CW: fade to black sex scene (not explicit), and a major dissociative episode
The song Lucky sings is "Luck be a Lady" sung by Frank Sinatra
Six couldn't sleep.
She couldn't eat.
She could barely even think.
How could she possibly do anything at all, knowing what she knew, what Mobius had told her? She'd always known, somehow, that there was something off about Miss Minutes, way before she'd had a breakdown in the locker room, but hearing Mobius confirm it made her beyond excited. Frightened, even. The way Mobius had zipped around on his jet ski like a child with a new toy, was how she'd felt when she'd seen the fake beach for the first time… or when she'd realized she actually loved Lucky. Mobius had been right. There was nothing wrong with any of them.
But there was something wrong with that shapeshifter.
While running through the bowels of the TVA trying to catch him, she'd turned the corner to find who she thought, at first glance, was her Mobius. But the look in his eyes-wide, almost feral-didn't fit his face at all. They'd gotten a good look at each other, both of them seemingly too frightened to speak for a moment. Then, the shapeshifter had squinted at her, just like the Mobius she knew, and the look on his face told her, without a doubt, that he knew exactly who she was. He opened his mouth and whispered… something. It had sounded like, "silver." And before she knew it, he'd barrelled towards her and knocked her to the floor.
It was all completely baffling. What in the world did "silver" mean? And why had he looked at her like he had so much more to say?
Six paced back and forth across her room, thinking-overthinking-while chewing nervously on her nail. She suddenly felt jealous of the doppelganger in her dreams, who could do whatever she wanted, go wherever she pleased, even if she wasn't real.
Six pulled her finger away from her face and gasped. The hangnail she was mindlessly chewing on had started to bleed profusely.
She rushed to the sink and rinsed off the blood, staunching it with a wad of toilet paper. She didn't dare call for Miss Minutes' help. Thankfully, it was now their off-day, the last one before their final exam and subsequent matriculation into the TVA, and she only had to deal with Miss Minutes once, as a wake-up call.
But after that, she'd still be their co-worker, their supervisor. She was everywhere, omnipresent.
For all time, always.
She pulled the toilet paper away after a minute. The bleeding had stopped. She didn't need a bandage, even though the wound really stung, now. It was deeper than it looked.
Six couldn't be alone for a second longer. Her thoughts were tearing away at her; frightened, excited, overwhelming thoughts that poked through her skull and into her brain, like needles, thoughts that chewed on her more ferociously than she chewed on her own nails.
She practically ran out of her hallway and into Lucky's, and knocked on his door. After a second or two, his voice called out from the other side.
"Uh… hold on…"
Seconds ticked by, but she could hear nothing. She raised her hand to knock again, and then Lucky answered, looking utterly run-down and miserable. His normally tall, confident posture was stooped and pathetic, and rings of pink rimmed his eyes, like he'd been crying. A sniffle and a swipe of his hand across his nose confirmed it.
"What's up?" he said, attempting a smile, but failing.
"Just wandered over to see what you were up to," she replied, cautiously. His handbook lay open on the bed behind him. "Studying?"
"Yeah. Trying," he mumbled.
She went over and took a closer glance at where he was in his reading. It was opened to a page near the back, wavy, wrinkled and distorted. She realized he'd been crying into his book.
"Those last chapters are pretty hard," she ventured, turning around. He was crying again, freely, now that the door had closed behind them.
He came to her and laid his head on her shoulder, his face hot and damp. His hands reached around and moved to the small of her back. A soft, pleasing tingle went up, and especially down, her spine, though his demeanor didn't suggest he was thinking the same thing she was.
"Those people," he whispered into her hair, holding her close. "I thought they would just get a slap on the wrist. A demerit, at most. I didn't know…"
He trailed off and buried his face into her shoulder. Six was surprised. So he did care, after all, more than she ever expected.
She ran her hand through his hair as he gulped down breath.
"I'm sure you're not the first person-" she began, but cut herself off. That didn't feel like the right thing to say. Nothing did, really, so she just held him in silence until he'd calmed himself down.
"I wasn't trying to hurt anybody," he said with a sniffle, pulling himself away. She reached up, instinctively wiping the tears from his drenched face. "I don't know if this makes sense to anyone but me, but I'm scared that that's just what I do, you know? What if my purpose isn't to be an agent? What if it's just to hurt people?"
