May 14th, 1929

It wasn’t so much the knocking at his door that woke Fex as it was Miss Moppet’s orange and black paws digging in when she launched herself off his hip. He sat up to scold the cat and realized there was, in fact, an actual disturbance outside his door. 

“I’m coming,” he called, fumbling for his dressing gown.

The knocking ceased, replaced by an anxious sounding, “Mr. Woodward? Are you awake?”

It didn’t smell like smoke, and Miss Moppet would have woken him much sooner if there had been a fire anyway, so that couldn’t be it. Fex checked his reflection just to be sure his glamour was in place, then pulled his apartment door open. He found himself face to face with a harried-looking young man in khakis. 

“Yes?” Fex hid a yawn behind one hand.

The young man consulted a strip of printed paper. It almost could have been a telegram, but the shape was wrong. “Dr. Bignall needs you right away at the base hospital.”

“Dr. Bignall?” Fex echoed, and then remembered. “The doctor who conducted my physical examinations? Is this for another test?” Fex couldn’t fathom what sort of test that might be, but maybe it had to do with the adrenaline spike that attended being rousted from bed at nearly three in the morning.

The young soldier glanced at his paper again, then up at Fex. “It doesn’t say, Mr. Woodward, sir. Only that you’re needed urgently.”

“Let me dress,” Fex said. “And, uh, come in, I suppose.”

“I’ll wait here, sir,” the soldier told him. He had pimply skin and a bare wisp of a mustache—probably freshly out of secondary school and straight into the army. With job prospects what they were, it wasn’t a bad option.

Fex retreated to his bedroom to shed pajamas and throw on trousers and a plain shirt. He left the tie unknotted while he added socks and shoes, then made a hasty stop in the bathroom to swish a glug of Listerine around his mouth.

At the mirror by his front door he braided his hair quickly and tucked it behind him where his glamour would hide it. When he exited, Fex found the young man practically quivering just outside his apartment. 

“Oh good, you’re ready? The car is just at the curb.” He didn’t wait while Fex locked up and followed him to the waiting transport. The whole ride from apartment to hospital, Fex wanted to ask more. But he also wanted to still be asleep in his bed. By the time they arrived at the hospital, sleepiness had begun to win out.

The car jerked to a halt and a white-coated doctor opened Fex’s door. “I hope you remember me,” Dr. Bignall said. “We have an emergency that, well, needs your expertise.”

“My expertise?” Fex asked, hustling along the hospital corridor with Dr. Bignall. “As an apothecary? Surely the hospital pharmacist—”

“As a… A, well. As what you are.” Dr. Bignall dropped his voice low, leading Fex up a flight of stairs. “We have a patient who shares your nature.”

“One of my family?” Fex was abruptly more awake.

“No. But one who has an ability you’re familiar with. He’s having a severe asthma attack.”

Fex’s brows knit. “I…. see. And you think I can help?” How? Asthma was asthma, wasn’t it? And not actually something the Fey were generally subject to, for that matter. He was about to protest as such when Dr. Bignall stopped at a door.

“He’s in here,” Dr. Bignall said.

A distressed, but stunningly handsome, dark-haired young man sat up in the only bed in the room, with his arms braced on his thighs, shoulders heaving with each labored, open-mouthed breath.

There wasn’t anything particularly Fey-like that Fex could see about him. But when he got closer, he realized there was one strikingly not-exactly-human aspect to the man’s appearance: his eyes. They were the same almost-metallic gold as Nicoletta’s.

“Hi,” the man gasped, with a slightly wild smile. “Vano. Dr…?”

“Not doctor,” Fex said. “It’s Woodward. Fex Woodward. I… er….”

“He’s like you,” Dr. Bignall supplied. 

“Not entirely,” Fex corrected, when Vano’s smile lit up brighter.

“Close… enough?” Vano huffed.

“Sure,” Fex said. “Sure. Close enough.” He looked over at Dr. Bignall. “What have you already tried?”

