Vancouver Rural Area 2259, 45.
There was something infinitely humbling about the boom of thunder. Different from the roar of an engine or the steady noise of a city, it was one of nature's most imposing sounds. Eve felt the corner of her lip tug as it resonated above her, casting out across the inky grey clouds. She kept her eyes shut, arms outstretched as raindrops tugged and pressed against her clothes and skin.
"There will come soft rains," she murmured, lids slowly lifting. The green of the yard was vibrant under the torrential downpour, the thunder having cracked open the sky. The poem her mother used to recite made its way around her mind. The rain was cold – February rain which in higher altitude was sinking in downy flakes. But here it hammered against the skin, thick drops which caused a mist upon collision.
She turned to look as she heard giggling, and smiled as she saw the set of mismatched eyes – one blue, one green – peeking out at her. The face was small, still round with childhood. Eve crouched, grinning as she held her hands out. "Come into the rain, Lacy."
The little girl squeaked, ducking back behind the glass which was doubled by the open door. As she moved out of the doorway, the second pane slid back in place to form a wall of paneled windows. Eve leaned her head to one side, lifting her brows. The girl wouldn't be able to hear her anymore, but the look conveyed enough challenge that Lacy dashed back to the door, straining up on tiptoe to touch the clear center of a steel ring, which lit up at her touch and opened the door again upon recognizing the hand.
Squealing, she rushed out into the rain, shrieking in delight as Eve ran and scooped her up, throwing her onto one shoulder and spinning her round shouting, "Take off in three, two, one!"
The little girl made her best rocket noise, and Eve shook her obligingly before the pair dissolved into laughter, and Eve slid her into her arms so that they were face to face. "How was my little rocket ship's day?"
"Good." She said obligingly, little hands snaring in Eve's wet locks. The rain had snatched away the red of her hair, turning it a deep nearly auburn shade. It made for a strange contrast when the girl held it up to her own pale blond. "I got to read my story out loud in class."
"Oh, you wrote story!" Eve made sure to sound enthused. "Was it about a female captain who saves her crew?"
"No." The little girl drew the word out teasingly, eager to play a game.
"No?" Eve bit her lip exaggeratedly, caring Lacy toward the door. "Was it about an Vorta that lost its ears?"
"No!"
"Hmm…" Evelette made sure the door was locked before caring Lacy further into the house, the pair of them leaving a dripping trail. "How about a Vulcan who accidentally pinched his own nerve?"
"No!"
"Well then what?"
"About you in space, and you save the world from an asteroid, and get famous, and people all want to be your friends."
"Oh, I did that a before you were born." Eve tweaked the girls nose before depositing her on the bright pink bed spread that matched the rest of the little girl's room. "You should put on some dry clothes before your mother finds out I let you out in the rain."
There was a high pitched melody, which distracted both of them for a moment. Eve reached into the damp pocket of her pants, drawing out her communicator. "Lacy what time is your Mom home?"
"Soon." Lacy frowned, pouting on her bed.
"Okay, tell her I stopped by and get her to call me alright?" She flashed her niece a reassuring smile. "I've got to run back to my hospital, but I'm coming back for dinner okay? I want to hear your story."
"Here!" Lacy leapt off her bed, scooping her backpack up and running over to her aunt, hoisting up a small disk. "Mommy recorded me reading it out loud, so you can listen to it while you go to the office."
Eve took the silver cylinder, ruffling her niece's hair. "You still have to read it when I get back though, right?"
Lacy nodded vehemently, and Evelette poked her side. "Get dressed – see you later."
"Bye Aunty." Lacy called as Eve left her, hurrying down the hall and pulling open her communicator as she passed two cleaning bots working on mopping up her trail of liquid.
"Doctor Swan," She said into the com, collecting her jacket off a chair and pulling it on, glancing doubtfully at the blur of her car in the drive, obscured by the rain.
"Doctor, sorry to disturb you, but there's a man here to see you who's being rather insistent. I can have security remove him if you would like?" Her secretary sounded worried.
"Did he have an appointment we somehow missed?" Eve wondered aloud, stashing her niece's disk in her pocket and placing the com on a table as she slid the straps of her jacket through buckles, pulling up the collar on her trench coat. She picked the com back up.
"No Doctor, but he says he's a personal friend."
"Did he give a name?"
"He said to tell you John had arrived."
Eve paused, hand on the panel to open the front door. She blinked as it slid open, the rain pattering against her black flats, reeling against the chilling thought. John Harrison on Earth – what the hell could the Admiral have in mind to send the former patient to collect her?
One thing was certain: he wasn't here because Marcus had accepted her demands.
"I'm coming back, Ezra. See if he'd like something to drink, then I want you to go home early alright? I'll call you once I'm done. Make sure no one disturbs him while he waits."
"Doctor is everything alright?" The elderly woman's voice seemed strained. In their time working together since Eve had started her own practice, Ezra had become a motherly figure. Old frizzy white hair, dark skin time carved and yet warm. The secretary had more compassion than anyone Evelette had ever met, but she had no stomach for violence. When patients suffering mental illness became violent, Ezra would always get upset. The idea of the elderly woman and John in a room together made Eve's heart speed up.
Covering the communicator under her jacket, she dashed across to her car, leaping in gratefully as the door of the red vehicle slid upward. She put a hand on the wheel and the door shut, and as she put her seatbelt on she began talking again.
"Everything is fine. He's an old friend, but he wasn't meant to arrive for a few days. We'll be talking for a while… You said your daughter was in her third trimester? I don't think I'll be making my family dinner, someone ought to. Send Danielle my best wishes."
"Alright. But if you need anything -"
"I'll call someone else." Evelette glanced over her shoulder, pulling out of the driveway carefully. "Go have a lovely evening Ezra – I don't want to see you until tomorrow morning, you understand? Relax and enjoy your time with Danielle."