She tilted her head at him. "You're right, Lucky, that doesn't make any sense at all. Why would you think that?"
He grimaced, bit his lip, as if he didn't want to elaborate further, then sucked in a breath and did, anyway. "I've been having a lot of nightmares lately. And in all of them, I'm hurting people. I'm always angry, and jealous of someone, or trying to take revenge, and it all feels perfectly natural in my dreams. Then I wake up and wonder what the hell is wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you," she said gently, echoing Mobius' words. "They're all just dreams. It's not real. Maybe you're dreaming of it so much because you're scared of becoming that way? Maybe you feel guilty?"
Lucky slumped and sat down on the bed, tossing his handbook off to the side.
"Maybe I can't stop thinking about how you're not going to be an agent with me," he muttered. "It still isn't fair. There's nobody to take revenge on. Especially not stupid Miss Minutes." His gaze and voice grew dark for a moment, like he was dredging up something deep and stagnant within himself. "Sometimes I wish she had a real body, so I could smash it and watch all the parts fly out of her."
Six chuckled and sat down on the bed next to him. "You know, I had that exact same thought when she was questioning me," she said. "Perhaps we do think alike, sometimes."
"Perhaps."
Lucky looked over and gazed deep into her eyes, and Six didn't waste time wondering what was on his mind. She kissed him slowly, felt both of them relax. There was no urgency in it now, even though they had so little time left together. They savored each other, their cares fading into the background noise of their small, suppressed lives.
She let out a breath and pulled away for a moment, giving him a seductive smile.
"Do you want to finish what we started in the file archives?"
Lucky's expression went blank, bemused, then that sweet, winning grin flashed across his face. Without another word, they laid back into the bed together, flush and warm with eager happiness Six was sure she'd never feel again.
They woke from a blissful, dreamless nap, one they'd both sorely needed after such vigorous activity, and fished around the room for the clothes they'd stripped off of each other. The anxiety that had plagued her before had vanished, and Lucky seemed to be himself again, too. Their little escapade had released all of the tension out of the room.
Six piped up as both of them were buttoning up their shirts and tying their ties.
"Do you remember the promise you made me last week? What you promised we'd do on our last off-day together?"
He glanced up at her in surprise, then grinned. "You read my mind, Six. I was going to-" he stopped abruptly, examining his tie.
"What is it?"
He flipped up the end of his tie, which seemed too short for him.
"Is this your tie?"
She glanced down at hers, which was now much too long, reaching all the way to her hips.
They laughed at each other, then took them off again and switched.
"Anyway, like I was saying, I was going to take you to do karaoke."
She rolled her eyes at him. "You would have forgotten if I hadn't said something."
"Oh no, I wouldn't have. Trust me," he insisted, finishing up his tie, then straightening hers.
"It's straight!" she said, trying to lightly bat his hand away.
"It is not," he replied, then finally stopped fussing with it. "There. Now it is. Why can you never do your tie right, Six?"
She stuck out her tongue at him and giggled when he grabbed her playfully around the waist and stole a peck on the cheek. They gave each other one more quick once-over, to make sure all of their buttons were in the right holes and their shirts tucked in neatly, then took off for the elevator.
They took a series of elevators down to the recreation floor, never straying more than a foot from each other's side. As they walked down the karaoke hallway to the left of the terminal, Six noticed Lucky peeking in through every lit up window they passed.
"What are you doing?"
"Being nosy," he answered, and added almost under his breath, "I wonder if he came back."
"Who?"
Lucky suddenly stopped and gave her a surprised glance, obviously not expecting her to hear him muttering to himself.
"I saw… him… a couple of nights ago, down here in one of the rooms. I nearly caught him, too," he bragged. "That's why Mobius wanted to catch him so badly."
"He could be down here?" she rasped. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I was afraid you might chicken out and not want to come."
She narrowed her eyes at him incredulously. "I'm not scared of him."
"But he nearly killed you!"
She let out a bark of laughter, quickly covering her mouth. "No, he didn't! He just pushed me down and ran off!"
"Well, he could have killed you," he grunted in response. They moved further down the infinite hallway, Lucky still peeking into the windows. "What do you think he's going to do?"
"Who? Mobius or the shapeshifter?"
