Meliora - Emanate - 09

[lady_mab]

Liala Darcy 

Rhys and I sit in the waiting room of the hospital. I remain slouched, half buried in the oversized sweatshirt with my hands tucked into the front pocket. 

There are several other groups littered about the space, most of them wearing suits like my brother. They keep eyeing us, or maybe they’re just eyeing me. 

Nothing has changed since the last time that I came here a few months ago for a routine check up and to renew my inhaler prescription. Everything in the hospital is shiny and sleek -- from the business casual uniform of the woman at the reception desk to the fake wood and metal paneling that gives the lobby the ‘look of the future’ while still adhering to the Old World comforts. I never thought it would be possible to feel underdressed in a hospital, but the parent company of ALICE manages to astound me each and every time. 

But the sweatshirt is by choice. It used to be Rhys’, before he stopped wearing sweat-anything. It’s too big on Lio and I, so it’s the perfect piece of clothing to disguise what little figure I have. My face is androgynous enough when compared to Lio’s. 

The only issue is the eye color. 

I hung back while Rhys did the talking, pretending to be interested in one of the mundane pamphlets on a side table. Rhys smiles, polite and charming, and I wonder how much of that he has picked up from Kaito. He understands how people work. 

I don’t. 

To my left, Rhys hums to himself as he scrolls through a document on his tablet. Colored charts and graphs, things I’m beginning to understand from all the times reading over his shoulder, blur past as he switches between client files. Even though he never had much of a mind for one career or another, I know that he really enjoys what he does mostly because of the numbers. 

I lean in closer to study the pages, resting my chin on his shoulder as he continues without pause. His fingers flick through the pages and I absorb them all as they pass. I don’t even realize that something might be off until I look up to find one of the other teams staring at us. 

Oh. Right. 

We’re not supposed to be related. I’m ten years younger. Of course people will stare. 

Rhys Darcy and Lianel Lions.

Not even an hour onto the job and already I’m messing it up. No wonder Lio wants to claim the role for himself. 

I jerk away and sink back into my sweatshirt, letting the collar rise up to my nose and cover half my face. Hopefully it’s enough to hide my embarrassment from the world. 

It’s at least enough to hide it from Rhys, who turns to look down at me after my sudden retreat. “What--?” he starts, but I turn my gaze out to the others. A moment later, he says, “Ah.” 

“Ah.”

He understands, and settles into his chair. 

Another team enters the waiting area, and two more leave by the time we’re finally called. “Darcy and Lions?” The nurse holds the door open with his hip, focusing on the boards in his hands that have our details on them. 

I’m on my feet in an instant, barely aware of how much my knees are knocking together as I tug my sweater. Rhys is trying to gather his things, though it’s hard for him to juggle his bag and tablet and suddenly it seems like everything he owns is in his hands and burdening him. 

I take the bag and flip it shut. Tucking it under my arm, I throw back my shoulders and do my best interpretation of Lio’s strut into the hall beyond the door. I don’t take the time to look back at my brother’s expression. I don’t want to know what sort of face he is making. 

The door swings shut and the nurse holds up the two readers with our details. Lio’s head floats on the screen for Lianel Lions, and I only know this because he is frowning. I need to remember to frown, too. 

My twin. The singular identity behind our joint account. 

I suppose it’s only logical. My record with ALICE’s hospital is extensive, after coming here frequently for five years. Lung problems, blood work, one thing after another affecting my daily life. 

The nurse reads something in the file and looks up with a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t even give me a chance to brace myself for whatever he might say before he’s speaking “I see you’ve been here before, Mr. Darcy. With your sister.” 

I bite my cheek and Rhys chokes on something before he turns it into a small laugh. “Yes, a few months ago. ALICE has been a big help to us.” When I look at him, he has a practiced and careful smile in place. 

It’s the expression he uses when talking to his clients. It’s his business smile, and I don’t like the way it spreads naturally across his face. Kaito’s business smile is honest, where I know that my brother’s is not -- he’s just very good at pretending it is. 