“An injection of adrenaline,” Dr. Bignall said.

“It helped,” Vano supplied between wheezes.

“Clearly not enough,” Fex said. When he reached for Vano’s wrist, he could feel the man’s racing pulse almost before his fingers touched down.

Vano’s smile was charming, but his iridescent-gold eyes were wide and anxious. Naturally, since he couldn’t get a good breath, Fex thought.

“Can we create a steam hood for him?” Fex asked.

“I’ll have a nurse prepare one,” Dr. Bignall said. “But that’s not—”

“I’ll need some medicinal substances in the boiling water,” Fex said. “Ephedra leaves, the leaves and flowers of atropa belladonna, and powdered Japanese tea, if you have it. Fresh coffee grounds if you don’t.”

Dr. Bignall looked alarmed. “Belladonna?”

“For the steam, not to ingest,” Fex said.

Vano’s bluish lips twitched into a wobbly smile. “You not… plannin’ on bumpin’ me off?” 

“What? No!” Fex took Vano’s hand in his own. Roughly the same size. Vano’s fingers were cold. 

“‘Cause I don’t think…  you gotta do… much… f’ that,” Vano huffed.

“Maybe you should save your breath?” Fex suggested. “So you don’t do it to yourself, either?” He added a hasty, “No, don’t laugh!” and started to take his hand back. Vano’s grip tightened. Fex squeezed back, and stopped trying to pull away.

“Can you get those things, please, Dr. Bignall? And a chair for me, perhaps?”

“Yes, of course. Nurse!” 

A white-capped and pinafored middle-aged woman arrived to do the doctor’s bidding. Dr. Bignall gave her Fex’s instructions, got the same worried response to the suggestion of atropine, and said something to her that sounded a lot like, “Yes, but the patient isn’t a man, is he?”

Before Fex could protest the slur, Vano grinned and winked. “More of one than… you could handle, shah.” His accent was broadly deep southern, but that had almost sounded like ‘cher’—maybe the man was from New Orleans where some French was still spoken. It was hard to be certain since Vano was only able to utter a few words with each breath. 

The effort cost him; he broke into a harsh coughing fit.

Fex rubbed Vano’s heaving back through the thin hospital gown. “Try to slow your breathing down,” he said. “Blow through your lips like you were blowing—”

“A kiss?” Vano rasped.

“A balloon,” Fex said. “Slowly.”  He was glad his glamour hid the blush at the impure thoughts that swarmed up completely unbidden. 

No. Just no, he told himself. He’s sick. You don’t know him. He doesn’t know you. This is a military hospital. As if any military in the history of humans was free of— NO.

The nurse reappeared with a hot plate and kettle, followed by a second nurse who began efficiently setting up sheets to create a tent around Vano.

“I can get out of your way,” Fex said.

“Non. Stay.” Vano tugged on Fex’s hand. That had definitely sounded like French.

“Or stay. I can stay,” Fex said. 

Someone got him a chair. He consulted briefly with Dr. Bignall on the ratio of herbs to add to the boiling water, and then the nurses closed him inside the tent with Vano, securing the sheets with clothespins. In not long, the rich, herbal-tinged scent of coffee began to fill the steamy air. 

The only sound inside their cocoon besides the hissing steam was Vano’s labored wheezing. Once or twice he looked like he wanted to make conversation, but Fex shushed him with a gentle reminder to save his breath for the treatment.

By the time the kettle had begun to run dry, Vano was, mercifully, breathing easier. He looked tired, his hair hung in damp, dark curls, and his gold eyes were half-lidded with fatigue. But beneath that he was undeniably attractive, with sharp cheekbones and a complexion less than a shade lighter than the warm tawny color of Fex’s own glamoured face. 

Handsome for a human, of course. But Fex’s standard of beauty wasn’t entirely—or even mostly—Fey. He’d lived almost all his adult life amongst humans, and the other Fey he did associate with were almost all closely related to him, so not first in his mind when it came to carnal desire.