He whipped his head around and shushed her, even though no one could possibly hear them. The hallway was deserted.
"The… you-know-what, of course. My theory is that he wants to kill Mobius and take his place."
Six had to bite her tongue to keep from guffawing. Lucky gave her an indignant, offended look.
"Lucky, he's not going to do that. Why would anyone want to take his place? You think he wants a job here?"
"No, listen! He could replace Mobius, and then start letting variants go, and then screw up the timeline-"
"And then Miss Minutes would notice, and he'd get caught red-handed. Great plan. The TVA knows everything. The second someone messes up, they'd figure it out."
"The TVA hasn't caught the you-know-what yet, though, even though they know about him."
Six opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but closed it again, realizing Lucky was right on that point, at least.
"Well, I still don't think he's out to murder anyone. Remember when you thought there was a monster in the vents? One that drank soda?"
He grumbled something indecipherable, and she giggled at him, prodding him in the stomach and back to get him to keep moving down the hallway.
They finally ducked into a room, far away from the other occupied ones, and turned on the lights. The room was small and cozy, sparsely furnished with two long couches positioned in the corner, and a little stage which held a karaoke machine and microphone stand. The projection screen behind the stage was pure white, brightening up the whole room in its harsh light.
"Okay," she said, flopping down on one of the couches. "What do we sing first? We should probably find a song we like, then listen to it a few times…"
She trailed off as Lucky hopped onto the stage, made a beeline for the machine, and started pushing buttons. It wasn't random, either. He knew precisely what he was doing.
Six gave him a suspicious look and rested her head in one hand.
"What are you up to?"
"Oh, nothing," he said, ever-so-innocently, never taking his eyes off the karaoke machine. "Just playing around."
He definitely wasn't 'just playing around'. Lucky had something up his sleeve. Six smiled to herself and waited patiently for him to reveal it.
Lucky, satisfied, finally backed away from the machine, grabbed the mic off the stand, shrugged as nonchalantly as he could muster, and said, "Well, I guess I should start."
With an almost imperceptible smile, he pressed one more button. Her breath caught in her throat as the lights dimmed to a low, blue glow, with pinpricks of stars shining all over the walls, transporting them to the depths of space. An invisible orchestra swelled from the speakers all around the room. Lucky, now almost hidden in the dark, lifted the mic to his lips just as lyrics appeared behind him on the screen.
"They call you Lady Luck,
But there is room for doubt,
Sometimes you have a very unladylike way of running out.
You're on this date with me,
The pickin's have been lush,
And yet before this evening is over you might give me the brush."
Six couldn't stop a big smile from spreading from ear to ear. She was sure she was blushing bright red, and was thankful the room was too dark for him to tell. He'd been planning this, obviously, just for her. She swooned a little at his surprisingly smooth voice, too. The tone of it hit something deep inside her, that made her feel lightheaded, almost giddy.
Her dream twin had been right. He was worth every ounce of trouble.
Lucky continued, singing his heart out to his captive audience of one.
"You might forget your manners,
You might refuse to stay,
And so the best that I can do is pray…"
At the pause in the music, he reached over to the machine, pressed a few buttons in rapid succession, and the lights burst into life. Starlight gave way to bright blue and purple and pink, undulating over each other, flashing in time with the explosion of swinging brass music.
Lucky swayed with the music, snapped his fingers with the rhythm, having the time of his life as he belted.
"Luck be a lady tonight,
Luck be a lady tonight,
Luck, if you've ever been a lady to begin with,
Luck be a lady tonight."
The lightheaded swoon came back, this time not caused by his voice, but by a tremble running up and down her spine, just like it had when she'd lost her senses after their first exam. The tingles of electricity grew stronger and stronger, changing from a pleasant prickling sensation to a sharp sting floating all over her spine. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, trying to enjoy Lucky's song.
"Luck let a gentleman see,
How nice of a dame you can be,
Men tærne danser og fossene stanser,
When she sings, she sings 'come home.'"
That couldn't possibly be what he was saying, but that's what she heard.
Six gasped, the sound covered by another blast of trumpets, as a crackle of visceral pain shot down her arms. Her heart was suddenly pounding out of her chest. The veil over her mind, already torn a little after her defiance of Miss Minutes, started to rip further. She opened her mouth to cry for help, but nothing came out.
