Chapter 4

Sebastian

If someone wereto read a summary of my life on paper, they would probably expect me to have some sort of trauma regarding hospitals. Parents murdered by the mafia. Hunted down by that same mafia. Now working as a private investigator with both the FBI and the newly developed FPA task force.

Surely that meant I'd experienced my fair share of injuries, right?

Well, injuries yes. Hospitals not so much.

Spending so many years in hiding, Damien and I had learned to take care of the majority of physical wounds on our own. Things were better now. We could seek medical help without fear of discovery, but such instincts were ingrained into us so deeply, no amount of time could ever iron it all out.

All that was to say, I couldn't remember the last time I set foot in a hospital. It was more chaotic than I expected. People were constantly moving around, machines beeped just out of sight, and staticy announcements blared from the PA system every few minutes.

I observed it all with wary curiosity as I sat on a hard chair in the waiting room. The John Doe I was there to visit was apparently kept in a special secluded ward where people couldn't just wander in. I needed someone to take me there, but no one seemed in a hurry to do so. Half an hour had passed with nothing to do but read outdated magazines before someone finally called my name.

"Bastian Roth?"

I looked up as my moniker was called out. Freckles and blue eyes filled my vision. A young man dressed in scrubs stood before me with a bright smile on his face. He had red hair—properly ginger, not the auburn color that people often called red—and a pale complexion that made every freckle on his nose and cheeks stand out in stark contrast.

It was like he had a constellation on his face. For a moment I was envious. This man carried his own lucky stars with him wherever he went.

Too late, I realized the sound of my name had been a question and I hadn't answered.

Confusion dimmed the man's smile. "Are you not Bastian Roth? The front desk pointed me toward you, but maybe they were wrong."

Clearing my throat, I stood and tried to look confident, like I hadn't just made such a stupid blunder as forgetting to respond to the name.

"That's me."

"Great." The smile was back, even brighter than before. "I'm nurse Clary, but you can just call me Newt. Everyone does. You're here about the John Doe, right? I can take you to see him. Follow me."

There was no time to reply before the nurse was already walking away. I hurried to follow. If I got lost in this labyrinth of hallways, I would never find my way out without a guide.

Newt?

It was an odd name, probably short for something else, but appropriately cute. Everything about the man was cute. He was small in stature, both in height and width. There was nearly a foot of difference between us, and his steps barely seemed to touch the linoleum floor when he walked. Red hair hung just long enough to touch his chin. Most of it had been pulled back into the smallest ponytail I had ever seen, like a pompom on the back of his head. However, a few locks at the front didn't reach the ponytail and were instead kept out of his face by a pair of barrettes.

Even his scrubs were cute, covered in a colorful Pac-Man design. I hadn't played the game in a while, but I knew how it worked. Instinctually, my gaze traveled down his clothes, plotting out a course through the printed maze that would allow me to collect the most dots and cherries while avoiding ghosts.

It wasn't until I found myself staring at the other man's ass that I realized what I was doing. I'd just been ogling this nurse for several minutes. My thoughts had been innocent, but no one else would know that. From the outside, I probably looked like a letch.

My ears burned hot with embarrassment. I looked away, quickly glancing around to see if anyone had noticed my inappropriate behavior. No one glared at me, so hopefully not, but that was no guarantee.

I sped up so Newt and I walked side by side. This change in position seemed to inspire conversation, for the other man immediately started talking.

"I actually brought this John Doe in a few days ago. It was a warehouse fire. Pretty bad. Hopefully, you can give us some info about his identity. He'll need support to recover, and I hate that he's just lying here alone."

I could feel blue eyes looking up at me, but I kept my gaze carefully pointed forward. "Brought him in?"

"Oh, yeah, I, um..." Newt nervously scratched at his temple, dislodging one of the barrettes so it hung crooked. "I'm a paramedic at Firehouse Twenty-One. We were the ones who responded to the fire, and I'm the one who brought this John Doe to the hospital."

As we stopped at one of the many identical doors, I considered Newt again.

