A Healer's War

Chapter 46 - The Last Meal

Chapter 46: The Last Meal

15:10. Saturday - April 28th.

"This is so much better than hospital food," Jane said, taking another huge bite of burrito. She hummed happily, muted by the howling winds outside their tiny rental car. A bit of charred meat landed on the napkin tucked beneath her chin, and she reached down and popped it in her mouth while inspecting her powder-blue blazer for stains. As she chewed, she checked her bright hair in the rear-view mirror, then picked something green and unseemly off her face. She didn't want to look unprofessional. Especially for, arguably, the biggest conversation of her life.

Where is this nurse?

The two-story brick apartment complex was nothing special. Parking lot, stairs, a couple of bushes - the usual crowd. She squinted at apartment 104A from behind her burrito. Jane had already braved the wind once and knocked. No answer—just a loudly meowing cat. Cute. She didn't know why the cat interested her so much, but it felt like a point in the guy's favor. Jane offered to pick the lock, but Emmett talked her out of it.

"I could have that door open in fifteen seconds."

"No," Emmett said from the driver's seat. He hadn't touched his wilting salad. What kind of guy gets a salad from a burrito place?

"Maybe we should check the sewers. Sneak in. His landlord talked highly of him, and you never know about landlords..."

"Not now, Jane."

She wrinkled her nose at the untouched lettuce in his lap. "I told you rabbit food wouldn't cut it." She lined up another bite. "Your brain needs fat and carbs to think, especially before a big bust. See, the glucose is the fuel...-." She chomped down and hummed again. "...-mental flex-i-bility." She turned to find Emmett watching her with disgust. "Wha?!" A bean fell out.

Emmett sighed and turned to face the window, and Jane sized up her pseudo-partner. He had said little since they'd parked, and after a quick inspection, he appeared a little green around the gills. Jittery.

The wind howled, and Jane shivered, glad she was inside. "You okay?"

Emmett's face twisted, and he retched.

"Not in the car!" She reached across him to pull the door open, but he waved her off.

"I'm good. Just a stomach cramp."

"You mean a stress ulcer," Jane said. "You don't casually burn holes in your stomach." She side-eyed him. "Get some food in you, and then tell me what's going on."

"It's watching you eat," he tried but sighed and poked at his salad. "I, well, I messed up with Maxwell, and now... This is bigger. This could be, like, it?" She recognized the look—the same fidgeting distraction her nephew had before his first swim. It turned out that a couple of inflatable ducks strapped to each of his arms were all he needed to hurl himself in. She needed to find Emmett some confidence-building floaties.

"You didn't mess up with Maxwell... per se."

"I tackled him."

Jane laughed. "I wouldn't say it went smoothly, either."

Emmett tossed down his fork and ran both hands through his moussed, dark hair. She needed to get ahead of this quickly.

"My sister has a plaque on the wall with this saying. Drove me nuts when I first moved in, but it grew on me, especially after my attempt. Got me to be a more present person instead of a stressed-out time-traveler. Anyway, this plaque says, 'Borrowed Trouble Doubles.' I think that applies here."

The young agent blinked once, his face confused, but then slowly, he smiled. "Are you trying to give me a pep talk?"

"Only if it's working."