Chapter Four: An Unnerving Discovery

There are accomplishments in life that are never recognized for just how astoundingly great they are. They are the kinds of acts that take patience, courage, and heart to complete- the kinds that deserve medals, cheering, and possibly large sums of money. Managing to sleep through the night at a hospital is one of these amazing accomplishments. Matthias was sure it would have taken a level of Olympic training that he most certainly did not possess to achieve. Goddamn hospital.

If it wasn't the nurse coming in every few hours to fiddle with the IV equipment, it was the scuff of shoes outside his door, or the babble of people passing by- hospitals never slept and thus, neither could their inhabitants.

Instead of sleeping, he spent most of the night paging through a textbook Erik had left with half hearted interest. The morphine was slow to leave his system and whatever was in the IV drip kept him groggy at best. The state between sleep and wakefulness was his own private purgatory for the night. The textbook proved to be somewhat interesting.

He continued to puzzle over the flowers. It wasn't a particularly mysterious gesture, someone sending flowers when one was in a hospital, but the fact he couldn't come up with their sender tortured him to no end. It was just like his mind to refuse to let it go.

He didn't bother to check for the time- the nurses' routines were more than indicative. When someone opened the door- and they never knocked- he could smell the steam tray food before he saw it. Erik obviously hadn't put in a word about that.

Matthias grimaced at the woman, "No, thank you."

"Try it. If you don't want it, don't eat it."

She wasn't particularly cheery, but it didn't bother him. The cheery ones got to him. He suspected they'd be the first to go suicide angel on him. Despite his gloomy aura, death wasn't on his current list of things to do and being smothered in the night by a well meaning woman in white wasn't exactly how he wanted to go.

She set the tray down on the side table and gave him a look that dared to ask her for help.

He raised an eyebrow in response and the silent agreement was reached; she would fuck off kindly and he would continue on with his life that was of no consequence to her. It was a good agreement in his opinion.

When she closed the door with a click behind her, he went back to the textbook. The world was full of dirty secrets that hid in history and he took great delight in learning them. Perhaps he could use them to buy off karma later in life.

Erik stopped by after he'd gone through a chapter or two in detail. Visitation hours only started at two but of course Erik could get past that with little difficulty.

"Not in the mood for eggs and toast?" Erik lifted the lid of the untouched tray, glancing at him with a tone laced with light accusation.

"Is that what it is. My theory is that the generic plastic food children outgrow playing with is donated to the kitchens here."

"Smart ass. At least have some toast." He coaxed, tugging up his slacks so he could sit comfortably.

"Can't say I'm hungry." He closed the textbook; this appeared to be a sit down and pay attention sort of visit. "Maybe later." He added to appease.

Erik shrugged, "Just as well, I guess. You probably won't be feeling too good after all of yesterday's trauma. Today you have to try walking, you know."

He felt his face twitch.

Erik nodded, "It won't be pleasant. Anne says recovery is about eight weeks because you let it rupture." Again with the finger pointing, "Don't roll your eyes. You should have said something sooner."

A grunt was all he managed, fidgeting with the IV in his hand.

"So, let's try sitting on the edge of the bed first."

"… Do I get to wear pants or do I get extra points for doing it in a paper smock?"

Erik blushed- he'd never grow out of being embarrassed- and got to his feet. "Do you want me to call a nurse?"

He snorted, "Right. Because I feel embarrassment. Don't worry, you have enough embarrassment for the both of us. Just get the pants." It was true. He found things distasteful or personally objectionable, but responded to very little emotionally. He had originally thought the void of feeling he experienced after his coma would leech away with time, but it hadn't. He wasn't sure if he cared or not.

It was like one big joke the universe had set against him; did he care about not caring? He couldn't tell. It probably wasn't worth it anyhow. It seemed like a lot of work to give a damn.

Erik nodded, busying himself with rummaging through the bag on the floor.