Lucky, now surrounded by a small band next to the bar in the middle of the dining car, continued to sing, oblivious to whatever was happening to Six, who was trying with all her might to scream.
"Men trærne danser og fossene stanser,
Når hun synger, hun synger 'kom hjem,'
Men trærne danser og fossene stanser,
When she sings, she sings 'come home.'"
What the hell did that idiot think he was doing? The guards on the train would be there any second to apprehend them. She kept trying to call out, but her mouth only quivered in useless silence.
He ended the song to a chorus of cheers and applause from everyone else in the dining car. The train sped past the soon-to-be-obliterated landscape of Lamentis-1, visible from the wide windows.
"For Sylvie!" he cried, gesturing to her, sitting at a booth in the corner.
She felt bile building up in her throat. They had to leave! Now!
With all the effort she could muster, she forced herself to stand up and move stiffly towards the doors.
"Sylvie?" she thought he said as he put the microphone back on the stand, which had seemingly just materialized there.
She was still mute, but now could move, at least, so she ran through the doors with a burst of speed, raced down the middle of the connected train cars, which reached forever forward and behind.
"Sylvie? Sylvie!" his cries came from right behind her. She couldn't stop now. They had to make it to Shuroo and get off that doomed planet before it was destroyed.
She didn't understand why or how, but she reached the end of the train cars and ended up in a small alleyway in Shuroo, lit up in neon lights. It was much too deserted. Where were all the escaping refugees?
To her right, and to her surprise, was a small ship with standing room for only a few people, apparently abandoned and ready for takeoff. It didn't matter to her why they'd abandoned it. As long as it worked.
The little ship looked strange on the inside. It was square, with no cockpit or safety harnesses or even a place for the captain to sit. There wasn't even a steering apparatus anywhere that she could see. She tried to make sense of the controls, which consisted of several round buttons, and nothing more. Desperate, she started pressing everything, hoping one of them would make the ship take off.
"Six! Sylvie! Six!"
He caught up to her and put his hand between the slowly closing doors, and hopped on the ship with her.
"Do you have any idea how this thing works?" she asked, lighting up every button. It still wasn't starting. No wonder it had been left behind.
He grabbed her hands away from the controls, held them tight, no matter how she tugged. There was such terror and confusion in his wide, green eyes that it gave her pause.
"Six? What's wrong with you? Please talk to me."
His appearance trembled before her, like watching an uneasy, rippling reflection on the surface of a lake. His hair went from long to short, his shirt from white and clean to blue and filthy, but his face and eyes stayed the same. She focused on those, trying to keep her head straight.
"Six of what?" she said, shaking her head. "I don't understand what you're asking."
He opened his mouth, speechless, and then the ship began to move upwards, silently, at a snail's pace.
She let out a sigh of relief. "Finally," she said. "It's all right now, we're getting out of here."
"Right," he whispered, voice breaking, his eyes never leaving her. "Right. Everything is okay."
He loosened his grip just enough for her to get away. She turned and watched the city and planet below them grow smaller through the clear walls of the strange little ship. She had no idea Shuroo was that dense and massive. It seemed to cling to the sides of the mountains around it, too, almost as if it was enclosed on all sides.
She crossed her arms over her chest and grunted, "This ship is moving much too slow. How in the hell does it even have enough thrust to break through the atmosphere?"
"It's… it's not a ship," he whispered, coming back to her. He placed a hand firmly on her elbow. "Six, we're on an elevator-"
She let out a burst of laughter, as much to disguise her own discomfort as a reaction to his ridiculous idea.
"Have you gone mad?" she asked. "Are you drunk or something? And why do you keep saying 'six' over and over? Six of what?"
He pulled away suddenly, and bit his lip as tears formed in his eyes, then slid down his cheeks.
"Six…" he croaked, starting to sob.
She stared at him, baffled, but couldn't feel sorry for him for long. The ship had stopped mid-flight.
"Oh, no," she gasped, pressing herself into the corner, fully expecting the ship to careen back to the ground. Instead, it stayed silently aloft, floating in midair, as he stared at her helplessly. The doors began to open once more. Who had designed such a terrible spacecraft?
