies lying sprawled on the floor of the Lab behind him. It was only then that she noticed the syringe in his hand.
"I was just coming to find you, Claire." Wesley Carter's words were almost an apology, and she took a couple of stumbled steps backwards, sensing at once the two figures moving in from either side. A pair of firm hands grasped her shoulders, holding her in place as something sharp bit into her neck and Claire tried to call out but no words would come. Her gaze locked accusingly with Carter's as the sedative took effect and pulled her into an inky blackness.
Hobbes and Monroe sat in the state-of the-art surveillance room within the facility, fully prepared to spend the best part of the day fast forwarding through the videos stacked in front of them, in the hope of getting a half way descent glimpse of this mysterious Dr. Ferguson. In actual fact, they had what they needed within the first 15 minutes of the very first video, recorded during one of Dr. Ferguson's early visits to 'treat' Ella Craven, before she was moved to the infirmary.
The tall thin man was unmistakably their very own Dr. Wesley Carter.
Monroe looked stunned and Hobbes just sat there for the longest time with his mouth agape. Then a sudden horrifying realization galvanized him to action and he was scrambling to pull his cell phone desperately from the inside pocket of his jacket.
"Oh my God, Darien!"
TBC