Not, of course, that he should be thinking about things like that, especially in the early pre-dawn hours in a hospital, with a sick man under his care!

Vano did absolutely nothing to help Fex’s self-restraint, either, when he leaned back against the plump, white pillows and gave Fex an exhausted but genuine smile. “So…” he said, “you come here often?”

Fex smiled back with what he hoped was more charm than alarm. What had Dr. Bignall said about Vano? He ‘shared Fex’s nature’ and had abilities Fex was familiar with? That could be almost anything, though Fex had been fairly cagey about the abilities of other Fey. If Vano’s trick was mind-reading…

If it was mind-reading, Vano would probably have laughed himself back into the asthma attack they’d just gotten him out of. But he was giving Fex that same charming, tired smile, now tinged with a hint of perplexity, probably because Fex hadn’t answered him. Or maybe it was worry that his flirting—was it flirting?—had landed poorly. Or—

Fex was overthinking this. 

“I try not to,” he said. “I find it’s a much bigger kick to meet in a nightclub. Not that I would ever do anything illicit, you understand.” He winked slyly. That ought to at least reassure Vano on the one count.

Vano gave a dramatically wistful little sigh and looked up forlornly through thick lashes. “Fo’ a shame, no nightclubs here. Or if they are, I ain’t allowed to go.” He twirled a hand in a gesture that encompassed his whole ‘in the hospital and quite ill’ situation. “But I got a deck o’ cards, if you interested?”

Fex had the distinct impression Vano’s accent was more pronounced now.

“Sure,” Fex said, brightening. “But, uh…” He glanced at the luminous dial of his wristwatch. “Shouldn’t you try to get some sleep? If you can? I can always come back—” 

Or could he? He had training with Nicoletta all day, and while his evenings were generally free, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be allowed back as a visitor to Vano’s room. Of course if he impressed upon Dr. Bignall and the nursing staff that he’d have to continue to treat Vano, that this wasn’t a one-time treatment… 

“Yes,” he said, as if Vano had asked if he were sure. “Yes, I can certainly come back when you’re a little more rested.”

A worried crease etched between Vano’s brows. “O’ course, if you need sleep,” he said, watching Fex like he was studying skittish wildlife. “You visitin’ a relative here?”

“Oh. No. I’m… Well, I’m here on a special project,” Fex said. Did Vano even know they were in a military hospital? Surely he must, since they had openly discussed his ‘non-humanness’ in the same insulting manner they used for Nicoletta. There was much about Vano that quite reminded Fex of her. More than their evident shared Romani heritage and eye color, though that alone was significant. But the doctor had said it was Fex’s nature that was the commonality. Was magic what they’d meant about Vano’s abilities being familiar to Fex’s?

“Are you—” Fex started, “I mean, you are, too, are you not? I don’t know how much you were paying attention when they first brought me in to consult on your case tonight, but they consider us similar in ‘nature,’ if you follow me. It’s why they fetched me.” 

For a moment Vano just looked confused, then as comprehension dawned, he perked right up. “You a werewolf? What family?” he asked excitedly, then dimmed again before Fex could correct him. “I understand if you don’ wan’ to stay if y’are, but it’s jake if you do. I won’t tell no one.”

That cleared up the rest of the reason Vano was reminding Fex of Nicoletta. But were werewolf families unfriendly with one another? Something like that, Fex thought. Maybe better not to mention Nicoletta, in case the rivalry was personal. 

“I’m not, actually,” Fex said. He kept his voice a little low, and considered adding a layer of sound illusion around the two of them to prevent the medical staff from eavesdropping. But they all knew already, and it was late, so there didn’t seem to be any point in it. “I’m Keshalyi.” He was glad he’d rediscovered the word in his earlier conversation with Nicoletta.

Vano’s eyes raked Fex up and down. “I wouldn’t call you that,” he said reassuringly. 

“Oh! Because I look like this?” Fex winced a little, remembering Nicoletta’s horror at his true appearance. “I, uh, to blend in with the human world, I alter my appearance. I could show you how I really look, but I don’t want to give you a shock.”

