It took a moment before Carter was able to collect herself again after pulling back. She allowed herself thirty seconds of simply sitting in the chair before the public terminal, face in shaking hands, before she stood up. Even then, she had to force her breathing down to levels that might be considered normal.
She pulled out her phone and, perhaps in a vain attempt to appear calm, tapped away on it while walking out of the room. She had toured the facility often enough that she had an idea of where the lost would be kept, even if she didn't know for sure that she would be able to find them there.
She had already begun to put her phone back in her pocket before the faint ping along her implants notified her of a new message.
> ??? We're here too??? Room 2309
*Shit.*
Carter began quick-walking, doing her best to maintain the appearance that she belonged here. She, Dr Carter Ramirez, researcher on the lost, was meant to be here. Meant to be in the hospital, in the wing where the lost were kept. She belonged here, it was okay.
And the ruse, if ruse it were, worked well enough to get her up to the second floor and onto the hall where RJ was being kept. A slow hall. A quiet hall, where none of the patients could talk or move. An empty hall. A nurse's station with a lone nurse sitting behind a monitor.
There would be no backing up without increased culpability. She had been preempted. And why not? Dr Carter Ramirez, researcher in the lost, was meant to be here, right?
All she could do, all she could think to do, was nod to them politely and head to the nurse's station. "Good, uh...good afternoon."
They looked up from the paperwork and frowned. "Afternoon. May I help you?"
"Yes, sorry. Dr Carter Ramirez, UCL. I'm here to view a patient, RJ Brewster? Should be in 2309."
The nurse's frown deepened. "You're expected. The gentlemen down the hall are here to speak with you. That's 2309 they're sitting in front of. Go ahead."
No way around it. Carter thanked the nurse and, moving with as much calm as she could muster, started down the hall. Both of the suits stood, buttoned their jackets, and waited at attention, watching Carter come to them. A show of power.
The director barrelled out of the room and nearly collided with the suits. His thick hands set on each of their shoulders, and, even from two rooms down, his rumble was clear. "Gentlemen, can I speak with you? I have some concerns about the patient."
Nonplussed, the suits turned toward Johansson. "Sir, we are not--"
"Won't take a moment, please. Just need a bit of privacy. Dr Ramirez, head on in.I'm sure we can all talk in a moment."
Unsure if it was confusion or Johansson's convincing act that drew her forward, she simply nodded and continued into the room. Caitlin, she assumed, sat on another chair next to the bed. And in the bed itself must have been RJ. Short, slight, dusty blonde hair swept back out of eir face by a simple hairband, eyes taped shut, nasal intubation tube taped to eir cheek. Still. Completely still.
The tech nodded. "Yeah. Who were those guys? They seemed pretty keen on seeing you."
Carter shook her head. "Not sure. Government or something. They followed me here from work. I'm surprised I haven't been dragged off in cuffs yet, honestly."
"Boss is good at wrapping people up. Getting them invested in what he has to say, I guess." She smiled, shrugged. She looked exhausted. "Still, I don't imagine you have a whole lot of time. What can you tell me?"
"Tell? Shit." So dreamlike had the last few minutes been that the reminder that she was supposed to have some urgency to her movements snapped Carter to attention. "Our team discovered something about a DDR vote, and I guess we weren't supposed to. Don't use the DDR. Don't vote on anything! Don't delve in if you can help it."
The sudden intensity seemed to startle Caitlin. She sat up straighter in her chair. "Wait, what? Why?"
"Anyone connected to the lost, anyone connected to me is at risk of getting lost, too."
Carter ground her palms against her eyes and shook her head. "I don't know. Running from those guys, I guess, trying to reduce my guilt." She considered expanding on what Prakash had said, on Prakash himself, then decided against it. If he was indeed helping her, that would simply be throwing him under the bus. "Figured if I came here, it would only be an ethics violation or something. Pretty vain hope."
"Sasha! Shit. Sasha's lost now, too. That's why I'm saying don't delve in. Got an idea, though! I need a...oh good, there's one already here! I need the mirror rig."
She was shouting. Didn't know how to do anything but. If she was worried about attracting attention, though, she needn't have: similar hollering echoed down the hallway.