The nurse nods in time with Rhys words. “How unfortunate to be wrapped up in this mess when you’re siblings aren’t.”

Because I’m staring at Rhys, I can notice how he strains to not look at me. I’m playing the part of the second teammate, the unrelated individual. The person who has no connection to the Darcy family. 

Lio might be able to create one person where there is two, but he can’t create no one when there are lives still being lived. He can’t get rid of the fact that we’re supposed to be separate from this game. 

The nurse moves on down the hall, closing the files and tucking them beneath his arm. “Follow me, please.” 

We still don’t know the entire story behind these shots, and until we do, I need to do my best to uphold my half of the charade. 

The room we are lead to is is one of the small check up rooms near the front of the hospital. If we were taken further into the back, up the elevators, there would be nothing but a shining ocean of machines and antiseptic. The rooms are just as white as the halls. When you wake up from a surgery covered in a thin paper gown and there are more tubes coming out of your body than you thought holes, and all you see is a never ending glare of the disinfected, you get a little disoriented. 

I much prefer these small, warm rooms. I think it’s the wood paneling that I like so much. 

We’re left in the room by ourselves. Rhys takes his bag back and sets it on the bed to return everything to its rightful place. He starts to unbutton the cuffs of his work shirt when he turns to look at me. “Are you going to be okay?” 

The question feels strange and out of place, though I know where he is coming from. “I guess so. I’m not entirely too sure right now. It’s not like I don’t know this place very well. Yet I feel like I’m seeing everything from a different light. Patient versus participant, perhaps?” 

His hand lands on my head, warm and heavy and familiar. “I’m worried about you. You don’t like the hospital, even for a check up.” 

I’ve always craved my brother’s attention, more so since we started living separately. Lionel rejects it -- physically spurning Rhys’ presence in our lives as vehemently as he can. 

I won’t let him blame himself, so he blames Rhys instead. The fact that neither of them let me take the fault for my own health makes my heart hurt. 

“I know. I just… I think I’ll be okay. I’ve gotten better, you know?” 

He smiles, though it’s not entirely convincing. “Now that you’re not here every other month for blood work or tests. I would imagine that you’re able to tolerate it.” 

I take a breath, not entirely too sure what I want to say, but the door opens without a cursory knock and Rhys’ hand falls back to his side. 

The nurse drops down onto his low stool and washes his hands. After donning the gloves, he turns towards us and nods. “Who will be first?” 

I linger in the back as Rhys steps up. His shirtsleeve is rolled up above his elbow, and the nurse is waiting patiently as he rolls it further up his bicep. It will get creases. He hates creases in his shirts. 

My eyes are focused on the thin needle, listening as my brother and the nurse make polite conversation. I watch the needle slide into the pale, freckled skin of his upper arm, and watch the clear fluid vanish as the plunger reaches the bottom. The voices are nothing more than a hum, then a blur and suddenly Rhys is rising from his seat. 

There’s a sound, then a pause. Then another sound. I can’t look away from the pouch containing the second needle. 

There’s a sound, then, “Mr. Lions?” 

I jerk to attention, hitting the check-up table behind me and nearly toppling over my own feet. “Yes?” 

“Is everything alright?” 

Two pairs of eyes are turned in my direction, but the nurse glances away once my eyes are back in focus. He prepares the shot to give me a moment to recover. 

Rhys allows the concern to show, his back to the rest of the room. He had taken a step in my direction, but not too close. His hands strain at his sides. He hasn’t even rolled his sleeves down. You okay? he mouths, and I barely manage a nod. 

He steps out of the way so I can move forward to take my place before the nurse. 

With practiced obedience, I hold up the oversized sleeve to keep it out of the way. The other is limp in my lap, fingers twitching in anticipation. 

