The next week found her in the waiting room again. Joy. At least it was nearly empty that time around. Smelled a little too clearly of disinfectants, though. Not a pleasant fragrance... nor one that inspired much hope for the rest of her day.
She'd been dropped off at her "home" the previous week feeling quite a bit better than she had since she could remember, literally. There was no hanging over the toilet for hours, no short-term vision loss. And she'd been able to eat almost right away. A wonder to be hungry.
Looking around in the waiting area, with the lights overhead buzzing and various smells and sounds that could only be that place... all of her wishful thoughts from the past week vanished. It was just as it always was. And that was... horrible.
Instead of a usually very friendly and self-confident Robbie roaming in to save her from the unappreciated monotony... he seemed more to stumble in with absolutely no desire to be there. "Ungh." Was all he greeted, indicating that she should follow. He looked like he'd been incredibly sick for an unimaginably long time. "I'm sure it was the damned tuna sandwich."
She was close behind him, led through the hall... but not too close. He had the human smell of sickness on him--not strong, but enough to know that there was a good possibility that a slight distance was a decent idea. Even the "assistant" spy that had come with him was less than eager to follow closely behind, let alone to cross in front and open the door for him.
It was at that moment that Robbie rudely pushed the "assistant" aside and rushed into the room--grasping the trash can. Kara found herself in the doorway just in time to be disgusted with the sight. Well. That smell would take quite some time to leave her sinuses.
The somewhat equally disturbed "assistant" tried to shake off the desire to lose her own lunch. "Do you need to take a break, Doctor?"
"No, no." He coughed a little, raising up and walking to the sink to clean off. "I'll be fine, thanks. Just get me another trash can?"
Ugh, that meant she'd have to touch what he'd just... ugh. Med school exposed her to a little too much to be comfortable with. "Sure, doctor. You might want to sit down..."
"I'm okay." He reassured, drying his hands. "I'll be okay for another five minutes, that's plenty of time. Haven't been unable to do this job before, don't plan on letting it happen." Clearing his throat, he turned his attention to his "patient". "Go ahead and sit, Kara. I'm fine, really."
And she thought she hadn't wanted to enter those brightly lit little rooms before... She did as she was asked, however, sitting on the exam table and trying not to inhale too deeply.
The instant the "assistant" closed the door, Robbie's eyes watched the shadow move down the hallway. "We've got a few minutes." He simplified, sitting on the stool and bringing it in close. The conversation turned to the records he'd managed to find plenty of time to look through--a little too much time. "I don't know what it means... but I do know that it's not... correct." He sat back and took a deep breath.
Much as she was beyond incredibly grateful... she'd seen him... "Aren't you ill?"
He shook his head with a sensationally forced smile. "A good bit of acting and an unfortunately large dose of Ipecac. Does wonders. Back to the point."
She held her breath as he paused to look at the floor. It was not an appreciated gesture, really... but there was little she could do about it. If he didn't believe, if he refused to be of any help to her, if he was planning to tell anyone about--
"I don't know what to do." He admitted, quietly. After a quick glance at the door to make no one was there yet, he continued quickly. "But I think taking you away from this 'project' might be a good idea."
Her throat was dry with the impossible concept of... joy, was it? Maybe not quite... hope? Perhaps that was it... maybe that's what humans spoke of... "How?"
Robbie cleared his throat softly again, sincerely making note to never, ever make himself throw up again. "When they take you back to... wherever they take you."
So that much wasn't on record... "There are spies. Always."
He nodded, knowing it wouldn't be that easy, knowing their time was short... "Okay. Next week, I want a list. A full list of everything you can think of. Where and how. Every detail you know."
Was he serious? Was he really, really being truthful with her? Might he actually want to... help her? "Why?"
He took a deep breath, standing. If he was caught just sitting there, things wouldn't look good. He was quickly getting the impression that his slowly increasing paranoia was a smart thing to listen to. "Instinct. A feeling." He was quiet for a long time, preparing the vials for the blood drawing. "I can't talk about it here."
Sure enough, as soon as he'd turned to approach her again, the "assistant" came back into the room with two clean trash barrels, just in case. She cast the doctor a curious look, wondering why it'd taken him so long to get to the blood portion...
"Okay, fine." He put on his actor's face again. "I had to sit down for a minute. Happy?"
Kara hardly heard the rest of the meaningless exchange between the two humans... not that it mattered. Small talk usually went right through her head without stopping for an understanding or a response; though there was a distinct difference. The needles hardly made a hiss rise from her lips--there was just too much on her mind. Thoughtless instinct took over her responses, making sure that the looks from the "assistant" weren't too long or too questioning.
It was over almost too quickly. For the first time ever, she had the strangest desire to... dwell. She knew, of course, that she couldn't; it wasn't safe, there were too many ways things that could go wrong... but to wait another week for any possibility of rescue seemed... sadistic.
Regardless, she left without a fuss. The entire list she was to hand over had already formed in her mind; she had only to write it down as soon as they left her alone.
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