The Leakage

Part 7: Eyes Wide Open

Under the dewy-coated dusk of an early Boston morning, familiar brown eyes fluttered open with a dense gasp. It was as if life had found her once more. Her entire form was limp throughout; her lean muscles almost non-existent, her chest felt hulked from the events of the last two days and yet was buoyant with the concentrated oxygen flowing directly through her nostrils.

"Urgh," Becca groaned under the harsh fluorescent bright lights as a blanket of a white, blurry fog surrounded her tired pupils. The chamber was flagrant and so bright. Still under the spell of noxious fatigue, she blinked a few solid times, her authentic vision starting to emerge.

Becca went to touch her face, needing and trying to inspect the pressure she felt against her cheeks and chin, but a slippery hand stopped her. To her right was a large figure in blue and white in full indistinguishable garb.

"It's an oxygen mask," His level baritone voice explained.

She gave him a nearly unnoticeable nod. Her eyes drooping with exhaustion, her head feeling weightless, and her throat aching with lodged sandpaper.

"W-water," she croaked.

"Sure. Let me page your doctor," Nurse Geoff replied softly. His eyes were focused on finishing up his notes in her chart before promptly leaving her completely alone in this unknown situation.

Becca stared at the blank ceiling, consistently blinking every few moments to try and make sense of this dream sequence. She couldn't believe she was really here, just before she could have sworn she was at home napping on the sofa. She tried to pass the minutes by counting the beeps of the machines attached to her in the deathly quiet atmosphere. Luckily, after not even five minutes, a team of medical professionals came bounding in.

Becca couldn't really remember all the questions being thrown her way, between the lengthy questions about her memory, her vitals and how she felt. Heck , she couldn't even place who her silky-voiced doctor was beneath all that PPE taking the lead of the interrogation at her bedside.

The only thing she could partially remember was being transported from the inpatient room with Rafael by her side, and after that everything was void...

***

On the other side of town, Ethan Ramsey had finally been ushered home to change clothes. He had consumed four strong cups of espresso coffee and took a two-hour nap in his tempered bed. As far as his exhausted limbs were concerned, his willful mind was well-rested. Ethan was just about to turn on his gaslight stove to cook breakfast when the shrilling rings of his landline echoed from the side table in the living room.

In four long strides he rushed to pick up the phone, "Hello?" he grumbled. There were only two people in the world that had his landline number: his father and his mentor.

If they were using this number it must be urgent.

"Good morning, Ethan," Naveen greeted with an emanating smile. "Have you gotten some rest?"

Not in the mood for pleasantries he responded, "I'm fine, Naveen. What is it?"

"When are you planning on coming in today?"

Ethan looked to the small antique wooden clock on the mantle, it was 6:26am. "Eight. Why?"

Naveen paused and Ethan could tell just by the way he expelled his next breath that the old man was nodding to himself. "I'll see you soon."

"Naveen!" Ethan chided before hearing the deafening Click of the line .

His cryptic message had Dr. Ramsey stumbling about the condo to find his cell, his pager, and briefly checking his emails. Anything that would give him any indication as to why his mentor was playing cruel games.