Vano’s smile clouded with confusion again. “Sure,” he said slowly. “You said you were here on a special project? Is that asthma patients?”

“It’s, hmm. I don’t know how much I can say about it, actually,” Fex said. “It’s a government project. But in my outside life I’m an apothecary, and since they seem to think all mana-using beings are the same, they brought me in to see if I could help you. And I could.” He smiled, pleased with at least this much. “Are you sure you want to see my real appearance? I’m not ugly or anything, it’s just I startled someone badly recently when I didn’t warn them about it first.”

Vano looked even more confused, and a little concerned. After a long moment he said, “You on the level?” Adding more brightly, “Well, as sure as a pig likes mud I’d like to see you in your other shape.”

“Okay,” Fex said. He let the glamour go. His clothes remained his clothes, of course, and his size his size, but he knew the rest of his appearance had transformed by the wondering look on Vano’s face. 

“Wow.” Vano’s eyes shone with delight. “That’s… That’s the berries.” 

The awe in Vano’s voice was an immense relief after Nicoletta’s earlier revulsion. Fex tugged his braid so it hung forward over the shoulder closest to Vano, then held out his hand. “You can— If you want to touch, you can. The other person wasn’t sure she could trust her eyes, so…” 

“I don’ need to touch, I believe you,” Vano said, even as he took Fex’s braid in one hand, then slid the other down it as well, so it rested between his palms. He looked up into Fex’s eyes, close enough that Fex could still hear the wheeze and feel the heat in Vano’s breath. “You’re a Keshalyi.” He shook his head in wonderment. “If my sister could see you…”

“Sister?” Two werewolves in the same area? It had to be more than coincidence. “I think I might know her. Her name isn’t Nicoletta, is it?”

“You’ve met her? Recently? How is she?” Vano’s alertness and excitement tripled. Unfortunately so did his wheezing. He pulled his hands away to cover his strained coughs, but didn’t take his eyes off Fex.

“Yes, but… Try to relax.” Fex grabbed one of the pillows which had slipped sideways and tucked it behind Vano’s back. The rough buzz in Vano’s ribcage was palpable when Fex laid a hand on Vano’s shoulder. “Just try to breathe slowly. I’ll get the nurse to refill the kettle, and then I’ll tell you all I know.”

Vano didn’t listen to a word Fex said. He leaned forward and kept right on talking between breathless gasps. “We… were in a crash. They said… she was fine—” 

Fex swore under his breath and reformed his glamour, then stuck his head outside the tent and called for a nurse. As soon as one appeared—a younger girl this time, but just as starched as the previous nurse had been—Fex directed her to refill the kettle, and this time add eucalyptus to the concoction. 

When he closed the tent flaps to resume his seat, Vano had his hands braced on his knees again; his chest heaved with effort and sweat beaded on a forehead gone ashy.

“Listen,” Fex said, a little desperate. “Let me help you or they may not allow me back. Just slow your breathing like before, and when you can get your breath again, we can talk about your sister until dawn breaks.”

Vano managed a nod, and finally allowed Fex to settle him back against the pillow mound at the raised head of the bed. It wasn’t entirely clear whether it was his breathlessness or his need to talk about his sister that was causing him the most agony, but with the steam going again, and Fex’s continued coaching—Fex hoped to heaven and earth he was doing it right—Vano’s breathing finally began to ease.

Fex timed Vano’s breaths and listened to the pitch of his wheezes. When it seemed like he was only breathing a little faster than Fex, and the rasps had quieted, Fex took a deep breath of his own and said, “Alright. Slowly this time. You said you and Nicoletta were in a crash? Is that how she lost her arm?”

Instant distress contorted Vano’s pale face. “She lost her arm?” 

Oh. Well. Good job, Fexethenalis. Fex could have slapped his own face for being so thoughtless. “She’s… Uh. Yeah. She has a prosthetic. She seems fine with it,” he offered weakly. “I mean, it doesn’t hold her back at all. And she’s well and athletic otherwise. But… She hasn’t been to see you?”

