A/N: Yes, it's been a while. Hope someone's still reading this!

Chapter Sixteen

The austere bun her hair was styled in gave Amara a headache. She wanted to let her hair down or at least loosen the tight knot, but the hospital had strict policies when it came to the appearance of nurses. Hair, makeup, jewelry, fingernails – everything had to pass review.

As she stood in the small staff bathroom, washing her hands, she thought back to her meeting with her superior that morning. He'd looked over her with agonizing scrutiny. He'd examined the fit of her uniform skirt – two inches above the knee and white – and had just instructed her to remove her sweater so he could inspect the mandatory white shirt when his assistant had pointed something out on her tablet. Stuart's name had been muttered, like a curse, and Dr. Helmsley had sent Amara away with a wave.

Was she considered his girlfriend? She supposed so, despite no clear definition from him. He still brought her presents. He still sent her flowers. He still took her out to dinner and other places. Their nights together alternated between her apartment and his. Strangely, she almost missed him on the nights she had to sleep alone. Well, partially alone. On those nights she was able to dream of someone else, until he joined her in the early morning hours.

Always with a murmured apology. Always fresh out of the shower.

Amara drew in a deep breath while drying her hands. How messed up was her life that she'd started getting upset at the thought that Stuart Bennett, a man she despised, was cheating on her?

One hand slipped into the pocket of her skirt. The tiny pill she'd taken from the bottle in her purse was there. She held it between her thumb and forefinger briefly, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Disgusted with herself, she turned away and swallowed the pill. Her nerves were all over the place. Besides, one little pill wasn't enough to make her sleepy. Not anymore.

Once out on the floor, she followed the sure, hurried steps of her superior, mind scrambling to keep up with what was being told her. The tablet she carried seemed to take notes for her, the rundown of the wing's operations and rules showing up onscreen while the slightly older woman spoke. She had introduced herself as Ms. Hart. Petite, blonde, and with a muscular frame that spoke of hours in a gym, she came across as professional and efficient, with no room for levity.

"This is yours for the day." Ms. Hart motioned to the door at the end of the hallway. "Get used to her. She's always in with some complaint or another. What is it today?"

Amara consulted the tablet, bringing up the digital layout of the rooms. Selecting the proper one, she read over the synopsis that showed, along with a photo of a sullen young woman. "…Nosebleed."

"Of course it is. She was in here just last week with that." The blonde shook her head. "They'll give her a few doses of coagulants to stop the bleeding then send her on her way."

"What's wrong with her?" Amara asked, already pulling up the young woman's history.

"What isn't wrong with her is what you should ask. If you ask me she's a spoiled brat. Her parents are the Dr. Colters. They give her everything a girl could want. But she's the grouchiest little bitch you'll ever meet." Ms. Hart examined her nails. "She's all yours, Amara."

"Thanks." The word was barely a mutter. Was this their way of making sure she could do her job? Did everyone assume that because Dr. Bennett was her…whatever he was…she was going to be a horrible nurse? Or that she would complain to him if her supervisor gave her the hard cases?

"I'll be at the desk if you need me." A perfectly shaped eyebrow was lifted. "Or do you want me to stay?"

Amara glanced over the patient's information. Hannah Colter. At twenty-three, she should have been in college. Or just starting out in a career. Instead, she seemed to be at the hospital every other week with a new or repeat malady. She saw the notation under the photo that stated the woman was combative.

"I'll be fine," she decided.

Ms. Hart's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "If you insist."

Amara waited until the woman had gone back down the corridor before moving to enter the room. Except for the glow of the bathroom light, the room was dark, and she took a moment to let her eyesight adjust. The young woman on the bed seemed thinner than the picture on her tablet. The light brown hair in the picture was now as close to blonde as possible without being truly considered blonde. It was also shorter, she noticed, approaching the bed slowly.

She was sitting in the middle of the bed, back to the door. A silken mask covered her eyes, a hospital-issue pan rested on her lap to catch the blood that steadily dripped from her nose. Her arms were folded over her chest. One bare foot dangled off the side of the bed, a black strap around her ankle keeping her confined to the space.

"Hello, Miss Colter. I'm—"

A high-pitched shriek emanated from the patient. Instinctively, Amara stepped back. She turned her head just before the pan reached her, closing her eyes and mouth and holding her breath as the collected blood splashed against her cheek. The pan clattered to the floor. Aware of the protocol, she reached to call for assistance. Her finger hesitated over the screen of her tablet, though, and she pushed the device onto the windowsill.