Another passenger entered, as calm as you please, and started messing with the controls. They stepped out of the craft together and inexplicably back into the streets of Shuroo. People wandered around quietly, absorbed in whatever they were doing, totally oblivious to the terrible danger about to befall them.
"This is all wrong," she said, as the spaceship doors closed once again and left both of them behind. "We-we were going up into the sky. How did we get back here?"
"I tried to tell you. Six, you're not okay, at all. We need to go back to the dorm."
Barely paying attention to him, she took off down the street, trying desperately to find another way to escape. The clothes and faces of the people walking by shifted and rippled and melted into colors and shapes she could barely recognize. Her stomach flipped over itself, making her stop to catch her breath before dry heaving.
"Oh, dear, are you all right?"
An older woman had stopped to give her a concerned stare. Other curious bystanders gathered close. The lady tried to support her with a kind hand, but a ripple of sheer pain shot through her back and arms, and she shouted with rage and terror. With all her might, she gathered every bit of magical power inside of herself and shoved it outward, to push all of those clueless dolts out of her space.
Nothing happened. Her magic wasn't working. She felt for it in her deepest soul, frantically searching like a man who'd suddenly gone blind. It was nowhere to be found.
She let out a trembling groan of fear. Her knees started to give way. The world pulsed in time with her fluttering heartbeat. Just before she fell, he caught her, draped her arm over his shoulder.
"Let me get a medic-" began the older woman, but he shook his head.
"No! No medic! Please, don't call a medic! Everything's all right."
She groaned again, barely able to keep herself upright. She swallowed, her mouth dry, head swimming.
She looked straight into his terrified gaze and spoke, though the words that came out of her mouth no longer felt like her own voice.
"I can't use magic. What happened to our magic?"
He nearly dropped her to the floor. "Our magic?" he asked. "We don't have magic."
"Yes we do," she said, her voice straining to a frightened squeak. She was starting to cry, now, despite herself. "What's happening? It hurts so much…"
"She needs a medic!" repeated the woman.
"No medic!" he shouted. "Come on, Six. You can make it."
The man she loved, but couldn't entirely remember the name of, helped her completely to her feet, then practically dragged her back to the spaceship-elevator. He couldn't hold her up anymore, and she sagged to the ground, her vision fading quickly, then going blank.
Six woke, still disoriented, but free of pain, on top of Lucky's bed. Her first sensation was moist heat enveloping her head, an almost suffocating closeness to Lucky's face. He had laid down next to her, propped up on one elbow, his head hovering above hers protectively. He ran his hand over her hair, gently moving sweaty, tear soaked strands away from her face as he whispered to her.
"Please be okay. I love you so much. Please."
"Lucky?" she rasped, and he gasped with relief, his face lighting up.
"Oh, thank god. I was so scared you weren't coming back."
He kissed her over and over as she lay helplessly on his bed, then lowered his head down on top of her chest, giving her a breath of fresh air.
Six moved her numb, cold hand to rest it on top of his back, though it seemed to take much more energy and concentration than it should have. It felt like moving a mannequin's arm that wasn't attached to her own body at all. His heat broke through the deathly cold of her skin, though, soothing her, bringing her slowly back to life. She tried lifting her head, but was met with a wall of dizziness, and laid it back down again. Instead, she closed her eyes and enjoyed their silent comfort together.
After a long moment, Lucky moved his head slowly to the side.
"Do you remember anything that happened back there?"
She nearly answered in the affirmative, but something deep in her soul stopped her. To her own surprise, she did remember everything, from the strange feeling overtaking her in the karaoke room, to fainting in the elevator. What she didn't remember was why. It all felt totally disconnected from her, and utterly terrifying, like looking into a mirror while your reflection did things you weren't doing.
"I… don't remember," she lied. He took a breath, she assumed to relay everything back to her, but she cut him off. "I can't handle it right now, Lucky. I'm already dizzy." That was the truth, at least.
He chuckled lightly. "I'm just so happy you-"
Lucky stopped all of a sudden, then his whole body went rigid. He was staring at something in front of him, on the other side of the bed. He pulled himself away quickly and stood up.
"Miss Minutes," he whispered.
Six whipped her head around, regretting it instantly as nausea pounded her skull like a hammer. She moaned, snapped her eyes shut tight, but not before seeing Miss Minutes projecting herself on top of Lucky's desk, glaring at the both of them.