"You don't look like a paramedic. How can you do that and be a nurse?"

If anything, he looked like he should be working with kids. Maybe as a preschool teacher or a nanny. From what I knew about paramedics and nurses, both seemed like difficult jobs.

Where did he find enough hours in the day?

He stopped with his hand on the handle of the door. "Yeah, I get that a lot." He laughed, but it didn't sound happy. "However, I passed all the physical requirements, so don't worry about that. Plus, I'm just a nursing assistant. Not a fully registered nurse. So I only work here part time."

Had I said something wrong?

Newt seemed uncomfortable, twisting at the hem of his scrubs in his free hand like he was wringing them dry. That was a clear sign of nervousness, but I couldn't see anything he had to be nervous about.

Damien often accused me of having a mean resting-bitch-face. When I wasn't actively trying to express an emotion, my face naturally settled into a shape that made it look like I was scowling. Along with my size, and my habit of remaining quiet around people I didn't know, it apparently made for an intimidating combination.

Hoping to relieve the tension that had developed between us, I flashed him an awkward smile. "Having two jobs is still impressive. I can barely handle one some days."

The smile sat awkwardly on my face. Too much of my teeth showed. I felt like a bad imitation of the Cheshire cat. However, my effort worked well enough for Newt to stop fidgeting and finally open the door.

Inside the room, the man lying on the bed barely looked human. There were so many bandages and wires coming off him, I couldn't even tell it was a man. I would have to trust the hospital staff's judgment that this was a John Doe and not a Jane Doe.

"He hasn't woken up yet, thankfully," Newt said as he stepped around to the head of the bed. "If he was awake, we'd have to sedate him, anyway. Almost eighty percent of his body has been burned."

I could feel my face shutting down and my expression reverted to its neutral scowl. It was what I always did when I didn't know how to react. This wasn't the first time I'd seen someone injured. It wasn't even the worst injury I'd seen, but I'd never figured out a good way to react.

What could one possibly say in the face of such tragedy?

"I'm sorry," would never be enough.

Instead, I pressed forward and focused on my job.

"I'll need to see his left wrist. There's supposed to be a birthmark there. If this is the guy I'm looking for anyway."

Newt very carefully turned the man's wrist over, making sure not to disrupt the bandages or the IV.

I stepped over to the side of the bed, holding out my phone with the info that Damien had sent me. The man had a birthmark, but it had been partially destroyed by burns and what little remained was distorted.

Jason Dahler had given us some photos of his brother's birthmark. It looked like a seahorse. Such a unique mark should be easily identifiable. However, the picture was from when Clay was twelve years old. The mark could have changed as he grew.

Shaking my head, I stored my phone back in my coat. "There are some similarities between the marks, but it's not enough for me to say that this is definitely Clay Dahler."

Newt tucked the patient's arm back under the covers. "I'm sorry I can't offer more help. I'd like to figure out who this man is as well. We've already run his DNA, but nothing came up. Once he heals more we hope to run his fingerprints through the channels but for now the burns are simply too severe to get any prints."

I crossed my arms over my chest as I thought. Since I was already here, I wasn't going to walk away without exploring all options.

"DNA? Is it possible to run another DNA test? This time comparing it to someone else? I was hired by a man to find his lost brother. If this John Doe is related to my client, then that would give us both our answers."

"I'd have to ask the hospital's administrator for permission, but it shouldn't be a problem. Let me page them and see."

The administrator in question turned out to be on the other side of the building, and would need to talk to me in person, which meant more waiting. This time, I was directed to a private waiting room just a few doors down. Newt came with me, and I took the opportunity to probe him for more information about the warehouse fire where the John Doe had been found.

The little nurse slash EMT was happy to talk, but unfortunately didn't know much. He'd arrived after the John Doe had been pulled out of the building, and there was nothing interesting about the man's injuries other than the severity of the burns. The only thing of note that he could tell me was a theory that the warehouse fire might have been set deliberately, but even that hadn't been confirmed.

Overall, I was going to be left with nothing to show for a day of work.