While he was preoccupied, Matthias attempted to sit up- he could feel pain loud and clear. Something sore and too tight stretched in his abdomen and he hesitated- was that normal?

"Ack- you can never just wait, can you?" Erik dropped the black sweats over the chair in his haste to help.

"Au contraire, I am a man of infinite patience." He gritted through his pain-clenched teeth. Who would have thought the removal of one useless organ would cause so much grief. "A man humble enough to request assistance, not so much."

He was gifted with a despairing sigh of agreement and an arm to hang onto. The pain-free, daily motions a person goes through are never more appreciated than as when they are replaced by ones accompanied by stabbing pains.

When he was successfully sitting on the edge of the bed, legs hanging over the side, Erik helped him manoeuvre into the pants. Any help on his own part was quickly shot down due to the impossible requirement of having to bend down. He settled for a vaguely uncomfortable state of uselessness.

He was beginning to think Darwin had designs on him. Mentally he willed the long gone scientist to mind his own finch-cataloguing business, thank you very much. He had no plans to breed so he should a free pass on premature extinction.

"You want to try a shirt? Something button-up?" Erik had backed off but continued to emit readiness to intercept.

He shook his head. "I'll deal with it later. I can manage a shirt. I'm not leaving the room today anyhow." Enough pain for one day. Erik seemed about to protest so he changed the subject abruptly, "Did Anne send me flowers?"

Predictably, it confused him. "What? Flowers?"

He nodded his head at the vase, the blooms soft pastel hues amongst the greenery.

"Oh! I didn't even see those- I haven't spoken to her..?" He trailed off in a question, staring at them.

"They aren't signed and obviously they're not from you. The only thing Anne would send me is a signed note telling me off for wasting taxpayers' money with my apparent subconscious need to end up back in this hospital."

"I'll speak to her- and you have a point. I think you have Stockholm for St. Augustine's."

"I think so too. I begin to find myself yearning for its deliberately withheld love and heavy handed mixed signals."

Erik chuckled, "Good to hear you're feeling better."

Matthias hummed, "One organ short but still alive." The coolness of the room invaded the opened strip up the back of the paper smock.

"I'll speak to Anne about the flowers. When did they come in? I'm guessing you've been thinking about it all day."

"Yesterday night. No name on the card. Have a look." As Erik moved to examine it, he pulled up a tidbit of information he'd stored away, "Does the last name 'Westfall' mean anything to you?"

Erik set the card back down he'd been frowning at. "It's the last name of the intern who congratulated me when you came out of surgery yesterday- Sven."

The pieces fell into their slots- he recalled Sven Westfall's brown-nosing. His mind eliminated the possibilities- not the same person, too much of a coincidence to be unrelated, must be siblings. "He has a sister. She volunteers here and brought the flowers in yesterday. I also ran into her looking for Anne when I went in for my last interrogation session."

Unconcerned, he nodded. "Sure. That's not so strange- people have siblings. Makes sense if he works here and she volunteers here. She probably got in on account of his good work."

He fell silent. He was probably being too suspicious about all of this- grasping at straws to figure out random coincidences in his life. They had their own alibis, after all.

"And don't think you've gotten out of walking around today. At least walk around the room." Erik scolded.

He wasn't ready to let go of the nagging suspicion yet. It didn't have a clear focus yet but he continued to worry it. "...Fine."

Cleaning up a fallen leaf from the flowers, Erik shook his head, "You're still stuck on it, aren't you? I'll ask Anne and she'll know. What did you want to know? What's bothering you so much?"

"Find out who sent the flowers and find out who Casey Westfall is. She has taken a strange interest in me." He gestured for the button up shirt laying over the still opened bag on the chair. "I want that shirt now." His spine was getting uncomfortably cool.

"Why? Did she say something to you?"

"She spilt coffee on me and wrote her number on my arm when I went to my appointment with Anne and-" he continued, slightly muffled as he pulled the loose smock off slowly, carefully over his head rather than deal with the ties, "She brought those flowers but claimed not to know who they were from. She is strange- her motives are undetermined."