"Someone called for me while you were making a scene in the hallway," she said, her normally cheerful voice flat and carefully even. "Six, hun, you're awfully sick. A medic is going to-"
"No!" Lucky blurted, startling both Six and Miss Minutes. He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, pleading with her. He grabbed onto Six's arm, forgetting himself completely. "No! Don't! Don't take her!"
"Quiet, L-7!" she snapped, even more viciously than she had threatened Six in the locker room. "I could give you at least two demerits right here and now for this behavior."
"What the hell did I do wrong?" he growled.
Keep your head, Six pleaded with him silently as his grip grew tighter around her arm.
"You obviously have no regard for the rules I've been teaching y'all," she answered, glancing at his hands, which refused to let go of Six. "Not to mention, you actively refused to call a medic for someone who needed it."
"I know what you'll do to her! I won't let you!"
"You're hurting me," said Six, not because it was true, but to break the rage about to bubble over inside of him. It worked. He let go of her and seemed to get a hold of himself, still staring daggers at Miss Minutes.
"Now, I went ahead and called a medic myself," Miss Minutes continued chidingly, "and you're not going to get in their way. L-63 needs treatment right now, it can't wait any longer."
Lucky let out a whimper and gripped at the comforter so hard it seemed he might tear it.
"No, no, no, no," he groaned painfully under his breath. "This can't be happening."
"L-7," Miss Minutes wearily warned him, with a roll of her cartoon eyes, "There's no reason to be so overdramatic. This is standard procedure."
Six, meanwhile, watching everything unfold from her practically useless body, was more nauseous than afraid. Somehow, she was almost calmer than she'd ever been, as if she'd expected this to come sooner than it had. She was about to be swallowed by the banal evil of bureaucratic tyranny, and felt hardly anything at all. She whispered to Lucky, trying to smile.
"It's okay," she said as he continued to whimper and rock at the side of the bed. "I'm okay. I'll be okay."
Lucky let out a single shuddering sob, his face growing so red it was almost purple.
Just then, his door slid open, and a woman in a medic's coat entered, her gray hair back in a neat bun. Both Dr. Alltid and Six's eyes opened wide as they recognized each other.
Lucky, on the other hand, apparently didn't recognize the medic, and jumped to his feet, putting himself between Six and Dr. Alltid. The doctor threw up her hands defensively.
"Hey, don't worry," she told Lucky. "Everything's going to be perfectly fine."
Lucky snarled at her, as if ready to fight her off with his bare hands, when his expression suddenly changed. Perhaps he finally realized who the medic was, or the gentle, knowing look in her eyes told him she wasn't lying. Either way, he sniffled, wiped his nose, and then stepped back and let her take a look at Six.
As Dr. Alltid knelt down next to the bed, Miss Minutes said, matter-of-factly, "Dr. Alltid, please transport L-63 to exam room eighty-nine, floor-"
"Miss Minutes," she cut her off, to Six's surprise, "I'd like to examine her here first, if you don't mind." She turned back to Six. "Can you lift your head for me?"
She tried again, then groaned. "No. I'm dizzy."
"You can't expect me to get her to an exam room if she can't even move?"
Miss Minutes stared at her and Six for a moment, seemingly unsatisfied, but let out a curt sigh and shrugged at the medic.
"Do what you think is best for now, doctor. But she is going to have to go to an exam room, eventually."
"Let's see what's wrong, first," said Dr. Alltid. Six was amazed at how gallantly the doctor blew off Miss Minute's commands… and got away with it. The doctor opened Six's eyelids and looked into her eyes with a little flashlight, did the same to her open mouth, felt her forehead and her pulse with practiced and gentle movements. Her eye lingered on Six's hand, where she'd bitten on her hangnail til it bled. Then, she brought a small tool out of her pocket, something that looked like a giant pen with a screen on the side.
"Let me put this under your tongue so I can take your temperature," she said. Six obeyed, and it beeped a few seconds later. Dr. Alltid frowned at the reading.
"Hmm. Thirty eight point three degrees celsius. She's got a fever," she told Miss Minutes, who crossed her arms impatiently as the medic disinfected the thermometer.
"But I feel cold," Six insisted.