I groaned and ran my fingers through my hair, feeling them catch on a few strands. My hair wasn't particularly long, but it had just enough wave to easily tangle.

Noticing my frustration, Newt offered to get me a drink and stepped over to the little refreshment table at the side of the room. Since it was a hospital, there wouldn't be anything stronger than juice, which was a shame. I could use a shot of whiskey or a few fingers of scotch right now.

There was no telling how long I'd have to wait for the administrator to arrive, so I claimed one of the room's cheap plastic seats. The nearest one had its back facing the door, so I turned it around and moved it to the left side of the doorway. This was the safest position in any room, facing the door on the side of the door hinges. Anyone entering the room wouldn't be able to see me around the body of the door, but I would be able to see them. That crucial moment of visibility could be the difference between life or death in an emergency.

I had barely sat down when Newt turned away from the refreshment table with a cup of apple juice in one hand and his phone in the other. Whatever he was looking at must have been bad news, for he swiped his thumb frantically across the screen, and with each new thing he saw his frown deepened.

Distracted as he was, he must not have noticed me move the chair. A flash of shock crossed his face as his foot made contact with my leg. Both the phone and the juice went flying and he tumbled forward into my lap.

"Sorry. So, sorry," he muttered as he fumbled to right himself without touching me. That mostly just resulted in a lot of ineffective squirming.

I wanted to comfort him and say it was okay. I didn't mind, and the apple juice had mostly landed on the floor, leaving only the bottom cuff of my pants wet. However, I said nothing. The sudden surprise of the full weight of another human being sitting on me had made me lock my jaw in place. All I could do was grab his shoulders and sit him upright, so he at least stopped writhing around.

"What is going on?"

An unexpected voice caused both Newt and I to freeze. A woman I'd never seen before stood in the doorway, her arms crossed and brows drawn into a deep frown behind square glasses.

Upon sight of her, Newt jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over me again.

"Miss Constella. I was just helping this visitor with, um, well, you know, the John Doe. He knows him. Or, actually, he knows the man's brother. Maybe. We still aren't sure. It might not be him. But, that's what I called you about. To find out."

So many words fell out of the cute little nurse all at once. Half of his sentences were practically indecipherable. He kept babbling until he ran out of breath, then fell silent with his face burning as bright red as his hair.

The woman, who I assumed was the hospital administrator I needed to speak with, just sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Nurse Clary, please get back to your duties. I'll take it from here."

"Right. Yes. Of course." He bobbed his head, like he almost wanted to bow to her then redirected himself at the last moment. With one last glance back at me, he disappeared out the door and closed it behind him.

The woman sighed again and fixed her glasses back into place.

"Sorry for the trouble," she said and held out her hand to me. "I'm Madine Constella, the administrator for this hospital."

Just as I stood to take her hand, the door opened again, and Newt slunk back inside.

"Sorry. I just need to get..." he trailed off and pointed absently at the far corner. Giving both myself and the woman a wide berth, he crept to the other side of the waiting room and crouched down on the floor to retrieve his phone from under a chair.

"All right, I got it." He waggled the phone in the air to show it off, then seemed to realize what he was doing and quickly stowed it in his pocket. "Okay. Sorry. I'll just go. Bye." As abruptly as he reappeared, he disappeared again.

Miss Constella sighed even louder.

"Mr. Roth. You wanted to ask about a DNA test?"

This time there were no more interruptions, but that didn't make the process any easier. Apparently, having a DNA test done on someone I wasn't related to and didn't have any legal authority over was more complicated than anticipated. Not impossible, thankfully, but it required a lot more paperwork and red tape than I typically handled. Plus, I had to get in contact with Jason Dahler so the hospital could get a DNA sample from him so there would be something to compare.

These kinds of things were usually Damien's job, and despite being thirty-three years old, I felt like a child pretending to be a grown-up as I struggled to sort everything out.

An hour later, the DNA test was finally ordered with a promise that the results would be available within a few days. All I could do was give them my phone number, then go home and wait.

So, that's what I did.