Erik snorted, taking him by surprise. He looked up sharply, halfway through shrugging on the shirt that had been handed to him wordlessly.

"What? You've got yourself an admirer. It's about time, Matthias. You used to tease me for shying away from the dating circle, you know."

"Yes but you were hilarious." This entire idea was unnerving- this strange girl and her interest set him on edge.

"Well, you're pretty amusing too." He said, light-hearted. He zipped up the bag and placed it back on the floor, beside the chair. "Try not to worry about it too much. She's just a girl drawn in by your dark and mysterious nature."

He didn't think he could have mustered an expression for that even if he were normal.

Erik chuckled at his blank look and lack of retort. "But really, I'm sure she's not going to hurt you."

"If you say so." He wasn't convinced. He'd seen the television shows about hospital malpractice where emotions were concerned. Today he was a crush, tomorrow he got the old air bubble in the intravenous method- a little overdose of morphine- a steam tray to the head. New to TLC: The Hospital Bachelorette.

"I do say so. So get up, let's at least try walking."

At the very least, the unwelcome pain drove the suspicion out of his mind for the moment.

The door to his room opened yet again around what he guessed must be supper time. He debated not opening his eyes but that would have been counterproductive in his vigilance against suicide angel nurses and their well-meaning pillow-smotherings. It was currently quite high on his list of concerns.

The same anti-cheery nurse greeted him with a grunt and the removal of his untouched breakfast tray. Erik must have caught the lunch one on his way out. He sought out her nametag, an idea lighting his logical brain.

"Helen." He tried to sit up and failed spectacularly. It was difficult to get someone's attention when you were invalid. "I have a request."

She set the supper tray down with slightly more force than required and rounded on him, her generously proportioned figure menacing. Screw suicide angel, he was going to get smothered for being an inconvenience. He tried for a sweeter tone- something difficult for him.

"Ah, as I'm sure you're aware, I have ties to Erik Shafer. I'm interested in a particular volunteer hire file and Erik has stepped out for the evening. Would you be so kind as to find someone to fetch that for me?"

Her mouth grew thin and she turned back to the door, "I don't think so."

Matthias reconsidered, raising his voice, "I could make it worth your while."

Helen paused, her nurse's shoes squeaking in protest. She put a hand on her wide hip and half turned, "Like what?"

"I know where Anne keeps her good coffee."

Helen turned, a new light in her dark eyes- one of a fox who has discovered the in to the henhouse. "Go on." She was a woman who looked to be in her forties, with prematurely greying brown hair, scrubs as plain as her face, and cynical eyes; a woman who was looking for a little payback for what life hadn't given her.

He felt a rare smile curl the corners of his lips. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship. "I'm looking for the hire file on a recent volunteer. Bring it to me for tonight only, you can have it back before breakfast tomorrow, and I'll let you in on where Anne Burgees keeps her coffee and when she isn't around."

Helen considered him, eyeing him with a seemingly growing respect. "Whose file?"

"Casey Westfall. I know you have access to that one. Been here a while, haven't you Helen?" He relaxed fractionally. Now they had a business relationship.

"Twenty years. I'll get that file after I finish helping out with these trays." She was brisk, to the point- it was refreshing. After a pause she added, "You've got a reputation here, Lauhlin."

"So I'm told."

"Are you setting me up?"

"No. I want that file for personal reasons. You want coffee that doesn't taste like shit. It's an equal opportunity transaction."

She didn't seem convinced. "Just how much sway do you hold here?"

"Not much. I operate on reputation and threat, mostly. But I do have sway over Erik."

"Who is Dr. Burgess' poster boy." She finished, crossing her arms.

He was beginning to enjoy this woman's company. "That's right."

Helen raised her chin, "I want to work geriatric. Older folks are my favourite- they deserve respect and those witches on the geriatric wing treat them like garbage."