"That's what a fever can feel like, sometimes." She pressed a button on the thermometer a few times, then rubbed a tiny alcohol pad over Six's inner arm. "Now, I'm going to take a tiny blood sample, okay? It's gonna sting for just a second."
Before Six could prepare herself, Dr. Alltid had already pressed the other, broad end of the little thermometer against her arm. She felt the tiniest prick, barely even a pinch, and when the doctor pulled the device away, she was left with a smudge of crimson blood on her arm, which Dr. Alltid staunched with a bit of gauze. It only took about as long for the device to read her blood sample as it had to read her temperature. Dr. Alltid nodded sagely at whatever was on the little screen.
"That's what I suspected. White blood cell count is up, glucose is down. She has an infection."
"An infection?" said Miss Minutes. "From what?"
Dr. Alltid reached for Six's hand and showed Miss Minutes where she'd bitten off the hangnail. The wound was red, and sore, but it didn't feel that bad anymore.
"How old is that wound, Six?" asked Miss Minutes suspiciously.
Six opened her mouth to insist that she'd only done it that day, but Dr. Alltid shot her a look she couldn't ignore. There was panic underneath it, a warning. Somehow, Six realized she needed to lie.
"Um… four days old?" she said. Dr. Alltid nodded again and started typing things into her chart.
Miss Minutes harrumphed under her breath. "But that kind of delirium suggests-"
"-An infection." Dr. Alltid gently, but firmly finished the sentence for her. "It's quite common. She's probably dehydrated too, which would compound the problem." Dr. Alltid fished around in a little fanny pack at her side, which had been hidden under her coat, and brought out a tiny, orange bottle with a few pills rattling around inside.
"Here, sweetheart," she said, handing the bottle to Six. "These are antibiotics. Take one per day until you feel better. And drink lots of water."
Miss Minutes glanced between Six and the doctor with the slightest scowl on her face, as though she couldn't decide whether to be angry or not, then finally rolled her eyes and grunted, "Fine. If you're certain she doesn't need further examination, doctor…?"
"She doesn't," said Dr. Alltid, putting her chart and tools back into her pocket, giving Miss Minutes a small grin.
"All right then." Miss Minutes spoke to Lucky, who'd been standing off to the side of the room, silent and bewildered. "I expect her to be back in her room before curfew, no matter how much her head hurts. I will check. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Miss Minutes," Six and Lucky replied in unison.
The second Miss Minutes vanished, Dr. Alltid's countenance changed completely. She let her grin fall, let out a long sigh, then leaned over the bed, still kneeling next to it, and put her head in both hands.
"Thank god she bought it," she murmured.
"She's not really sick?" Lucky edged over to the side of the bed.
The doctor shook her head. "Not with an infection or a fever, no." She patted Six's hand and gave her a big smile. "You did good, though. Don't actually take any of those pills. Flush one down the toilet per day. That should be enough to keep Miss Minutes from getting suspicious."
Six returned her smile, the realization dawning on her that Dr. Alltid was more than a medic. She was a guardian angel.
"But… what's actually wrong with her?" Lucky asked.
"I don't know. All I know is that she can't be left in an exam room alone with Miss Minutes. The second I got a call about an employee acting delirious, I knew that's exactly what was going to happen. I didn't think it was going to be you, though."
Lucky's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and Six said simply, "We've met before."
Dr. Alltid stood, then seemed to give Six another once-over glance. She clicked her tongue and brought something else out of her pack; a tube of quick healing gel and a blister pack with a single pill inside. She put a little dollop of the gel on Six's finger, then handed her the pill.
"This is for nausea and dizziness," she explained. "It should be enough to help you get to your feet. And honey," she added quietly, "whatever happened out there, try as hard as you can not to let it happen again. You might not get me next time."
Six nodded, even though it made her head swim.
"Thank you, doctor," whispered Lucky, his voice breaking, then he gave Dr. Alltid a huge hug. The doctor, bemused, returned it with a halfhearted pat on the back.
She left, and Lucky sank back down to his knees and gathered Six to the side of the bed, pressing her close to him. It made her so dizzy she wanted to vomit, but she let him hold her. She might not be able to keep her affliction a secret forever. At least for that moment, wrapped lovingly in Lucky's arms, protected by Dr. Alltid's mercy and quick thinking, she felt safe.