Ignoring the words being muttered in a foreign tongue as she cleaned herself in the small bathroom sink, she steeled herself for more abuse as she once again returned to the bedside. She was at the very least grateful that it had only been blood. Retrieving the pan, she placed it out of the patient's reach and donned a pair of gloves.

"I'm Amara, and I'll be your nurse today," she announced. The locked supply cabinet against the wall opened after her fingerprint was scanned and she withdrew a plastic pan. Handing it over, she was certain the woman was cursing her very existence. Had all the nurses been cruel to her? Or was she just that unhappy? She bit back a sigh when no reply was given and straightened the bedclothes, leaving them folded back at the foot of the bed when the woman didn't budge. "Did you want me to fluff your pillow?"

"I want you to leave me alone."

Perfect English, with barely a hint of an accent. Amara fluffed the pillow anyway and started up the vitals machine. The hissing of air as the cuff on her patient's arm began to inflate was the only sound in the room. The screen came to life, and she took note on her tablet of the readouts. No change since they had last been taken just before the changeover of shifts. The cuff deflated with a loud hiss, returning to its normal, barely noticeable, state.

"You're new."

Amara glanced up from checking the breakfast tray. "Yes," she replied softly, taking note that the food was untouched. "Today is actually my first day."

"They put you with me?" A mocking laugh came from the bed. "Who did you piss off?"

"No one that I know of." She placed the cover back on the tray. "Aren't you hungry?"

She barely caught the shake of the woman's head. "I can't stand that slop."

"Can I get you anything? Juice, water?"

There was a long pause. Finally, she sighed. "Water."

Amara retrieved one from the cooler built into the wall next to the supply cabinet. She waited until the young woman had taken a few sips before speaking again. "I didn't see anything on your file about it, so… Why are you confined?"

"You mean why am I a prisoner." She took another sip. "I have a history of trying to leave on my own."

"Trying to?"

Was that a glimmer of a smile? "Alright, last time I made it down to the lobby before they caught me. And that was only because I had to wait for the elevator. Two rent-a-cops were waiting for me."

"Why do you keep trying to leave?"

"I have my reasons." Another sip. "Can't do it now though. Strapped to the bed. If half my weight gets off the bed alarms go off." She made a sound that was cold but could be considered a laugh. "I can't even go take a piss by myself. Here or at home."

"I'm sorry." Amara meant it. She knew what it was like to not be able to do things without being supervised. Even though she no longer fought, she was given very little free room. "Maybe if you talked to your parents—"

"They're worse than the people here."

"I'm sorry, Miss Colter—"

"Han." The empty water bottle was tossed into the trash, and she settled back on the bed, that one foot still dangling over the edge. "It's not Miss Colter. It's not Hannah. It's just Han."

Had she just made a sort-of connection with her patient? Amara smiled and picked up her tablet after disposing of the used, bloody pan. "Han. If you need anything, call for me. And the doctor should be along soon."

"Sure."

She slipped out of the room, eyes on the screen of her tablet as she wondered what to put on the chart. Should she mention the pan being thrown? If she did, Ms. Hart might insist someone else join her when she went to the patient. But—

"What the hell did she do to you?"

The harsh tone of Ms. Hart caused Amara to stop short. Remembering that the blood had splashed and dripped on her shirt and sweater, she realized that she must look a fright. Looking to her supervisor, she saw the glint in her eye and drew in a breath. "I moved the pan used to catch the runoff from her nose," she lied, keeping her gaze locked with Ms. Hart's. "Then when I moved it back it sloshed out."

"We'll need her blood drawn and tested for anything infectious immediately." She was already tapping out orders on her tablet. "You need a sanitation blast and a fresh uniform."

"Yes." Amara was about to move forward when she caught the slight rising of Ms. Hart's eyebrow. "…Ma'am. Yes, ma'am."

Summarily dismissed with a nod, Amara headed in the direction of the locker room, clumsily tapping her lie into the chart on her tablet. She only hoped that, if asked, Hannah – Han – would back up her claim.

