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Geeta's heart had finally stopped pounding. And maybe a hospital visit had been a small price to pay, after all. She hadn't even realized how truly maddening it had been to feel every beat against the fragile wall of her chest.
The doctors had told her she'd been dangerously dehydrated, her electrolytes as imbalanced as the Academy's test scores. And there it went again. Nothing so violent as before, but still, that accelerating adrenaline beat. Because the first years were lagging behind. Because Paldea had the worst overall battle showing on the international stage. Because tourism was at an all-time low. Because Mesagoza was hemorrhaging money.
Geeta pressed a hand to her forehead and glanced at the door. No one was coming. A nurse had woken her to take her vitals not five minutes before, and now here she was. Alone and awake in a dark hospital room, condemned to a slow mental smother by unfinished business. She glanced at the rolling bedside table, where her phone sat shiny and inert and just out of reach. She could get it. She could. It was only a small matter of sitting up, leaning, reaching.
There went her heart again.
Just dehydration. The doctor had said. And it better have been true, because she really didn't have time for a chronic heart condition.
As though to remind her of the task at hand, Geeta's phone vibrated the characteristic pattern of an incoming email. Summoning all her strength, she sat up, and then had to hold still and catch her breath. In the hall, nurses talked quietly and wheels squeaked. A distant alarm chirped. It wasn't exactly the kind of restful recovery she'd been recommended, so what was the harm in doing her job?
A louder, closer squeak drew her attention to the door. Someone was shuffling away, trying to retreat behind the half-closed curtains, shiny dress shoes making scuffs on the linoleum.
No, not someone. Larry.
Geeta's overtaxed mental processes ground to a halt. Larry? Here? Was he lost?
Larry, seeming to realize he was caught, stopped backpedaling. But rather than enter the room properly, he bent forward to peer around the curtain, the tips of his ears flaming red. "You're awake."
Geeta straightened her hospital gown and then fumbled for the bed's remote, sitting it up as straight as it would go. She wouldn't be seen lying here like some... some frail convalescent. She wasn't even ill, really. "It's not visiting hours," she said, unsure if it was even true.
Larry nodded shortly. "Yes. You're absolutely right. I'll be going now." He took a few shuffling steps backward.
"Wait." That only raised more questions. Geeta took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to recover her wits. "Come in, since you're here."
"That's alright," Larry said, and swallowed.
Geeta just stared at him. Technically, she couldn't make him obey. They weren't on the clock, though, as salaried employees, the definition was a bit looser.
Evidently reading some threat in Geeta's gaze, Larry ducked his head and came in. His posture was worst than usual, deeply slouched, both arms limp by his sides. In one hand, he held a small wildlflower bouquet wrapped in brown paper.
Geeta squinted at it. Maybe he really was lost, and sheer, unfortunate coincidence had led him to Geeta's room. Well, that was something to do at least. She could help him. "Who were you looking for, Larry?" she asked, fixing her eyes on him.
He ignored the chairs (one by the bedside, one by the window) and stood with his back to the wall, not quite square with the foot of the bed. He was reeling so far back he looked like he was trying to disappear into the paint. "You," he muttered, like Geeta had caught him at something.
What a strange morning this was turning out to be. Geeta blinked at him. None of this made sense. When she'd come over dizzy last night, when she'd fallen, all-too-aware of the drumbeat of her heart, she'd sent one all-staff email while she waited for the ambulance. Just one.
"Sporadically avail the next few days. Please only call for urgent matters. Call twice if necessary.
Nothing about her health. Unless she'd been more confused than she'd thought...?
"Sorry," Larry said, his cheeks coloring up to match his ears. "I just thought it would be nice— I didn't know you'd be awake."
Geeta shook her head slightly. "I don't understand. How did you know I was here?"
"Oh." Larry relaxed a little, even managed the palest ghost of a smile. "Since when are you ever unavailable?"
"That's quite the leap in reasoning—"
"Not really." Larry shrugged. "You're married to the job. I figured something had to be seriously wrong, and I— I just had a feeling. So I called the hospital, and here we are." He shifted self-consciously. The flowers rustled in their paper wrapping. Larry jolted like he'd forgotten he had them, and turned scarlet again. "I was going to drop these off without disturbing you. That's why I came before visiting hours; I wasn't—" He swallowed. "I wasn't sneaking around."
Geeta smiled a little. "Technically, Larry, That's the definition of 'sneaking around.'"
He tensed. "I wasn't trying to spy on you."
"I know." Geeta let her expression open, let her smile relax.
"Anyway." Larry shifted as though to put the flowers somewhere, but paused, staring at them. "I forgot a vase."
"There are paper towels in the bathroom," Geeta said, jerking her head.
She sat back as Larry disappeared into the bathroom to run the tap. Having him here wasn't necessarily ideal, but... Well, it was odd. He made no secret of disdain for her, and yet he'd cared enough to bring her flowers. Strange contradiction. Not one he was likely to explain.
Still, Geeta couldn't resist. When Larry came back out to set the flowers on the bedside table, she caught his sleeve with her fingertips. "Larry."
He wouldn't look at her. "What?"
"You don't like me."
Now he did look at her, seeming to understand the question and to not mind it. He held his stooped posture, keeping his sleeve trapped between Geeta's fingers. "I knew you weren't going to tell anyone you were in the hospital. Nobody was going to buy you flowers. Nobody was going to visit. You were just going to sit here alone."
It was more accusation than explanation. Geeta crossed her arms as much as the IV line would allow. "And that's a problem?"
"It is for me," Larry said. He straightened, extricating his sleeve from her grasp, and turned toward the door. "Anyway, if this gets out, it wasn't from me. Get well soon."
He disappeared into the hall, leaving Geeta alone with a stunning bouquet and more questions than answers.