"Oh I will Doctor. Drive safely."
"You too."
She shut the communicator and shot off down the road. Suburb and carefully established nature gave way to cement and gliding architecture as she entered the city of Vancouver. The traffic was insistent as always, and she found herself drumming her fingers on the wheel as she waited for it to move. On a good day she could go from her office to her sister's house in a half hour, but here it took nearly twice that. By the time she pulled in in front of the impressive structure made mostly of glass, she was suffering tremors in her hands.
When she'd said she'd go no further with Marcus' plan three months back, she hadn't honestly believed she'd be left in peace. But she had left because John couldn't, because they had trapped him solely for the purpose of pumping out machines of war. She'd implored Marcus to let him go, to let John choose to be Starfleet or live apart from it, and she'd been handed a suggestion to resign. Again.
Four months since she'd seen him last, behind the thick wall of his prison. She was one of the few permitted entry, being in charge of his wellbeing while also being allowed to study the regenerative capabilities of his cells. The last time she'd spoken to him, he had been morose. In her time studying him, she learned that the animalistic under layer of John was his innermost self. Wrapped in genius intelligence and chilled composure, he was human so long as he remained in control. His cage had been wearing away at the control, however. After scanning to check his vitals, he'd snatched her wrist and turned it, the pair of them locking eyes.
His hand had been oddly closed as he laid it over her own, other hand still firmly gripped so she couldn't move it at all. The gesture was as intimate as it was eerie.
"Do you seriously want to know how to help me, Doctor Swan?"
His voice haunted her mind as she entered the building, nodding to the pair of men at the entry desk as they greeted her. The building was multipurpose, her section taking up floors one hundred to one hundred fifteen. There were labs, offices, rooms for patients, waiting rooms, she had even purposed rooms for families of patients to rest in. Her family had always been wealthy, but it was a sizable donation from Starfleet that made the miniature hospital possible – a gift from Admiral Marcus for her first retirement. She treated some of the most severe cases of neural damage of the continent in her private facility. She had thirty doctors and surgeons working under her, a host of nurses and orderlies.
This late in the afternoon, the building was beginning to empty. Many were heading home, but as she opened onto her floor there was the usual thrum of activity. She smiled and nodded as she was greeted on her way through the main foyer – the public elevator only had access to her first floor, the rest were accessed by one of two private elevators. The foyer desk had another receptionist, a young woman who had been in the building a few years now. Her desk was a white oval, encompassing a tall slate of naturally smoothed stone with lettering attached in black metal, the elegant script reading Swan and Associates Neurology Clinic. The floor was white two meter squared tiles, three walls the same material and one the glass which looked over the city. The foyer commanded two stories of it's section, so at the second story line there were windows from waiting rooms and a few offices.
Striding over to the left elevator, she hit the button for one hundred fifteen. No one joined her though there were a few staff members waiting for the lift. She watched the clear doors shut, and then was lifted away from the eyes turned elsewhere. She didn't tolerate unintelligence, and it made plenty of people uneasy. Mostly it was the doctors and surgeons who were comfortable around her, janitors and orderlies and even the nurses tended to be on edge when she entered a room.
If they only knew, she thought as the door opened to her private floor. All her patients were attended to here, kept here while recovering from surgery, given one of the rooms down the hall to the right to stay the night while a loved one did the recovering. She walked up to Ezra's desk, ignoring her name once again plastered to the wall. To her it was pretentious, but the backers for the clinic picked the design. There was a small card sitting on her secretary's keyboard, written in the woman's quick scratching style. Evelette picked it up, reading quickly.
Your friend is waiting in your office. I'm in tomorrow by seven, but don't hesitate to call if you require assistance. I have security on standby, just hit the page button on your office com.
Just in case, of course
Ezra
Tapping the card against the desk, Eve folded it over and place it aside before moving further into the office. This was the only level silent as this hour. There would be a few nurses checking on patients – she presently had a three on site, Mrs. Halestrom suffering from a stroke, Ms. Edlend who was combating a brain tumor, and Mr. Bradley who was simply getting too old to function. But apart from ten, maybe twelve people, the floor would be empty, and none would be near her office. Due to the lack of need, power was lowered on her level at this time, the lights significantly dimmed.
She took a deep breath as she went left rather than right, wet shoes slapping loudly against the tile. As an afterthought, she stopped short and removed them, holding them by her side and padding more quietly as she approached her office. Unlike the rest of the facility, her office had no glass on the walls that were inside the perimeter of the building. Only the ones touching the city were glass, and so the white tile blocked any chance of seeing exactly where John was. Her door was clear, but she stopped in front of it as she noticed the office was dark.
Stepping up to it, the door retracted into the wall to make way for her. Her dimmed lights turned on at her presence, the one on her desk encased in frosted orange glass and several matching hanging orbs dangling from the roof. Her office had a bookcase built into one wall, a set of black leather chairs in front of her black desk, and her own taller black chair. There were tables with various trinkets – a statue of the God Ganesh from when she spent time helping impoverished people in India, a picture of her sister and her brother in law cradling a newborn Lacy between them, a hologram of the Milky Way galaxy which suspended in a miniature form, planets moving sluggishly around the sun.
But the room was empty.
She let out a sigh, moving out a hand to grip the back of one of her patient chairs. She felt unsteady, like she was about to be violently ill. Sitting down, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, covering her eyes with one hand as she waited for the nervousness to pass.
Maybe this was Marcus' sick idea of a message. Send a random agent, get him to call himself John, scare the living crap out of her that she was about to be forced to drop everything for something else he wanted.
"Doctor Swan."
Her eyes flickered open. She didn't dare look. The voice was directly behind her.
"You seem… agitated."