The nurse must notice my nerves, because he starts talking to distract me. This is more than the polite conversation he had with Rhys -- it’s idle chatter that normally would be foregone in this sort of situation. “This will be just like your regular yearly inoculations. Same sort of side effects: muscle pain and increased exhaustion. You’ll be getting them every month, so your body will become more accustomed to the basics. If anything out of the ordinary happens, you are encouraged, as always, to give us a call or stop on by. And there,” he finishes, wiping the spot clean and rubbing on the bandage. “All done.” 

I stare down at the small pin prick on my bicep. 

“Your Informant will be coming in later, correct?” 

“He will. He holds an odd schedule, running a nightclub and all. But he’ll make it in before the end of the month.” His sleeve is back in place, and his jacket is draped over one arm. His gaze shifts to me as he grabs his bag. 

I take a deep breath, holding it in my lungs, and rise to my feet. 

The nurse nods and checks the data on his reader. “Looks like the last ten days of every month are going to be scheduled for the teams to come in. Hm.” His brow furrowed, but he quickly smoothed it over and moves to open the door for us. “We look forward to seeing you next month.” 

Rhys and I make our way back to the front lobby of the hospital with ease, knowing this place well enough by now to not get turned around in the identical halls. 

We breeze through the lobby, still filled with clusters sitting in twos and threes, still silent and washed out in the stringent fluorescents. The glass doors part to allow us back onto the grey, grim streets of Eminence. 

My breath wheezes out of my chest. I hadn’t realized I had been holding it this entire time. “I hate needles so much,” I gasp, and break into a coughing fit. 

Rhys is behind me in a moment, hand between my shoulderblades. “Liala--” 

I wave him off and twist away. My eyes dart to the doors, the lobby glowing bright and holy in the dim twilight. “People could still hear.” 

He allows the slight twitch of a frown. “If you think that way, then someone will always be listening.” He pulls out his phone, and it takes a moment before I realize the dull buzzing coming from the speaker is a dial tone. 

“Who are you calling?” 

“Lionel.” He ignores my grumble of protest, but at least starts walking down the steps toward the sidewalk. We can at least put some distance between us and the building. 

I wonder who I’m getting my paranoia from, because Rhys doesn’t seem entirely too concerned right now with being overheard. Trying to pull it off so that both Lio and I can participate will be no easy feat. They recognized Rhys easily enough from his record. How are they not going to notice the fact that Lianel Lions is not a real person?

The line clicks and a strident version of my twin’s voice answers. “What?” 

“You’re going to have to be very clever about this.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m a very clever boy.” 

“I know you are, and that’s part of the problem. Don’t think you’re so clever that you’re invincible.” 

There’s no response for a long moment. A trio exits from the hospital and passes us on the sidewalk before splitting with casual partings. Three bodies moving in three different directions. 

Then a rush of static echoes from the phone as Lio sighs. “I know.” 

“Then I’m not going to say it twice. This isn’t just you you’re putting on the line.” 

“I know,” he repeats, angrier. “Jesus, Rhys, I know.” 

I’m startled by how harsh his voice sounds. Maybe because I’m not used to hearing it on the other line of the phone. Maybe because he’s very angry -- at us, at himself, at this game. 

“You’ll be able to cover up your tracks?” 

“Have a little faith. I’ll see you later, Lia.” The line cuts off as I start to say bye. The screen illuminates in Rhys palm, flashing the call duration and our contact photo before fading. Lionel & Liala. 

Rhys takes a breath, but holds it in before it can be released. “A train should be departing soon. We’ll have to hurry if we want to catch it.” 

I know what this means. It’s almost time for us to part ways. He’ll see me to my stop, but from there I’ll leave on my own. I don’t want to have to burden him with walking me all the way to the apartment when he won’t stay if Lionel is home. They’ll just butt heads and try not to argue. 

A smile works its way onto my face, and I hope it looks more convincing than it feels. “Alright.” 

The one thing I hope to get from Meliora, more than anything -- more than getting out of the city or whatever sort of reward they decide to give us -- is for them to realize the truth. 

Not just about Eminence, but about the three of us as well.