A wolfish smile exposed his canines, "Maybe they need someone up there. Perhaps Erik knows. I'll speak to him."

"I'll have that paperwork here in fifteen." Without another word, she turned on her heel and squeaked out the door.

He allowed himself a feeling of satisfaction. Perhaps this file would shed some light on just who this girl was.

His eyes fell back to the flowers. He hadn't suspected Casey of sending them- what would be the motivation behind that? Would she have sent them and then lied about not sending them? Surely there was no sense in that.

But then, who played by the rules of logic anymore? He was beginning to feel he was the only one left.

While he waited, he peaked in the steam tray; mystery meat, mashed potatoes and some overcooked green mass that was probably once green beans. Despite his mental aversion, his body was beginning to protest the impromptu hunger strike. With a sigh, he pulled it closer and began to pick at the potatoes. They seemed the most likely candidates to have once been alive and growing at some point.

True to her word, Helen was back in about fifteen minutes. She slipped into his room with more grace than a woman of her size should have been able to display.

"Run into any trouble?"

"No. How's supper?"

"It's necessary, let's leave it at that." He replaced the lid with some difficulty due to his sore abdomen and sat back again.

She handed him a small stack of papers. "I found the hire file and pulled the medical file and work schedule while I was at it."

He raised an eyebrow, "Above and beyond the call of duty." The stack was heavier in his hands that he'd expected, the paper rasping against his fingers.

"I try." She turned to leave, "I expect you to do the same."

"Oh I will." He inclined his head at her retreating figure, "Rest assured, Helen."

"Goodnight. I expect those under the tray by breakfast."

"Of course." He agreed, eyes already on the folder in front of him. "Oh, and the coffee is in the lock box in the employee staff room, combo 24-24-48."

The door closed with a snap and Matthias flipped opened the folder. The first document was a hire record written by Anne- he recognized her handwriting and her signature at the bottom of the paper. Scanning the paper, he found nothing suspicious and nothing that he hadn't already gleamed for himself. She was described as 'perky' and 'extremely exuberant'; great traits for a modern candy striper.

Candy stripers, although an obsolete term, fell under the umbrella term of volunteer. A position filled by a majority of women interested in a future career in the medical field. Essentially, it was a gopher job- deliver things, run for messages, and visit with patients. It made sense that Casey had gotten the volunteer job on recommendation of her brother. Anne had even noted that they were related.

According to pop culture, questioning her older brother would only get him into trouble- even if he did look dead on his feet and was younger than Matthias.

He skimmed the paper for anything he'd missed before placing it behind the stack. The next paper was a handwritten schedule of her work days. Tomorrow at noon until the evening was her next shift. Somehow he didn't doubt he'd see her- whether he went looking for her or not.

The last few papers were her medical records. Definitely papers he shouldn't have access to but he didn't think he'd gleam anything too interesting from the basic facts anyhow. Where she was born, her parent's names, her middle name and- he paused, stuck on a particular fact typed so neatly on the white sheet. Surely this was a typo mistake.

Frowning, he looked more closely at it- as if somehow, it would realign itself to suit what he knew if he just looked closer. Surely it was a mistake. Perhaps there had been some error on her birth certificate that her family had never bothered to correct.

"I'm gay"

"I know. So am I."

That first time she'd run into him- it couldn't be true. He felt his face contort in some sort of mild, unnerved sort of confusion. Logic didn't lie and all things supported this impossible claim. He went over the facts again.

Her hands, the way she was just slightly 'off', the fact she was interested in him and yet claimed to be gay- the feeling of having been duped invaded him. It made him question everything- what else was he missing?

Replacing the papers in the folder with more care than needed, he stared across the room at nothing. Lost in thought, a frown still fixed on his face, he contemplated the fact that the tiny pixie of a girl who was haunting him was not in fact a person of the female gender at all.

It seemed Casey Westfall was, in fact, a boy.