The sanitation blast burned, just as it had before. There was blood in her hair so she had to take it down to clean it, hissing in pain when the scalding water hit her scalp. Each time she closed her eyes she thought of the young woman that sat in the dark with a mask over her eyes. She would have to look further into her history to see if she could find out what was wrong with her. It was interesting that the daughter of two of the most prominent doctors in the Establishment had so many maladies…

Aware of the security cameras following her every move once she stepped out of the shower stall, she kept the towel wrapped around her, managing to get most of her new uniform on without exposing herself. She had no idea if anyone was actually watching, but she didn't want to risk it. She didn't understand why there were security cameras in the locker rooms anyway. What could possibly happen?

"Amara, darling?"

Oh. Crap. She withheld her instinctive groan, a smile pasting itself on her lips as Stuart entered. She supposed she should call him by his title while they were at work. He hadn't instructed her to. In fact, aside from kissing her cheek as they exited his car and telling her to have a good day, he hadn't given her any instructions at all.

"I was doing my rounds and saw you'd had an incident." He cradled her face in his hands, cool fingers gently pressing into her neck as though she'd suffered a fall. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she assured. "It was just an accident."

"You're sure? Perhaps you should take the rest of the day—" He cut off when she sighed and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "I just don't want you to have too much stress on your first day, darling."

"I'll be fine, Stuart. I only have the one patient…" His lips lingered over her skin and she closed her eyes, thinking of another, softer pair of lips. Lips that comforted and inflamed. Lips that spoke beautiful words. Lips that she was so close to forgetting…

A month. It had been exactly one month since she'd seen the live coverage on the news. A month since she'd heard anything about him or the others. A month of worrying, privately, when she could. A month of pretending he didn't matter when she wasn't alone.

Stephen was no help. She rarely saw him and when she did he was on official business. She'd grown to hate the way he so easily fell in with the other soldiers and Stuart, laughing about the latest plundering in the outskirts of the city. Each time she saw him she wondered if she was seeing the real Stephen. Or if the real Stephen was the worried, protective man that had visited the school.

Did he know where they were? Did he keep them updated on how she was?

"I'm fine," she murmured as Stuart's lips moved to her cheek. His cologne invaded her senses, pushing away the memories of generic soap.

"If you're sure, dear. I don't like you being that Colter girl's nurse. She's been nothing but trouble since they adopted her."

"Adopted?" she repeated softly, lightly grasping his biceps.

"Hers is a sad tale, Amara. Rather, it was until the Colters came along and saved her. Why she remains so cold and hateful, I'll never know."

"I haven't read her entire chart…" Amara bit her lip, hoping he was feeling generous enough to share knowledge. "Why does she wear a mask?"

"Something about her eyesight. Zeb is working personally with scientists from Sweden to fix it." He raised his head, green eyes narrowing slightly. "That's nothing to do with why she's here, though. Her physician will treat her current complaint and send her on her way."

"I understand." Instinctively her fingers stroked the tense muscles of his arms. She hoped to sooth the anger she could feel rising in him. "I was just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat. Remember, that, darling." He lightly tapped her nose. Like he would a belligerent child. "Don't go nosing into her files. It's not interesting reading."

"Yes, Sir."

"April, my sweet, I won't be able to visit you this evening. My desk is overflowing with paperwork and I have to finish it all tonight. Feel free to use my card and go out to dinner. Pick up a little something for yourself in one of the shops. I'll be over tomorrow afternoon. …Send me photos of what you buy. Goodnight."

Thinking about the message he had left an hour earlier, Stuart leaned back in his chair with a sigh. The man across the desk from him looked as he always did. Tired, rumpled, and a bit worried. Dr. Zebadiah Colter had reason to be worried. In Stuart's opinion, the man wasn't worried enough.

"You need to tone it down a bit, Zeb," he advised, eyes moving to the screen that showed Hannah Colter's file. "The nurses are beginning to ask questions."

"We're close to a breakthrough. I know she's showing signs of weakness, but we'll start her on a more aggressive round of antibiotics to flush the infections out. I can't slow down when I'm this close."

"Yes, you can. And you will. The nurses—"

"To hell with the nurses!" Zeb brought a hand down on the desk. "If they ask too many questions, get rid of them! Or I'll—"

"You'll what?" Stuart enunciated the words slowly, tilting his head back and forming a steeple with his fingers. "Take her to another hospital in a different city? Where new doctors and new nurses will ask more questions? Or will you take her overseas?"

Zeb's eyes narrowed to slits above his ruddy cheeks. Elaborate mustache drooping slightly, he rose to his feet. "I'll tone it down just a bit, Bennett. I refuse to slow down too much, though. We're so close, I tell you."

