Page 12 of Gunpowder

“Wash your hands,” Wren said before the washcloth had even hit the bottom of the plastic laundry hamper.

Blair threw a warning look behind him. “I will in a minute, right now I need to take care of him.”

“If I’m right then he could be carrying something dangerous and highly contagious, wash your hands before you risk spreading it any further.” The impatience in Wren’s voice seemed amplified in the cramped space.

“I’ve got to carry him downstairs anyway, he doesn’t look like he’s in any shape to walk on his own.”

“Neither are you. Wash your hands.”

Wren maneuvered around him to crouch in front of Tristan and pulled latex gloves from the pocket of his scrubs. As much as Blair wanted to punch him in the throat and silence his smart mouth for a while, Wren was right about that one. Tristan wasn’t small anymore, Blair wouldn’t be able to carry him and keep weight off his leg, too. He felt like he could grin and bear the pain but if his leg decided to go out then he would be adding even more discomfort to his brother’s ill state. He waited for the water to run hot and scrubbed with a few pumps of the hand soap up to his elbows.

Blair grabbed his t-shirt off the towel rack and pulled it over his head while Wren hooked the straps of a mask around Tristan’s ears. The other man’s presence in his apartment was still baffling. Wren stood up holding Tristan, and Blair finally had to ask, “Since when do med students make house calls?”

“Since it occurred to me he could have something highly contagious that posed the risk of an outbreak. Let’s go, I’ll drive.” He left no room for argument as he walked out of the bathroom and back across the apartment but given the circumstances, it was probably for the best that they weren’t wasting any time.

Blair stuck his feet into the worn Vans by the door and locked it behind him as they left. He had gotten good enough with the crutches to mostly keep pace with Wren’s long strides down the hallway. Wren must have already been scheduled to be at the hospital, since he was dressed in scrubs and all of his hair hadn’t fallen out of his ponytail yet. Regardless the whole thing was weird as hell, Blair thought as he punched the button for the elevator. Tristan’s labored breaths felt deafening on the otherwise quiet ride down to the ground floor.

“I thought it was a Salmonella infection,” Blair said as they walked out of the building.

Wren shifted Tristan to one arm and took his keys out of his pocket. Blair watched every move, not entirely comfortable with someone else carrying his brother but low on other options. “It still is but I believe he’s infected with a more uncommon subspecies of Salmonella bacteria. Uncommon here in the United States, that is.”

A pair of headlights flashed from the curb and Blair stopped in his tracks. Even from the side, without being able to see the emblem, he recognized the lean, low body of an Audi R8. The city lights became distorted patches of color in the glossy, almost reflective black paint. There was no way a student should be able to afford that; Blair knew plenty of people who weren’t hurting for money that still couldn’t touch something with that kind of price tag. Warning bells sounded in the back of Blair’s mind.

“How did you get that?”

Phantom could be paying him off.

“It was a birthday present. Not that I see why it concerns you.”

Blair hesitated at the passenger door Wren had opened for him. The shape of the 92 was still a reassuring weight in Blair’s pocket, if something did turn out to be amiss. He got in the sports car, and traded Wren his crutches for Tristan. With a few spins of the bolts, Wren had taken them apart and stored them in the trunk at the front of the car.

The engine purred beautifully as Wren pulled onto the road. Blair held Tristan in his lap, arms around his waist in place of a seatbelt. He had just started to relax when he saw Wren’s foot go to the clutch and the car roared into the next gear. Wren sped through a cluster of slower traffic and shifted up again. Blair pressed himself back against the seat, grip tightening on Tristan.

Felix’s driving had conditioned him against the fear of a car crash, as he was at the risk of that whenever the boss was behind the wheel, but Tristan being in the car did make him a little antsy. Blair watched buildings fly past and didn’t dare look at the red hand he knew was ticking steadily upward.

Instead, Blair found himself watching the man behind the wheel. Wren drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on his knee, fingers tapping and ready to move to the shifter. From the side Blair could see his eyes behind his glasses, a startling shade of cobalt blue in the dying sunlight, but there was nothing to be read from them that Blair could discern.

“What is this bacteria you’re so worried about and what does it mean for Tristan if he’s infected with it?” Blair asked. He hated to talk about Tristan like he wasn’t there but the kid was in no shape to take part in the conversation, if he was conscious of it happening at all.

Wren shifted down as they approached a traffic light. “Salmonella typhi. Dr. Evans ruled it out because Tristan hasn’t left the country recently, or ever.”

“But not you.”

“Tristan doesn’t like the lizard, he said as much. If it’s aggressive then he likely avoids contact with it and I doubt his parents would let him clean the cage since iguanas have sharp teeth and claws. We ruled out most other ways he could have contracted Salmonella or deemed them unlikely, at the very least.”

Blair was fascinated despite himself. It seemed the medical mystery of his brother was the only thing that prompted Wren to utter more than a couple words at a time. His voice still lacked any kind of emotion but the amount of thought he’d put into it made it clear he was interested, maybe even invested. Wren turned left, and Blair recognized some of the buildings around them. They were near the hospital.

“I think the person who sold your mother the lizard might have had typhoid fever.”

“That sounds… bad.” He wished he had a more intelligent answer but he had no idea what that was.

“It’s especially dangerous for children, never mind the prospect of an outbreak. Early detection is vital. That’s why you’re here.”

Wren parked in front of the emergency room entrance and went inside, then returned a moment later with a wheelchair. Blair opened the door and carefully handed Tristan off to him. Tristan groped at Wren’s ID badge, mumbling incoherently. Wren put Blair’s crutches back together and held them still outside the car door. Blair’s ears burned as he pushed up onto them. He would be glad when the damn hole in his leg healed up enough to walk unaided. Not only did he need to be ready when they moved on Jinx’s apartment, but he was tired of needing help all the time.

Wren pushed the wheelchair right through the waiting room, through the doors to triage and then to another set of double doors. He scanned his badge and, after a beep that confirmed his clearance, the doors opened to a wide hallway. Blair looked around as he followed behind. They weren’t in the pediatric center where Tristan had first been treated.

“Where is Dr. Garrett?” Wren asked the nurse’s station as he pulled a plastic cup from the dispenser next to the water jug and filled it. He put it in Tristan’s hands and let go once the boy had a grip on it.

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