Between

Chapter Twenty-Four

Medical bay aboard the OSV Nightjar, approx. 420 nautical miles off the mid-eastern coast of Corzibar

"I understand you're feeling better, Miss Miller, but I really must insist you not bear weight on that leg until I can personally inspect it and come to terms with your...remarkable...capacity for such rapid skeletal reconstruction."

Doctor Eva North's voice broke Wren from her thoughts as she stood by a tiny porthole staring out into the foggy ocean. She pivoted—on her bad ankle, no less—and faced the black haired woman with a frown.

"You've already cut my arm in three places and watched it heal, Doctor," Wren issued as her brows knitted. "I promise that's what's happening with my ankle too."

North crossed her arms over her chest and cocked an eyebrow back at the younger woman.

"Bed. Now."

Wren glowered but made her way back over to her cot, the shackles tying her wrists together clanking as she moved. She had counted two sunrises since she had found herself on board the Nightjar, but she had no idea how much time had passed before she had arrived there. All she could think about was Foster and her family, and whether the HMUC had gone after them.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, her logical mind told her it was more than likely that the HMUC indeed gone after them, and that they had also probably succeeded in capturing them.

"Miss Miller?"

The doctor was standing beside the cot now, her hand gesturing at Wren's injured ankle. Obliging, as she didn't have much choice, the blonde moved her leg so North could pull up her hospital gown and place the imaging device over her ankle.

"Are these shackles really still necessary?" Wren inquired, watching the screen until she grew squeamish at the sight of so many screws in the bones. She lifted her bound wrists for effect. "I'm not going to hurt anyone. I just freaked out a little and panicked."

The doctor only smiled and continued studying the screen and moving the reader around on her patient's leg.

"Although I have to say I'm also kind of freaked out by the fact that you even bothered to fix my leg at all. If I was still at the scrub I would already be dead. Especially after my...episode...with that gun."

North's expression changed, though Wren couldn't quite determine how to read it. She pulled the gown back down to cover her lower leg and collected all the parts and cables for the machine, hanging them on the side of the monitor. The woman adjusted her glasses but said nothing.

"Your other doctor wouldn't tell me what was going on either. I'm starting to think you people don't know as much about Ill-Borns as you claim to know."

This time, the frown was indication enough of Eva North's internal thoughts.

"I certainly hope you do become more pleasant to deal with in the future, Miss Miller."

To this, Wren wasn't sure how to respond. Was that an implication that she would be speaking with North beyond her immediate medical situation? The others had said she was being transported to another scrub, had they not? Was North coming too? Did they even have medical officers in the scrubs?

"You're cleared to walk as you see fit," the doctor continued, turning her back and washing her hands at the ward room's sink. "Though I don't believe the SSO will allow for your shackles to be removed just yet. If anyone can hold a grudge, it's Lennox. I would strongly advise against irritating her any further than you already have, Miss Miller."

"I don't think irritating is the right word," Wren mumbled.

"Probably not," came another voice, and Wren jumped in surprise. Both she and Eva North looked to see who had approached. Wren recognized her by the cuts and scrapes around one eye.