"Be careful. I've given you a lot of leeway with this little project. If I don't see results soon I'm pulling the plug." Stuart loosened his tie and waved towards the door. "Go home and tell your wife the same."

The door clicked shut behind him and Stuart breathed a sigh of relief. The man needed some reeling in. He would have to discuss the situation with Hunter. Reaching for his phone to make the call, he glanced up when he heard a soft knock at the door. The screen showing the outside of his door alerted him to who it was and, a smile pulling at his lips, he called for his visitor to enter.

A bottle of wine. Two glasses. They dangled precariously from an elegant hand. The other held a small book of matches. She'd changed out of her uniform, her sensible shoes replaced with high heels that clicked across the polished floor. The crisp white skirt was gone, a jet black miniskirt revealing tanned, toned legs. A bright pink strapless top was in place of the uniform shirt, and her long hair hung free past her shoulders.

"It's been a while since you've visited me in my office," he mused, watching her slow trek across to his desk. Painted lips curved into a smile as she set the bottle and glasses in front of him.

"I thought a visit was overdue." She leaned in close, one hand resting on his shoulder.

He saw the tip of a cigar peeking at him from her cleavage. Helping himself, he drew it out, hand returning to her breast once the cigar was next to the empty glasses. "Did you want something in particular?"

"Just a few stolen moments…" She had already unknotted his tie and was pulling it away. Her fingers began to work at the buttons of his shirt. "Why did Colter look so upset?"

"When doesn't he look upset?" His smile deepened when he felt that she wore no bra. She always knew what he preferred. Tugging at her top, he hummed in pleasure as it slid down to reveal her breasts.

"I have an hour until my reports need to be filed," she whispered. Her hands were on his belt, almost frantic.

"Same here," he muttered, tugging at her skirt. Once it was bunched around her waist he pulled her into his lap. She already had his pants undone, and had produced a condom from somewhere. He waited impatiently as she put it on him, long fingers stroking between her thighs. Deeming her ready, he guided her down, air leaving his lungs in a hiss. "Christ… Nattie…"

"I know," she moaned softly. Manicured nails dug into his shoulders. Her head falling back, she began to move.

"How did she do today?" he asked once she'd found her rhythm.

"Mmm… Alright I guess. My boys were – fuck – were begging to be put on the same round as her."

His grip on her waist tightened. "No. She's mine, Nattie. If they look at her wrong, you – just like that – you transfer them to another shift."

She laughed, blonde hair falling forward and concealing her bouncing breasts. "Worried someone else will steal her away?" A gasp pulled from her throat when he urged her to move faster. "Fuck, Stuart!"

"Keep her away from the Colter girl," he growled, pressing his feet to the floor. Rocking his hips beneath her, he smirked at the sight of her eyes rolling back. He lifted one hand, spitting on his fingers, then reached to where their bodies joined. Her thighs tightened, her body jerked, and she released a sharp cry as soon as his fingers brushed over her clit.

"Yes," she squealed. "Wh-why?"

"She still thinks she can save the world." He scoffed, but it turned into a groan when her body continued to jerk above him. Working his fingers rapidly over her clit, he breathed in the scent of sex that clung to the air, his other hand reaching back to grasp at her ass. The firm muscle clenched at his touch and he gripped harder, fingers digging into her skin.

"Then she's a stupid little bitch," Nattie decided, the strength of her assessment lost in a series of whimpers. "Harder, Stuart, please…"

His bruising grasp tightened, her perspiring skin not aiding him at all. His fingers slipped over her flesh, finally clutching the cleft of her ass. Abandoning her clit, he held onto her ass fully, raking his nails over it before giving it a hard slap. "It's not nice to call another woman a bitch," he murmured, letting the slick tip of his middle finger brush over the taut hole. She twitched, right hand dropping down to grasp his wrist.

"It takes one to know one," she gasped, body going tense when his finger pushed inside her. Her head fell to his shoulder and she squeezed his wrist, already shaking her head no. "Please—"

Immune to her plea, he pushed a second finger inside, curling both so he had a firm grip. "Ride me," he whispered, other hand slapping her ass again when she merely whimpered. "I told you to ride me, Nattie."

"It hurts," she whined, though her hips began to rock slowly.

"Because it's been too long." His hand came down on her ass again, spurring her into more rapid movements. "Faster."

"I hate you – Ahh, fuck!"

