+18 - eps 22-27 - A case takes Russell and Brock to the brink of death. It'll be up to Gillian and the team to rescue them before they're killed by a white supremacist militia. And in the aftermath of the Paris attacks, the threat of a bio attack fo...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Brock let them go out while he paused at the reception desk to give Greta his room key. Because the big wooden thing is so annoying to carry around, right, Brockner? It's got nothing to do with her summer pants wiggling before you. Nothing. Why don't you put on your sunglasses, just in case you can't keep your eyes up her waist?
He went out to the parking lot as Ron and Russell left in one of the SUVs. Gillian waited by another, resting against the hood.
When he headed to the passenger side, she handed him the car keys with a quick smile. "I can open my door, sir, thanks," she said.
Brock took the keys with surgical care not to touch her—aren't you cute! Afraid you may try to hold her hand?—and got in behind the wheel. He started the engine and turned the GPS on as she buckled up her seatbelt. Then he geared in and drove out of the parking lot.
On their way to the Memorial University Medical Center, he thought it was a good idea to acknowledge the magnetic effect Gillian had on him since he'd set foot on the jet a few hours earlier. Once he did, he'd feel in shape to shift his focus to the case. Denying the pull between them was useless. Admitting it was the only way to get some spare room in his head for anything other than her. He knew this inner fuss, caused by the thrill of seeing her again, would die away by the next morning tops. He just needed to let it flow and be a moron with a crush a while longer, until her restless pace to work dragged him along. Then he wouldn't need to whip himself to keep his mind on the case.
At his right, Gillian put on her sunglasses too and kept her eyes on the street. She didn't try to start a conversation, because that would force her to look at him, and then she'd stutter and blush like the pathetic fangirl she was. However, she liked knowing Brock didn't mind if she kept quiet. He behaved formal as always, but a little relaxed from his usual cold distance. He'd even smiled a couple of times. So she was more than fine like this, with him by her side, not needing to come up with anything to say.
Her lips pursed when she recalled the team's choir over the radio—Jesus! Had it really been two years ago? Another silent ride with Brock.
Yeah. Enjoy the silence.
At the Memorial, they were directed to one Doctor Hall, Chief of Infectology. He led them to the special IC units where they kept four infected patients isolated from the rest of the hospital population.
"They're stable now," Hall said. "The inflammation is receding and we're monitoring them twenty-four/seven."
"How do you expect them to evolve?" asked Brock, turning to face the doctor.
"Once we cure the encephalitis, we can say they're safe. But only after all the other symptoms recede, we'll be able to assess what affect the virus had on them."
Gillian kept staring at the sedated patients, surrounded by devices. "You mean what kind of neurological disorders they present."
"Yes. It may take some time to get a realistic prognosis. Neurological infections can be deceiving." Hall shook his head, frustrated. "The problem is that there's no real in-depth investigation on BVD. There isn't even an approved drug to treat it on humans. So all we can do is give them the regular treatment for meningitis and hope for the best."
"If they survive, all of them will need psychiatric follow up?" asked Brock.
"Yes."
Gillian sighed, struggling to keep her angry impotence at bay.
Brock noticed her broody mood and insisted. "Is there any chance of a full recovery for any of them?"
Hall grimaced. "Unlike meningitis, which sometimes can be cured with no further consequences for the patients, there's always an aftermath with BVD."