Vano wet his lips and looked away, shoulders falling slightly, blinking hard. He rubbed his nose, blinked a few more times, and shook his head. When he had mastered his voice, he said, “She— the crash broke up her jalopy pretty bad. I don’ ‘member it, but she somehow got me a bed here. It a full time job keeping me here, though, so she don’ have a lot o’ minutes left over.” He took a wheezy breath and rolled himself back upright, shoulders level, head erect, and smiled at Fex like it was nothing at all. “You know how it is.”

Except of course it was very much something. Fex knew a thing or two about being separated from your family. He had a mad impulse to wrap his arms around the other man’s shoulders and just let him cry. But that would only aggravate Vano’s asthma, and they had barely met. He settled instead for reaching out and patting Vano’s bony knee through the blankets.

“If you’ve been in the hospital since the accident, you must have been terribly hurt,” Fex said. “And you’re right, that could get very expensive. It explains why Nicoletta puts up with our boss. And me. Your sister has the patience of a saint.” Not entirely true, Fex didn’t think he was that bad, but given how provoking Mrs. Dunfre could be, he felt the hyperbole was justified.

“My sister? Are we talkin’ ‘bout the same Nicoletta?” Vano wheezed out a faint chuckle. “She’s more likely to cast a kitten than to get anywhere near a saint.”

Fex had to laugh, too. “All right, I’ll admit the corn. Maybe she’s not asaint, but she hasn’t bitten anyone in half yet, even when they probably deserved it.” He thought for a second and added, “At least not as far as I know.”

Vano laughed, but sobered up after a minute. “Aside from her… her arm, she all right?”

 “She is,” Fex assured him. “She and I are, well, we’re training together, and she’s strong. She’s got gumption. You don’t need to worry about her.”

“Will you tell her I’m… I’m copacetic?” Vano said, awash with something like relief.  “Maybe you can leave out this part,” he added with a gesture toward the tent. “She don’ need to worry, on top of everything else. She’s always been a worrier.”

Surprisingly, that did fit with what Fex knew about Nicoletta. She could be impulsive and fearless, but she tended to take a pessimistic view when they planned their missions, looking for all the ways things might go wrong.

“I’ll tell her,” Fex promised. He yawned then, and Vano did along with him. What time was it? Half past five? He sincerely hoped Dunfre would take Fex’s middle-of-the-night efforts into account and give him and Nicoletta an easy day.

She probably wouldn’t.

“Do you think you could try to get some sleep? You’ll get over this asthma attack faster if you give your body the rest it needs.” He wanted to promise he’d bring Nicoletta to Vano’s bedside, but he wasn’t sure it was a promise he could easily keep.

Vano looked disappointed, but he gave Fex a glum nod. “Do you think you could come visit again?” From somewhere deep inside he summoned one last charming smile. “I’ll keep the topic light, I swear it.”

“Of course I’ll come,” Fex said, standing. “You promised me a game of cards.” He gave Vano a tired but, he hoped, charming smile of his own. “Until the next time.”

They didn’t get a chance to extend their goodbyes any further. The nurse who’d brought the second kettle flipped the tent flap up and gave her patient and Fex both an efficient once-over. “It’s time for Mr. Heron’s medication,” she said, holding up a tray with a loaded hypodermic and a little cup full of something syrupy-looking. “We can take it from here, Mr. Woodward.”

“Ah, yes. Of course,” Fex told her. “Where might I find Dr. Bignall?”

He got directions, had a brief conversation with the doctor, who looked as tired as Fex felt, and then a hypnotically bumpy ride in an army car back to his apartment. In fact he’d fallen asleep with his head against the glass by the time they arrived.

Mrs. Dunfre did not give him a break. He got an hour’s nap, and then there was another rap at his door. There was just enough time to shower and dress before he headed off for the day’s training with Nicoletta. This time, though, they’d definitely have something to talk about.