a cliff when Declan walks slowly into the clinic. He’s hesitantly looking around the one room building when his mystical eyes meet mine. I give my patient a small smile when he says thank you, taking the bag of medicine and additional gauze Dr. Thierry gave him. The patient gives Declan a scowl on his way out, a watchful glare thrown toward the hybrid.
In the quietest of growls the fae speaks as if spitting down on the hybrid as he passes. “Pike.”
I flinch, jarred from the impact of the simple but angry statement. Declan appears to overlook the hate slur, his hands in his pockets, eyes cast down in apparent thought. A heavy feeling presses into my chest as I swallow hard, blinking up at him.
The doctor is writing in her large charting book she carries with her and her pencil scratching softly against the paper is the only noise that can be heard in the quietness.
Declan looks out of place in the small white tiled room. His natural light complexion and black shirt and cargo jeans cast severely against the white walls. A dryness consumes my throat and I swallow harshly to clear it. I try to appear busy, cleaning up the old bandages and wiping down my table.
Dr. Thierry’s head slowly tilts up, seeming to feel the anxious silence all around us. A look passes from me to Declan, waiting to hear what he needs.
“Could I, um- Could I speak with you for a minute?” he asks, finally looking at me. He shifts his stance, finding his confidence again.
A nervousness fills my body, tensing my shoulders and limbs and settling into my sweating, unoccupied hands. I shouldn’t have overreacted about our training this morning. He was trying to help me and my mind went to a place it hasn’t wandered to in so long, I had forgotten it even existed at all.
I glance to Dr. Thierry and start to ask if I can take a five-minute break but a look crosses the women’s thin, smooth features. A strange, happy, knowing look. She looks Declan’s lean body up and down before standing abruptly from her desk, the legs of her chair scraping against the tile. “Fallon, I’m going to run out to our storage and see if I can’t find a few old files I’ve been meaning to update. I’ll put the board back over the door while I’m gone so no one comes in. I shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.” She says as she flitters through the room with a cheerful smile.
I’m left gawking at her from my seat. She gives Declan a pleasant smile when she passes, pushing her wire rim glasses up her pert nose and walks right out the door. The thud, as the board that covers the abandoned looking building falls into place behind her, is the final note in her bizarre performance.
“That was strange,” Declan says, his brow creased as he looks over his shoulder at the door.
A quietness settles over us again. I’m basically locked in a room with the last person I wanted to see again today and I have no idea what to say to him. He tilts his head and takes a look around the tiny space before his eyes settle back on me. At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t know what to say.
“I’ve never actually been in here,” he says nodding to himself. “It’s… cleaner than I expected.” His gaze appraises the shining floor and the small organized desk I sit at.
“It kind of has to be,” I say, trying to fill the void of silence “Risk of infection and all.”
He nods in agreement, with a little too much enthusiasm. I can’t think of a thing to say but I also can’t stop looking at him. The sharp angles of his face. His hair that constantly threatens to spill into his light eyes. The way his jeans hang loosely on his lean waist. I glance away at the last thought.
Why am I being so weird around him? Get ahold of yourself, Fallon.
He licks his lips and walks close to my table. The pen I’m holding falls to the floor with a small clicking sound. I don’t pick it up but the noise of the plastic hitting tile clings in the silent air.
“I – I wanted to talk about this morning.” He pauses, waiting for any recognition in my face but all I provide is a blank stare. Willing myself not to speak. “I’m sorry.