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Andi frowned at the monitor, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she downloaded Gwen’s diagnostics. Frankie read them over her shoulder, searching for the inconsistency that would explain Gwen’s limited speech. Krash’s tools were rudimentary, nothing like a Repair Halo, but she’d already resigned herself to the inferior equipment. It would have to do… for now.
Gwen smiled dopily as she lay on the table, lost in her own world. Andi had noticed the behaviour last night. A malfunction in her code. One that had her reacting to stimuli that weren’t there.
The diagnostics, although interesting, were too broad. It was impossible to determine the cause, not without narrowing down the possibilities first.
Andi paused, thinking. “We could isolate her speech cortex to—” She coughed into her hand. “—reproduce the bug.”
She hastily cleared her throat and tried again.
“Or we could—” Another cough interrupted her. “Sorry, we could go line by line through her code.”
“That’ll take ages,” Frankie said. “Sparky’s not gonna wait that long.”
“Well, Sparky’s not—”
She covered her mouth, coughing into the crook of her arm. That now-familiar tickle persisted, dragging another cough from her before she could catch her breath.
Frankie glanced at her worriedly.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Andi lied. “Just… give me a sec.”
She turned and headed for the exit, but stopped when she spotted someone already standing there. Krash, wearing the same Park Planet scrubs and jacket as yesterday, held out a mug, handle first, offering it without a word.
“What’s this?” she asked.
Krash cocked a knowing eyebrow, seemingly amused by her distrust.
“Water,” he said. When she still didn’t take it, he added, “I heard you coughing. Thought you could use it.”
He was right. She needed to get a handle on this blasted sickness.
Andi carefully took the mug and sniffed it. It certainly smelled like water. Looked like it, too. After yesterday, it was hard to take anyone’s word at face value, but she knew Krash… or at least, she’d known him once.
He wouldn’t hurt her.
She hoped.
Another cough ripped from her throat, sending Andi into a coughing fit. She gasped for air between hacks before gulping down the water. The cool liquid soothed the tickling sensation almost instantly.
“Better?” Krash asked with a smirk.
She ignored him. Her throat felt slightly better, but she didn’t appreciate his smug expression.
“Got any more?” she asked instead.
He pointed to the mini fridge next to his desk. It was covered in Guinevere stickers—Gwen as a mermaid, Gwen as a space ranger, Gwen hugging her animal friends—all lifted straight from a Park Planet gift shop. It seemed his obsession with Guinevere merch hadn’t died since school.
“Help yourself.”
As Andi refilled her mug, Krash hovered nearby, his eyes trained on her back. He obviously had something else to say.
There was a beat, then—
“Does Frankie know?” he blurted out.
“Know what?”
What was he going on about?
Krash’s brows knitted together in confusion. “About your condition,” he said slowly, as if Andi were the one being dense. “Your Blue Lung.”
Her stomach dropped. How did he—?
She slammed the mug onto his desk and grabbed him by the coat, yanking him forward. “Shut. Up,” she said through gritted teeth. “Frankie’s right there.”
Thankfully, Frankie was too distracted by Gwen to notice, but that could change at any moment.
“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Krash said.
His eyes darted between her face and her hands until she quickly released his coat, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. She stepped back but kept Krash within arm’s reach.
“No, she doesn’t know, and it’s none of your business, either.” She hesitated. “How, uh, did you know?”
Andi had been so careful. Apart from her cough, which was impossible to hide, she’d kept her symptoms under wraps, making sure no one, especially Frankie, found out. She didn’t need her worrying, nor did she want her pity.
Krash straightened his coat, smoothing out the wrinkles with his fingers. “I’ve seen it more times than I’d have liked. Those on the brink of death. Those too far gone to save.”
He sighed and glanced down at his desk. He was working on some kind of medical device, a breathing apparatus, if she had to guess.
“I’ve tried everything. The closest I’ve come to a treatment is a lung transplant, but it’s only a temporary fix. Once it enters your bloodstream, well…”
His eyes met hers, and Andi found herself unable to look away.
“Not even I can save you.”
Something tightened in Andi's chest.
She didn’t need saving. She was fine. Everything was fine. Her condition hadn’t worsened beyond a cough. She wasn’t like those she saw on the street, gasping for air, choking on their own saliva.
She was fine.
“Who says it’s Blue Lung?” she replied stubbornly. “You’ve only seen me cough. That could be anything.”
This time, when Krash stared at her in disbelief, she felt it was warranted.
“Andi,” he said. She hated how heartfelt it sounded. “Even disregarding the cough, it’s quite obvious. Your mouth.”
His eyes flicked down to her mouth, and her heart followed. She swallowed against the pounding in her chest.
“I noticed the slight blue tint to your saliva. And your hair.”
Again, his eyes trailed upward, settling on her hair.
“What about my hair?”
He slowly reached out and tucked a strand behind her ear. Goosebumps followed in the wake of his touch.
“You have white strands. They’re faint, but these are noticeable symptoms… to the right eyes.”
“To yours,” she corrected.
He smiled, small and sad. “To mine.”
Krash, despite denying he was a doctor, had extensive medical expertise. He knew what to look for because it was his job.
“So, about Frankie… do you think she’s noticed?” Andi asked, twisting her hands together.
Krash glanced towards Frankie, who sat beside Gwen as they played some kind of clapping game. Andi shook her head fondly at the childish display.
“Knowing Frankie? Probably not. But if I were you, I’d tell her.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not you.”
“Andi—” Krash began, but she didn’t want to hear it.
“Promise you won’t say anything.”
“I—”
“Promise.”
Krash sighed, then nodded, seemingly resigned to keeping her secret. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Andi snatched the mug off his desk and returned to Frankie and Gwen, leaving Krash where he stood. She could feel his eyes following her, but she kept her back to him.
“You good?” Frankie asked, tilting her head slightly.
Gwen mimicked the motion.
“I’m fine. Let’s pick up where we left off.”