"But you love fucking me," he answered smoothly. Knowing she needed a reprieve, he eased his fingers out of her, sucking in a breath when he was rewarded by a full-body shudder from her.

"Is she good?" she asked after several moments. The air was now thick with their mingled heat, her voice barely an audible rasp.

"She's superb." He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back, then pushed at her chest until she was leaning away from him. Gaze dropping, he wet his lips as he watched her take him in. "She's so tight, Nattie… I've instructed her on the proper exercises to keep herself tight… And – oh, fuck, just like that – she's become excellent at orally pleasing me."

"Mmm, she does have a pretty mouth." Nattie sighed, hands moving to brace herself on the edge of the desk. "Does she take it up the ass?"

The crack of his hand against her jaw echoed in the room. Glaring at her, Stuart forced her to continue moving, his eyes warning her to not so much as think of stopping.

She actually laughed, one hand sliding down her body. "I forgot… That's why you have your little toy on the side… I'm sure she takes it, doesn't she?" Her voice was taunting, as were her fingers, which slowly slid over her clit. "Did you have to train her like you did the last one?"

"April was resistant at first," he admitted, shifting ever so slightly so he could have a better view. "But I persuaded her. She's a fast learner. Hunter trained her well." His tongue traced his lips before they pulled into a smirk. "Better than he trained you."

She rolled her eyes, arching her back as her fingers began to move faster. "I've received no complaints…" She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, the pace of her rocking hips increasing. "I'm gonna – Stuart – I—"

He pushed her back to his thighs, one hand grasping his cock and stroking it slowly until she worked her way back from the edge. When she gave him a nod he guided her back onto him, smacking her hand away and replacing her fingers with is thumb. Something rankled, though, and he caught her gaze. "You'll keep her from the Colter girl?"

"Yes," she promised, sitting up a bit.

"And you've remembered to clean up her file?" he asked, aware that she was starting to tremble. His thumb flicked rapidly over her clit until her thighs began to quiver. Stopping, he held her down on him, watching her cheeks flood with crimson as another orgasm was denied.

"Yes, Stuart." Her voice was a strained whisper.

"And your boys?" he sneered.

"Won't touch her," she vowed.

"Good girl," he enthused, relaxing his grip so she could work herself up again. Lazily plucking her clit, he continued to do so even after she released a scream, after she tightened around him almost to the point of pain, after she trembled and sobbed and collapsed against him. Guiding her back into a seated position, he shook his head, keeping up his lazy strokes.

"Colter," she gasped, shaking hands clutching the arms of his chair as she haphazardly rolled her hips.

"Hmm? What about him?"

"What's he doing to that girl?"

Mind going hazy with an impending orgasm, Stuart shrugged. "Just a few harmless experiments…" He reached behind her, nudging the bottle, glasses, and few files on his desk to the side. "Lie back, Nattie."

She did so, her movements languid as she wriggled into position on his desk. "What kind of experiments?" she asked, holding her legs in the air. "Ooo!"

He held still inside her then slowly pulled out. Letting the tip of his cock rest just at her entrance, he held his shirt out of the way with one hand. With the other he guided his cock up, letting it bump into her clit before sliding back down. "Nothing for you to worry about," he answered, letting go and slamming into her.

"Ooo!" She squealed again, stretching her legs up in the air. A silly smile pulled at her lips as she squirmed. "Are the experiments the cause of her bloody nose?"

"Hmm… They could be…" He withdrew, teased, and slammed into her again. Again and again until she was screaming. Then, hands at the backs of her knees, he pushed her legs down flush with her torso, hips pumping rapidly. The need to cum was taking over, and he stared sightlessly at her pleasure-filled face. She wasn't tight enough, he decided with a growl, mentally cursing the man that had her. Closing his eyes, deaf to her screams, he thought of another, a vivid string of curses falling from his lips when even that wasn't enough.

Pulling out, he peeled off the condom, stroked the straining flesh until the head glistened. He kept his eyes closed, thinking of that other, fist squeezing and dragging. Gasping, moaning, he came.

Nattie hummed with pleasure, rolling into a seated position while he cleaned himself with tissues. Bottle of wine in hand, she pulled out the cork and splashed crimson liquid into each glass. With a smirk, she drained hers in one gulp, then slid off the desk.

"Experiments, hmm?" She adjusted her clothing, ran her fingers through her hair, and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. "See you around, Stuart."

:)